It will no doubt delight the army of Lana Del Rey haters that somebody who loves her as much as I do has chosen to open a review of her debut album with a quote that's been attributed to both Phineas Taylor Barnum, the infamous scam artist, and Walt Disney, the noted creator of two-dimensional cartoon characters. Go ahead, lap up the irony and hate away; the reality is that, whoever said it, it's a statement of great value to anybody with an audience, and it's one that Lana Del Rey has obviously taken to heart.
Born to Die is vapid, innocuous pop with politically touchy sexual politics, almost indistinguishable from and less interesting than scores of terrible-albeit-infectious female pop music.
Source: SputnikMusic
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It's at a 62 now on Metacritic. Around what I expected--maybe a bit worse than.
Well, we’ve listened to every song on ‘Born to Die’ and here’s the verdict: the album is a sexy, sprawling ode to sex and death. There is not much in the way of variation when it comes to the pace of the songs: They are slow and they take their sweet time making their points. That said, all the bells, whistles, layers, nuances and soundscapes are what move the album along, allowing it to evolve, keeping it interesting, and preventing it from becoming a drone.
It's tempting, when considering the phrase "Hollywood sadcore" – Del Rey's own description of her musical style – to dwell too long on the second word. But the "Hollywood" part signifies more than simply silver-screen glamour.
Elizabeth Grant is essentially an actress, and Del Rey is a character she's created. Which is exactly where complaints about her inauthenticity founder: inauthenticity is the point. The music – a delicious hybrid of Portishead and Nancy Sinatra – only serves as a backdrop to the emotional drama in which Del Rey plays the role of the hurt-bruised lover, switching between "you" and "he" to describe her lover, as though stepping out of the screen to break the fourth wall.
Never is this more effective than on the world-stopping "Video Games". It's a trick as old – and as enduring – as Hollywood itself.
for an album like that.