It is never an easy thing to cover a musical legend’s song. And, though, in the past Lana Del Rey has released her share of “interpretations” (Nancy Sinatra’s “Summer Wine” and Nina Simone’s “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood” come to mind), it has never been from someone so contemporary as Madonna–though at least it’s not an original composition (as was the case with Kelly Osbourne trying her hand at “Papa Don’t Preach”). Lyrically and musically speaking, “You Must Love Me” is just the sort of track one would expect from Lana Del Rey, who has covered it as part of the forthcoming homage to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Unmasked: The Platinum Collection. Although the song is right in keeping with the usual dramatic, fatalistic tone of a standard Del Rey cut, the narrative speaks to a woman terrified to lose the man she adores for fear that he can’t love her in the same way with her newfound, shall we call it, weakness.
And therein lies the primary issue with Del Rey remaking this song. For you see, the problem is, Del Rey bears none of the same personality resemblances to Evita that Madonna does to fully carry off with conviction this song. For Eva Perón, the entire tragedy underlying the strained nature of “You Must Love Me” stems from the fact that she was a woman who, for so long, relied on her strength, stubbornness and self-reliance to get to and maintain her place at the top. This is exactly why Madonna said during interviews at the time of the film’s release that she “can certainly relate.” As Madonna also pointed out, Eva was both the most loved and hated woman in Latin America. It sounds so familiar, and makes Eva one of the most complex characters she’s ever played (unless you want to count Susan from Desperately Seeking Susan). In contrast, Del Rey has never evoked this sort of reaction from anyone. People do not despise Lana Del Rey for no reason. As you’ll see if you go to any of her concerts, it’s immediately evident that it’s just blind, infatuated love from mostly tweens and gay hipsters. Because Del Rey has never done anything politically or sexually controversial enough (at least nothing that could raise eyebrows in this era) to arouse in people such a polarizing reaction. It’s either sheer adoration or no sentiment whatsoever with Del Rey.
On a side note, this isn’t the first time Madonna and Del Rey have crossed swords, so to speak, in music. It was current go-to Del Rey producer Rick Nowels who had a heavy influence in the early production of the Ray of Light album, recently turned twenty years old, before William Orbit got his hands on it. And if this connection should surprise one, it’s only because the two women, while talented in their own ways, are worlds apart in their thematic and political aims. Madonna has never been one to play the beleaguered, cast aside woman (rare exceptions being “Take A Bow” and “HeartBreakCity”)–which is what makes her version of “You Must Love Me” so much more powerful in its purpose of conveying how big a deal it is to be this openly vulnerable.
What’s more, in delivering the vocals for this song, we aren’t picturing a strong woman who has lost everything because her “little body’s slowly breaking down” as Juan puts it at one point during the song of the same name, but the “Born to Die” chanteuse mourning over some fuckboy who probably wasn’t worth all the time she’s put into writing songs about him that have at least, if nothing else, bolstered the breadth of her catalogue.
Several other tracks from Evita, including “Buenos Aires” sung by the cast of Glee and “I’d Be Surprisingly Good For You” by the original cast of the musical, are also featured on the tribute album. And, in a somewhat random choice for which Madonna–as-Evita song to feature, “Oh What A Circus” featuring Antonio Banderas makes its cameo on track three of the first disc (because any tribute to Webber is damn well going to include more than one)–for those of you still familiar with tangibility.
Yet, of course, it is going to be this rendition of “You Must Love Me” that stands out the most for the star power and freshness attached to it. And while there is nothing wrong, technically speaking, with Del Rey’s earnest attempt (it’s perfectly fine, on par with “Once Upon A Dream”), the original intent of the song feels completely compromised when trying to imagine a formerly ruthless woman who has been cut down to size by the limitations of her corporeal shell. Instead, all one can see is a girl who was born into favorable circumstances and had a lot of financial aid along the way to get to her version of the apex of success, even if she did get briefly sidelined at a New Jersey trailer park for awhile before arriving. And no, LDR didn’t “fuck her way to the top” as she once claimed to on Ultraviolence, with half as much urgency or relentlessness as Eva and Madonna. In any case, Patti LuPone probably likes this version better as a result of her odium for Madonna–an inexplicable vilification Evita could empathize with.
