Since my parents uncovered my sins and addictions, I've made Lana Del Rey's "A&W" my spring anthem. Mascara runs down my face under red heart sunglasses, and I shift uncomfortably in the passenger, veering from my mother's stare, grinding the heels of my white cowboy boots. Passing worn Texas flags adorned on every country lawn, it dawns upon me that my life is a rose-tinted cliché. Echoes of my ex deplore me: "You're not as innocent as you seem."
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Lana's voice offers a rare consolation to a hurt teenage girl, especially in Lolita-cowgirl getups. I could not fathom having Did You Know That There's a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd on repeat a summer ago. Just as haunting, though with a greater southern twang, the album is a nod to Lizzy Grant, our trailer park princess, queen of the gas station (and taco truck). The opening of "A&W" is nostalgic, mellowing the pains of lost innocence.
I haven't done a cartwheel since I was nine / I haven't seen my mother in a long, long time
She delivers in whisper-like confessions.
I recognized her tone, only having to fess up 24 hours prior. The words barely left my mouth, sounding distant, as if they'd been uttered by somebody else miles out. Elizabeth Grant bears a vulnerability, though with that undeniable distant air. I picture her in white lace on the other side of the confession booth, clutching her rosary spoon necklace as I listen to the whispers. It's the secrets we exchange that tighten our bond; this is what makes us girls.
This feeling, I reasoned, explained Del Rey's surmassed cult of emotionally troubled teenage girls and validated my experience of it. I could romanticize my recent depression through the lens of Lolita shades, casino visits, and a micro-influencer status on TikTok. I curated a persona assembled around the glitz and horror of Lana Del Rey's Americana. Still, I ached to feel some semblance of normalcy, and no thanks to my recent explorations, I didn't attend senior prom.
Watching Teenage Diary of a Girl / Wondering what went wrong
A friend's dad expressed concern about my social media content revolving around fleshly desire. I pondered my pause on God and sudden sway toward hedonism. In my quest for petty recognition, had I abandoned God? Or, like Lana, had I derived spirit from my dreams, shallow as they appear?
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Lana hasn't shied away from God throughout her discography- much the opposite. Our holy adultress assembled a temple in the haze, where heaven is indiscernible from hell. Born to Die immediately enchants with "Off to the Races," serenaded by a babydoll-sounding "harlot, starlet, queen of Coney Island." Devoted fans recognize the brazen lyrics "Light of my life, fire of my loins," in the opening of Nabokov's Lolita (1955). We're immersed in the graphic broke-down glamor of what seems an Eve Babitz coke-fueled California summer:
Likes to watch me in the glass room, bathroom, Château Marmont / Slippin' on my red dress, puttin' on my makeup / Glass room, perfume, cognac, lilac fumes
"Says it feels like heaven to him," Del Rey remarks darkly, a seductive contrast to our helpless baby-doll harlot. Heaven is a sultry feeling, "a place on earth with you.” Lana's spiritual embarkment rides further into the later tracks of Born to Die. In the underrated classic "Without You," she contends, "I even think I found God,"
In the flashbulbs of the pretty cameras / Pretty cameras, pretty cameras
Am I glamorous, tell me, am I glamorous?
In “Gods & Monsters,” we get a glimpse of the darker side of paradise.
In the land of gods and monsters, I was an angel
And don’t we all begin as angels? Living in the Garden of Evil, “screwed up, scared, doing anything that I needed,” we are acquainted with reality.
She pours it straight in “A&W,” and it is hard to swallow— If I told you that I was raped, do you really think that anybody would think I didn't ask for it?
There are sprinkles of God throughout Did You Know That There's a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd, painted in varying shades and perspectives. The opening track “The Grants” begins with a gospel, rumored to be a tribute to lost family members. “Do you think about Heaven?” Her voice is soft and airy like clouds, I mistake the alt-pop princess for an angel. “Yup, yup,” she says mid the emphatic “Judah Smith Interlude,” belting psalms in church. Album staple “Let The Light In” features Father John Misty, known for his satirical material veiled under indie folk— right on with her philosophy.
Del Rey revisits cult classic “Venice Bitch” in “Taco Truck x VB,” “Although it seems I’ve gotten better, I can be violent too,” a subtle reminder that she still gets down like that.
Read my gold chain, says “Lanita” /
When I’m violent, it’s Carlito’s Way
[See Carlito below]
Themes of God, love, family, and identity birl into something lovely, iconic, and deeply personal. It’s safe to say we are witnessing Lana’s realizations in real-time.
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Steering into toilet paper rolls, I mouthed curses as I hauled the cart forward at the local Walmart. "How are you doin'?" A sister from the congregation offered in her signature thin smile and a shrill voice reminiscent of knives, my mother and sister picking up the mess behind me. "Oh. Good," I say, sounding far too depressed to be serious.
love love loveeeee A&W changed my life