The enigmatic singer-songwriter still plays the role of a tortured diva on her latest studio album and, frankly, her persona’s starting to get a bit old.
Lana Del Rey/ Ultraviolence
When it really comes down to it, New York singer-songwriter Elizabeth Woolridge Grant is one hell of an actress. Since the release of her 2010’s debut studio album she has fully committed to the Lana Del Rey persona — a “gangsta Nancy Sinatra” with an unhealthy flair for noir narratives, ill-fated romance, Hollywood icons and chronic melancholia. Her second album, Born to Die, in particular saw Grant embodying the spirit of Lana Del Rey so adamantly to the point where it bordered on repetitive absurdity.
From wholeheartedly worshipping her man on the breakthrough single Video Games to playing Lolita on Off to the Races and casually cooing “money is the anthem of success” on National Anthem, she strictly adhered to the many dark facets of the Del Rey brand. And while Born to Die did have some musical merit, it left us wondering who Elizabeth Grant really is.
Still, the question remains largely unanswered with her latest record, the Black Keys’ Dan Auerbach-produced Ultraviolence, whose title is lifted from nadsat (the vocabulary invented by Stanley Kubrick for his seminal 1962 novel A Clockwork Orange). Working again with the same tropes that dominate Born to Die, Grant reinforces and perpetuates the tortured soul that is the core of the Lana Del Rey construct. Take, for example, the slow-burning first single West Coast, which tells the story of a girl who decided to leave her lover behind to go where “it all could happen”, and yet she’s still missing her “sweet boy”.
Musicially, you can hear Auerbach’s vintage rock influences in the track’s DNA (how spectacular is that chorus when it suddenly changes tempo?). The lyrics, however, just feel all too familiar.
Similarly, on the album’s opener Cruel World, she recycles the line about putting on a party dress before reminding us that she is, indeed, still crazy: “Put my little red party dress on/Everybody knows that I’m the best, I’m crazy”. And as the title track goes on to suggest, she’s also a bit of a femme fatale (“’Cos I was filled with poison/But blessed with beauty and rage”) trapped in an abusive relationship (“He hit me and it felt like a kiss”).
Save for the standout cut Brookyln Baby with its simple guitar strums, the remaining songs plod along in the same downbeat, reverb-drenched 1970s fashion, driving home even further the dark-pop aesthetics she’s championed since day one. Tracks such as Sad Girl, Pretty When You Cry, Power Money Glory and F**ked My Way Up to the Top sound like one big sonic blur. Unlike the hip hop-inflected Born to Die, Ultraviolence eschews hooky choruses and has wholly replaced them with languid bluesy rock, making it an overwhelmingly hazy and often-overwrought product. Added to that are Del Rey’s typically pouty facade and her somewhat predictable dysfunctional tales about love, loss and violence. We feel like we’re given the opportunity once again to know this character inside and out, but we still have no clue who’s been hiding beneath the guise of “Lana Del Rey”.
THE PLAYLIST
Aparment Khunpa/ Next Station
Local five-piece Apartment Khunpa have proven time and again that it’s possible for an indie act to have longevity. A staple of the local indie music scene, the band have released four studio albums since 2003, and garnered numerous awards and accolades including the presigious Kom Chad Luek Award for best group. Their latest single, Next Station, is a melodic mid-tempo rock number in which frontman Tul Waitunkiat compares his failed relationship to an act of leaving on a train (hence “next station”). And true to his style, Tul has managed to inject some humour into the lyrics, singing: “I can’t possible change anyone/So I have to let you go/So go now while I revel in the solace of rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle.”
Ryn Weaver/ OctaHate
Judging from a host of high-profile producers at the helm of her debut single OctaHate, up-and-coming pop artist Ryn Weaver must be something pretty special. The track, produced by Passion Pit’s Michael Angelakos, Charli XCX, Benny Blanco and Cashmere Cat, is finger-snapping goodness rife with plonking xylophones and punchy beats. Weaver’s voice has that fierce and powerful quality similar to that of British singer Jessie J, although not as overpowering. All in all, who cares what “octahate” could possibly mean (an eightfold hatred?) when the song is this good.
Jason Mraz/ Love Someone
Judging from his new cut Love Someone, it looks like Jason Mraz still hasn’t gotten over being hopeslessly in love since his last album, 2012’s heavily saccharine Love Is A Four Letter Word. The first single from Mraz’s forthcoming fifth studio album finds the I’m Yours singer at his cheesiest yet, crooning “when you love someone/Your heartbeat beats so loud/When you love someone/Your feet can’t feel the ground” over the folky acoustic strums courtesy of all-female LA band Raining Jane. We said it before and we’ll say it again — we much prefer the witty, wordsmithing Mraz to this insufferably schmaltzy incarnation.
Sia/ Big Girls Cry
“And I don’t care if I don’t look pretty/Big girls cry when their hearts are breaking,” confirms the Australian pop star on what sounds like a smart retort to Fergie’s 2007 hit Big Girls Don’t Cry. Marking the second power ballad from her new album after Eye of the Needle, the song benefits from Sia’s powerful vocals and unique inflection that’s become her signature. Most importantly of all, she defies the popular notion that tears are a sign of weakness, and that big girls should withhold their emotions. Hear that ladies? It really is perfectly OK to break down and bawl your eyes out every now and then.
FKA Twigs/ Two Weeks
After releasing two four-track EPs in the past two years, the London-based singer FKA Twigs is now readying her debut album LP1 with an X-rated new cut — Two Weeks. As with her previous releases, the unapologetically sultry track creeps along the skeletal backdrop built upon lush trip hop and experimental R&B elements. “My thighs are apart for when you’re ready to breathe in,” she sighs seductively, allowing herself deep inside the embrace of lithe negative space. It’s both ethereal and mesmerising.
