Del Rey delivered a sublime performance, taut and seductive all at once; and it could have been a blueprint for her new album.
Instead “Born to Die,’’ which, following months of intense anticipation, will be released by Interscope on Tuesday, is a staggering disappointment. After a long, sweet drag on “Video Games,’’ her major-label debut feels like the sputtering cough that inevitably burns your lungs. Even with the deluxe version’s 15 songs, it’s more of a sketch than a statement.
Del Rey might be the most glaring of modern cautionary tales about how we consume pop culture and our insatiable desire to crown the next best thing. At 25, she’s proof that we’re eager to exalt artists even when they’re not ready for - or even worthy of - the sudden push.
By the time she performed on “Saturday Night Live’’ this month, she was already doomed. The social-media hive immediately savaged her shaky performance for the very qualities that initially sparked interest in the singer: She’s aloof, practically a caricature of a siren with that mercurial voice, big doe eyes cast downward, and those infamous lips locked in a perma-pout.
That live performance was not her best; I’ve heard others, in which Del Rey colored her songs with guttural dips and wild swoops, that suggested she has real talent beneath that manicured image. And I maintain that “Video Games’’ is a great song. It’s not a marvel of songwriting, but it was immaculate and seemed like a natural extension of Adele’s heart-on-sleeve pop. If Cat Power had released that song, it would have been a minor hit with no sniping about its origins.
I sighed as each subsequent song watered down what made “Video Games’’ so gripping. Up next was “Blue Jeans,’’ which played up the “gangsta Nancy Sinatra’’ comparison Del Rey liked to float early on. Finally, we got “Born to Die,’’ a skeletal teaser for the album that sums up her appeal: She’s tender but tough.
