It might’ve been too high-profile a stage for a debut artist’s unseasoned chops, but mostly people just walked away from her performance paranoid that the failed singer still thought that she’s better than them. That’s one reason Del Rey’s fearfully nervous "Saturday Night Live" performance in January failed. Laughter is a crucial feature of any connective music, just in case there are still Scott Walker fans who can’t fathom why he toils in cultdom while Sinatra enjoys commemorative plates. It’s an icebreaker from someone who, if she did nothing else in 2012, learned to smile at herself. If you read it on the page and remove it from the funereal, laughless tone imbued by the woman formerly known as Lizzy Grant, it could be an inside joke from a yearbook quote. It sounds like a funny detail from a satirical dystopian novel.
Whether you find Lana’s, ahem, product placement to be appalling or novel, chances are excellent that you paused to take it in, because it’s not the sort of thing that a pop star - or any kind of celebrity really - would say. Why carry the designer bag when you can get the logo tattooed? On the year’s most controversial album, "Born to Die," (released in a “Paradise Edition” last week), Lana Del Rey proclaims “My pussy tastes like Pepsi Cola.” It’s not enough for 2012’s most-talked-about pop star (did people really discuss Carly Rae Jepsen?) to enjoy corporate excess or bemoan it from a human distance she has to physically bond with it. Andy Warhol famously remarked that the president and Liz Taylor drink the same cola as the bum on the corner: “All the Cokes are the same and all the Cokes are good.”
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