Lana Del Rey has been hailed as pop’s brand new saviour as often as she has been criticized since the arrival of last year’s doting and delicate ‘Video Games’, and now with the arrival of debut full-length ‘Born to Die’, we finally get a chance to see what she is capable of and if her songs can push the boundaries further than the themes of damaged adoration we have heard from her so far.
Lana is a curious artist, both her look and stage presence speaking volumes of rich-girl beauty, heartbroken drama queen and broken soul. It’s a persona that is executed so brilliantly that it’s hard to see beyond it, with each song she sings tugging on the heartstrings and exploring bleak subject matter. Despite much of ‘Born to Die’ being drenched in black, Del Rey never strays from charming and charismatic, every word coming from her lips pondered over a thousand times, producing erotic, breathy tones that are as addictive as they are intimate.
‘Born to Die’ is a submissive album, exposing Lana’s inner demons and depending on glamorizing misery to get by, but it’s that which makes this debut release so unique and polarizing. While some people will love Lana’s self-confessed ‘gangster Nancy Sinatra’, others will no doubt find it self-righteous. The opening (and title) track from our doll-eyed virtuoso is haunting, the polished instrumentals allowing Lana’s vocals to explore the territory of doomed love and the danger of falling into it (“You and I, we were born to die”). It’s a heartfelt song, which isn’t afraid of being over-the-top. The material is dark; a gothic pop song with hooks aplenty and tears behind the gentle lyrics (“Sometimes love is not enough, and the road gets tough, I don’t know why”). A bit more fun is had with the next song, ‘Off to the Races’, which infuses a driving hip-hop beat with machine gun spat lyrics, all of which suggest another complicated love affair with Lana taking the role of an unhinged party girl with a love for money and a ‘bad man’ (“He loves me with every beat of his cocaine heart”). It’s a passionate and self-destructive piece and paints Lana as the ‘harlot starlet’ she claims to be. It strays into R&B at times, which shows that she can drift from melancholy ballad to something more suggestible with ease. As the track draws to a close there are echoes of Bonnie & Clyde or Sid & Nancy, with switchblade romance being centre stage (“Kiss me on my open mouth”).
‘Blue Jean’s’ gushes with cowboy blues and whimsical guitars, an undercurrent of samples and husky gasps building to a romantic chorus where Lana almost begs to get what she wants (“Promise you’ll remember that you’re mine”). The sexy vocals are really shown off here, honouring and celebrating love but accepting that the rough comes with the smooth. Love isn’t fair, and Lana knows this, and that’s why ‘Blue Jeans’ is the album highlight so far. Next up is ‘Video Games’, the breakout hit from last year, is magical and mysterious in equal measure, a dark and pained ballad that tells of a love lost, layered with both frustration and hope. The beautiful keys and strings provide a backdrop for Lana to explore her memories of trivial matters (“Kissing in the blue dark, playing pool and wild darts, video games”) that mean a lot in hindsight, spoken of with great fondness. There is no bitterness here, and it’s a wonderful thing to experience. It’s macabre yet sombre, creating a diverse landscape that shows of the style with which the song has been pieced together.
‘Diet Mountain Dew’ is another song about the mentioned bad boy’ (“You’re no good for me, but baby I want you”) which has a bouncing beat, stimulating bass and dancing keys as Lana recites a diary of old, a time when she lived for one man and cared about next to nothing else. It has catchy elements and a polished edge that wasn’t evident in the previous demo of this song. It claims she enjoys excitement over a humdrum life of domesticity (“Maybe I like this rollercoaster, maybe it keeps me high”). ‘National Anthem’ is a track that puts the love to one side in exchange for a commentary on money and consumerism (“Money is the reason we exist, everybody knows it, it’s a fact, kiss kiss”). It isn’t a protest song at all, quite the opposite actually, with rich girl glitz, diamonds and cars being renowned. It’s hard to tell if this song is autobiographical or piece rooted in fiction, but either way it’s seedy and self-righteous and that is an addictive mix.
