Much has been made of Lana Del Rey’s questionable authenticity. The former Lizzy Grant of Lake Placid (pop: 2,638) in New York State has been slammed in certain quarters for recasting herself as a smouldering pop siren with an image straight out of a ’50s B movie and a voice that recalls the spooked atmosphere of Twin Peaks. The naysayers have got it wrong because re-invention, as everybody from Bowie to Madonna have proved, is the very essence of pop and whatever about her authenticity, Del Rey is very welcome in a world where Katy Perry can rise to near superstardom and Lady Gaga is considered an icon. There’s nothing on this patchy debut to match the brilliance of her break-out hit Video Games and Del Rey’s doe-eyed vulnerability and mock fatalism is not altogether convincing. Musically, Born to Die is all glissandos of gilded strings, twanged guitar and celestial harps, while lyrically, she ranges from the great (‘Let’s take Jesus off the dashboard,he’s got enough on his mind’) to the not so great (‘Let’s get out of this town, baby we’re on fire.’). This is a velvety star-festooned night of an album and while Del Rey may be all made up with nowhere to go, she’s still something worth pouting about.

Alan Corr