It’s been more than three years since Lana Del Rey first made her shaky debut on Saturday Night Live back in 2012. It’s been a rocky road for her since, but her sparkling allure and star power has shot her to the limelight in just a few years. Since then, Lana has released an EP and three full-length albums, including her latest LP Honeymoon, which dropped Sept. 18.
Honeymoon is exactly the album you expect from Del Rey. It sounds like something from the Golden Age of Hollywood – slow, bittersweet, and magnificent. Her crooning vocals drip over slow piano ballads; a sea of orchestral string music serves as the backdrop for her soaring voice. The album’s clear musical direction allows Del Rey to shine with her smoky, theatrical voice. Nowhere is she so quintessentially Lana in her image and persona, and nowhere has the term “sadcore” been used so accurately.
Those who loved her earlier hits will be pleased to know that much of the album is reminiscent of her older hip-hop style. “Freak” and “Art Deco” sound like more composed, tighter cuts from Born to Die. The underlying jazzy, ironic tones of older songs like “Gods and Monsters” or “Born to Die” that Del Rey was so well-renowned for just a few years ago are still present here. But the glimmering ballads are where Del Rey really shines. “Terrence Loves You” is simply breathtaking, with tragic, biting lyrics and a bittersweet tone. It has all the grandeur of “Young and Beautiful” with a more entranced vibe.
Yet Del Rey sounds jaded and, frankly, rather bored on Honeymoon. “High on the Beach” is a clear example of her active disinterest and dismissal of her fortune. She sounds as if she can barely muster the energy just to convey that she wants to be left alone. She’s too composed, too careful, too aware of that sad, glamorous golden-girl demeanor that she carries everywhere. Del Rey has become burdened by the carefully curated image of old Hollywood glamour that she once worked so hard to create and put forth.
The fame Del Rey once so desperately longed for on Born to Die has been achieved, and now she just wishes to fill time. She’s lost interest in her own image and presence, and it’s difficult for the listener to not do the same. And that’s the problem with Honeymoon: the messy composition and fire that defined her prior hits on Born to Die, Paradise, and Ultraviolence are absent from the album. Those flaws, though heavily criticized, are what made each album so raw and intriguing. The ambiguity, lust and hopelessness that made each previous work so listenable is now absent.
Yet Honeymoon still sounds grand, cinematic and remarkably beautiful at times. It’s the kind of album that immediately creates a dramatic atmosphere that demands attention and slows down time. And while Del Rey may not be as much of a hot mess as she was, her music is no less captivating.
Follow Shelby Chapman on Twitter @ShelbyEm15