I’ve been working on my next book review for a few days now, but I’m finding that when I try to work on it, words don’t come quickly or easily to me. So, what the hell—might as well try something different. Music is immensely important to me. I’ve got a fairly large collection spanning over a thousand artists in dozens of different genres; I spent two years working in a record store (back when those still existed) and I consider music crucial to my ability to handle difficult emotions, be productive, and maintain sanity.
However, I’ve always been reluctant to write about it, because I’m basically musically illiterate. I don’t play any instruments; I can’t tell a C from an F; I can barely pick out the individual instruments in a song; I don’t even know the right terminology to use when discussing what makes music good or not. I hope that eventually I’ll be able to take some music lessons and correct this to some extent, because I also believe that you can’t fully appreciate something you don’t understand. But for now, I remain ignorant of the intricacies of musical composition. Thus, I’m not going to be so presumptuous as to call this a review, but… well, keep reading and you’ll see what I’m on about.
I go through periods of obsession with musical artists where I’ll discover someone new and become absolutely, completely captivated by them, usually buying several if not all of their records and listening to them over and over again until I’ve thoroughly “worn out” every single song. Then, if I’m lucky, I find someone new to become obsessed with, and the cycle begins anew.
Last month it was Lana Del Rey: her albums Born to Die and Paradise are absolutely phenomenal, and she herself is just an incredibly talented artist. One thing I find particularly interesting about Lana is how her sound—her voice, in particular—seems to evoke the 1950s; according to Wikipedia, “her music has been noted for its cinematic sound and its references to various aspects of pop culture, particularly that of 1950s and ‘60s Americana.” But Del Rey’s music doesn’t sound dated—lyrically, she manages to capture a timeless quality while also epitomizing modernity and the hollowness of American decadence. It’s a combination unlike anything else I have ever heard, and I still find it almost intoxicating.
Del Rey has announced a fourth album, Honeymoon, which is billed as being more like Born to Die and Paradise than her third album, Ultraviolence, which I have to admit that I didn’t care for as much. Naturally, I’m really looking forward to that. Enough about Lana, though. This month, I’m hooked on Taylor Swift’s latest album, 1989.