After Lana Del Rey formed an impromptu band with Alex Turner and Miles Kane upon performing a rendition of Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer” at karaoke (RIP), other members of the duo’s band, The Last Shadow Puppets, would go on to join LDR for “California,” the ninth track of Norman Fucking Rockwell. These members of what LDR deemed a little “friendship band” specifically being Zach Dawes, Loren Humphrey and Tyler Parkford. Del Rey, in turn, and as homage to her Last Shadow Puppets rapport, would also provide significant songwriting help to Kane’s 2018 album, Coup de Grace (which might have turned out better if he had kept her contributions to the record). Her presence most notable on his only viable single, “Loaded.”
The harmonious period of collaboration between the musicians of Last Shadow Puppets also manifested in a recently unearthed ditty called “Thunder”–though it might as well be called “Just Do It.” More than a Nike slogan, that phrase, of late is applicable to essentially everything pertaining to legislation that might make an actual difference in the lives of the marginalized (though the recent Supreme Court decision on LGBTQ+ discrimination isn’t as in line with that as one is supposed to believe). Of course, as is usually the case with most of Del Rey’s songs, this isn’t about politics so much as breaking things off with a toxic, two-faced arsehole, evidenced in the lyrics, “You act like fucking Mr. Brightside/When you’re with all your friends/But I know what you’re like when the party ends.”
Opening with a slow tempo drum beat that casually accommodates for the incorporation of Last Shadow Puppets’ (and Arctic Monkeys’) standard brand of languid guitar riffs, Del Rey croons, “You roll like thunder/When you come crashing in/Town ain’t been the same/Since you left with all your friends.” Describing the force of nature stylings of a man who’s as wild and unpredictable as thunder, Del Rey’s narrative mimics that of Madonna’s in “Jimmy Jimmy.” Or even her own songs, namely “Blue Jeans” and “Shades of Cool.” Always telling (and lamenting) of that quintessentially untamable man, forever committed only to one thing: breaking hearts.
In this regard, Del Rey’s constant urging to “just do it” seems to refer to disappointing her a.k.a. metaphorically eviscerating her ventricles and getting it over with (but “keep me alive/Spare your blade”) before he rolls like thunder to the next town, the next girl. Better that than to kill her entirely as she reasons, “’Cause if you’re on fire, you’re on fire/Just keep burning/Till it rains” and “If our love just means goodbye/Then, baby, better walk away/Just do it/Just do it, don’t wait.” Like Florence + the Machine before her on “What Kind of Man,” Del Rey decries a love that is perpetually half in and half out, with the emotionally out-of-reach bloke letting his semi-object of affection constantly dangle on the ledge of his falsely promised love. For if the pain must come (and it always must), it’s preferable for it to be instantaneous rather than drawn out–like being mounted to a torture rack he cranks at a snail’s pace.
One could say the same of the proverbial “Man” right now still trying to drag out his hold of power as he wreaks more harm than good in so doing. But please, (not so) darling, just do it. End the suffering now.
