MARINA began the recording of what would become her fifth album in January of 2020. In American speak: B.C. (Before Corona, even though it was already poppin’—it just hadn’t “affected” the “First World” yet). At the time, she had also just come out with a single for To All The Boys: P.S. I Still Love You called “About Love.” The tone of this somewhat belied what would be the first actual single from the record, “Man’s World.” A song that feels as though it was released so long ago now, though it hasn’t even been a full year. That MARINA chose to produce the track with a woman (Jennifer Decilveo) spoke to just how serious she is about not wanting to live in a man’s world anymore. Especially the music industry one, still due for a more full-tilt reckoning—and a much greater prevalence of females behind the soundboards.
But MARINA, a true feminist, also works with a male producer, James Flannigan, on the record. The two collaborated on Love + Fear as well; accordingly, the two songs they produced together, “End of the Earth” and “No More Suckers,” are a natural progression into what the latter half of Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land sounds like. But before that lush balladry MARINA is known for can arrive, there are other matters at hand to address. Ones that require up-tempo pacing to match the quick and lashing wit of the lyrics. And it all starts with, what else, “Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land.” Sounding like a hybrid of surf rock meets Britpop (of the Elastica variety), MARINA commences with an overarching thesis: “You don’t have to be like everybody else/You don’t have to fit into the norm/You are not here to conform.” Talking to herself more than anyone else (as she was on “Enjoy Your Life”), she can only hope the directive will be disseminated to others.
This communiqué, too, was expressed on another song from Love + Fear, “True.” The motifs of being infected by the rhetoric of modern society telling its “participants” that they’re fundamentally “wrong” or “lacking” is something MARINA wants to deprogram herself and her listeners from, assuring, “Don’t need to add nothing on your skin, skin, skin/Be happy with the body that you’re in, in, in/Being who you are don’t cost a thing, thing, thing.” And that’s precisely what the capitalists are afraid of.
On “True,” she also notes, “Everybody tells us what to do, do, do/Think they always know what’s good for you, you, you/We know they don’t really have a clue, clue, clue/People like to tell you what to think, think, think/Sometimes it feels right to do the wrong, wrong thing/Let it go and listen to your own instincts.” This, in part, is why she wants to get “back to a time before [she] had form.” A.k.a. her primordial self. In the land of her ancient (read: prehistoric) ancestors, who were uninfluenced and unaffected by, at best, “advertising” and, at worst, brainwashing. Of the sort that makes one feel perpetually inadequate so that they will forever believe they can buy “things” that will make them “better.”
Through “Venus Fly Trap,” MARINA tackles Hollywood once more (as she did on The Family Jewels’ “Hollywood”), but this time with more assurance and less irony when she says, “Why be a wallflower when you can be a Venus fly trap?” When she adds, “Nothing in this world could change me,” this also harkens back to “True” via the chorus, “Always said we’re gonna be true/We will never change, we will never change.” Having fought her way to earn a position as one of pop music’s greats, she declares, like Frank Sinatra, “I did it my way.” And she has—right from the start. Which isn’t something many pop stars can say, usually capitulating in the beginning to a “cookie cutter” mold à la Britney Spears. A woman whose sainthood of late makes her a natural fit for the topics explored on “Man’s World.” Except, instead, MARINA first tackles another OG blonde in pop culture who served as a lamb for the media’s slaughter, weaving together imagery that highlights corporate hypocrisy with the lines, “Marilyn’s bungalow, it’s number seven/In the pink palace where men made her legend/Owned by a sheik who killed thousands of gay men/I guess that’s why he bought the campest hotel in L.A. then.”
The nod to Britney comes next in “Purge the Poison.” While a rallying environmental anthem, the song also speaks to how humanity’s toxic (no Britney pun intended) treatment of Mother Nature is a result of other noxious aspects of our existence. This being precisely why patriarchy’s not-so-gentle touch has proven to be the antithesis of a green thumb for anyone (save for rich white men). Certainly not nurturing toward the likes of Spears, who MARINA paints a portrait of with, “2007, when size zero was the rage/Britney shaved her head and all we did was call her crazed.” In short, she summed up the overhyped Framing Britney Spears with a single lyric. One followed by, “Harvey Weinstein gone to jail/#MeToo went on to unveil/Truth and all its glory, the ending of a story.” And yes, MARINA did remark that “Karma” from Love + Fear was inspired by Weinstein. For, as a girl who lives smack dab in the middle of Hollywood, how could she not comment frequently on the monster (different from the one that appears in her “Venus Fly Trap” video)?
