EndlessSummer

86 METACRITIC SCORE
LA Times gave chemtrails 100!

86 METACRITIC SCORE
LA Times gave chemtrails 100!

86 METACRITIC SCORE
LA Times gave chemtrails 100!

86 METACRITIC SCORE
LA Times gave chemtrails 100!

I think an A- which is a 91
 
they gave COCC a B+ which is an 83

Jacks Tweets

83 from EW
83 from COS

Higher score than norman from EW, lower from COS. both still really good though!

THE WAY HE PUTS ON THE SUNGLASSES DURING THE SECOND VERSE OF DBJAG IS ME OMG

Goodmorning, just woke amidst the middle of my sleep after having a dream more merch was added, and, well.....
is there a place to order the blanket, candle, and picture disc all from one site or are they all scattered a bit at the moment?? Xx

I find the video beautiful. Roller skating is captivating! I just wish there were more scenes with Lana skating. Such a bummer she broke her arm

I actually liked the video!!
It's beautiful & cute 
You could feel Lanas "pain "/ emotions 
 

Ngl, I liked the video. 

wowwwwww
had surgery today and i am so grateful to be able to hear this album afterwards
 
i love white dress and the processing of her voice in tulsa jesus freak is just 

This I can agree with though...I wish Lana would stop inserting other people like that when all we want to see is her.

it made me feel like a god
 

 

me too. I don't get the disappointment I'm seeing here. It was beautiful and the skating was amazing. I felt really emotional about it all.

This album is getting even more critical acclaim than NFR  Norman only had two perfect scores that counted for Metacritic, and I believe Chemtrails already has more but they’re not counted yet

she did that.

Telegraph review 5/5
 
 A simmering, sinister undercurrent flows through Lana Del Rey’s most sensuous album to date. Chemtrails Over the Country Club is another gorgeously enigmatic showpiece from a singer-songwriter who revels in private ambiguities in the dazzling glare of audacious songcraft.
The tartly turned title song offers a blaze of harmonic heat, conjuring images of carefree days in a setting of pampered luxury that verges on soft-focus lifestyle porn. Yet even as she lies around the private member’s swimming pool with her equally pampered friends, Del Rey wants us to know she has one eye on the poisonous pollution cutting through the perfect blue skies. It is a perfect metaphor for a career constructed on the principle that she will have her cake and eat it, even if it sticks in her throat.
Ever since struggling pop wannabe Lizzie Grant artfully re-branded herself with media-savvy panache as Lana Del Rey in 2011, she has maintained a quality of artistic mysteriousness almost unheard of in the social media age. The blend between image and music is so tightly fashioned, Del Rey can appear as vacuously stylized as an Instagram filter. The fascinating question that looms with each new offering is to what extent Del Rey is satirising a contemporary fixation with style over substance, or merely indulging it. It is a question her ninth album takes considerable pleasure in evading.
The opening track, White Dress, is sumptuous, free-flowing tumble of double bass, piano and feather-light jazz drums that hints at the liberation of Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks. Her voice whispery and yet exultant, rising to a soulful falsetto, Del Rey summons memories of being a waitress at the Miami Business Music Conference, aged 19, recalling the sense of openness and joy as her whole life promised to open up before her. But the note of melancholy that is never far from the surface of Del Rey’s oeuvre is sounded in the sombre closing notes, as she wonders if “Maybe I was better off.”
That is the theme all these songs circle around, as the pop star repeatedly questions the price of fame, dreams of escape from the big city pressures, or turns her mind to childhood memories and rural idylls. “No roses left on the vine / Don’t even want what’s mine / Much less the fame” she mournfully croons on Dark But Not A Game. There are repeated references to candles in the wind, pop culture shorthand (via Elton John and Bernie Taupin) for the fates that befell Marilyn Monroe and Princess Diana.
The camera had flashes / They caused the car crashes” she notes on lush album highlight Wild At Heart (another borrowed reference to doomed romance, from David Lynch via Barry Gifford), before adding “But I’m not a star.” Once again, Del Rey is looking nostalgically back to a time when all she wanted was the very thing she now fears is killing her. “If they love me, they’ll love me cause I’m wild at heart,” she croons, narcissistically self-mythologising her own doomed star girl persona.
It is hard to measure to what extent the ambiguous depths of Del Rey’s music arise from artistic insight and arch self-awareness or are built up through layers and layers of woolly thinking and self-contradiction. But does that even matter, when her melodic flair is so assured (there are passages in Beatle-esque genius in Dark But Not A Game) and moody arrangements so richly detailed?
Chemtrails Over the Country Club is an album on which Del Rey drifts even further from the pop mainstream, entirely jettisoning shiny beats and electronic hooks along the way. Yet the production by Jack Antonoff is stunning, with a huge amount happening beneath the surface of what first manifests as a scratchily intimate acoustic-flavoured unplugged band. There is not a weak song or throwaway performance here, amidst many that only reveal their secrets on repeated listening.
Dance Til We Die finds Del Rey trying to reconcile feelings of being “burdened by the weight of fame” with an escapist joy in music itself. Yet for anyone dazzled by the lifestyle she plainly revels in, cosy first name references to such role models as Joni Mitchell, Joan Baez and Stevie Nicks may come across as so much name dropping.
Del Rey ties up loose ends with a lusciously rearranged and harmonised Joni Mitchell cover, For Free, a song that examines the price of fame with a forensic clarity that only serves to emphasise the vagueness inherent in Del Rey’s own lyrics. “Me I play for fortunes and those velvet curtain calls,” sings Del Rey, enviously watching a busker (who could be an incarnation of young Del Rey herself) playing for sheer joy. Be careful what you wish for may be an overused trope, yet it has never sounded quite so seductive.
 
 

35 minutes until I cry again listening to white dress 

WHITE DRESS IS SO GOOD WHAT THE F*CK???? 
her voice in the chorus????????? 
Like ????
 
talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, unafraid to reference or not reference
 
 

Right. Poor girl I sorta feel bad seeing everyone think it’s Mildred 

i still don't get why nikki isn't credited anywhere