I often ask myself what is it exactly that attracted me to Lana Del Rey’s music in the first place. “Video Games” was the first song I heard after I downloaded it off some sketchy music blog back in 2011. I listened to the song, which casually destroyed the fabric of my being then and there, so I went on to Google-search the singer, finding nothing but a few blog articles and random poorly edited music videos on YouTube. She had Priscilla Presley’s haunting looks, Britney Spears’s genuine awkwardness, and Hope Sandoval’s vocal style. And, just like that, I was hooked on to the carefully crafted mystery of the character known as Lana Del Rey.
A few months passed and an EP was released. A song titled “Blue Jeans” slowly but surely made its way round the internet. Beautiful, decently budgeted music videos followed, attracting millions of views. “Who is this beautiful girl singing depressing aesthetically pleasing pop songs?,” Tumblr beckoned. A small but very vocal legion of fans started forming. Still, though, the masses didn’t catch on. The sad Tumblr chanteuse was still only ours to claim. But it was clear for anyone to see: Lana Del Rey’s star was too big to suppress.
Soon, Lana’s debut album Born To Die was released, performing well commercially, specifically in international markets. Critics didn’t respond too well to the album though, citing lack of lyrical growth, describing it as a well-produced, high-concept album riddled with clichés of drugs, sex, and alcohol. America wasn’t buying into the buzz either, even publicly mocking her SNL performance back in 2011. Then, as some sort of sad metaphor about the current state of the music industry, it took a DJ’s remix of one of Lana’s songs for her to finally have a “hit song.” Cedric Gervais’s remix of Summertime Sadness catapulted Lana into a household name in the US, selling over three million copies and remaining on the Billboard charts for over 23 weeks.
Lana, of course, didn’t run with this success. She continued to make music her own way, eventually releasing her sophomore studio album Ultraviolence, not a commercially friendly album by any means. Five years in the industry, and she continues to somehow remain exclusively under the radar, despite selling over nine million copies of her albums in a small period of time. She somehow manages to be both critically and commercially successful, yet still have that underdog Indie-pop artist aura about her. She doesn’t tour either–not really. Mind you, this woman could easily sell out arenas, and she knows it. However, the only way you’d get to see her is at a music festival should she choose to drop by your town sometime in the near future. She doesn’t promote her songs either. You’d never find her performing on award shows or morning television. Interviews are a rarity as well. She’s at the height of her fame, so the calls are undoubtedly coming in. There’s a beauty to how little we see of Lana, reminiscent of the 1950’s icons she so clearly admires.
Ever since “Love,” the 50’s inspired generational pop anthem surfaced earlier this summer as the first single off of Lust for Life, Lana’s fourth full-length studio effort, fans anticipated what would be known as the first “happy” Lana Del Rey album. The album artwork was soon released, depicting a beaming Del Rey, presumably for the first time ever, against a colorful backdrop, oddly reminiscent of the artwork of Born To Die, only with a dash of florals and optimism. As magazine interviews soon surfaced, a very raw, somewhat politically aware album was promised, something which Lana hasn’t exactly shied away from in the past, but hasn’t explored deeply within her songwriting (American flags and old Hollywood propaganda aside).
A dozen listens through the album and I can safely say that this is Lana Del Rey’s most honest album. Through poetic lyrics and her signature dream-pop sound, she gently speaks on behalf of a generation, depicting a newfound vulnerability and awareness to her lyrics that we’ve never really witnessed from her before. Production-wise, the album is still signature Lana; combining Born To Die and Paradise‘s atmospheric synthesizers, Ultraviolence‘s raw guitar melody’s and Honeymoon‘s orchestral arrangements into a beautifully presented piece of alt-pop confection.
With appearances by Stevie Nicks, The Weekend, A$ap Rocky and Sean Lennon, Lust for Life is also Lana’s first record to include features. She is an artist who is very cautious about who she chooses to work with, and although she has blessed The Weeknd’s discography with her vocals once or twice in the past, Lana has never truly opened herself up to collaborations. Her track with Stevie shines the most as a beautiful alt-rock collaboration between two of the baddest self-proclaimed witches in pop.
Already released singles aside, some of the album’s standouts include God Bless America, In My Feelings, White Mustang, and Get Free: the album’s closing track and my personal favorite. It is a song that perfectly embodies the essence of Lust For Life: “Finally, I’m crossing the threshold / From the ordinary world / To the reveal of my heart,” she sings over a perfectly produced 50’s girl-group inspired track, reminding the world, and herself, of the importance of personal fulfillment. “This is my commitment,” she declares, preaching about her newfound manifesto as she crosses the threshold “into the blue,” promising happily ever after—wherever the hell that may be.