Lana Del Rey’s fourth full length album builds on the legacy she has built for herself.
Ironic and bitter sweet melodic, her songs are about edifice and decay and boulevards of broken dreams. About love found and discarded, about ambitions created and realised, and promises broken.
All delivered with her deadpan, sultry smooth, impossibly dreamy voice, a voice as full and inviting as her bee-stung lips.
A woman who trades on her very own incongruities, she creates mini movies of her songs, her musical accompaniment constructed like a series of soundtracks to imaginary films, swelling from sparse sounds to oceans of lush strings and heart-pumping slowbeats.
Elegant and genuinely wonderful, she manages to soften the slap of her darker moments inside a melodic velvet glove, gently coercing the listener around to her tantalising ways.
Surprisingly, the album features a host of high profile guest performances as she duets up with the likes of Stevie Nicks from the then, Sean Ono Lennon, the link to that black and white time where all we wanted to do was to hold her hand, and A$AP Rocky, Playboy Carti and The Weeknd from the mad now.
Lyrically, this time around she references the likes of Patsy Cline, Neil Young and Led Zeppelin - a nostalgic connection for everyone.
Stylised and firmly rooted in the myths of 50s tinseltown, the former Elizabeth Grant has created a persona that is intelligent and fascinating to observe and be hypnotised by and Lust For Life continues to weave that beguiling spell.
Del Rey’s world is a strange, disconcerting one, where things are never quite as they seem, where the mirror really does lie and where, as they say, you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.
Musician, actor, singer, music reviewer, Phil’s interests cover a lot of bases and this is reflected in the music he writes about. From blues to soul, ambient to electronic, Phil writes about artists he feels are interesting, true to their craft and worthy of your ears.