Lana Del Rey has always been elusive. Publically and conceptually, Lizzy Grant has hidden behind her persona since 2011, when she broke onto the indie pop scene with “Video Games”, a sublime cut of baroque pop that captured bloggers and critics alike with its mysterious allure and homemade music video. Just as pop stars like Lady Gaga and Sia were becoming high concept by way of avant-garde avenues, Lana Del Rey was high concept in an old school way: capturing the feel of past era singers like Nancy Sinatra, filtered through modern hip hop and trip-pop, there aren’t many contemporaries that fall into the same category as her. Despite this fresh sound, the question of her authenticity caused massive backlash after her debut Born To Die was released, and her astronomic rise to stardom was overshadowed by questions like: “Is she real?” “Is it all an act?”
The answer to both of these questions: “yes”. Of course Lana Del Rey is an act, just as Lady Gaga is an act, Lorde is an act, Beyonce is an act. As artists, all of the singers listed (including Lana) use their platform to tell stories, but it’s ridiculous to think that the narratives produced by these artists aren’t all a sort of a facade, a way for the audience to see into a window of their lives, but a window only. Maybe it is our tabloid obsessed society, or the speed by which information can be attained via the internet, but there is a demand to know everything about our media’s entertainers. Artists have a right to their private lives. However, Lana Del Rey is also very real, in the way that actors are: while the men and women of Hollywood (of which Lana adores) do play parts, the best performances come from those who dig into their personal lives and bring resonant experiences to those roles. The truth is in the lie, and that strange paradox is where Lana Del Rey exists.
The progression of her albums showcase this stage-like presence in spades: Born To Die was all about the American Dream in the modern age, achieving this theme by cross-referencing classic and iconic Americana imagery with modern day culture (the fever-dream video for “National Theme”, where Lana Del Rey plays Marilyn Monroe and Jackie O opposite of A$AP Rocky as John F. Kennedy is a prime example); Paradise turned more towards classic balladry, a doped up Nancy Sinatra finding God in drugs (“Yayo”), motorcycle gangs (“Ride”), and poetry and religion (“Body Electric”); Ultraviolence recounted the struggles of a house-wife style character trapped by cults (“Ultraviolence”), distant and broken lovers (“Shades of Cool”), and the call of California (“West Coast”); and Honeymoon, where Lana Del Rey finally finds herself in Hollywood proper but unhappy (“Honeymoon”), but also ready to pull away from the destructive lovers of her past (“High By The Beach”, the video an awesome and hilarious “fuck you” to tabloids).
This, of course, leads us to Lana Del Rey’s 2017 release Lust For Life, which promises to be different from her earlier records and performances because of an anomaly on the cover: the current queen of the sadcore genre is smiling. The title even seems to be a call back to her debut, as if Lana has found some sort of reason to live, like the reason she was born wasn’t because of an inevitable end, but because of the adventurous journey to death. But this begs the question: what character is she depicting in this album?
The answer? A little bit of everything that came before.
However, there are moments when the curtain pulls back, the scene in the movie ends, and we’re allowed to see backstage, behind the camera. This is without a doubt Lana Del Rey’s most personal album yet, and what is revealed amplifies everything we deduced about this elusive artist from her past work: a hopeless romantic, obsessed with the idea of the American Dream, a woman who has been hurt and is, in a way, taking on a role as an older sister or friend who is reaching out to her listeners as a cautionary tale and guiding hand.
No where is this more apparent than in the opening track, “Love”. Sure, it has all the hallmarks of a classic Lana Del Rey song: sweeping strings, booming percussion, Lana’s signature vocals that fall somewhere between a mournful sigh and a beautiful croon. But the lyrics hint at an optimism that’s rarely been heard before in her catalogue: “You get ready, you get all dressed up / To go nowhere in particular / Back to work or the coffee shop / Doesn’t matter because it’s enough / To be young and in love.” There’s a tinge of sadness still present, but ultimately the track is a heartfelt ode to the healing power of romance for the Millennial generation, a generation that’s consistently been caught in the crosshairs between the past and the future, just as Lana Del Rey herself and her music are.
The consecutive three songs are also highlights for Lust For Life: the title track, Lana Del Rey’s first proper collaboration, finds her trading off choruses with The Weeknd, and his sinewy tenor weaves together with Lana’s breathy delivery. It’s part wistful, part epic, part escapism, and it works unexpectedly well. “13 Beaches” works as a pseudo-sequel to “High By The Beach” narratively, finding our heroine searching for a beach where she can be alone and contemplate the pain of love; the instrumentation itself, though, leans more towards Born To Die-era decadence, its orchestral beginning and spoken word prologue (which references the film The Carnival of Souls) reminiscent of “Summertime Sadness”. The vulgar and sultry “Cherry” speaks of a relationship that is destructive, using metaphors of rotting fruit and black sand beaches, along with the occasional explicit curse, to punctuate the track with a menace that is matched by the drum fills and haze of the chorus.
