Lana Del Rey is a carefully crafted character from a noir film or a David Lynchsk television series that just happens to be easy suicidal pop ballads rather than settle for being a character in any director's story.

It is interesting to ask how much of Lizzie Grant - as the creator of Lana del Rey turns into when she has made up off after a day at work - which really can be traced in her music? No, no more than it was to ask it of David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust.

As del Rey sold Grant over seven million copies of her debut album, "Born to Die."

At the same time - and therein lies a big part of the secret recipe - appeals to her character the inner Goth in so many. Each profanity, drug reference and obviously irresistible "bad boy" in sweaty white linen requires that you leave all your kitsch filter in the closet along with outdoor clothes before going into the "Ultra Violence".

The songs are rarely - perhaps never - anchored in the now, rather played out so many of her stories, accentuated by the so reverb strong musical in a diffuse early 1960s.

That preceded the Beatles, the stretch where Elvis Presley made his national service and the Brill Building ruled. That Tim Burton and David Lynch generic images so often portrays the darkness behind the shade in the seemingly perfect American suburbia.

The Crystals "He hit me and it felt like a kiss" quoted matching in a text line. Producer Dan Auerbach (of The Black Keys) arrangement - albeit much toned-down from the debut - deceptively innocent, that accompanied the opening credits to any Doris Day movie.

Little dope, little bourbon, a dark cloud with hidden threats of violence from adults boys recurs in almost every track. Is it a beautification of misfortune and grief? Sure!

But it is theater. Desperate commuters Del Rey between anger and vulnerability. The above tormented poetry expresses a desire to become a "cult," this terrible word but in very commercial premises.

Sometimes it becomes embarrassing. "Brooklyn Baby" for being a groupie with feathers in her hair to any guitarist in a Brooklyn-based Pop Orchestra, makes me feel ashamed a little. Is it about fully opening the throttle or clever irony? Sometimes it is difficult to determine.

She ends the show with her version of Nina Simone's "The other woman" who, more than anything else on the album, sums up the contradictory allure in that saddest thing, soul and most unbearable love that life has to offer. Who wanted Grant's character del Rey sheer heartache of the past in order to feel alive.

Her "The other woman" sounds like Nico and author James Ellroy has just left his motel room in the sleepy Californian dawn to go home in different directions.

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