Tympanogram Grade: C+

“Money is the anthem of success. So put on mascara and your party dress.” These are truly words to live by, and I am quite certain that I have discovered my new mantra. The self-described and self-anointed “Coney Island Queen,” Lana Del Rey, has arrived with her rushed debut album. It’s rushed in the sense that it feels like these songs were hastily penned/produced/recorded to capitalize/cash in on the immense buzz Del Rey has generated over the past few months. Del Rey is like some sort of weird sociology experiment. And on her major-label debut Born To Die, she feels more like a product than the excitingly retro voice that many of us fell in love with last summer.

All the while, I think it is imperative to consider Del Rey as a character. Lizzy Grant, the artist’s true name, is playing a character. This album feels like an artist who hasn’t had enough time to carefully consider and plot the course of her creation. You could chalk this haste up to outside influences. Or (and I am probably over-analyzing or trying to find meaning where there is none) Del Rey was just so desperate for success that she fully accepted this fate, excited about the opportunity to hit the mainstream after languishing in the shadows for far too long. Either way, there is the spark of something interesting and exciting here, but this record fails to deliver on that original promise.

The album is book-ended by the two best songs on the album, opener and title track “Born to Die,” and closer “This Is What Makes Us Girls.” The opener is a slow-burner in the vein of “Video Games.” And unlike many of the tracks on the album, the use of orchestral arrangements adds to the overall theatrical and cinematic quality of the music. Many of the qualities that make this song successful are the same qualities that make so many of the later tracks fail. The production can come off as almost cheesy and sophomoric, while the syrupy quality of the message and delivery that might at first seem playful ultimately becomes unhinged. “Born To Die” is LDR at her finest, but it also shows how limited she just might be.

“Video Games” is a home run. Enough has been written about the song’s brilliance. Most might point to the song’s nostalgic novelty, but I think it truly shows signs of talent and vision. Fortunately (or unfortunately), you can’t make an album of the same non-sense. Or maybe you can. You can switch around the lyrics a little bit, maybe speed up the tempo in a few instances, but you can’t make up for shitty songwriting.

When I first heard “Video Games” last year, I was genuinely excited. But then that began to slowly deteriorate. That feeling was cemented when I saw the tracklist for Born To Die. The standard release features only six new songs. This is an immediate red flag. Instead of releasing all new material (as most artists would be inclined to do), LDR and her people decided to repackage and re-produce/master some of the songs we had already heard and even liked. My biggest qualm is with “Diet Mountain Dew,” where the record’s version sounds little like the original version that surfaced last year. It’s been sped up considerably, pushing the tempo into realm that really doesn’t suit Del Rey in the least. But this is not the only instance of repackaging and re-purposing. I just don’t get it. #FreeLDR

I think we can all agree that Ms. Del Rey has mastered slinky, slow, and seductive. But when she tries to hurriedly rush into new territory, that’s when she runs into trouble, and the audience can’t help but cringe and probably laugh. This is apparent on “Off To The Races” – a terrible song with creepy, cringe-worthy lyrics. And I know that LDR is going for the whole glam retro aesthetic, but how can you not laugh when you hear her describe herself as a “harlot”? “Radio” continues that parade of cringe-inducing music, and “Carmen” is equally laughable.  “Million Dollar Man” is bawdy trash. It’s cabaret. It’s sappy. And it’s poorly executed, which can be said about most of the newer material on the album: It fails to live up to some of the excellence or promise that we first heard on “Video Games.”

That’s why “This Is What Makes Us Girls” and “Summertime Sadness” give me hope. Of the new songs, they are easily the strongest and most dynamic. They both have a sultry quality that reminds me of Fiona Apple. These genuinely get me excited about the future. Of course, this could all be for naught. The whole Lana Del Rey experiment could blow up and disappear.

This album feels unfinished and rushed. And if I were to assign blame (and I am going to), I would point to Del Rey’s handlers. As an educated guess, I would say that the fine folks at Interscope heard “Video Games” and decide to cash in.  Therefore, I believe it is important to consider LDR as a product and a character. She might have some artistic merit, but that is ultimately lost in the glossy package. Hopefully, she gets enough time to catch her breath, regroup, and redeliver.

Lana Del Rey // Video Games

(I lean toward giving this an album an incomplete, and I am willing to give Del Rey a second chance. It would be advisable to have a strong screenplay in the future. Remember, this is a character. And with an unfinished script, this release feels equally unfinished.  It seems like this all been some weird, hyper-speed cycle in which the audience has gone through the entire cyber-cycle of life. We loved her, we loathed her, and now most are just indifferent. Count me among the small minority then who wants to see a re-birth and a second chance. I think it could lead to promising places. But then again, this could be merely a case of me misprojecting. And who knows, maybe Del Rey will resurface in the future with a new identity and a new aesthetic (which we will probably dissect and analyze to death). Maybe, this was all a trick. Maybe we were the unwitting audience and this will be a big joke on us. Either way, “Now my life is sweet like cinnamon, like a fucking dream I’m living in.”)