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You won’t regret listening to Lana Del Rey’s new album

Welcome to all new and returning readers of The Stute! This is Put Your Records On, a biweekly column where I write about contemporary music, including industry trends, as well as new music and concert reviews. For the first Put Your Records On column of the fall semester, I am discussing Lana Del Rey’s sixth album, the triumphant Norman Fucking Rockwell, which was released on Friday, August 30. Anyone familiar with Lana Del Rey knows that her body of work is dramatic and cinematic, and often fuses a distinctly modern sound with vintage elements and pop culture references from the ’50s, ’60s, and ’70s. This juxtaposition garnered criticism toward the start of her career, as many critics questioned her authenticity, seeing that she initially attempted to find success under her birth name, Lizzy Grant, making music within a different genre, and that despite the intimacy of her music and homemade music videos, she was signed to a major record label. The airing of her infamously shaky SNL performance in 2012, before the release of her first album, pushed this criticism past its tipping point, resulting in disaster for Del Rey and critical scorn that resonated into the middle of this decade. Lana Del Rey has prevailed though, growing a devoted international fanbase all the while, and with the release of Norman Fucking Rockwell, she deserves all possible praise, and may finally receive it from critics and a wider audience.

Norman Fucking Rockwell is by far Lana Del Rey’s best and most realized album, and her multi-faceted concept comes through clearly in 14 tracks which contain some of her most complex melodies and lyrics ever. While all of her past albums have suffered from being lengthy and unfocused (Ultraviolence and Honeymoon are her shortest at 65 minutes), Norman Fucking Rockwell finally earns its runtime (67 minutes, by the way), with each track contributing to its main statement, which I would define as “finding connections with others as a troubled person during a crisis,” whether the crisis is the impending devastation due to climate change, or the fall of cultural icons like Kanye West (“The Greatest”). This central idea still allows Lana to riff on past touchstones that make her lyrics unique, like comparing American cultural idealism to the reality of her troubled relationships, but by adding an apocalyptic twist she gives the album a strong focus. Considering these ideas, the title of Norman Fucking Rockwell is elucidated; as Rockwell is known for his realist illustrations of American life, Del Rey joins her American idealism with deeply personal stories and fear for the future to create her own sort of “exaggerated realism” of American culture.

Produced by Jack Antonoff (Lover, Melodrama, Fun.), Norman Fucking Rockwell tones down Del Rey’s recent fixation on taking inspiration from hip-hop and creates a versatile bare baroque-pop sound, combining rock and pop elements with classical influences. Most importantly, though, Antonoff allows the incredibly emotive voice of Del Rey to shine through when most important, like in the swelling choruses of “Mariner’s Apartment Complex” or “Hope is a Dangerous Thing…” Overall, the mostly understated production was a surprise when also looking at Antonoff’s synth-pop past, but he and Del Rey turned into a dream collaboration, steering the album confidently even in moments when the genres border on noise-pop (“Venice Bitch”) and Del Rey’s more usual hip-hop influenced pop (Cinnamon Girl).

The most remarkable thing about Norman Fucking Rockwell is that Lana Del Rey faces both her own troubles and her idea of the impending apocalypse with so much optimism and self-understanding. After all, the final song of the album is titled, “hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have – but I have it.” Furthermore, she stresses again and again that she has grown from being just a sad person, even though she deals with difficult themes in her songs; on the title track, she criticizes a man who “colors her blue,” and on “Mariner’s Apartment Complex,” she begins with, “You took my sadness out of context.” Del Rey is not someone to be marginalized or thought of as one-dimensional. Hopefully, this time around, more people will notice this and give her music a listen.

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