One Year with Lana Del Rey

One year and four days ago, back when I was doing something with my life, I wrote an article on the youth blogging site Youth Are Awesome, not knowing then that it would be the beginning of something gigantic. That thing was the singer Lana Del Rey.

I know a lot of people who find her ridiculous, most of whom have only heard of her from the [actually not that] deplorable Saturday Night Live performance. But I also know a couple of people who view her as I do: as something other-worldly, brought to this planet for the purpose of... what? Being beautiful, or at least something like that.

I never intended for this blog to be a nonstop depression express, but it just must be said. Lana means something to me that I can barely even begin to describe. She has this intoxicating inner sadness that transforms her, a beautiful woman with a beautiful voice, into a symbol, I suppose, of youth and fame that is tragic to a Marilyn Monroe-esque extent.  She is both extraordinarily vain and immensely honest and humble. I feel like I know her completely while also not knowing her at all.

Sometimes I realize that her image may seem as though it is saying that it is okay to be miserable when you have your youth and good looks, that you are still worthy, despite your failures, because of your appearance. Then I realize that such is a surface analysis of Lana and her music. I instead recognize it as saying that youth and beauty do not make you happy or successful, and that it can be more of a trap that imprisons you into thinking that your only value is your physical self. There is beauty in sadness in the sense that it is when you come closest to yourself. I think that is what makes Lana so beautiful: she seems so lost in herself, and yet, is never anything but herself because of it.

The music is the biggest thing, though. The music is truly indescribable. I typically like fast, upbeat, feel-good music (One Direction affection is still perfectly acceptable at my age),  but something about Lana's voice speaks to me in such a way that I never even want to listen to other music. There is a quality to it that I have yet to find in any other art. When I listen to it, it feels as though my heart is blossoming, and my chest is full of this aching satisfaction. I'd imagine that's what it feels like to stare into the eyes of true love.

To be not at all melodramatic, I view my whole Lana complex as more of a religion than an obsession. Her music became a part of me, and I don't quite know why, but I can't remember a time without it. I think my first novel, or maybe my first dozen, will be based on her.

I don't mean to sound as though I think my opinion is at all relevant, but I think most of us find this type of thing at some point or another in our lives, from art or culture or another person. It opens you up to seeing things in a way that you never would have imagined previously, and it results in a permanent change. It's like when your DNA is denatured by the sun. You're still you, but it's different now. You've seen a little bit more, and you're a little darker.

If you listen to one song, let this be it (the orchestral version is chilling).