Lana Del Rey revisits old themes, sound in 'Honeymoon'

Lana Del Rey is one of those avant-garde noir singers who confuses her listeners as much as she entertains them. Bolstering her carefully constructed persona of old school Hollywood glamour with her smoky, '60s-era vocals, Del Rey combines rich, dramatic sound with a compelling narrative of the American experience.

In her new album, "Honeymoon," released Sept. 18, the singer returns to her roots in a way that fans of her first album, "Born to Die" (2012), and the follow-up edition, "Born to Die - The Paradise Edition" (2012), will enjoy. Her ethereal voice and the dark, provocative soundtrack urge the audience to contemplate and experience her sadness and disquiet.

Lana Del Rey -- born Elizabeth Grant --  is a persona as meticulously created as her music. Flayed by critics for developing such an overly artificial character for her entrance into the music industry, Del Rey has striven to incorporate the femme fatale motif into the lyrics of her past albums, and "Honeymoon" continues this trend. It's important to remember when listening to her music that Lana Del Rey was created for the stage. The pouty '60s jazz singer character is meant to emphasize the themes in Del Ray's music, such as the way the American Dream often sours when one tries to chase it. 

The focus of "Honeymoon" is romance and Del Rey's relationship with her audience. Her slow and soft music makes frequent references to Del Rey's past relationships but often hides a backbone of steel within the lyrics. In “God Knows I Tried,” she croons, “I feel free when I see no one / And nobody knows my name.” Del Ray references the loss of anonymity that comes with fame and fortune; in many ways, the media has been her harshest critic. 

The theme of chafing against being defined by others pops up again and again. In “High by the Beach” she sings about her desire to relax and be herself for once without the ever-present judgment that surrounds her; however, the song also works as a ballad about her overly possessive significant other who she realizes is “just another one of her problems.” 

This idea shows up again in the last song of the record, “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood,” a cover of Nina Simone’s song. The track is a clear summary of the rest of the album; she sings, “But I’m just a soul whose intentions are good / Oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.” Perhaps Del Rey is expressing her desire to develop as an artist and at the same time not be lost against the backdrop of her own persona.

The album is a major departure from her previous album, "Ultraviolence" (2014), which was full of electronic guitars and represented a fresh take on her jazz and hip-hop-influenced work. If anything, this departure works against her in this album. Now that she has proved that she can create different, fresh music, Del Rey's choice to regress to her roots almost feels underwhelming for those expecting more pizzazz from the singer.

What makes Del Rey’s music so plaintive and longing is not just the strings and slow beat, but the fact that her lyrics remind listeners about the dangers of sugar-coating and glamorizing the past. Doing so often obscures the darkness of the era. Whatever the message, what is certain is that Del Rey’s album is worth a listen.