"Venice Bitch"-Lana Del Rey
Lana Del Rey's latest experiment is a trippy masterpiece the like pop radio hasn't heard for decades. It's an almost ten-minute experience that is introspective, fragile and melancholy yet romantic, sexy and hopeful.
Yep, I said ten-minutes. Your average radio single typically runs just under four-minutes in length, many of which seem to drag... on... for... ever.
But not here.
During each spin of "Venice Bitch" I discover something new. It's so easy to get lost in its complex soft and hazy, dark and delicious ethereal ambiance. Lana lightheartedly explained to Zane Lowe of Beats-1 Radio, "I was like, 'well, end of summer... some people just wanna drive around for 10 minutes, get lost in some electric guitar'."
"Venice Bitch" has a vibe that takes me back to the progressive-rock and psychedelic folk-pop era of the late-60s/early-70s. If "Venice Bitch" was released 50-years ago it would probably get some spins on album-oriented FM radio alongside deep-cuts from Traffic and The Incredible String Band. I think it has a dreamy sound not unlike 1969's "The Moving Van" from guitarist Randy California and his band Spirit.
But do radio programmers today have the moxie to give Lana's new single some serious airtime? Probably not. It already has three-strikes against it; its length, its intricacy, and its title. But here, Lana is all about the art, not the chart. As the once self-proclaimed "secret weirdo" sings at the start of "Venice Bitch," she is "Fresh out of fucks, forever."
Come to think about it, I don't think I've ever heard the word "bitch" sound so elegant.
The single's first two-minutes remind me of Lana's breakthrough 2011 debut "Video Games" but then artfully transitions into a seven-minute swirling aural hallucinatory trip accented with layered guitars, subtle synths, delicate orchestration and hushed vocals.
Lana's poetry seems to be painted in idyllic 20th century Americana with references to Hallmark, Robert Frost, a 1968 Tommy James hit and Norman Rockwell. (In fact, her parent album -- available next year -- will be christened Norman Fucking Rockwell.)
Lana's prose floats from the playful...
That's all for now. Signing off... bang bang, kiss kiss.
Yep, I said ten-minutes. Your average radio single typically runs just under four-minutes in length, many of which seem to drag... on... for... ever.
But not here.
During each spin of "Venice Bitch" I discover something new. It's so easy to get lost in its complex soft and hazy, dark and delicious ethereal ambiance. Lana lightheartedly explained to Zane Lowe of Beats-1 Radio, "I was like, 'well, end of summer... some people just wanna drive around for 10 minutes, get lost in some electric guitar'."
"Venice Bitch" has a vibe that takes me back to the progressive-rock and psychedelic folk-pop era of the late-60s/early-70s. If "Venice Bitch" was released 50-years ago it would probably get some spins on album-oriented FM radio alongside deep-cuts from Traffic and The Incredible String Band. I think it has a dreamy sound not unlike 1969's "The Moving Van" from guitarist Randy California and his band Spirit.
But do radio programmers today have the moxie to give Lana's new single some serious airtime? Probably not. It already has three-strikes against it; its length, its intricacy, and its title. But here, Lana is all about the art, not the chart. As the once self-proclaimed "secret weirdo" sings at the start of "Venice Bitch," she is "Fresh out of fucks, forever."
Come to think about it, I don't think I've ever heard the word "bitch" sound so elegant.
The single's first two-minutes remind me of Lana's breakthrough 2011 debut "Video Games" but then artfully transitions into a seven-minute swirling aural hallucinatory trip accented with layered guitars, subtle synths, delicate orchestration and hushed vocals.
Lana's poetry seems to be painted in idyllic 20th century Americana with references to Hallmark, Robert Frost, a 1968 Tommy James hit and Norman Rockwell. (In fact, her parent album -- available next year -- will be christened Norman Fucking Rockwell.)
Lana's prose floats from the playful...
"You're beautiful and I'm insane/We're American-made..."...and possessive...
"If you weren't mine, I'd be jealous of your love..."...to dismissive...
"Wha-wha-wha-wha-whatever... everything, whatever..."Again, there is so much to take in. Grab your headphones, open your ears and your mind, and let all of Lana Del Rey's beautiful, beautiful, beautiful "Venice Bitch" wash over you.
That's all for now. Signing off... bang bang, kiss kiss.
