Now over a decade removed from “Born to Die,” there is something humorous about the initial criticism that met Lana Del Rey. She was problematic, glorifying anti-feminist rhetoric, and getting lambasted as a flash in the pan. Most of all, the credulity of her persona was a central question that left many unable to appreciate her immersive, cinematic take on pop music. She was self-indulgent, disingenuous, making up things just to sell records. Sure, that led to a more interesting conversation about what truth we expect from music artists, but Lana Del Rey had a choice to conform or rebel. She could double down and write some Top 40 hits in the vein of that “Summertime Sadness” remix, or she could continue to be the most beguiling pop star of the past 15 years.
I personally believe that she had the last laugh. With respect to her contemporaries, what I notice in revisiting her nine albums isn’t a trend-hopping quest to move records. It’s true that sometimes she collaborated with heavy hitters like The Weeknd, Taylor Swift, or Ariana Grande, but it felt less like compromise and more like a communal affection for her sound. In fact, Swift spent part of her concert last week celebrating the release of “Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd.” Others like Billie Eilish spent the rollout singing her praise in Interview Magazine. While I initially loved Lana Del Rey for how she explored the personal alongside artifice, what has been clear in the past five years is that she’s finally ready to shed the self-consciousness and just embrace herself.
What does Lana Del Rey look like as she enters her second decade in the spotlight? Surprisingly, it’s less a concern for getting radio play or recapturing her former glory and doing something more honest and frankly exciting. Much like its predecessor “Blue Bannisters,” “Ocean Blvd.” is a tough record to fully appreciate without having spent time noticing her growth. This is so much the case that her 2023 record features subtle callbacks to her entire catalog with the final moments being an interpolation of her 2019 hit “Venice Bitch” with some select line changes. It isn’t that her sound has become so niche that one can’t see her appeal anymore, but it’s so personal that it feels raw and honest. There’s an intimacy that shines in every track – including two interludes where she mostly laughs in the background – and confirms the most exciting thing of all. It’s quite possibly the masterpiece that critics in 2012 thought she could never make. While many worried that “Born to Die” was lacking humanity, “Ocean Blvd.” is the complete package. For the first time, it feels like we understand who Lizzy Grant/Lana Del Rey truly is.
The way that I would describe “Ocean Blvd.” is her creation of a Southern California spirituality, a new religion where the beach is just as important as the church. The themes of the west coast have been evident in her writing for a long time, but here it feels like opening a scrapbook and having each picture come to life, of remembering those afternoons of driving down the freeway with the wind in your hair as you recall past loves and random hopes for the future. It’s a moment where she establishes a more confident sound while also impulsively digging up the past with a smile on her face. There are moments where a piano sounds like it’s rushing or a lyric sounds a bit unpolished, but it all builds an authenticity that Lana Del Rey was too self-conscious to do even on masterpieces like “Honeymoon.” She may be more willing to wink at the camera, but this is the first time where she’s doing so with a blissful heart blaring through every song, playfully messing with the listener and shamelessly declaring her opinion.
I think this is most evident in how the album bookends itself. “The Grants” opens the record with an acapella version of the chorus. With the title referencing her family’s surname, she contemplates mortality, whether she can take anything but memories when she dies. The production is reminiscent of a gospel choir, finding some of her most aching vocals as she declares “I’m gonna take mine of you with me,” citing John Denver with this fanciful longing. It’s a track that is purposeful and cuts to the core quickly. What I think is most interesting is how this song transitions from its acapella opening into the more traditional production, finding her asking “Should I do a dance for once?” There is a sense of trying to free herself of limitations and embrace family. It won’t be the last time, but in these contemplative comments, there’s a sense of nostalgia, where the acapella feels like a time capsule and everything that follows is more present tense, even as they maintain that self-reflection.
In what may be the most clever and initially confusing decision on the whole album, she ends things with a similar time warp. In a record that is constantly grappling with the concept of time, the choice to finish with “Taco Truck x VB” finds more of a casual tone. It’s about meeting her boyfriend at a taco truck and smoking a vape pen. She asks “imagine if we actually gave a fuck” without care for the melody, as if she’s finally found her own peace. While the first half of the song is more conventional, what’s more amazing is how the song abruptly cuts to “Venice Bitch,” declaring the familiar cry of “Oh god, miss you on my lips.” It’s a journey back into the past, where even four years ago feels mystifying. In that sense, Lana Del Rey is creating a new cyclical form, where she starts with her family and finishes with the revelations of what it means to be alive and happy. As far as a concept for a record, it’s maybe the most the three dimensional chess thing she’s ever done.
