Lana Del Rey
Lust for Life

Lana Del Rey has grown up. This is clearly felt in the lyrics of this latest work, which return to us more aware of herself and life, in its bitterness and its bright sides. It is also probably the first album in which she truly bares her heart, setting aside the portrayal of a languid and disillusioned character, whose authenticity was always in doubt. Emblematic in this respect were her songs about toxic loves with gangsters, junkies, or older men. There's almost no trace of them in “Lust for Life,” giving way only to full, but never destructive, feelings, as shown in tracks like “Wild Mustang” or “Cherry.” Loves that hurt, that reveal their own fragility, but also hint at a glimmer of light, as in “Groupie Love,” and that are not accompanied by a resigned abandonment and a torrid summer solitude, as in her previous “Honeymoon.”

Musically, this sensitivity relies on sounds that harken back to the "Born to Die" period, blending orchestral arrangements, subdued keyboards, and urban beats, here more distinctly trap-influenced. Elegant and hypnotic is the relentless drum machine that outlines the chorus of “Groupie Love” or the dark rhythm of “Summer Bummer.” The rhythm becomes more syncopated and fragmented in the electronics of “In My Feelings,” a song about the impossibility of coming to terms with one's emotions, supported by an hallucinatory and ecstatic vocal delivery.

Beyond the electronic incursions, which also emerge in the title track, a dreamy duet with The Weeknd, elsewhere luminous acoustic breaks open up, like in the intro “Love.” A song with a hippie vibe, echoed also in the video, where Lana observes the carefree nature of youth, presenting herself as a sort of fairy godmother. A role that reappears in “Coachella – Woodstock in my Mind,” where one almost senses the gaze with which the singer embraces the festival crowd from above.

The acoustic moments become more pronounced in the second part of the album, accompanying mild reflections on the current state of America, like in “God Bless America and - All the Beautiful Women in It,” which forms a single unit with the following “When the World Was at War We Kept Dancing,” more dreamy and rarefied, but especially with the subsequent duets. "Beautiful Problems, Beautiful People" is an interesting female dialogue with Stevie Nicks, wrapped in harmless piano arrangements. More surprising is "Tomorrow Never Came," written with Sean Ono Lennon. More than a song, it's a kind of melancholic séance where the ghost of John Lennon emerges in veiled references to Beatles melodies. Melancholy that runs aground in the sad and resigned “Heroin,” which revisits certain vaguely chill-out sounds already touched upon in “Honeymoon” and elsewhere in this latest work.

The mood lifts slightly with the bitter “Change,” which addresses the inevitability of changes and their acceptance, and the hopeful, but not too much, “Get Free,” driven by a surprisingly brisk rhythm for Del Rey and vague 80s reminiscences. The metaphor of chasing the illusion of the rainbow, aware that ultimately you'll only hold a handful of ashes, is once again emblematic of the maturity acquired by Del Rey, who until now has been lulled by morbid, artificial images tinged with a certain inner infantilism.

The final moments of the album, finally, reveal a sunny landscape breach, between waves and seagull cries. Almost a counterpoint to “Swan Song,” the concluding track of “Honeymoon,” which, however, implied a desire to escape from the world, marking the end of an album steeped in an atmosphere of solitude and reclusion on Sunset Boulevard. Here Lana's eyes, instead, look to the future, with its challenges and rewards.