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About timinmass101

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    Somerville, MA
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    Music (classical, jazz, blues, alternative rock, indie rock, female singer songwriters), metaphysics, cosmology, quantum physics, philosophy, string theory
  1. https://www.reddit.com/r/lanadelrey/comments/3idxog/why_the_title_terrence_loves_you/ I think it's 100% a nod to David Bowie's half-brother, Terry Burns, in addition to the obvious reference from the Bowie song, "Space Oddity". Bowie's brother Terry (Terrence) was diagnosed with schizophrenia in his 20s. Terry had been hospitalized at the Cane Hill mental asylum for many years. On January 1985, a snowy morning, he left the hospital grounds, waited at the nearby train station, and laid his head down on the nearby train tracks, facing away from the train. Last time he did this, he got up before the train got too close. This last time, he did not. He was 48. Bowie was very close to Terry his whole life and looked up to him as a child. As Terry's mental condition deteriorated, his relationship with Bowie became distant. Bowie visited Terry in 1982 at the mental asylum. After this visit, Terry became fixated on Bowie and convinced that Bowie would return and "rescue" him one day. Bowie didn't return to see him again before Terry's death. In "Space Oddity," Bowie sings as Major Tom: Though I'm past One hundred thousand miles I'm feeling very still And I think my spaceship knows which way to go Tell my wife I love her very much And then as Ground Control: (She knows) Ground Control to Major Tom Your circuit's dead There's something wrong Can you hear me, Major Tom? Can you hear me, Major Tom? Can you hear me, Major Tom? Can you.... So, it seems Lana's title is absolutely what was said to the wife in this moment of the song - "Terrence Loves You" - if Major Tom is in fact Bowie's reference to Terrence. Obviously, Lana cites the lyrics "Ground Control to Major Tom" from Bowie's song so it's not too far fetched that she's referencing Bowie's brother in the title. It's assumed that many songs in Bowie's catalog were about his older brother Terry, including "All the Madmen" and "The Man Who Sold the World." Terry has been attributed to introducing is younger brother to everything from Tibetan Buddhism to jazz and rock to Beat poetry (by way of Kerouac and Burroughs) to drug use. Major Tom is also argued to be an analogy for drug abuse. In Bowie's song "Ashes to Ashes" this argument finds further backing. I think perhaps she's intertwined her own personal story in with someone else's. Terrence may represent someone from the past to her, perhaps a former lover with mental illness or drug addiction. (Barry? She has alluded her relationship with him was demolished through "tons of insecurity and depression.")
  2. As a long time fan of Sonic Youth and Kim Gordon I just find this pathetic. Either 1) Kim was ignorant, misinformed and misspoke or 2) is trying to sell books. I've never believed Kim to be ignorant. How is this any different than Marshall Mathers wanting to "punch Lana Del Rey right in the face twice, like Ray Rice ..." Ironic that two former greats, a misogynistic rapper and a feminist rock hero both resort to verbally assaulting Lana Del Rey to further their own no longer relevant careers. Pathetic. Lana ... You go girl! Clearly, what you do, you do best.