While the rest of the first half of Lust For Life keeps its pace pretty well, nothing from the next few tracks reach the heights of the previous four. “White Mustang” feels like an outtake from the Paradise-era (buoyed slightly by a catchy and flirty whistling bridge near the end). And while A$AP Rocky is a close friend of Lana’s and chemistry could be felt between them during the “National Anthem” video, they don’t quite ignite the way they should on “Summer Bummer” and “Groupie Love”; Lana’s performance is stronger on the former with a cool and swaggery chorus, while A$AP Rocky delivers a fuller verse on the latter. It also feels strange having back to back collaborations with the same artist, and it breaks the pace just enough to make it awkward.
“In My Feelings” bridges the two halves of Lust For Life together, and it epitomizes one of the album’s glaring weaknesses: the fact that there are two distinct halves that don’t always feel like they belong together. As stated before, the first half has a greater tendency to work within the already established structures of the Lana Del Rey brand, polished to a near perfect product; meanwhile, the second half turns into a singer-songwriter collection, with flavors of classic protest records sprinkled in. This new direction also works for Lana (as seen in Ultraviolence‘s blues influenced alternative rock and Paradise‘s romantic storytelling), but “In My Feelings” tries to connect the two with awkward production and vocal phrasing that doesn’t quite work.
This disconnect can also been seen in singular songs as well. While “Coachella–Woodstock In My Mind” has an amazing chorus that references Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway To Heaven” and some of Lana Del Rey’s most personal lyrics (it recounts her experience at Coachella 2017, where she watched friend Father John Misty perform), the trap-style percussion feels stale, and some of the lines are a little too on the nose for their own good. “When the World Was at War We Kept Dancing” tries to pull off a similar feat that “Cherry” does with its “fucks”, slipping in awkward cursing into an already awkward chorus about “leaning into youth”; the track is saved by its hopeful wishes for a post-Trump America, but it can’t shake its strange structure and lyrical choices. “Tomorrow Never Came”, a collaboration with John Lennon’s son Sean Ono Lennon, feels far too precious and proud of itself, and it comes off as trite and saccharine.
Fortunately, Lana Del Rey’s collaboration with idol and self-proclaimed “witchy sister” Stevie Nicks, “Beautiful People Beautiful Problems”, fairs better. The lyrics on this track aren’t a highlight, which is a shame since Stevie and Lana have both showcased stronger imagery in their catalogues, but their harmonizing and trade-offs play into the older sister vibe Lana began to express earlier in the album and Stevie has always been known for, and it’s lovely. “God Bless America–And All the Beautiful Women In It” is a gorgeous ode to women in general, accented by spanish guitar and allusions to the 2017 Women’s March. The album also closes with three of Lana’s best vocal performances: “Heroin” and “Change” contain some of her most emotional singing put to record, and “Get Free” is as close to ecstatic as we’ll probably ever hear Lana. She wants to be “out of the black, into the blue”, and although blues aren’t always much brighter than the darkness she has wallowed in before, “Get Free” is a cathartic and excellent closer.
Lust For Life is a long album at 16 tracks and 72 minutes long, and perhaps the album’s greatest weakness is that the length is felt while listening to it. The other weaknesses referenced earlier sprout from this length, and Lust For Life could have been a more consistent and cohesive album if some of the unnecessary tracks had been cut, which would have then allowed for tighter editing on the lyrics and the production. Mostly, Lust For Life feels, strangely enough, more like a mixtape than a true album, one that pulls from all of her previous discography to create something beautiful but, ultimately, a little clustered.
Despite these weaknesses, though, the best thing about Lust For Life is the progress that it promises. The highlights of the album tease a more emotionally rounded Lana Del Rey, one who has learned something important from the celluloid icons of her Hollywood idolization: the greatest performances originate not from the exterior of the characters they play, but the personal narratives brought to said characters. If Lana Del Rey continues to pull the curtain back, allow us to see behind the director’s chair, she may become a pop culture icon of her own.
GRADE: B
KEY TRACKS: LOVE, LUST FOR LIFE, 13 BEACHES, CHERRY, GOD BLESS AMERICA–AND ALL THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IN IT, BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE BEAUTIFUL PROBLEMS, HEROIN, GET FREE
PopCusper 