From the moment “Text Book” commences the Blue Banisters album, Lana Del Rey is ready to get deeply confessional (and, naturally, what would the kickoff to an LDR record be without her repurposing lyrics of the past into her own?—specifically, “Old Man River”). While that might sound like business as usual, one can tell that, with this album especially, she’s aiming to be as candid as possible. And we, as the listeners, are privy to that therapy session. One that dredges up many old issues of the past, particularly those pertaining to Del Rey’s rarely talked-about mother. And, of course, there are plenty of digs at certain exes (choose from the combo platter of Sean Larkin and Clayton Johnson). Even if Del Rey briefly led us to believe she was perfectly content in her presently matriarchal bubble.
But every girl gets a bit lonely sometimes, hence Del Rey’s admission early on in the record, “If this is the end, I want a boyfriend” (something Selena Gomez also admitted last year on “Boyfriend”). Before that moment (on “Black Bathing Suit”), Del Rey explores her Electra complex in detail on “Text Book.” A song that makes it clear she must be saving money on actually getting a shrink by writing these types of lyrics, including, “And then there was the issue of her/I didn’t even like myself, or love the life I had/And there you were with shining stars/Standin’ blue with open arms…/You’ve got a Thunderbird, my daddy had one, too/Let’s rewrite history, I’ll do this dance with you/You know I’m not that girl, you know I’ll never be.” The “her” referred to in this context appears to be Del Rey’s mother, though of course it could double for any number of women who have made her feel inadequate. Whatever the case, Del Rey is open to admitting her “text book” Daddy issues (/fetish) when she croons as a non sequitur, “God, I wish I was with my father/He could see us in all our splendor.” Not exactly something a prospective love interest wants to hear.
In any case, her father was probably present for some of the narrative referred to on “Blue Banisters,” maybe even popping in to help paint them blue. As the song that most closely allies itself with the Chemtrails Over the Country Club sound, Del Rey is at her most Taylor Swift à la folklore and evermore here. And it seems worth noting that only after Swift challenged the norm by releasing two tour de force records in a single year that Del Rey felt compelled to do the same. After all, does Taylor really think she’s the only prolific one up in this bitch? Granted, part of Del Rey’s prolificness here stems from incorporating some of her robust back catalogue of previously unofficially released songs. This includes the likes of “If You Lie Down With Me,” “Thunder,” “Nectar of the Gods” and “Cherry Blossom.” With an endless arsenal of songs going as far back as her May Jailer days, Del Rey would have no issue releasing two records a year for the foreseeable future. If only Taylor would stop re-releasing hers.
Nonetheless, Taylor can keep her New York posturing as Del Rey declares her own body is a map of L.A. on “Arcadia” (talk about a “map to the stars”). Indeed, this won’t be the first instance of Del Rey mentioning her body, a topic that seems to be on more people’s minds than she would like these days as they examine her shape’s alteration (seemingly having an inverse experience to Adele right now). Just as it is in the video for the song, “Arcadia” segues into “Interlude – The Trio,” which reinvigorates one of Ennio Morricone’s many sonic masterpieces. Funnily enough, the producer credit for this track lists Clayton Johnson, along with his brother, Chantry (occasionally composing a band called, oh so creatively, The Johnsons). In this regard, perhaps Del Rey proves she’s evolved enough to ignore the personal strife involved with an ex for the sake of the work. Which also certainly seems to be true of the songs co-written with another former boyfriend, Barrie-James O’Neill, that appear on this record.
But one key “original” (a.k.a. something that wasn’t created from “back in the day”) is “Black Bathing Suit.” Allowing us to finally understand what became of the illustrious voice notes Del Rey posted back in 2020. The ones labeled, “Grenadine quarantine” and “If this is the end, I want a boyfriend.” While both would’ve worked as song titles unto themselves, they instead appear as lyrics in “Black Bathing Suit.” But fret not, there are also some commonly used “Del Reyisms” in lyrics like, “Lookin’ at me lookin’ over at you,” which smacks of, “Boy, look at you lookin’ at me” from “High by the Beach.” Del Rey is also keen to add to her “Daddy Canon” with the lyric, “So I’m not friends with my mother, but I still love my dad.” Taking into account that Blue Banisters (back when it was called Rock Candy Sweet) was meant to be Del Rey’s big “revenge” record against the critics, she also seems to allude to that “question for the culture” incident when she remarks, “And what I never said, why there’s a price on my head/It’s nothing to do with them, it’s my karmic lineage.” Does she mean, like, her Anglican ancestors who came to the East Coast and pillaged Native American territory (hence her own obsession with reparations to this group)? Who can say? But even if she claims it’s not her “haters’” fault, she’s still determined to belittle them the best way rich folk know how: mocking their socioeconomic status. And so, by the end of the song, we have more poor people-shaming in the spirit of a true rich girl (and in the spirit of Billie Eilish’s “Lost Cause”) with, “They’re fucking broke and we’re laughin’ about them.” A sarcastic “thanks for that” appears here, to boot, as it also does on “Arcadia.”
