What made the journey from Born to Die to here an intriguing one is how Lana Del Rey has whittled uncompromising, jarringly direct music out of the often overwrought melodrama of her earliest songs, leaving a little excess behind at each turn. It’s going to conjure the nightmarish underside to the American dream it’s going to show how nostalgia favors the good, how memory fails us, how weird and terrible things always are, and how to rise above it all. It’s going to be visualized through bleary Americana that almost seems to satirize the real thing, the way the unintentional ’60s kitsch of Valley of the Dolls is weaponized in the gauche Russ Meyer sorta-remake Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. You could hazard a guess about what the new album will sound like and what the new video will look like before you ever press “play.” It’s going to serve bleak, Nick Cave–ish chamber music, just sweet enough to render the darkness enticing. Where others may express growth by expanding outward, taking bigger risks by dabbling unexpectedly in different genres and mediums, Lana gets a little better at being Lana every year. Chemtrails Over the Country Club is no exception.Īs her pop-star peers reinvent themselves every other year, Lana Del Rey focuses on the refinement of her songwriting, sharpening one unique musical idea over time. Lana gets a little better at being Lana every year.