It is at the halfway mark of the record, through the dramatic, piano-drenched lens of “Highly Emotional People,” that MARINA seems to keep the lesson she learned from Love + Fear with regard to splitting up a record into two thematic parts. Like the dividing point that started Fear, “To Be Human,” MARINA discusses the fragile nature of humanity against the abyssal backdrop of the cosmos here as well. On “To Be Human,” she conjures the imagery, “I like to think about how we all look from afar/People driving fancy cars look like beetles to the stars/The missiles and the bombs sound like symphonies gone wrong.” With a similar poetic metaphor that puts our insignificance in perspective, MARINA describes on “Highly Emotional People, “The universe hangs like a necklace from God/Jewels suspended in the cosmos.” And yes, Marina loves to make her jewels/diamonds references. Her repetition of the phrase, “I never see you cry” additionally speaks to her strong belief in the idea that toxic masculinity can never truly fall away if men are made to feel like they have to accommodate the longstanding stereotype of “masculinity”: being stoic, impenetrable—in other words, unfeeling.
Oh, what a “New America” it would create to see men who embraced their humanity instead of lashing out (usually through gun violence, nonsensical tirades or damning legislation). And it’s one MARINA envisions on the track of the same name. Characterized by plucky string arrangements with a dramatic undertone, the average listener would not expect MARINA to dive into the topics she’s about to based on the musical composition. Some, of course, will call it too preachy (like Madonna on “Killers Who Are Partying”) and say, “Go back to Britain if you don’t like it”—or something xenophobic to that effect. Compelled to write the beginnings of the song the day after George Floyd’s death, MARINA calls out the U.S. for needing to finally pay the piper after so many centuries spent burying reality under the rug (which it will likely continue to do).
Thus, in the chorus, she states, “America, America/You can’t bury the truth/It’s time to pay your dues,” in between also commenting on the manipulation of Mother Nature for greed-driven profit with, “Fuckеd with the food chain/Fucked with the farming too/And now our food don’t tastе like it’s meant to do.” Something MARINA knows all about—having compared European food to the mostly nasty ass slop in the U.S. But she isn’t done lambasting just yet, decrying the hypocrisy of the “American” White Man grafting everything from Native Americans and Black people, while having the gall to claim what they stole as their own. Hence, MARINA reminds, “They’ve got blood on their hands/‘Cause they stole all the land/And all the lies they’re here to raise/Made them feel like a man/Who gave you jazz, hip hop, rock and roll and the blues?/No matter what, the story’s catching up on you.”
As for the “serious” (because anything a woman sings that’s not about men or wanting to please them is automatically “serious”) subjects of her music, MARINA told Vogue in a recent interview, “People tend to shy away from these kinds of issues in songs. But pop music is such an amazing vehicle to discuss those issues, and it doesn’t matter if people agree with you or not—it’s a conversation starter. That’s the most powerful thing about art.” Indeed, if you can get a social change-oriented earworm in enough people’s brains, the whole world could very well alter.
The subject shifts back to MARINA’s heartache (still fresh from a breakup with Clean Bandit’s Jack Patterson after a five-year relationship) on “Pandora’s Box.” Like something that might have appeared on Beyoncé’s Lemonade album thanks to its infidelity allusions, MARINA explores the notion of doubt about her relationship through the famed Greek myth (because: Diamandis). One that makes a person unable to close the lid on all the ills that spill out of Pandora’s box once it’s opened. And, like Eve eating the apple, when knowledge is absorbed it cannot be erased (unless someone finds a portal into Lacuna Inc.).
Sounding very LDR at one point, MARINA mentions, “I’ve escaped many vices like drugs and alcohol/But I can never escape/The war insidе my skull” (Lana, too, escaped from those vices, but still announced, “I’ve got a war in my mind”). With more Greek tragedian flair to the tale of this doomed romance, MARINA additionally laments, “You know that love’s a gift/But it can also be a curse.” Just another one of life’s infinite dichotomies.
