This past Christmas, somewhere in suburbia, a girl left the family dinner table to retreat to her teenage bedroom. Armed with a sunset lamp and an existential playlist, she sang along to her new mantra:

“My turn, mine to do the hurtin’/Your turn to bear the burden/My turn, ’cause I deserve this.”

It was SZA’s SOS Deluxe: Lana, a gift to fans that felt less like an addendum and more like an album in its own right. The 15 diaphanous tracks packaged alongside the mega-selling SOS belong to a cohesive, introspective world, bridging the ambling indie R&B of 2017’s CTRL and the polished, hook-forward ethos of SOS. Put them in a playlist of their own, and they proudly stand as what could be considered SZA’s third album: Lana.

A Softer Yet Subtly Twisted Perspective

The songs on Lana find SZA trading the fiery vindictiveness of Kill Bill for a more nuanced sense of self-reflection. Tracks like “My Turn” simmer with quiet intensity, a revenge anthem that eschews overt violence for emotional grit. Yet, SZA’s signature tension remains. The sprawling R&B track “Diamond Boy (DTM)” luxuriates in new affection, ending in a sly rap verse that contrasts with the song’s noodling guitar and enveloping sub-bass. It’s a clever juxtaposition—a sonic representation of calming racing thoughts to live in the moment.

Where SOS leaned into its chaotic, mixtape-like genre-hopping, Lana is aesthetically unified, embracing warm analog synths, soul-ballad tempos, and lush arrangements. Songs like “Another Life” and “No More Hiding” highlight SZA’s newfound grace and optimism. The former, a poignant breakup ballad, is devoid of bitterness, while the latter blends delicate bossa nova-inspired guitar and yearning synths, anchoring the album’s theme of inner peace.

SZA’s Earthy Evolution

Lana doesn’t just sound like a continuation of SOS; it feels like a return to the emotional vulnerability of CTRL. Tracks like “Kitchen” radiate luminescence, blending influences as diverse as the Isley Brothers’ “Voyage to Atlantis” and Alvvays’ hazy ballads. Meanwhile, the extraterrestrial shimmer of “Saturn,” built around a sample of Mort Garson’s Plantasia, mirrors SZA’s voice—ethereal and exploratory.

There’s a natural earthiness to Lana, from its soulful hooks to its understated production, that feels tailored to SZA’s strengths. Even at its poppiest moments, like the TikTok-ready “BMF,” the album leans into freeform ingenuity over radio-friendly formula.

The Emotional Landscape of TikTok, Elevated

SZA is one of the few pop stars who meets the zeitgeist on its own terms while maintaining her own artistic integrity. Like TikTok’s emotional terrain—where therapy-speak reigns and “crashing out” is both celebrated and condemned—Lana explores contradictions. On “Crybaby,” a sunkissed ballad, SZA acknowledges her faults with brutal honesty, crooning, “Most of them awful, all of them true.”

Yet, Lana never becomes a platform for moral superiority. Tracks like “Drive” balance grandeur and self-doubt, capturing the infinite freedom of letting go. Lana feels deeply personal yet universally resonant, thanks to SZA’s ability to weave vulnerability and self-awareness into her music without ever condescending to her audience.

A Legacy Worthy of Its Predecessors

Lana cements SZA’s place as an artist unafraid to delve into the messiness of emotion. While many pop stars lean into “authenticity” as a branding exercise, SZA pays for hers song by song, balancing the beauty of healing with the sting of culpability. With its blend of Latin jazz, psych-rock, and ’90s R&B, Lana feels both timely and timeless—a testament to SZA’s knack for balancing the experimental with the enduring.

SZA may never call Lana her third album, but fans can—and should. It’s a record that stands proudly alongside CTRL and SOS, offering a softer, subtler perspective on an artist constantly evolving, never settling.