Lo DiBz: The Enemy

Horror. Humiliation. Sheer and utter terror– we felt it all. It’s like how people can’t help but watch a car as it’s crashing; only, imagine that car crash was a glittery golden unicorn, slowly and unpleasantly disintegrating into a pile of bloody guts while the entire nation watched. That was Lana Del Rey’s now infamous performance last week on “Saturday Night Live.” But let’s rewind.

In the beginning, I didn’t really get the whole “Lana Del Rey” thing, if that’s even her real name. Actually, it’s not; her real name is Elizabeth Grant, and she’s a rich kid from upstate New York who put a few of her songs on Youtube. She doesn’t even have an album out yet– “Born to Die” is due to be released January 30– so I had never heard of her until the summer, when a story on BrooklynVegan detailed an angry rant against the 25-year-old singer from Amy Klein of Titus Andronicus. On her blog, Klein wrote:

“Lana Del Ray is the lie we like to tell ourselves–that America has always been, and will always be, this gorgeous woman who can make all our dreams come true. So it doesn’t matter if she loves you or hates you because she is going to take all of your money and you are going to let her get away with it. That’s the reality of who she is.”

Ouch. Those are real fightin’ words. So, naturally, I was all like, but who is this Lana Del Rey, anyway? I googled her, and watched the video for her song, “Video Games.” I read articles on her– there were many– and looked at pictures– there were a lot of those, too. In the end, the conclusion I reached was that I didn’t have a problem with Lana Del Rey at all. In fact, “Video Games” is actually a pretty great song.

Up until that point, the biggest controversy over Ms. Del Rey was, in fact, what got Amy Klein’s knickers all twisted: the idea that Lana is not real but a fantasy, a dream-like, MPDG figment of the collective male imagination. That, by dressing like a 60s era pin-up with brass knuckles and referring to herself as a “gangster Nancy Sinatra,” she is trivializing the antiquated notions and sad inequalities of mid-century American gender roles. In other words– she’s a floozy and she’s a total flake.

Which isn’t to say that this criticism isn’t valid; I get it. While a part of me will always be attracted to the glamor of the decades when women wore gloves and party dresses to the grocery store, I prefer to admire this era from the other side of my television screen. I am truly appreciative of my freedom in not having only three professions from which to choose for my life: secretary, school teacher, or domestic slave. But really, is Lana Del Rey the only modern girl to dress in a swingin’ sixties shift dress and make such a splash? She wasn’t the first and she won’t be the last. What about the perfectly coiffed characters on popular shows like “Pan Am” and “Mad Men?” What about another singer like Adele, whose style of dress so mimics the same sad and soulful women of the past that her voice does? Or, what about the countless twenty-first century girls (myself included) who troll thrift stores for vintage scarves and purses that once belonged to women whose lives could have never resembled our own? Aren’t we all guilty of the very same offense? We glamorize the past, choosing to focus on the happy things, like the fashion and the music and the fun, and overlook all the negative.

Because really, what makes “Video Games” great is not that its quasi-sexist lyrics are a joke; it’s that they are totally and completely serious. The man over which Lana pines is no Mr. Darcy. He’s drinking beer, he’s shooting pool, he’s pretty much ignoring her while yes, playing his video games. Still, she hangs by his side, wishing only to fulfill his every need, crooning in her most vulnerable, breathless voice, “It’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you/Everything I do.” This isn’t an ideal relationship, it’s maybe not even a healthy one, and the listener knows this; if Lana were our friend, we would tell her to ditch this loser and find someone to treat her right. But none of that matters. She’s in love, and love is sick and flawed and stupid and turns you into just the character whom Lana portrays. That’s why it feels so real.

So, if her single is such a huge hit (especially in Europe, where it gets serious radio play from the BBC and hit number one in Germany), then what went wrong last Saturday night? You’ve all seen it by now, so there’s no need to re-post that sad, silly excuse for a musical performance. Lana looked beautiful and ethereal, and all she needed to do was stand there and sing her song. Instead, she looked awkward, nervous, and uncomfortable, like a little girl trying on Mommy’s dress and realizing that it doesn’t quite yet fit. Perhaps she was trying too hard to be sexy, because she only ended up looking a little bit crazy. Or a little bit on crack.

The worst part, however, was her voice. On the recorded version of the track it is slow and sweet, her words melting out like thick molasses. Sung live, it was sketchy, pitchy, and filled with bizarre twists and turns. I literally could not believe what I was hearing– that it was even the same song. Still, I hoped that she could maybe redeem herself during the second performance, where she sang “Blue Jeans.” She didn’t.

The backlash Lana Del Rey has received from her performance has been fierce, and no, none of it is surprising, frankly. This was her big moment– her sparkling live debut to an American public who may not have known what a blog-sation she was, to whom she was a blank slate who could have totally blown them away. It was her time to shine, and she dropped the ball, big time. There is just no defending a performance like that.

What else I won’t defend, though, is the criticism aimed at her money, her family, and other things that are no one else’s business. Is it her fault that she’s rich? That she’s beautiful? We can be as jealous as we want, but let’s face it, there aren’t many true rags-to-riches stories nowadays. Most wildly successful young singers, actors, and whatevers are who they are because they came from wealthy families. Hey, talent is talent, but it’s a lot easier to get the train rolling when you don’t have to worry about paying your rent or having a “back-up” life plan. She had the means to get people to start paying attention to her, and now they have. Be careful what you wish for.

In the end, it doesn’t even matter how she performed on SNL; we’re talking about Lana– or Lizzy– nonetheless. And if you take the amount of news stories, media attention, or google hits into account, you know that she’s not going anywhere anytime soon. Until she releases a sex tape or gets caught on tape doing coke with Pete Doherty or something, all press is good press. I don’t know if I love Lana Del Rey just yet; I don’t know if I hate her. What I do know is that I’ll have to make my mind up soon, because it seems that there is little room in between.

Tags: Born to Die, Lana Del Rey, LDR, SNL, Train Wreck, Video Games