Lana Del Rey - Norman fucking Rockwell

1 year ago

Lana Del Rey has always been obsessed with the past. Hers is a sound rooted in nostalgia, a paean to everything she was born too late to live through: old Hollywood, Sinatra, beat poetry, Sylvia Plath and Fifties Americana. At her best, she mines something fresh from it all. At her worst, she wallows in it. Her new album Norman F**king Rockwell, named after a 20th-century American artist, does both.

Co-produced by Jack Antonoff, as is now decreed by law of all female pop stars, the album is sultry and soporific, sitting somewhere between the minimalist trip-hop of Del Rey’s early days, and the scuzzy desert rock she has toyed with over the years. The drum beats are scarce, the piano, harp, and Guns N’ Roses guitar solos are many, and the melodies are more like musical mood boards. She sings of iPads and dropping pins, and it is almost startling that she has even heard of such things.

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