Walking through the city streets
Is it by mistake or design?
I feel so alone on a Friday night
Can you make it feel like home if I tell you you’re mine?
Her lyrics sometimes feel like excerpts from the diary of a teenage girl. Her wavy hair could belong to a Disney princess, her face to a Barbie. Her voice is a seductive sort of deep like Fiona Apple, and her overall style evokes a wide range of enigmas including Nancy Sinatra, Morrissey, Dalida, Vladimir Nabokov, Brigitte Bardot, Elvis Presley. At her few live peformances she’s stepped onstage to Bernard Herrmann’s piercing score to Psycho. She’s an all-American angel who more-or-less came out of nowhere… and with these numerous personas to summon to her palette, the big question seems to be: Who really is Lana Del Rey?
There’s been more talk about her personal life and origins than the handful of songs she’s released online. The truth is though, we still don’t know much. She was born Elizabeth Grant in New York City, and grew up in Lake Placid. At an early age she had trouble coping with the concept of death and suffered an existential crisis. She drank a lot and was shipped off to boarding school when she was fifteen as a result — it eventually getting to the point where she no longer consumes alcohol at all. As a young adult in NYC she had a career in social work helping those whose lives were destroyed by substance abuse, while occasionally playing open mics at clubs. She’s wildly insecure. She always wanted to be a writer, but was never clear on through which medium her expression would come to unveil itself.
Apparently it’s music. Her debut album “Born To Die”, a self-portrait she calls “100% me”, is officially released tomorrow. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this excited for an artist’s first album. All I can do is hope for each track to be as gorgeous and melancholy as the ones I’ve already loved, and as the heavily-makeuped eyes she dabs in interviews when she gets nervous.