  3. Emile Haynie says a lot of nice things about our girl. From Grantland - February 24, 2015 http://grantland.com/hollywood-prospectus/from-ghostface-to-lana-del-rey-to-heartbreak-super-producer-emile-haynie-goes-solo/ When you started working with Lana Del Rey, were you looking for a change away from hip-hop? Or did that just kind of happen? I had been tinkering around a little. There was a few singers I had worked with here and there, but nothing that was really connecting. Lana, that first time we ever worked together, we made the song “Blue Jeans.” There was so much debate around her when she first came out — a lot of arguments about her authenticity and all that. It hasn’t affected her in the long run: She’s extremely popular these days. But did you pay attention to that stuff back then? Did it bother you? I paid attention, and I shouldn’t have, because it pissed me off. She would get accused of not writing her own songs and I’m like, “I’m in the studio with her!” Then there’s the funny one where it’s like, “Her dad financed her whole career.” That came out before she had a record deal. I’m like, “Wait, I’m producing her album, we’re in my studio, and there ain’t no budget, so what is this imaginary funding from her quote-unquote rich dad?” I also know plenty of artists with rich dads who try to buy their kid a record deal. It ain’t happenin’. Now that’s all kind of gone away. It was weird, though. It was this weird sexist energy of, like, “How could this pretty woman possibly write all her own songs, style herself, direct her own videos?” People wouldn’t believe it. I’ve seen it all in the studio. I’ve seen the very indie “Sit in a corner and write everything,” and I’ve seen, unfortunately, the more manufactured pop shit. She’s not that. I’ve witnessed her voice, I’ve witnessed her writing, I’ve witnessed her creating this stuff. So I was like, if it becomes successful, it’s a matter of time before people get over the conspiracy theories and just kind of decide whether they like her. I always said give it some time and the truth will come out. She’s pretty badass. Some people seemed to take umbrage with her stage persona, which was surprising. I mean, what’s Bob Dylan’s real name? I don’t think Master P was born Master P. I’m pretty sure! It’s insane. It’s completely insane. From Complex - February 23, 2015 http://www.complex.com/music/2015/02/emile-haynie-profile-we-fall When did you decide to leave NYC and go to L.A.? I was in the middle of starting Lana’s second album and I introduced her to Dan Auerbach [of The Black Keys], who ended up producing it. All of us were supposed go to Nashville to work together and I couldn’t do it. I was miserable at the time. I was like, “I need to go to L.A. I want to stay with my family. I’m writing songs, and it’s insane because she’s my favorite artist, but I’m just going to go to L.A.” Did you turn down a lot of projects? Yeah, everything. Really? Any big ones? I don’t wanna diss anyone. Not working on Lana’s second album, that’s like my sister, and we love each other. That was a massive move. I felt terrible. Before she got with Dan and it worked itself out, there were some tense moments. She got quite upset sometimes. It was painful for me to feel like I might be leaving her hanging. The beauty of the relationship that we have is she understood, and she knew what I was dealing with, she knew I had to do what I had to do, and she was so supportive the entire time. We met years ago just to make tunes, and now it’s become so much more than that. This is her album, this is her baby. She just knew on a friendship level what I was doing and she didn’t get bummed. She sang a song on my album. She would come in and listen to my album and give me all this great advice. Thank God for her. That was trying. It was right at the beginning, I didn’t know what I was doing at that point. She had her songs written. She wrote her entire album. It was a production. That’s Lana, she does that. Lana doesn’t do the generic co-write thing, Lana sat and wrote her songs. I just knew I had to write, and it wasn’t a writing gig with her—it would be a producing gig. I had to write, I had to write. It didn’t matter if the songs got produced and never came back, I had to write. I would’ve went crazy if I didn’t.
  4. FADER - June/July 2014 Her portrayal of those relationships, though, has prompted mixed reviews among feminists. Some criticize the way she seems to idealize powerlessness and servitude, while others appreciate her fluid embodiment of different identities, as well as her candor about both her desire and her weakness. In any case, her comments on the subject will be disappointing for both camps: “For me, the issue of feminism is just not an interesting concept,” she says. “I’m more interested in, you know, SpaceX and Tesla, what’s going to happen with our intergalactic possibilities. Whenever people bring up feminism, I’m like, god. I’m just not really that interested.” Fortunately, her ambivalence about politics doesn’t undo any subversiveness that may be embedded in her work (though, nor does it excuse any ill it may cause). When pressed, she adds, more illuminatingly, “My idea of a true feminist is a woman who feels free enough to do whatever she wants.” *** THE NEW YORK TIMES - June 12, 2014 A recurring criticism was that her songs about being swept away by love were anti-feminist in their passivity; she contends that she was writing about private, immediate feelings, not setting out doctrine. “For me, a true feminist is someone who is a woman who does exactly what she wants,” she said. “If my choice is to, I don’t know, be with a lot of men, or if I enjoy a really physical relationship, I don’t think that’s necessarily being anti-feminist. For me the argument of feminism never really should have come into the picture. Because I don’t know too much about the history of feminism, and so I’m not really a relevant person to bring into the conversation. Everything I was writing was so autobiographical, it could really only be a personal analysis.” *** During her Ultraviolence promotional interviews, Lana Del Rey was attacked by the media for not being a feminist, which relied heavily on the soundbite “Whenever people bring up feminism, I’m like, god. I’m just not really that interested.” How is this an admission of not being a feminist? Is the lack of interest in discussing feminism tantamount to not being a feminist? Further when you add in both the statements from Fader and New York Times, it is clear that Lana does have a sense of what feminism is to her: “My idea of a true feminist is a woman who feels free enough to do whatever she wants.” & “For me, a true feminist is someone who is a woman who does exactly what she wants,” Aren’t these sentiments that Lana describes the basis of feminism? She further clarifies that “Because I don’t know too much about the history of feminism, and so I’m not really a relevant person to bring into the conversation.” Furthermore, multiple statements from people who have worked with Lana (Dan Auerbach, Emile Haynie, Rick Nowels, Dan Heath) all talk about how much control she exerts over her creative and production process. While Lana may be a reluctant figure of feminism, where does all this hate from the feminist community come from? (Jezebel, Ms., Kim Gordon, etc.)
