As she intones repeatedly in “Serial Killer,” her voice like sugar on organ tissue, “Baby, I’m a sociopath.” In many of these songs, Del Rey is out of time and seems out of her mind, as she frequently reminds us through the limit of a pop track. Just as for Lolita, fire and sin overwhelm life and soul for Lana Del Rey on her unreleased work, via many outward references, masks, and gestures towards a style of invented “self.” It is in this unreleased work that the far reaches of her many cultural and literary references are explored and in this sense, she becomes a sort of sonic Cindy Sherman, unbound and engaged in frequent anachronism. Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. But it’s really only on her unreleased songs that she also sings about the murderous dark side of the Lolita equation: Lana Del Rey is a smart artist, a self-styled “gangster Nancy Sinatra.” She references Whitman, Plath, the Beats wears and sings about heart-shaped sunglass as though she herself is a vintage cover (sonically, visually, textually) of Lolita.
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