From the rest, it’s those epic and bloody dissections of the used and knowingly abused starlet chasing the American Dream that still most engage the senses. Of the new tracks, three (‘Without You’, ‘Lolita’ and ‘Lucky Ones’) were actually found on the expanded edition of the album’s initial release, and still seem a little too much like an effort to graft excess epilogues and a faux happy ending onto the fittingly melancholy original tracklisting (though ‘Lucky Ones’ is a delectable companion piece to ‘Video Games’). If Born to Die was the script-defined character, then Paradise shows the darker routes through reality once the director yells “ cut”. It’s like the reality after the reel spins to a cease. And as such, the new tracks work to complement the character, fully exposing the dark underbelly of the music. The tortured, neurotic beauty of a Tennessee Williams play.
Reissue a popular record with a few extra songs just in time for the critical lists and Christmas sales and then KER-CHING! What makes The Paradise Edition relevant however (though it’s still a repackaging, whichever way you look at it) is that within its added chapters, the whole Lana Del Rey figure: that composite character she builds her songs on, emerges more completely. So why do we need an extended Born to Die - The Paradise Edition? Normally, I despise these things. Which a year on from release, has lost precisely none of its majesty. And of course, the heart-stopping film noir perfection of ‘Video Games’. The ethereal elegance and climactic shudders of ‘Radio’. The stunning twists and swoops of ‘Off to the Races’. But for all of these moments, there are always quite spectacular counterpoints.
And certainly, there are times where the lyrics steer far too close to the rocks and razor edges of cliché for comfort. The dreary fallen angel whimsy of ‘Carmen’ sums up precisely the unfocused drift that critics often use to malign her and on songs such as ‘Dark Paradise’, the caricature extends beyond our empathy. Lana Del Rey - the Marmite artist of 2012.Īs for me? I hate Marmite. This polarisation became one of 2012’s defining pop music opinions – it became remarkably difficult to predict who fell for the charms and who turned away in distaste. Or in failing to concoct anything so articulate, uttering something appertaining to the shape of her lips. And those that considered her a cynical piece of record label fodder and dolled-up industry window dressing.
Lana del rey born to die song rating series#
With the closing days of 2012 rapidly drawing into sight, where do we stand now on Lana Del Rey? The general thinking prior to - and continuing after - the release of Born to Die appeared broadly split into two camps: those considering her to be exhibiting a bruised, seductive movie-star persona with a series of deliciously dark pop tracks from the unlit side of the Hollywood sign.
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