  5. Yes please. Otherwise 2016 is going to be an awfully long wait.
  6. Nicole Sia at Wondering Sound is yet another journalist that has come to the conclusion that our girl is not an act, but rather a real person telling her story through her music, and sometimes painfully honest interviews. http://www.wonderingsound.com/feature/lana-del-rey-ultraviolence-review/ On Ultraviolence, her second album since her Norma Jeane-style transformation from bottle-blond folk singer to pin-curled indie lightning rod, Lana Del Rey tells us a secret: She was once the Other Woman. Self-identifying as a mistress may feel like a minor revelation, but it gives context for the self-destructive Lolita persona that’s become Del Rey’s trademark. On one hand, the role can be read as a metaphor — the artist fully embracing her identity as the music industry’s beautiful, dirty shame, derided and cast off by critics while her debut album quietly moved 7 million copies worldwide. Or we can read it as autobiography, the experiences of the woman born Elizabeth Grant bleeding into the Lana Del Rey mythology like a red bra through a translucent collared shirt. Each of her aesthetic choices — the girlish pout, the baby-doll register, the “It’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you” pathology — are the lamentations of a woman forced to define herself through stolen moments and dark corners. It’s a dangerous line to take, to cop to being a home wrecker. No one pities the mistress, and Del Rey knows this. But the singer isn’t concerned with forgiveness. Half confession, half redemption and written from a safe remove, Ultraviolence is, instead, a medallion of recovery. “I’m finally happy now that you’re gone,” she sings on opener “Cruel World,” flexing her muscular lower register over steady tom-tom rhythm. “I did what I had to do, I found another anyhow.” Album closer “The Other Woman” is even more on-the-nose: “The other woman will always cry herself to sleep/ The other woman will never have his love to keep.” For a singer repeatedly taken to task for her lack of authenticity, on Ultraviolence Del Rey comes across both honest and unguarded. Produced by the Black Keys’ Dan Auerbach (that’s his indelible wah-wah on “West Coast”) the album strips out the sonic Webdings that plagued Born to Die (the incessant “Blue Jeans” “Shyah!” sample; the self-conscious boom-bap of “Diet Mtn Dew.”) Instead, the album evolves the full-band sound of her Rick Rubin-led 2012 Paradise EP into something raw and unadorned. It’s also steeped in pop history: The symphonic guitar work on “Cruel World” summons visions of Magical Mystery-era Beatles. The fuzzy saxophone drawl on “The Other Woman” recalls Gene Pitney’s “Town Without Pity.” And a more oblique reference to the classics appears on the title track, which cribs lyrics from the Crystals’ “He Hit Me (It Felt Like a Kiss)” — the ’60s pop-progenitor of negative feedback loops in dysfunctional relationships. And there are subtle nods to her own past: The strings on Ultraviolence‘s title track reuse the chord progression that opened “Born to Die.” The synth glide in the last minute of “West Coast” scans as a cute wink at Born to Die‘s hip-hop non-sequiturs. “Brooklyn Baby,” with its arch references to rare jazz records and hydroponic weed, and “Fucked My Way Up to the Top,” with its tongue-in-cheek title, come off like fuck-yous to the canon of think pieces written in her wake. Del Rey, as this writer was once assured, “reads everything.” So, she’s most likely caught wind of the backlash to her recent open-for-interpretation sound bite about feminism. “For me, the issue of feminism is just not an interesting concept,” she told The Fader. “Whenever people bring up feminism, I’m like, god. I’m just not really that interested.” Indelicately put and poorly timed, the quote got her in hot water, critics’ hands already full with young Hollywood star