Wading through the hundreds of thousands of words written about Lana Del Rey since ‘Born To Die’ makes one thing abundantly clear: it’s still hard to get a read on her. Hers is a persona buffed to a post-modern sheen, seemingly impervious to traditional understanding.
Her every action, provocative lyric or photoshoot exudes an ironic distance, while hinting at a simple truth beneath. Del Rey’s style is inextricably linked to iconography that’s immediately familiar but lacking depth and definition to a generation of fans, even if the imagery is intensely personal to her.
‘Ultraviolence’, her second album, once again exists within these confines. With a title co-opted from Alex and the droogs and a cover that shimmers with a longed-for ‘50s glamour, it prods at the idea of a perfect mask slipping; perhaps a wilfully prescient touch, but one that’s bound up with its own share of problems.
Playing with classic imagery is one of the cornerstones of pop-culture and safe ground for provocateurs. Del Rey’s world of wounded women, dangerous men and sharp-tongued survivors was, and is, a real one though.
No amount of self-referential framing changes the fact that Joe DiMaggio ensured that Marilyn Monroe woke up with new bruises, after all. Del Rey, it seems, is aware of this dynamic. “I’m either documenting something or I’m dreaming,” she recently told the New York Times.
The title track takes the idea further, as Del Rey coos the hook to the Crystals’ He Hit Me (It Felt Like A Kiss) and admits: “He used to call me poison, like I was poison ivy. I could have died right there, ‘cause he was right beside me.” There is a constant undercurrent of broken relationships and overwhelming, misplaced longing - see the jazz singer/cult leader trade-off - bandaged by Dan Auerbach’s woozy production.
DelRey has ditched the hip-hop modernity that anchored ‘Born To Die’, investing entirely in a retro-pop sound that suits her perfectly. Her menacing warble on Cruel World, the album’s opener and the first of its ruined relationships, is balanced by the falsetto at the heart of Shades Of Cool, which sounds like a ballad of inevitable doom under the stewardship of Judy Garland: “When he calls, he calls for me. And not for you.”
The first half of ‘Ultraviolence’ is something of a revelation, deftly delivered and dripping with a sepia atmosphere that could burn up at any moment. Brooklyn Baby is arch and knowing, West Coast a snake-hipped delight. On Sad Girl, she paints a picture of the other woman that is utterly depressing: “Being a bad bitch on the side, might not appeal to fools like you. Creeping around while he gets high, it might not be something you would do.”
The record’s second half is less engaging, its journey more noticeably one-paced. This is a shame, as it’s here that DelRey bares her teeth. Money Power Glory and Fucked My Way Up To The Top are brittle but defiant, their melodies under-powered next to their accompanying words: “I wanna take you for all that you got.”
‘Ultraviolence’ is both disarming and deeply troubling, a blend of imagery and honesty that works only half of the time. One thing’s for certain, though. We don't have her figured out just yet.
Lana Del Rey Upcoming Tour Dates are as follows:
Tue July 15 2014 - CORK Live At Marquee
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