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+1Iloveriri wrote:I need a album!!!
+111111111111111111jordi_89 wrote:+1Iloveriri wrote:I need a album!!!
Wow i'm so excited for this album...any official release dates yet?Euromillions wrote:Certainly in the UK, early signs are extremely encouraging for the album. On Amazon it's currently 169 on their best sellers in Music chart, which believe me is an amazing result for an album that isn't released until the last week of January 2012! I'm confident the album will be a very big seller in the UK at least.
PS New song introduced at her Glasgow gig - Radio.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q5E3lOLqR8o&t=0m18s
'Baby your lips taste like cinnamon, is this a f**king dream that I am living in? Is it because I am playing on the radio?'
http://www.scotsman.com/lifestyle/music ... _1_1952426If Lana Del Rey is feeling the pressure of her seemingly overnight but carefully constructed You Tube-built success, she doesn’t show it on stage.
Or it could just have been the perfectly-timed shout of “On yersel’ Lana” from the audience that helped dispel any nerves.
Video Games, her ode to being ignored and the exquisite pain of clutching at an illusion of happiness, and the equally plaintive B-side Blue Jeans, a love letter to a departed gangster, have clocked up over 6.5 million Youtube views in under two months. Expectations of her live performances, not tempered by rife internet discussion questioning her authenticity, are high.
So it is deeply satisfying that her voice sounded exactly as it does on record, with the same gut-wrenching catches and soaring pleas, alternating between deep and powerful, and raspy and fragile, the perfect embodiment of her defiantly heartbroken lyrics. On Radio, a rare moment of happiness, she sings about days that are ‘sweet like cinnamon’ and the description fits her voice too, which veers between syrupy and steely, languorous and raw. She describes her music as ‘Hollywood pop/sadcore’ and it melts seamlessly between hip hop beats, 90s pop and 60s girl group.
Much has been made of her glamourous looks and chola-meets-Brigitte Bardot styling, but the most striking aspect of her glamour is her use of it in the old sense, as a mask for sadness, an enchantment intended to conceal and deceive. The bulk of her lyrics speak of a damaged person in the soul-destroying act of trying to convince themselves they are happy, accepting love that is essentially meaningless however alluring - all melancholy and mascara running, fast cars and bad boys and the bittersweetness of the American Dream.
Her home-made videos of grainy Super 8 footage spliced with evocative Youtube footage of skateboarders, drunk Hollywood starlets, teenage pool parties and fluttering Star Spangled Banners induce nostalgia for something that was never yours, and are as much a part of her image as her songs, to which, given her provenance as a Youtube sensation, they are inextricably linked. They were present here too, projected on to giant white spheres hovering by the stage, but the lyrics stand as snapshots of the world she sings about on their own.
Del Rey was at her most Dusty Springfield on You Can Be The Boss, channeling glamourous 60s jazz club singer down-on-her-luck, and doing an admirable job of it. The image is a huge part of her act, but it doesn’t grate; whatever has been said in the blogosphere, her influences ring true as being personal. However, as beautifully executed and entertaining as her embodiment of the winsome, whisky-soaked, mistreated Lolita character she has created is, she is at her best when she ceases to play her and surrenders to the lip-tremblingly raw emotion of her own lyrics. As such, the plaintive and heart-breakingly controlled wails of ‘promise you’ll remember that you’re mine’ on Blue Jeans and ‘it’s all for you, everything I do’ on Video Games are her finest moments.
Her decision to finish her set with a new song Off To The Races, a rousing surrender to getting in over your head that builds to a crescendo of impending heartbreak, rather than save Video Games or Blue Jeans till last, was a smart move, ensuring the lasting impression wasn’t of a two-hit-wonder. There should be little danger of that.
The most interesting aspect of the discussion over whether Del Rey’s persona is a manufactured illusion is its duality with the desperate illusion about which she sings, and the sense that she is playing a game with us. Her lyrics about the games we play with ourselves in our attempts to maintain dignity in spite of a broken heart and a lost soul are as real as it gets.
Rating: **** (4)
new peaks in both Ireland and GermanyDave20_ wrote:UK Single Chart
Video Games
#9 - #15 - #12 - #13
German Single Chart
Video Games
#28 - #24 - #17
Ireland Single Chart
Video Games
#36 - #13 - #9 - #10 - #7
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http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2011/no ... sfeed=trueLana Del Rey may become the most recognised stage name since fellow New Yorker Lady Gaga, but it's just as possible it will end up filed away alongside Little Boots. In a career that has so far produced just one official track, the top 10 single Video Games, it's too early to tell. For the moment, the artist born Elizabeth Grant is the most talked-about newcomer of 2011, and her London debut was carpeted with hipsters, some of them tweeting opinions well before she set foot on stage.
Del Rey has been around for several years, but it wasn't until her management changed her name to better fit her retro-noir image that she began to attract the storm of media attention that currently engulfs her. She's already been the subject of think-pieces debating her genuineness, and her lyrics – which portray her, song after song, as poleaxed by heartbreak – have been thoroughly dissected. On stage, though, the woman who inspires such analysis was a blank canvas.
Visually, she lived up to expectations: tall and elegant, with old-Hollywood auburn waves, she was quintessentially American, though her America is defined by crepuscular creepiness crossed with nostalgia for the Rat Pack 60s. If Mad Men had been directed by Hitchcock, Del Rey would have had the starring role. The intriguing – or troubling – thing tonight was that she was as passive as a Hitchcock heroine. Consumed by self-consciousness, she barely spoke except to apologise for the brevity of the eight-song set.
Perhaps she simply had nothing to say, but it made you wonder how much of the real Lizzy Grant inhabits her tormented songs. Perhaps it doesn't matter, because the show was really something. As she dreamily sang, screens showed grainy footage of some of the pillars of the "Del Rey" persona: Elvis, Vegas, 60s paparazzi. Her four-man group could have been David Lynch's house band; they were all brushed drums and, on Blue Jeans, sinister twanginess. It was powerfully atmospheric. If it occasionally felt like a stylish film set, Del Rey's delivery dispelled the idea that the whole thing was just a pose. Imploring "I could be your china doll" and "It's you, it's you, it's all for you", she sounded not just broken, but numb.
Video Games, slow and mournful, was the crowdpleaser, but the country lament Radio and the tense, half-rapped You Can Be the Boss – the latter supporting her claim to be "the gangsta Nancy Sinatra" – were even more affecting. There's something real, and rather special, here.