Shailene Woodley distancing herself from the F-word. But let’s be fair: Del Rey’s personal indifference and Woodley’s feminist dodge — “I think the idea of ‘raise women to power, take the men away from the power’ is never going to work out because you need balance,” she told Time — are two different opinions. Perhaps Del Rey, who’s been held over the fire for perpetuating anti-feminist ideas is done with being forced into a conversation she never sought in the first place, just as she’s over her Million Dollar Man. Or perhaps she’d prefer to let her music speak for her. Because taken as a whole, Ultraviolence is her most feminist work to date. It presents, without judgment, the ecstasy and agony of one woman’s choices — a bird’s-eye view of a woman suffocating, then escaping from under the weight of her man. She treats her former self tenderly: “The Other Woman is perfect where her rival fails,” she sings. But that was then. Now she’s got a cool boyfriend in her band, “but he’s not as cool as me.” And she’s out for money, power and glory. Hallelujah
  7. Diss songs are as old as Rock 'n Roll. Lana generally keeps her mouth shut in her interviews about other performers, but clearly likes to write songs that are deeply personal and emotional to her. Lesson here ... don't piss off Lana, or get a song written about you! You go girl!
  8. I’ve read the Rolling Stone article several times. I think it was an awesome interview, well written, and very illuminating. More of the puzzle of who Lana Del Rey is gets filled in. I also think that the article was respectful of Lana. Brian Hiatt did not cast her in a poor light unlike the Guardian article that sensationalized her “death wish”. I seriously don’t think there was anything wrong with the behavior of either Lana or the reporter Brian Hiatt. They were both doing their jobs. Hers for Interscope doing promotions (which she hates) and his as a reporter trying to sell magazines. A couple of thoughts come to mind. First: Lana is an artist. She owes us nothing. Artists make art for themselves. We get to listen to her music, or not. She owes us no explanations of song meanings or anything else we wish we knew. As the listening public, we get to interpret her music as seen through our own internal filters and life experiences. This has always been the relationship between artist and public. Second: it was an incredibly long interview. A day and a half? 10 hours? Can we safely assume this was her longest interview to date? As an introvert, she must have been feeling drained of energy, vulnerable and exposed by the time the interview started to end. Clearly Hiatt knew he was pushing the envelope with the questions he started asking (he as much says so), and as soon as he went too far, he tried to recover. But, it was too late. She’s an introvert. She is sensitive. Her feelings get hurt easily. That’s who she is. I don’t see that as a fault of Lana, or Hiatt. She was done. Simple. I don’t see the histrionics, or bad behavior or unprofessionalism. She politely got up and escorted him out. And really, think about it. Would you have wanted to hear another 3 hours of her being in a hurt and defensive mood? Third: Where were the questions about the music? I mean, this is Rolling Stone magazine, and he is interviewing a singer-songwriter. While I enjoy the deeply personal questions as illuminating knowledge for this intriguing woman, where are the questions about the actual music? Ok, he asked her about the meaning of FMWTTT and Ultraviolence, but that were more personal questions than musical questions. Finally: I don’t want her to change. Like it or not, this is who she is. She is eccentric. She is sensitive. She is probably prone to existential depressions, that go as quickly as they come. She has a deep inner world. She is clearly intelligent. And at the end of it all, she makes fucking brilliant music. That’s all that matters.
