For whatever reason, when Lana Del Rey first arrived onto the scene, she appealed endlessly to the ten through twelve-year-old set. Like a “goth” version of Britney Spears, this chanteuse’s talk of obsessing over boys and/or being broken-hearted by them spoke to a generation of girls who had yet to even “snag” a boyfriend. Among that generation was Billie Eilish and Olivia Rodrigo, both of whom have come forward of late to declare their unwavering love for Del Rey (despite Rodrigo being far more of a Swiftie). Eilish’s gushing has been markedly more consistent (e.g., “Lana raised us”) than Rodrigo’s, who seemed to become a fangirl in time to present Del Rey with an award at the Billboard Women in Music Awards.
The award in question was the “Visionary Award.” Something that one would think might actually require a bit more…vision. At least in terms of not reiterating the same tropes about “he hurt me, I love him still” (a.k.a. “he hit me and it felt like a kiss”). Del Rey herself is the first to admit that, when it comes to the “world building” (as she and everyone else is suddenly calling it) of her albums, “boyfriends!” are the key inspiration behind it all (cue Swift saying, “Hey, that’s only okay when I say it!”). So no, few of Del Rey’s songs are capable of passing the Bechdel Test. And few people can say (with a straight face) that perpetuating this motif of obsessing over men is a “good thing” to imbue in subsequent generations. Even so, Del Rey, despite a “low-key presence” overall, has saturated “the culture” with her “visionary” status. A branding that feels somewhat ironic when considering that all Del Rey has done, fundamentally, is raise another generation of women who fixate on men, their opinions of women and what women can do about it to claim vengeance (e.g., write a song about the jilting—though not everyone gets that luxury). Eilish has her series of such songs, from “Wish You Were Gay” to “Happier Than Ever” to “Lost Cause.” And, naturally, Rodrigo’s entire debut album, Sour, is directed at (supposedly) one boy in particular: Joshua Bassett.
So yes, perhaps Del Rey effectively did “raise” a generation (even if Taylor had a record deal years before Del Rey achieved mainstream success). Indeed, that’s just it: there’s no denying her influence in the music of the moment. And while that influence has been championed as a boon for female musicians being able to show their “sad girl” vulnerability without shame, it’s really caused a reversion to the usual tropes of twentieth century feminine capitulation to male dominance. Which, to be sure, is very paradoxical when taking into account that there’s never been a time in the music industry when women have been so “at the center of it.” Yet now that they are, the one thing they still want to talk about, despite all the “progress” we’ve made as a society, is: men.
Del Rey’s overall conservative views on relationships (complete with how they ought to be monogamous) provide insight into why Gen Z musicians like Madison Beer (also name-checked by Del Rey at the Billboard Women in Music Awards), Eilish and Rodrigo are still parroting back the same tired sentiments. Eilish, at least, throws in the occasional reference to Gen Z anxieties, according opioid addictions and a general disaffection vis-à-vis the end of the world’s imminence (in short, Euphoria is a Billie Eilish song). Del Rey is instead all about the undercurrent of decay that belies the shiny veneer of Americana from the era she’s most inspired by: the 1960s. Alas, that decade also favors the aforementioned “he hit me and it felt like a kiss” “philosophy” on heteronormative relationships. Take the abuse, glamorize it and repeat when one relationship ends and a new one begins. Of course, Del Rey has mentioned being accused of glamorizing abuse in a “trailblazing” sort of way—as though she “forged the path” for women like Ariana Grande, Doja Cat and Cardi B (as if), each of whom are mentioned in her illustrious “question for the culture.”
That question resulted in an expected backlash about her racially specific list (save for the blackfishing Ariana) that also included Camila Cabello, Kehlani, Nicki Minaj and Beyoncé. She would later backpedal on why she chose to mention these women by insisting they were her favorite singers. Though, patently, at least one fellow white woman named Billie Eilish should have made the list if we’re talking bona fide preferred musicians. Now, conveniently, Del Rey actually is playing up Eilish—along with Rodrigo and Beer—as her true “favorites.” Perhaps because it’s actually “safe” to say that she paved the way for them (without causing a “race war”). Even if Beer is obviously more of an Ariana Grande knockoff with a pre-plastic surgery Megan Fox aesthetic.
As for the aesthetic that made Del Rey famous circa 2012 (incidentally, when Beer was just starting out), she took the stage at the Billboard Women in Music Awards in an approximation of that looQue. Arriving in front of the mic with said “persona” (though Del Rey would vehemently deny ever having one) faintly recognizable from the 2012 era—complete with a vague beehive, liquid eyeliner and false eyelashes—Del Rey herself mused, “I don’t exactly have a long-term vision at all.” Clearly…for if she did, she might have been able to see that continuing to tout the same lyrical themes for the past decade has had one pronounced effect overall: “Seasons only change/It’s always been the same.” This being a quote from Madison Beer’s song, “Showed Me (How I Fell In Love With You).” Del Rey, in the end, didn’t “change” the game, she just played it a bit more “offbeatly” at a time when retro wasn’t as “in.” Largely because Amy Winehouse already pulled that card by releasing Back to Black about two years before Lizzy Grant began her attempts at making it as a professional singer.
Just how little things have really changed under the guise of having done so is indicated in the fact that there even needs to be a “Women in Music” Awards put on by Billboard. For it speaks to the persistent love of division in America, centered on the identity politics (for fuck’s sake, Idris Elba can’t even say he doesn’t want to be hemmed in by the label “Black actor”) that sow these “partitionings.” Nonetheless, Del Rey and her acolytes are convinced that she’s a visionary when, in truth, her messages have been maintainers of the status quo with regard to male-female power dynamics. At another point in her acceptance speech for being a “visionary,” she added, “I’m so grateful to be in the best company I’ve ever been in,” alluding to the new generation that will ostensibly persist in placing far too much emphasis on male views and acceptances of women.
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