Lana Del Rey
Born to Die

I will try, in a few words, to write something about the emotional baggage stirred by the song from Lana Del Rey, without particular technicalities.

A style, hers, that I must admit I thought was far from my musical habits.

Are you familiar with the moment of clarity that hits you in the middle of the delirium? Everything ends, that crazy parenthesis outside the norms concludes, and there you are, returning to the apparent normality of a night that has come to an end, and perhaps you put on something, a classic, to calm your nerves and to accompany the dawn of a new day.

Billie, Frank, Nina? Something to relax the moon as it dies for the umpteenth time. Perhaps a mix, and here emerges from some frequency this Born To Die.

A rather melancholic title? Yes. Pop/Soul from another era, but with a sprinkle of modern elements? Without a doubt.

Okay, do it for me, Lana.

And indeed, the intro, the orchestra, well. The first thing that might come to mind, perhaps, are those old songs that never die, like I Put A Spell On You or I'm A Fool To Want You.

Instead, electronic sampled beats accompany the cold and dying voice of a love destined for oblivion.

But not cold like Nico style, because at times you feel warmth in the phrase: Come and take a walk on the wild side, let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain. Confused like these magical hours of darkness.

As if wanting to pause death for a moment and enjoy the passion of something that will not exist tomorrow.

Elizabeth Grant is a much-discussed character, often painted as a mix of unpleasantness and arrogance. For me, she is just a girl with the blues in her veins, from what I hear.

A torch song with a vintage flavor, well done, well interpreted, and very evocative. You can't ask for anything better, at this point of the night.