Lana Del Right
I first became aware of Ms. Lana Del Rey during her much maligned Saturday Night Live performance. I am somewhat of an anomaly, considering the video for her single “Video Games” has surpassed 23 million hits on youtube.
In the weeks since, Lana Del Rey has become ubiquitous. I’ve seen her attacked for her music, which she dubs “Hollywood sadcore,” for her relations- after it was revealed she comes from wealth (apparently this is now on par with neo-nazi affiliations) and for her looks, with countless accusations of plastic surgery being leveled.
The music isn’t bad. Her voice, a melancholic blend of Nancy Sinatra and a less manic Doris Day, lends itself well to the grandiose orchestral pieces and muted beats. It’s far more enjoyable than the auto-tuned claptrap plaguing the radio these days. But herself is far more interesting than her music.
Ms. Del Rey enjoyed a good amount of popularity among the self professed indiephiles for quite a while. The trouble started when it was revealed that she was not who they believed she was. Lana Del Rey was - shock! - a stage name. It turns out she comes from a family of means. In short, Del Rey had engaged in a conspiracy to pull the organic, hand woven woll over the collective eyes of the hipster community.
This is not so. Lana Del Rey never represented herself as some hidden talent, discovered in the smoky back room of a fair trade coffee house. “Born to Die” isn’t even her first album. A modicum of leg work, no, google work would have (and did) turn this up. It was also extremely obvious.
Del Rey is a character. Much like Ziggy Stardust or Lady Gaga before her, she was adopted to speak to both the world she lives in and the worlds she would like to live in. She’s there to illustrate points and tell stories. This is neither unheard of nor uncalled for. You not knowing what Lana Del Rey’s deal is falls squarely on your own shoulders.
The vitriol unleashed during this ordeal, and that continues to flow on the blogosphere, speaks volumes to what certain factions demand of their music- they don’t. What they want instead is an image: a whimsical fairy tale they can attach to a persona in order to feel less guilt about liking something that may be tied somehow to the 1%. If your opinion of music changes based on you learning that the artist isn’t like you, you have let substance take a back seat to glossiness.
Lana Del Ray has fallen victim to a perverse sort of counter-cultural elitism- the very ting that shot her to fame. Given the reaction she’s sparked, I’d posit that she’s done everything right. And the more the tide of societal slander washes over her, the more I find myself liking her.
Good on her for making something of herself, and shame on those who would wish her ill by virtue of their own ignorance.
