13th February 2012 06:20:00
Going Underground #1: Lana Del Rey
Welcome to the first in an occasional series of articles where we'll empty the filing cabinet onto the floor and dig through the resultant mess to uncover rock and pop's secret history, detailing rare recordings and live material that helps paint a wider (sometimes alternate) picture of an artist's career. We begin with a look at some newly unearthed demo recordings from the industry's femme-fatale of the moment, Lana Del Rey.
The recent release of Lana Del Rey's Born To Die has done little to quell the minor issue of Elizabeth Woolridge Grant's back story, her supposed musical legitimacy and to what extent her much-hyped rise to fame is just another example of a star being concocted in the minds and offices of a record company marketing suite. To her credit, Grant has not hidden the fact that she actively sought out the support of industry professionals in order to further her career, or indeed that she actually issued one or two records in the past. Her name change, again held up as some kind of symbol of her supposed plasticity, is hardly worthy of note. Indeed, in the whitebread, flannel shirt milieu of American semi-alternative music, anything that brings a little fantasy, a tiny speck of glamour to genres hidebound by equally ridiculous notions of 'realness' is more welcome that a cold bottle of Pabst on a hot Californian day.
Within the last few days a six-track demo CD entitled No Kung Fu has emerged, reportedly a copy of one that Grant had been shopping around producers and industry contacts back in 2007 when she was still a teenager. What these demos prove is that Grant, far from being plucked out of thin air, has actually been on a fairly definite artistic path for the best part of half a decade. Lyrically, and to some extent musically, these tracks have all the hallmarks of her current work: the obsession with fame, the dangerous sexuality, the crippling lack of self-esteem - and while less obviously glossy, the sonics still echo with the ghosts of trailer park Americana.
The PJ Harvey-esque 'Brite Lites' is just Grant, an acoustic guitar and the tale of obsession and ambition: "I look for you in magazines / I'm taking off my wedding ring / ... Give me the brite lights' until she gets what she wants ("I'm waving on the silver screen / The film is fading, look at me." The sparse 'Get Drunk' is built on a riff that barely qualifies as such - just a few notes on one guitar string - but Grant's breathy vocal is immediately recognisable: "I am sleeping with your best friend / How do you like me now?" Inevitably, the pay-off is typically self-berating ("Will I get to heaven? It's not looking good for now.")
Add 'Jimmy Necco' to the list of bad boys in Grant's innocent world ("Take me to the park / Buy me cotton candy / Kiss me in the dark"). It can only end in (bad) dreams. 'Jump', the first track to feature bass and drums, sees Grant hell-bent on destruction and "a mixture of cocaine and heroin". It's melodramatic - and phantastical - but no more so than most Hollywood thrillers, a situation made even more explicit in 'Put Me In A Movie', Grant the knowing ingenue ripe for exploitation: "If he likes me, takes me home ... / Come on, I know you like little girls / You can be my Daddy," and almost the blueprint for what Lana Del Rey would eventually become.
The final track, 'Yayo' actually appeared on Grant's debut single Kill, Kill and is a smoky torch song, the key line ("Let me put on a show for you, baby") serving both as a seduction and a metaphor for her long-blueprinted future.
Artists - and commentators - often note that labels no longer have patience and are unwilling to allow acts to develop at their own pace. Rather than being cooked up overnight by a cynical industry, Lana Del Rey is more correctly the result of one young woman's stamina, determination and singular vision. It barely matters if Born To Die proves to be her one definitive statement - it's a great album and these demos prove she's no overnight success.
Do you have any 'interesting' recordings for Going Underground? Contact us via the usual options.
The recent release of Lana Del Rey's Born To Die has done little to quell the minor issue of Elizabeth Woolridge Grant's back story, her supposed musical legitimacy and to what extent her much-hyped rise to fame is just another example of a star being concocted in the minds and offices of a record company marketing suite. To her credit, Grant has not hidden the fact that she actively sought out the support of industry professionals in order to further her career, or indeed that she actually issued one or two records in the past. Her name change, again held up as some kind of symbol of her supposed plasticity, is hardly worthy of note. Indeed, in the whitebread, flannel shirt milieu of American semi-alternative music, anything that brings a little fantasy, a tiny speck of glamour to genres hidebound by equally ridiculous notions of 'realness' is more welcome that a cold bottle of Pabst on a hot Californian day.
Within the last few days a six-track demo CD entitled No Kung Fu has emerged, reportedly a copy of one that Grant had been shopping around producers and industry contacts back in 2007 when she was still a teenager. What these demos prove is that Grant, far from being plucked out of thin air, has actually been on a fairly definite artistic path for the best part of half a decade. Lyrically, and to some extent musically, these tracks have all the hallmarks of her current work: the obsession with fame, the dangerous sexuality, the crippling lack of self-esteem - and while less obviously glossy, the sonics still echo with the ghosts of trailer park Americana.
The PJ Harvey-esque 'Brite Lites' is just Grant, an acoustic guitar and the tale of obsession and ambition: "I look for you in magazines / I'm taking off my wedding ring / ... Give me the brite lights' until she gets what she wants ("I'm waving on the silver screen / The film is fading, look at me." The sparse 'Get Drunk' is built on a riff that barely qualifies as such - just a few notes on one guitar string - but Grant's breathy vocal is immediately recognisable: "I am sleeping with your best friend / How do you like me now?" Inevitably, the pay-off is typically self-berating ("Will I get to heaven? It's not looking good for now.")
Add 'Jimmy Necco' to the list of bad boys in Grant's innocent world ("Take me to the park / Buy me cotton candy / Kiss me in the dark"). It can only end in (bad) dreams. 'Jump', the first track to feature bass and drums, sees Grant hell-bent on destruction and "a mixture of cocaine and heroin". It's melodramatic - and phantastical - but no more so than most Hollywood thrillers, a situation made even more explicit in 'Put Me In A Movie', Grant the knowing ingenue ripe for exploitation: "If he likes me, takes me home ... / Come on, I know you like little girls / You can be my Daddy," and almost the blueprint for what Lana Del Rey would eventually become.
The final track, 'Yayo' actually appeared on Grant's debut single Kill, Kill and is a smoky torch song, the key line ("Let me put on a show for you, baby") serving both as a seduction and a metaphor for her long-blueprinted future.
Artists - and commentators - often note that labels no longer have patience and are unwilling to allow acts to develop at their own pace. Rather than being cooked up overnight by a cynical industry, Lana Del Rey is more correctly the result of one young woman's stamina, determination and singular vision. It barely matters if Born To Die proves to be her one definitive statement - it's a great album and these demos prove she's no overnight success.
Do you have any 'interesting' recordings for Going Underground? Contact us via the usual options.
You might also like...
Comments
comments powered by Disqus