Which isn’t to say that everything in-between is lacking that connective tissue. The title track is another emotionally rich number. In this case, she turns her affection to the past with a tunnel in Long Beach, CA that has been paved over and forgotten. She compares it to her career, thinking of how something beautiful can be forgotten while, very cleverly, being part of the foundation of society. She cries “Don’t forget me” with such sincerity that one feels like she’s unsure of where her career is going. The section where she pays tribute to Harry Nilsson especially is some beautiful piece of orchestration as her moody tones are matched by a string section lulling the themes into classical territory, turning this site seeing track into something epic and breathtaking to witness. As far as lead singles go, this is evidence that Lana Del Rey has finally found her niche as a performer. Not everyone would think to make architecture the inspiration for a retrospective track, and yet it becomes brilliant in her hands as she weaves not only her career but references to Eagles’ “Hotel California” and Nilsson, showing how her music is part of a greater legacy.
Another thing that makes the record particularly fresh is how this is the most fluid production she has ever produced with Jack Antonoff and crew. With several collaborators like Father John Misty, Bleachers, SYML, Riopy, Tommy Genesis, and recent Oscar winner Jon Baptiste she has expanded her vision of what Southern California looks like, and it’s a place where she can go deep sea diving one track and contemplate the death of her loved ones on another. As a self-described mood piece, every moment feels essential to understanding the greater mindset and nothing quite drives the point home quite like the back-to-back placement of “A&W” and “Judah Smith Interlude.”
Having spent the earliest tracks in a state of self-reflection, “A&W” works as this gradual, seven-minute sledgehammer that assaults expectations and realigns them for everything that follows. While it begins with the familiar nostalgia of “I haven’t done a cartwheel since I was nine,” this is just as much a cryptic journey through a career sonically and lyrically. She sings of passionless sex, rape accusations, and even the importance of beauty. She talks about a complicated relationship with her mother, and all while the swirling piano pulsates into the chaotic second half where it becomes a freeform smoke session. The vocals recall the earliest days of her career, the reverb capturing a hallucinatory quality that suggests a moral decline as she ends by declaring that she’s lost her mind and that somebody’s mom called and says they’re “fucking up big time.” It’s a hedonistic track that feels like it’s as much breaking free of the melodies as it is a rejection of coping with deeper emotions. My favorite part is how the instrumentation slows down, becoming close to a trap beat as if to suggest a certain panic forming even as she sings with the calmest, most collected cadence imaginable.
Some have argued that the interludes are unnecessary low points. It is true that they’re the least likely to reach Top 40 status. However, Lana Del Rey is nothing but cinematic and this is her most crucial piece of world-building. She needs an external voice to guide her. It could be why “Judah Smith Interlude” is the first collaborator (albeit uncredited) where she’s mostly taking in the advice. Having spent the previous four tracks discussing romances that aren’t always fulfilling, she laughs as he suggests there is a need for a difference between lust and love, or how God can be seen as an artist. It may seem anticlimactic, but I think there’s something interesting about how Lana Del Rey’s voice, even as infrequent as it is, has an echo to it as if her voice is in competition with his. As the one glimpse into the church, it’s a nice continuation from “A&W” where it feels like redemption after a sinful hangover. While I do agree you may be able to skip it, why would you? Given that I see this as a story of self-discovery and acceptance, it’s important to the whole.
To jump forward, there is a shift from the self into an exploration of others. It’s hinted at with the Jon Baptiste collaboration on “Candy Necklaces,” but there is a clear speculation that starts to form on “Kintsugi.” Given that it’s a song about places where the body’s vulnerability cannot be fixed, the concern about mortality returns to the center. It’s also where the record becomes less polished, where a piano rush and vocal run become more frequent. “Kintsugi” especially is a song that may be profound in lyrics, but lacks the driving melody that has been present up to this point. This is then paired with “Fingertips,” which is arguably Lana Del Rey’s most personal work to date, where she embraces her poetry instinct with a stream of consciousness over 10 verses that allow for tangents on everything from traveling to motherhood while declaring “I needed two seconds to be me.” It’s hard not to see its placement as being something a bit remorseful, adding deeper emotions to the whole record.