‘Dark Paradise’ is the most desolate of all the tracks on ‘Born to Die’, but it is also very real. It’s the tale of somebody refusing to let go of a lost love, no matter how high the odds are stacked against them. It wallows in misery yet the song is strangely uplifting, the pure and real lyrics striking a chord with those who have suffered at the hands of heartbreak. Sometimes it can feel too uninviting, this taste of gothica sodden in suicide and pills. It’s a dark tale of the frail nature of the human condition (“I wish I was dead”). Terror is an undercurrent that is hidden at times by Lana’s wails (“There’s no relief, I feel you in my dreams”) and the exploration of an unconditional love feels agonising. The following track ‘Radio’ is love-struck, poetic and positive, a sweet and refreshing song after the emotional bashing taken with the previous track. It’s either a story of the pursuit of fame or happiness (“American dreams came true somehow”), a neo-noir experience with a chaser of blues. It is devilish and delicious.
‘Carmen’ is cold and heartless, telling a cautionary tale with references to vice and working girls. (“Carmen, Carmen, staying up till morning. Only seventeen but she walks the streets so mean”). Coney Island is mentioned regularly and paints a retro picture. This bouncing dark ballad is another piece of dangerous fiction with a dreary fascination hanging over it. It strays into lullaby territory at times but not the kind of lullaby that you would want to help your baby fall asleep. ‘Million Dollar Man’ is intriguing and moody, another visceral love song with blues/jazz influences and a 1920s big band atmosphere. Another song exploring heartbreak at the hands of a true love, but for the first time it feels overdone and perhaps in need of a fresh take. The album isn’t losing momentum, but for the first time a song fades into the background.
‘Summertime Sadness’ explores and elaborates on the heartbreak in a better way, mentioning memorable moments of a happy relationship. The song is durable with beautiful imagery, lyrics that are sinful and direct, making it a true serenade of sadness. It’s a cool song and appeals to Lana’s delicate side without sacrificing the edge (“Got my bad baby by my heavenly side”). ‘This Is What Makes Us Girls’ is chiselled and progressive, the first nod of the album to powerful women (so far Lana has been fairly passive) with yet more glitz, glamour and alcohol (“Get us while we’re hot, come on take a shot”). It is sexy, sultry and exciting, a party anthem for hipster ladies and a drinking anthem for the rich bitch. Lana is in full flow diva mode here. ‘Without You’ is as materialistic as ‘Born to Die’ gets (“Everything I want I have. Money, notoriety and Rivieras”) but it’s a consumerist message lodged firmly in Lana’s soulful and spoilt character. Eventually it follows a similar lost and alone path, a pop icon basking in the sun, embracing her flaws and enjoying the dark venom of love (“Your love is deadly”).
‘Lolita’ is another song that has been given a makeover after doing the demo rounds. The song is playful, often drifting from a slow jam into a playground nightmare as her vocals sway. It’s the most forgetful song on the album, as it just doesn’t have enough to make it stand out. Album closer ‘Lucky Ones’ is much better, and it’s a fitting end to a painful journey. Lana rides into the sunset feeling finally satisfied, without regret and with no more longing to have somebody she can’t. Wordplay is key and although certain lyrical tricks are revisited (“I tried so hard to act nice like a lady, you taught me that it was good to be crazy”) it never feels like going over old ground.
‘Born to Die’ is an accomplished and unique album for the modern music scene to ponder over, and Lana Del Rey is different and enigmatic, performing her songs with charm and charisma is a ‘tortured soul’ kind of way. It is often morbid, but isn’t that where all great pop music is really rooted? The album has the storytelling prowess of David Bowie, the heartbreak of Adele and grim tragedy of acts like Kate Bush and Bjork. Lana Del Rey is no doubt destined for greatness in 2012 and this album should propel her towards the stardom she deserves. ‘Born to Die’ is a work of outrageous genius.
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