Lana Del Rey
Born To Die

I musically hate the eighties for two reasons: the sound mood, terribly recognizable and irrevocably tied to that period and therefore has aged very poorly; and the birth of MTV (August '81) which definitively marked the rise of package music (my very sad definition) where the packaging matters more than the content and where the budget for a music video exceeds the music production budget several times over (sigh!). 

Let me tell you, in the '70s, a Britney Spears at most would have been a groupie, because the quasi-porn ballet of "Oops! I Did It Again" would not have had much effect on the radio, avoiding selling millions of onanistic copies (air out the room after "listening").

Lana Del Rey is the epitome of this evolution (so to speak).

Her talent is certainly genuine although....

Even though a previous and unsuccessful artistic career under the name Lizzy Grant, which also resulted in an album, was preemptively and conveniently erased (album withdrawn from the market and songs online disappeared) just before her musical rebirth.

Even though her lips sprung up overnight, surely the result of an unfortunate allergic reaction (someone give her an antihistamine!).

Then again, the fact that her dad sweats money and that she, apart from her GMO lips (her mouth starting 15 centimeters deeper), is quite a beautiful wo..man, are certainly coincidences.

A star constructed at the drawing table to be tremendously glam and decadent, an interpreter of this nihilistic time.

Born to die and destined to live alone, disillusioned by life but perpetually deluded by love affairs with no future.

The problem is that the trick is visible.

The record reflects the plastic essence of the artist. The production cloaks everything in a vintage and decadent flavor, as befits the character, but the genuineness is lacking.

The passion only comes out in “Video Games”, the only truly poignant song and the highlight of the album.

For the rest, the game of “even the rich and fabulous cry” doesn't work, and overall gives the idea of a contrived, flat, and vaguely elitist work.

And it's a shame, because it wouldn't be something to discard, there aren't any truly awful songs and indeed, many show glimpses of potential (wasted).

The mistake was probably denying herself and her past, thus giving up her truest part to recycle herself into a sad doll with sure commercial effect but to be admired more than loved.

Some have chosen different paths. Just think of Alanis Morrisette's beginnings, who, before conquering the world with an angry and enraged Jagged Little Pill like “I have my things so you'd better stay away otherwise I'll make a doorstop with your family jewels,” made Canadian moose dance with a horrific dance-pop (watch the video for "Too Hot" and shudder) vaguely sexy (as much as one can be dressed that way).

But she never hid it, she didn't delete what she was, she just evolved without denying herself.

In fact, she tried to include a couple of early style tracks in her anthology The Collection, but the producers, in fits of hysterical laughter and crying fits, strongly advised against it (euphemism).

Lana seems to be a prisoner of her character and her need to succeed at all costs, even at the expense of her songs.

One can hope that, once her diva ambitions are appeased, she starts singing just for the pleasure, and the emotional necessity, of doing so.

It's the only way she can truly make us feel what she has to say.