Tom Smith - 2/7/2012
It often seems that those most trumpeted for success are least deserving of it; that hyperbole and blind reverance are simply a veil for a lack of substance. In the case of Lana Del Rey, it has become harder and harder to separate the myth from the reality, such is the density of the cloud cover surrounding her rise to fame and this, her debut major-label LP. This review will attempt to bring clarity to the situation.
It's undeniable that Del Rey (aka Lizzy Grant) has to some extent courted the frenzied media-circus trailing her short career, and, in marketing herself, has certainly exploited the sexually charged nature of her music and image. But these are part and parcel of the content on 'Born to Die'; every track aches with a doomed romantic, hand-on-the-thigh atmosphere. Take the title track - the lyrics talk of the trials of love and lust, the music a sweeping, dramatic panorama of strings and piano(a recurrent musical theme which dominates the album).
YouTube-swallowing lead single 'Video Games' also examines, in a very personal way, the travails of mismatched relationships. It evokes images of cult Americana - the aloof, detached James Dean-esque modern man, who loves the 'bad girls' as well as his video games; and the narrator, the suffering but endlessly romantic heroine in her man's 'favourite sun dress', serenading him and us about 'swinging with the old stars' - as if Sinatra might walk in there and then.
Frustrated, or possibly unrequited, love lyrics aside, the musical arrangements throughout are a curious mix between string-laden sentimentality and hip-hop/RnB influenced beats, with vocals veering between both styles. Artists such as Rihanna and Timbaland are brought to mind. As someone who has little interest in either of the above, this made 'Born to Die' challenging, in terms of whether the album 'did it' for me or not. Songs like 'Off to the Races' and 'National Anthem' are characterised by that RnB twang in Del Rey's vocal - jarring at first, but one begins to see the connection between this, the crunching but minimal beats and the swathes of honied strings. 'National Anthem' is particularly effective - the soaring chorus is catchy to a fault.
In a sense, this cross-over between the current mainstream and old-style, glamourous noir-pop is quite probably (coupled with those lips) the root of Del Rey's success. The melodies throughout - with some forgettable exceptions - are memorable and engaging, the mood dark, mysterious and inviting. Del Rey's voice must also be mentioned: it is powerful, rich and full of character. It is easily the outstanding instrument on the album.
But is it as good as the papers suggest? Well, there is clearly something in Del Rey's music - it is difficult to categorise and that is always a positive thing. But there is still a lingering superficiality to 'Born to Die'; for every incisive take on doomed romance, there is a shallow indulgence in the celebration of opulence and excess. Maybe it's meant to be tongue-in-cheek; often it simply comes across as churlish.
When she gets it right musically (Video Games, National Anthem, Carmen), Del Rey's music is brilliant and enveloping; when she doesn't, it is just forgettable. In conclusion, 'Born to Die' is not a fully-formed, modern classic, but it is very far from being the overblown, commercial tat one comes to expect from artists who are made into superstars before they have even uttered a note. It has mystique, depth and is quite unique - much like its maker. So, buy it, stick with it, and you will be rewarded; but do not expect a musical Second Coming. At least, not yet . . .