The First Collection of Criticism by a Living Female Rock Critic by Jessica Hopper

assumption being made about Del Rey is that she is a valence for DIY/indie culture, which she’s never been. She played daytime, industry showcases at overlit venues in Midtown for years, and was taking meetings at majors since mid-2010. These are the steps of someone who wants to be a pop star, not signed by Matador. Bloggers and tastemaking websites believed they noticed her first, when, in fact, they were two years behind a pack of lawyers and A&R scouts who were eager to sign an artist who was the total package.
    While a few (two) blogs got on the Del Rey wagon early—successive waves of attention in late spring of 2011 were prompted by press releases. No one rightly discovered her and even the coolest blogs were being jumped into by publicists or “grassroots” marketing firms, their LDR posts repeating the story as it was fed to them. Many of these same blogs are now indignant, fronting like they were duped into caring about her or lending her credibility—though they certainly weren’t so discerning before. They were just eager to claim “first,” as is the law of the jungle.
    In the weeks surrounding the release of Del Rey’s Born to Die , every interview and TV performance became a new proving ground. Video interviews showed Del Rey as both self-aware and funny, as when a VH1 interviewer condescendingly comforted her for not being on this year’s Coachella lineup. She deadpanned, “Aw, thanks,” before cracking herself up. Her much-maligned Saturday Night Live performance sounded just as awkward as every other band that performs on the show. Still, her unevenness was taken as resounding proof that she was Born 2 Fail by no less an authority than NBC news anchor Brian Williams.
    In other interviews, Del Rey has talked about studying cosmology and a six-year stint doing homeless outreach, suggesting that she’s more engaged in the real word than her ardent critics. Though she aims high, she’s still hardly acting like a star, telling MTV, “I consider being able to pursue music a luxury, but it’s not the most important thing in my life. It’s just something that’s really nice that ended up working for me for right now.” Still, she doesn’t bother hiding her ambition—she’s cited the self-actualization classic Think and Grow Rich as her recommended reading.
    Surprisingly, it’s still easier for people to believe the ancient model of a major-label star system—girl of moderate talent is groomed and posed to appeal—rather than accept that a young woman could plot her course by her own animus. Meanwhile, sexist critiques of Del Rey’s appearance, songs and videos get spun as incisive discernment, offered up as knowing analysis of a deceptive product. Her songs are assailed as “trying too hard” to be sexy, as if we have slept through the past three decades of liberated pop-diva sexuality as written by Madonna/Janet/Britney/Rihanna and are now shocked by Del Rey’s slight approximation. She’s by-the-book, and yet she’s seen as breaking the rules. It’s doubtful we’d even be intrigued by a female artist being subtle or modest. As an audience, we make a big stink about wanting the truth, but we’re only really interested in the old myths.
     

TAYLOR SWIFT, GRIMES AND LANA DEL REY:
THE YEAR IN BLOND AMBITION
    Village Voice Pazz & Jop Critics Poll, January 2012
     
    It seems so long ago—certainly more than 52 weeks—since we were all flustered by the audacity of Lana Del Rey. Her crimes, it seemed, were legion and very, very serious—concerns that trumped consideration of whether or not her music was any good. She was bad on Saturday Night Live. Her lips, perhaps, had collagen in them. A few years ago, she was playing A&R showcases backed by hired guns, and suddenly she was all over Pitchfork like a real-deal indie ingénue, but (gasp!) it turned out she already had a deal with Interscope. Her name was not actually Lana Del Rey, and, unlike any artist in the history of ever,