Sounding a bit muddled (like Madonna on “God Control”) at the beginning of “If You Lie Down With Me,” Del Rey slows down the pace even further as she warbles, “Dance me all around the room” as though wanting to be this man’s ragdoll—at least until he more fully disappoints her. In point of fact, the song seems to have the tone of a woman who is resigned by now to being hurt (and lied to, hence the double meaning of the word in the title as she chants, “Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie”).
Because this song is from a previous era, Del Rey gives us more tired Fourth of July-as-metaphor mentions, for this was part of the Americana-centric iconography that helped her rise to fame. There’s also more allusions (read: “recycled”) to 70s-era music with “once, twice, three times a guy” being ripped from The Commodores’ “Three Times A Lady.” Declaring she’d rather carry on with the lie of the relationship’s “healthiness” until the bitter end, Del Rey asserts, “We were built for the long-haul freight train/Burnt by fire without trial like a stowaway.”
Her most Jewel-inspired ditty on the album yet, the piano-drenched “Beautiful” continues the “blue” mood of the record. And even though no one should bother calling a song “Beautiful” after Christina Aguilera made hers the most immortal, Del Rey ignores the unspoken monopoly (as did Mariah Carey, but at least she attempted to differentiate by calling it “#Beautiful”). And chanting “Beautiful” in her best imitation of Joni Mitchell (instead coming across more like the aforementioned Jewel) doesn’t do much to upstage Xtina. The lyrics seem to align in part with Blue Banisters’ attempt to hit back at critics as she sings, “I try not to hold back/It seems, either way, it makes you mad/So I’ll be who I’ll be, if you think that that’s cool/Then I’ll take you back.” There’s also a moment when she insists, “Let me run with the wolves, let me do what I do.” After all, who else has turned pain into profit so well? As evidenced in her flex, “Let me show you how sadness can turn into happiness/I can turn blue into something profitable beautiful.” The “run with the wolves” line itself conjures not only an image of the dust jacket to the feminist staple, Women Who Run With the Wolves, but also her “Chemtrails Over the Country Club” video. And what with Del Rey being a “primal” woman of nature in California now, this new repeated reference makes sense.
“Violets for Roses” is Del Rey at her most exuberant thus far on Blue Banisters, detailing the period after quarantine, as well as coming out of a love haze that made her lose focus on herself. Name-checking another obscure-to-most-non-Californians place, Del Rey claims, “Larchmont Village smells like lilies of the valley” (it most certainly does not). There are notable tinges of “Happier Than Ever” in the pre-chorus, with Del Rey taunting, “Ever since I fell out of love with you/I fell back in love with me/And, boy, does it feel sweet/Like a summer breeze/Ever since I fell out of love with you I fell back in love with the city” (in lieu of Billie’s “You made me hate this city”). She then lends her L.A.-loving flourish with, “Like thе Paramount sign sparkling.” As a song about rejuvenation and renewed hope, it’s the only offering on the album that makes reference to the harrowing ordeal that was 2020 (though, make no mistake, it wasn’t as harrowing for anyone in L.A. as it was for people in other milieus outside the U.S.). That nod comes when Del Rey exuberantly describes, “The girls are runnin’ ’round in summer dresses/With their masks off and it makes me so happy.” Of course, this message could come back to bite her in the ass later, when masks inevitably become a wardrobe staple again.
She then segues into shading her ex (seemingly a combo of Sean Larkin and Clayton Johnson), who tried to make her into something she was not, ergo the metaphor, “You made me trade my violets for roses.” This man with the ostensible gold-digging tendencies leads Del Rey to assess, “You tried to trade in my new truck for Rollses/Don’t forget all of these things that you love are the same things I hate/A simple life, I chose this.” And maybe part of why she thought she was choosing a man like Larkin stemmed from her belief that a life with him could be “simple.” Elsewhere she claims, “God knows the only mistake that a man can make/Is tryna make a woman change.” Really though? The only mistake? Pretty sure there are so many that men can make (just ask Alec Baldwin).
The mythic-by-now “Dealer”—previously rumored to be making the cut for Chemtrails Over the Country Club—appears at last on Blue Banisters. It’s another track from the annals of her songwriting collaboration with Last Shadow Puppets (a.k.a. Alex Turner and Miles Kane, as well as James Ford and Del Rey producer Zach Dawes). “Dealer,” like “Thunder” after it, is a song that originated from Del Rey’s “little friendship band” circa 2017. Perhaps that’s what makes “Dealer” the most sonically different from the rest of the tracks on Blue Banisters (apart from the accompanying male vocals provided by Kane). Suffused in languid psychedelia, the duet oozes the 60s sound Del Rey is so fond of invoking. What’s more, Mariah belting, “I can’t live/I can’t give anymore” is what it sounds like when Del Rey screams, “I don’t wanna live/I don’t wanna give you nothin’.” At the end, she mocks, “All circuits are busy” in a way that vaguely reminds one of the language used in her former LES competitor’s hit single, “Telephone.” After announcing the circuits are busy, she accuses derisively, “You’re high,” making one feel like she should’ve added in Oscar Bluth saying, “You’re drunk!” in reply to that. Where once she might have tolerated fuckboy behavior like this (e.g. on “Video Games”), she seems utterly uncharmed by it now.