  9. As of today, July 10, the metacritic score for Ultraviolence is 75 with 31 reviews in.
  10. http://www.thestar.com.my/Lifestyle/Entertainment/Music/News/2014/07/10/Lana-Del-ReyBorn-to-make-music/ I don't know if this is a rehash from another interview Lana Del Rey’s new album and musical career are the results of battling snide remarks and winning her parents’ approval. Not long after the release of Born To Die, Lana Del Rey told Vogue that the major label release will be her last one. “I feel like everything I wanted to say, I said already,” the American songstress was quoted as saying. That was back in 2012, a year that also saw the New York native facing allegations of record label constructed artistry and fakery after a disastrous live performance on Saturday Night Live and her less-than-stellar musical endeavours in the past surfaced – a far cry from the sultry singer who captivated the Internet with the haunting Video Games. With the barrage of negative criticisms, it would appear that the former Elizabeth Grant has indeed depleted the Lana Del Rey character. But somewhere along the line, Born To Die shipped over seven million copies worldwide and went on to become the fifth global best-selling album of 2012. Maybe it was the realisation that bad press doesn’t necessarily impede record sales because two years after that Vogue interview, we’re greeted with Ultraviolence. Del Rey took some time to talk about the follow-up to her commercially successful debut in an interview transcript provided by Universal Music. After your last album, Born To Die, you announced your retirement from music. Yet, here you are again with Ultraviolence. I can’t start an album if I have no idea of the narrative, the concept. If the songs aren’t perfect for me, what’s the point of forcing myself? That’s why I answered that I had no album planned. But everything opened up after a chance meeting at a party with Dan Auerbach of The Black Keys. Some kind of chemistry happened. What gave this slightly hippie, 1970s tone to Ultraviolence? The first song of the album, Cruel World, decided everything. It places the album geographically. In the beginning of the text there’s something minimalist, a simplicity that repeats over and over, very low profile. And then the chorus comes with its big drums, its electric mess. This mixture, this cohabitation between normality and chaos is very symbolic of what I’d just been through in my life. Your songs offer a strange mix of luxury, opulence and sadness. A bit like Roy Orbison ... I feel like I’m making happy songs but when I have people listen to them, they tell me how sad they are. I can’t run away from my life, which was pretty tumultuous. Three years after my real debut, I’m still plagued by both doubt and sadness. I just have uncertainty, emptiness in front of me. And I don’t like not knowing where I’m going. My love life, my family life ... I’m not sure of anything. That’s why I hate when I can’t write because for ten years, writing was the only stable, reassuring thing in my life. You grew up in the countryside. Was it lonely? No, I had a real group of friends, inseparable, we were very similar. It was the first time in my life – and the last – that I felt such friendship. But at 14, I was sent to boarding school, because we did a lot of bulls**t together – like going out with older boys, running away to parties. In this school, I became friends with one of the teachers – he was 22, I was 15 – who helped me discover Jeff Buckley as well as Tupac and Allen Ginsberg. When I arrived in New York at the age of 19, I tried to find this lost friendship again with people my own age. But it was too late, they all seemed obsessed with their careers, their social success ... so I wondered where the musicians were, (people who were) willing to sacrifice everything for their songs, ready to die for them. So you had the feeling of burning bridges with this idea of social success? I read a book by Napoleon Hill that talked exactly about the need for an artist to burn bridges with any career opportunity. For years, my life took place in my head, no one knew anything. It was almost like a double life. I felt so lucky to be receiving these songs which I never told anyone about because for a long time, except for my roommate, nobody heard my songs. But there was a real enchantment. The music came over me, literally. Entire songs, already composed and arranged rushing out of my pen, onto my notebook. I knew it was in me. When I was 20, since nothing was happening, I decided to continue responding to this call, whatever it took. It sounds strange, but I was a fan of my music. I was terrified by how others saw me. It’s so personal, music, that we’re inevitably frightened by rejection. At what point did you feel you were right to hold on? During the recording of Born To Die, I’ll never forget my father’s visit. He was amazed to see me so sure, so in charge, so fulfilled, asking the producer to give me a beat or a symphony. He had no idea what I’d done for the last six years, that I’d patiently built my little world. My parents didn’t even know I sang. But when he saw me in the studio, my father told me it was one of the happiest days of his life. My parents had insisted that I didn’t leave school for music – and I finished my studies in philosophy, because I knew they could feed my songs. I told them early on that I wanted to become a singer, but they didn’t get how passionate, how serious I was. But suddenly when my father saw me, he understood, it validated six years of work. What part of your work is pleasure, inspiration, hard work, pain ... ? pleasure begins and ends with the recording of the album. Then comes the pain. I’m extremely involved in every phase of the album until mixing, mastering. I don’t leave the mixing board until the moment we hand over the tapes, a moment of sadness. Then touring begins, painful, or the promotion, difficult. I feel I have to justify myself, to defend myself, when I don’t even feel the need to because my music is good enough not to have to do that. Deep down, I’d prefer to remain silent.
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