What to say, what to say? Lana Del Ray is quite a person. Without a doubt, she’s absolutely beautiful, enigmatic and has daddy’s checkbook to command the musical press. Yet… she doesn’t have the goods. On her second release Ultraviolence, she’s projecting a image of a self-confident woman who in my humble opinion believes that it’s contrived to the point of hilarity. Let us jump in…
The album has a great production. Helmed by one half of the Black Keys, it’s as if John Barry spent his time listening to beach boys records, got crazy and stuck his orchestra in a trashcan for the next James Bond film. It’s spacey, moody and epic. There isn’t much variation across the tracks, making not a single one standout. The songs are ok for the most part; there are some ‘cool’ bits here and there. West Coast is a pretty infectious track, I’ll give her that. She’s too concerned about being cool and being associated with cool. By the time the cool wears off, I felt the album making me think of times I was depressed. The time we live in, there is no such thing as underground. We can thank the internet for the rise of nerd culture and the diminishment of underground status. So all these references to Lou Reed fall flat and edge on the side of snobbish.
Clearly this chick can’t sing. Del Ray is all over the place vocally. The trashcan effect is extended to Lana’s vocals to keep the listener from switching over to something sonically better.
Maybe I didn’t get this album, I’m sorry if I insulted anyone, but this is pretty bad. The competition in the girl singer category is pretty fierce with contenders like Adele, Lady Gaga, and my favorite St. Vincent who are pretty much doing the same thing just ten times smarter, more extravagant and better. I’d rather listen to a Katy Perry record that this. I won’t be pining for razor blades after listening to Hot ‘n’ Cold, that’s for sure.
Essential Tracks: West Coast