“Thunder” is the natural choice to follow, also being from Lana’s “Alex and Miles” period. Although the track is more lyrically simple, it doesn’t keep the California influence from being present in the fire-centric lines, “‘Cause if you’re on fire, you’re on fire (just do it)/Just keep burnin’, ’til rain (just do it, don’t wait)/Baby, keep me ablaze/Honey, if you’re on fire, you’re on fire (just do it).” Like “California,” the song was created during Del Rey’s 2017-era collaborations with Last Shadow Puppets. Her concluding lyrics are spoken in that, “And I loved him, I loved him, I loved him” fashion from the “National Anthem” video as she speaks, “If you’re on fire, you’re on fire/You should just keep burning.” And California does. ‘Cause even when it gets rain, it has to come with fire-igniting thunder.
Talking of fire, the only track produced by Madonna go-to Mike Dean, “Wildflower Wildfire,” is among the best on the album. Not only because of the sound itself, but perhaps because, once again, Del Rey is willing to “go there” regarding the subject of her mother, Patricia (a name somewhat tantamount to Karen). Thus, she lays it down, “My father never stepped in when his wife would rage at me/So I ended up awkward but sweet.” The distancing language—“his wife” not “my mother”—further intensifies the sense of rage that Del Rey has been keeping dormant with regard to this subject matter. And yes, there are several instances on the record where she seems to be ignoring the true dark side (the one that shined in its full glory during her drinking days) of herself she’s kept at bay for so long. A facet she alludes to by coloring herself a real Sylvia Plath type as she mentions, “Later then hospitals, stand still on my feet/Comfortably numb, but with lithium came poetry” (see: Violet Bent Backwards Over the Grass, Del Rey’s poetry book that also channels major Jewel vibes, as she was the one who did it first with A Night Without Armor).
While Del Rey once said she’d be open to putting out an album of unreleased songs, at the rate she keeps releasing them on “from scratch” records, there won’t be any left. “Nectar of the Gods” (previously known as “Color Blue” and “Wild on You”) is yet another example of that, taken from her writing sessions with ex-boyfriend Barrie-James O’Neill circa 2013. Maybe they’ve seen the light of day now, after enough time passed, because Del Rey felt it was finally “safe” (from an emotional standpoint) to release the material. O’Neill, in contrast, probably doesn’t feel quite as safe about it. “Wild” and “fuckin’ crazy,” favorite descriptors of Del Rey, are noticeably present, as well as her usual reverence for the Golden State when she calls it, “Californ-I-A, homeland of the Gods.” A.k.a. celebrities. For these are still viewed as the modern equivalent of deities in our godless twenty-first century.
“Living Legend” also gives us plenty of Ultraviolence-esque lyrical context, with the bridge paying homage to “Florida Kilos” as she sings, “I got guns in the summertime and horses too/Guns in the summertime and horses too/I never meant to be bad or unwell/I was just living on the edge/Right between Heaven and Hell/And I’m tired of it.” Once more, Del Rey is confronting an issue of her past, namely her substance abuse period. Likely because, here, too, we are back in the Ultraviolence period, with O’Neill also having a writing and producing credit.
Another one from the Ultraviolence-era vault, “Cherry Blossom” is at last birthed into the world in an official capacity following “Living Legend.” Wielding the standard tropes Del Rey is fond of, including being “wild and free” and lovin’ Jesus (“Jesus is my bestest friend”), this would have been a good place for the album to conclude. Alas, instead, to round out the “sweetness” of Blue Banisters is, what else, “Sweet Carolina,” a newer composition co-written with her sister, Chuck (whose real name is Caroline—but “Sweet Caroline” was obviously already taken), and her father, Robert. Move over, Billie, you ain’t the only one musically collaborating with fam.
By the end of it all, we come away with a sense that Del Rey is still trying to embody Joni Mitchell instead of herself. Or maybe Joni’s general aura is just a side effect of being a singer-songwriter living in California. But, lest one forget, Joni, the woman Del Rey has been attempting to channel since Lust for Life, is the OG of all things Blue—her most famous album being called as such. What’s more, Del Rey actually comes closer to emulating her unwitting mentor on Norman Fucking Rockwell, the record that infamously launched an unexpected outburst from Del Rey geared toward critic Ann Powers. With Blue Banisters, we hear more of that Jewel sound (complete with a “folksy twang”) that came to fruition on Sirens, back when Lizzy Grant was May Jailer. Still, evidently, jailed by her past after all these years. As most of us are. Nonetheless, through that haunting and imprisonment, we have come to rely on Del Rey’s dependability in ultimately giving us more of the same, repackaged through a “wiser” lens.
