Replay: Lana Del Rey Burns Down Americana with ‘Norman Fucking Rockwell!’

Lana Del Rey has spent her entire career trying to capture what makes America.

From dressing as Jackie Kennedy, to embodying regional stereotypes on back-to-back tracks “West Coast” and “Brooklyn Baby,” and genre-spanning collaborations with A$AP Rocky and Stevie Nicks, Del Rey has tried on almost every aspect of American culture.

But despite these continued efforts, she never truly grasped what lies at America’s core until her fifth recognized studio album, “Norman Fucking Rockwell!”

Written amidst the “madness of Trump,” as Del Rey called it, and ecological devastation of the California wildfires, “Norman Fucking Rockwell!” is a bittersweet reflection on the state of America and the world at large.

On the cover, the singer stretches out her hand as the world burns in the distance with an American flag billowing in the wind, trapped between the raging fires and an illustrative sky.

The album’s title and Del Rey’s initials are written in comic book lettering where the sky fades into a painting. Both call forth symbols of American culture, the latter heralding the namesake of the album, American painter and idealist, Norman Rockwell.

Rockwell himself, like Del Rey, was criticized for his overly-idyllic depictions of American life. In “Norman Fucking Rockwell!” Del Rey asserts idealism is a form of hope — and that might be all we have.

The album opens with another homage to American culture — the hazy strings blended with horns are reminiscent of classic Disney soundtracks. Del Rey, exasperated but loving, sings the iconic first line from the titular track: “God damn, man-child / You fucked me so good / I almost said ‘I love you.’”

On the surface, the first line appears to refer to a lover, but with the album containing so much American imagery, the song could also relate to Del Rey’s relationship with America itself.

“I don’t get bored / I just see you through” the song continues. “Why wait for the best / When I could have you?”

The second track, “Mariners Apartment Complex,” at times sounds as though Del Rey speaks as the spirit of America.

“Who I am is a big-time believer,” she proclaims, reinforcing her belief to never give up.

The song is among the most masterful in her discography. Wailing guitars and forceful piano ebb, flow and crash with Del Rey’s soaring voice, imitating the sea of which she sings.

The following track, “Venice Bitch,” is a nine-minute celebration of life, being both joyful and mournful, as Del Rey commemorates the end of summer over filtered slide guitars that drip with hazy nostalgia.

“As the summer fades away / Nothing gold can stay,” Del Rey lilts, calling to a bigger picture of America’s decline and quoting American poet Robert Frost.

“Venice Bitch” also laden with American imagery — dreaming in jeans and leather, crimson and clover and the only name-drop of Norman Rockwell himself. It depicts the idyllic, but fading, world she lives in.

“Fuck it I love you” and “Doin’ Time” are sunny tributes to West Coast surfer culture, the latter being a cover of Long Beach band Sublime. The tracks are love letters to her newfound home in California, but the smoke of grief still hangs in the air.

This grief carries through the next four tracks — “Love Song,” “Cinnamon Girl,” How to disappear” and “California.” All four are melancholy love songs in a similar vein to the title song, with Del Rey sticking by their side even if they hurt her.

“How to disappear” is a microcosm of the album itself, beginning with Del Rey crying on the shoulders of lovers and watching them lose themselves to the things they hate. 

It invites listeners to speculate if the men Del Rey refers to are love interests, or personifications of the country she’s trying to love. What makes the track so representative of the album, and Del Rey’s own spirit, is its ending.

“I’m always going to be right here,” she whispers.

“The greatest” is Lana Del Rey’s goodbye — to the America she was trying to find, the life she used to live and the places she used to love. She mourns the land and culture she loves as the song winds down, singing: “L.A’s in flames, it’s getting hot / Kanye West is blond and gone.”

The album concludes on its magnum opus — “Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have – but I have it.”

With only a barren piano, Del Rey autobiographically answers the questions listeners have asked the entire album, and her entire career — why does she stay in these relationships that make her blue, that set her on fire? Why is she still searching for America? 

Hope is the answer. Lana Del Rey sees things through, just like she promised on the first song, and reinforced on the second. No matter the past, there is always a future — for herself, for her lover, for America.

Although this hope might betray her sometimes, she still has it, and that is her triumph — and America’s.

After five albums, she has found what lies at America’s core. It’s the same thing as hers, hope, and seeing things through until the end. In a time when the smoke draws ever nearer, “Norman Fucking Rockwell!” is a comfort, and a beacon. 

Replay is a recurring music review column.

Featured image courtesy of Polydor Records/Interscope Records.