"Honeymoon"

   On a summer day in mid-June of 1985, Lizzy Grant came into this world. But a short 25 years later, Lana del Rey conquered it. Del Rey’s past is as elusive as her teasing falsetto, flaunting the outrageous so we dare not ask more. In her “Born to Die” and “Ultraviolence” albums, she boasts a past as the heiress of the respective Long Island and Floridian black-markets. Shrouded in more men and illicit substances than she cares to remember, her moody harmonies and surrounding orchestration seem reminiscent of a past era.  Quite fitting, as the young starlet often refers to herself as the “gangster Nancy Sinatra.”

   From what we do know of the young Lana del Rey, previously Lizzy Grant, a fascination with older boys and substance abuse were defining characteristics of her early adolescence. At just 15 years old, Grant was sent to a reform school by her understandably overwhelmed parents. Themes of addiction and abuse run rampant in Del Rey’s discography, which is arguably where her genius transcends. At first listen, her intricate riffs and pervasive metaphors could be misconstrued as the alt-pop that sends waves of prepubescents running to Pacsun for a $30 flower crown. Analyze her lyrics, however, and you find that Del Rey carries the burden of a classic femme fatal, her recollection of the “glory days” as a flashing red warning sign. “Beware!” it says, “Don’t you dare come here!”

    Regardless of the past, Lana fans everywhere rejoice over her new album, “Honeymoon,” which dropped on September 18th.  How to spot a Lana del Rey fan? You can find them constantly asking the teacher, “Can we listen to music while we do this?” and whispering “Yasss Lana” into their earbuds.

   “Honeymoon” is a typical taste of her daydreams of a past-life. Del Rey paints us a hazy portrait of a 60’s bombshell stuck in the 21st century, sampling today’s electronic percussion with the vintage melodies that seem to only belong on turntables. However, contrary to her previous albums, “Honeymoon” seems to be transfixed on real romance. Del Rey seems to be singing with one person in mind, presenting raw emotion in a way similar to stumbling across your friend’s open diary. You know you shouldn’t look, but the allure of the unsaid seduces you. “Honeymoon” is pure authenticity, providing the experimentally artistic experience most pop-stars fall short of. If you haven’t yet bought the album, throw this publication down and treat yo’ self.