life has a way of getting in the last laugh.
amber and i had a great summer whirlwind whose highpoints involved some of the best rock shows.
so of course after we split up she, so kindly, gifted me her high priced ticket
to see Lana Del Rey at the Hollywood Forever cemetery
because she had to work and couldnt get out of it.
the lines were long to get into the place because they had to scan your soul to see if you were worthy
no one was.
amber woulda been, but not us.
we were just lucky to be at the famous cemetery squooshed between a gritty stretch of santa monica blvd
and the back lot of Paramount Studios, one of the many homes of make believe.
since no one was passing the test they said screw it and let everyone in and we flooded to see the chartreuse
who was simultaneously a throwback to martini sipping, cigarette toking broads
and futuristic femme fatales who know what they want and look great in cocktail dresses
the crowd were not just fans but uber-fans. they knew every word and sang it with her. even the song that just came out.
and despite the fact that there were two jib cameras swooping around they had their phones and tablets out recording it all.
many had paid several hundred dollars to see Ms. Del Rey. she has only performed a handful of performances in LA,
the last being at Coachella way back in the spring.
this, however was the very last night of her Summertime Sadness tour
and despite being held in a graveyard a lucky 13 days from halloween
there was nothing to cry about, but boy were there tears.
from the moment she sauntered onto the stage with what appeared to be a vintage grass green dress
and summery white heels the audience flooded the stage with adoration
screaming any time she looked her way or
several times throughout the show she glided down the stairs of the stage and into the photo pit next to the crowd and took selfies and autographed various graven images
people fa-reeked out.
her vocal range is lacking, she doesn’t dance, and she didn’t even sing her Oscar-nominated hit Young and Beautiful
but she is this generations Barbara Streisand, she can do what she wants.
like only play an hour-long set
like smoke, not one, but two cigarettes during the night
like perform zero encores
like not introduce the band.
shes not normal, it’s ok.
lana del rey live is exactly like her music: dreamy, haunting, romantic to the hilt
and in the end leaving the audience with the desire for more
the only thing that made the 30 year old go a little off script was when, during a long instrumental intro to a song,
a man yelled out
LANA SIT ON MY FACE
to which she paused
and then crack up.
almost as to say, sweetheart, what do you think i’m doing.
thank you amber smith blog, so so much.
the next one’s on me.