With his unpredictable (perhaps unfaithful) behavior, MARINA herself starts to spiral, ruing of his carelessness, “You opened up Pandora’s box/You don’t know what you just unlocked/I lose all control/Let go of my darkest thoughts.” It’s a fraught emotional landscape that segues logically into the empowering “I Love You But I Love Me More” (will Samantha Jones be suing for use of that line?). The natural affirmation to arise for a woman who has seen light in the darkness of Pandora’s box. A moody, 80s-esque guitar punctuates the dramatic nature of the song, with MARINA touting, “Told you before that love isn’t enough/Come on, baby, I can call your bluff.” And she’s right. Contrary to every rom-com ending, love is not always enough. Things fall apart, familiarity breeds contempt, etc. Dropping the realest of the real lines, MARINA, psychologist extraordinaire, comments, “Women love too early and men love too late/And now your promises, they just suffocate.” And so, like Britney before her, MARINA has to make it clear, “Don’t come back knocking at my door.” ‘Cause she loves you, but she loves herself more. And, as they say, the key to finding lasting amour is loving yourself first.
With flowers getting a bit of play lately (ever since Billie Eilish also mentioned them in “Lost Cause”), MARINA ups the ante on this timeless emblem of romance by titling the penultimate song on Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land, you guessed it, “Flowers.” A word that’s right at home with the record’s yearning-for-the-natural-world moniker. Yet unlike Eilish being the one to put her heart out there by sending flowers to a guy who didn’t care, MARINA instead interprets the absence of such a gesture as a prime example of all the “little things” her boyfriend neglects to do—a greater sign of not caring enough or even really knowing her well at all (in essence, it’s like in The Wedding Singer, when Glenn doesn’t let Julia take the window seat). So it is that she crystallizes the sentiment by bemoaning, “With every careless action, you let me slip away/If you just bought me flowers, maybe I would’ve stayed.” Taking into account MARINA’s own hyper-enthusiasm for horticulture, this doesn’t seem like hyperbole.
She heightens the sadness of it all with one of her signature analogies circling back to the growth of flowers: “The seeds we planted grew/But not like roses do/We had the thorns and leaves/But the buds, they never bloomed.” Although the opening lyrics to the song (“Now we reached the end”) might have duped people into believing it was the last track on the record or that it, instead, should be called “Goodbye,” the real closer is the latter. That’s right, not to be outdone by the Spice Girls in any way, MARINA now also has a song called “Goodbye.” And yeah, she wasn’t afraid to admit the girl group inspired her costuming (specifically from the “Say You’ll Be There” video) for her Ancient Dreams: Live from the Desert concert. Looking all late 90s (think: very Romy and Michele-approved) overall in the aesthetics for the record, many costumes were designed by Olima, and perhaps MARINA was calculated in wielding this title as a subtle homage to Geri Halliwell’s official sendoff from the band.
Playing with contrasts (like Love + Fear, and, well, Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land), MARINA urges, “Shine your light down on me/Somewhere between new and old.” Goldilocks Syndrome much? Still forever searching for her exact place in this world, MARINA is nonetheless happy to say, “Goodbye to the girl that I was/Goodbye to the girl that you lost.” She might not be who she once was, but she’s getting ever-closer to who she’s fully meant to be. With a breakup comes the shedding of skin, and MARINA is ready to do just that. Prepared for whatever better incarnation comes next in the wake of learning from her mistakes. Like Spice Girls, she says, “Goodbye, my friend” but feels no obligation to cushion that blow with, “It’s not the end.” Because, yeah, actually it is. For only with an end can we start anew.
Like so many women unwittingly signing on for children when they get into a relationship, MARINA has the epiphany, “I’ve been a mother to everyone else/To every motherfucker except myself/And I don’t even have any kids.” To this point, Melissa Broder’s (another L.A. lady) Milk Fed is a seminal read for any woman wanting to learn about the value of being their own mother (or rather, daughter). Something MARINA has clearly apprehended for herself.
The album may be short (not bothering to go the Olivia Rodrigo with Sour or Lana Del Rey with Chemtrails Over the Country Club route by at least pushing for eleven tracks instead of the scanter-seeming ten), but then, one must be reminded that, in the 80s, most albums were only eight tracks. And MARINA is nothing if not an honorary 80s lady. She’s just too (Venus) fly (trap) for this decade and century. Even so, she can still say, “I’ve been able to look at my career and feel proud of the fact that I haven’t had to compromise that much. All artists have to compromise a little, but it’s amazing that I’ve had the creative freedom to write the records that I want. You don’t have to conform in order to see success in your creative life.” MARINA is rare proof of that, and so is Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land.
