Lana Del Rey first drew my attention last summer. It could have been her gorgeous appearance, or the fact that her lead single was called "Video Games." Whatever it was that drove me to click on a non-hip hop music link, it is an impulse I am eternally grateful I indulged in.
Del Rey is, as previously mentioned, staggeringly gorgeous. But her music stands in complete juxtaposition to what her wavy red hair, sultry lips and penetrating eyes hint at. Perhaps because I was expecting a poppy Katy Perry one-off, I'll never forget the awe I felt as the mournful melody of "Video Games" washed over me. At that moment, Del Rey's dark, ominous vocals had me hooked.
As a scoured the internet for more of her music, I was dismayed to find that she had only released a small handful of songs, but was contented with the sampling I had. It would seem that I was not alone, as the internet's collective infatuation with Ms. Del Rey has led to a tsunami of hype leading up to her major label debut album, Born to Die.
Her choice of title is perhaps fitting, as the mixed reviews of her debut that range from "brilliant" (Sputnikmusic) to "faked orgasm" (Pitchfork) seem to hint that the hype surrounding her since last summer had her slated as a sacrifice to the major labels. Sure enough, the links to the YouTube channel LanaDelRey are disappearing, replaced by links to LanaDelReyVEVO, and an unspoken transition is complete. She existed in that brief moment of transcendence only to die, to fall upon the three-pronged wrath of the assholes at Pitchfork.
I haven't heard the album in it's entirety yet, but I plan to. I'm only slightly troubled by the attempts at Gaga-esque visual weirdness in the video for the album's titular track. But I can forgive posing on a throne flanked by two siberian tigers if Lana del Rey can create just one more moment like the one I had last summer, listening to "Video Games."
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