Highlights: West Coast, Power Money Glory
6/10
Ever since I saw the cheap Burgess quote, I
was determined to hate this album. Or maybe ‘hate’ is the wrong word, because
there’s nothing to hate about Lana Del Rey. She is lovely, pretty, stylish, ‘different’,
she has this precious image of a tragically depressed celebrity. No, hating her
would be positively reactionary. Rather, I was prepared to be underwhelmed, swept
away by waves of boredom masquerading as class.
Ultraviolence
is like a gigantic sad marshmallow smeared all over your face over the whole duration
of this album. Which, and this might be an issue, is frankly overlong. The
opener “Cruel World” drags forever, and the mood-setting excuse is weak. This
album has the same mood painstakingly sustained for 52 monotonous, narcoleptic minutes.
Had she started with the title track, my six would have a much healthier look.
Not that “West Coast” (or “Wesht Coasht”, if we get
into her voluptuous phonetics) isn’t a classic. It is this album’s “Video Games”,
only this time the novelty effect gives way to clever songwriting. The way she breaks
down the pacing halfway through is absolutely majestic (if thoroughly
calculated) and leaves me wondering if she really is as good as they say. Elsewhere,
it’s mostly just mannerisms. “Sad Girl” living in a “Cruel World”. Presentation
too important to consider the actual content. Some choruses, however, do impress
and there’s no question that “Power Money Glory” (I bet you can guess the
lyrics of that one) can melt any number of cynical hearts.
But mostly it’s just kids, of course. Girls who think
she is some glamorous, lonesome queen. Boys who get a hard-on every time she
says the word ‘fuck’. It’s really quite priceless, the whole thing, even if
occasionally it becomes grating – her taking herself so bloody seriously. But I
guess pop stars can be forgiven: sincerity is arbitrary. Talent, though, can’t
be synthesized. Not even with that pout.
In the meantime – brilliant background music.
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