Interesting
review of Paradise in American Songwriter from November:
Quote:
“Rating: 3 1/2 out of 5 stars
Lana Del Rey. You either love her or love to hate her. It’s hard to be ambivalent... and if you are ambivalent, set aside 10 minutes of your life and watch the “Ride” music video [...] and if it doesn’t leave you feeling something — distaste, interest, arousal, confusion — then you’re about dead inside.
Paradise, a standalone EP that’s also being attached to the deluxe edition of Born to Die, is every bit as polarizing as Lana’s debut, [...] Here, our femme fatale sings, swoons, and slurs her way through eight new songs that blur the lines between baby talk and dirty talk, between 1950s torch ballads and 21st century pop, between lyrics that belong in a softcore porno and string arrangements stolen from a film noire soundtrack. [...]
“My pussy tastes like Pepsi-Cola,” she informs us at one point. Lines like that are a dime a dozen on an EP that veers between come-ons [...] and mid-coital exclamations [...], and Lana sings each one with sluggish sexiness, like a femme-bot whose batteries have started to short out. The whole thing is exploitive, and it’s easy to see why people desperately want to dislike it… but the music is oddly gorgeous, laced with soft piano chords and moody strings that ooze their way through every song like slow-moving waves of cough syrup. Atmospheric and manic-depressive, it feels like the score to a movie that doesn’t exist.
Lana’s voice has gotten better since her shaky Saturday Night Live performance, but she isn’t selling her voice. She’s selling something larger — a romanticized vision of mid-century Hollywood; [...]; a dedication to long-form music videos whose length, cinematic quality and sheer strangeness would’ve made Michael Jackson proud — and she sells it well. [...] Once you accept that Lana knows exactly what she’s doing — that she, not Interscope Records or any of her co-producers, is the architect behind this R-rated retro-pop fantasy — then maybe you’ll start loving her, too.”
The "..."s in square brackets are where I've left something out of the quote. The other "..."s are in the original.
I like seeing the sorts of often poetic imagery people are drawn to when writing about Lana's music, such as: "like slow-moving waves of cough syrup" ... "like the score to a movie that doesn’t exist". Like it's difficult to describe, to get quite right, yet they need to make the attempt.