The flow of the record is among the most impressive achievement that Lana Del Rey does with “Ocean Blvd.” Even as she becomes very personal and quotes very specific moments, she manages to make them immersive for the listener. The focus on past mistakes and learning from them reflects a growth that earlier records were less keen to consider. This is a mature record that takes everything into account, where she exorcises demons. “Fingertips” may be the most free-formed, but it allows for a therapeutic recognition of what “Ocean Blvd.” is about. She is in love with the past as much because it’s mesmerizing as it holds clues to a more comforting time, where everything seemed more radiant. The real question is whether it did. Given that this record also finds lyrical growth on Lana Del Rey’s part, it manages to perfectly show how everything influences each other, creating some profound sense of identity.
While I don’t have any great criticism on “Paris, Texas,” I just want to share that it’s among my favorite on the record. I especially love how she’s singing every note in time with the piano. The jauntiness captures the sense of adventure and optimism that she’s developing. The way that a slow build-up leads to a smattering of notes is especially infectious and I think ranks among her most accomplished tracks here. In what I think may just be coincidental, the pitch of the piano also reminds me of an Alexandre Desplat movie score, which I think adds a nice cinematic subtext. It’s also nice because it’s different enough from the other piano on the album as well as most of the orchestral callbacks that we’ve seen from her in recent years.
In the back half, the record has an interesting shift of themes. I think that “Grandfather Please Stand on the Shoulders of My Father While He’s Deep-Sea Fishing” is among her most spiritual work for obvious reasons. It’s a song about reflecting on the deceased and believing that they’re angels watching over living relatives, wishing the best for their safety. Considering that “The Grants” started with a familial vibe, it makes sense that the eventual revelation of her self-reflection is how the past, including those who have passed, impacts the future. There is an acceptance of death as if human mortality doesn’t stop one from being alive in other ways. If taken in context of the church imagery, it’s especially poignant.
One of the songs that have grown the most on me with each relisten is “Margaret,” which was designed as a Jack Antonoff/Lana Del Rey collaboration for his fiance Margaret Qualley. While it may seem self-indulgent to put someone’s wedding song on the record, it adds a nice subtext to the whole record yet again. Along with sharing the wedding date and how they met, there is this bashful joy in her singing “let’s waltz this thing out” that overwhelms the listeners. It’s a beautifully corny and sincere moment of accepting love into your life. It may be just as unpolished as songs like “Sweet” or “Candy Necklaces,” but it gives a deeper personality to what ends up happening. More importantly, it adds the theme of accepting love from others in your life. If “A&W” reflected Lana Del Rey at her most existentialist, “Margaret” is finding her reaching self-acceptance and recognizing the gifts life can give once you allow yourself to be vulnerable.
Finally, there’s “Peppers.” Along with “Fishtail,” there’s a theme of her getting hair braided and just relaxing. What makes “Peppers” stand out is less that it fits the structure of the other songs but how it feels like a strange detour leading into the conclusion. It’s designed like a block party track, where she sings “Hands on your knees like Angelina Jolie.” Along with collaborator Tommy Gensis, there is a sense of not caring. It’s also a moment that may, even unintentionally, recall her days as “Gangsta Nancy Sinatra” where she was more willing to incorporate hip-hop elements into her music. Most of all, it’s joyful and ephemeral. This may not necessarily be the densest song, but you are amazed by how much joy she’s experiencing after spending the first half worried about her own legacy.
I’ll admit that “Ocean Blvd.” is a record that doesn’t initially connect. For casual fans especially, it will be difficult to appreciate the many turns she takes. This is as much a record you appreciate as a listen as it is recognizing her own growth and development over the past decade. It may not have the most immediate hits, but what it does have is her most accomplished sound to date, making a record that she couldn’t achieve at a younger age. She has always been infatuated with nostalgia, but it’s only after having lived a storied life that she’s able to incorporate it in such a way that’s provocative and resonates as something genuine. It’s also evident in how playful the production ends up being, where we can get her hallucinating one minute and another mourning her past.
To me, this is destined to be a masterpiece, though mostly in the eyes of obsessives. I’m sure there will be more casual fans who see the record as beautiful, but this is one that feels so personal that I don’t see anyone reaching that “Venice Bitch” outro and not admiring it solely because they listened to “Norman Fucking Rockwell” 20 times. There is patience necessary to admire what this album does. “Ocean Blvd.” is a culmination type of album, where a decade of decisions define where she is now. It’s about her life and how everyone else has treated her. It’s how her fans have come to perceive her. Many complaints can still be lobbed at, but fake is becoming more dubious. It’s hard to imagine anyone not at least noticing by the end that this is who Lana Del Rey is. It’s how she’s always been. She didn’t make a dubstep or disco revival record to revive her reputation. She just did what she always did, and there’s something very, very satisfying about that.
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