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Did you know that there's a tunnel under Ocean Blvd - Pre-Release Thread: OUT March 24th, 2023

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4 hours ago, taco truck said:
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That last line of Judah Smith is sooo iconic 

I used to think my preaching was mostly about you, and you’re not gonna like this, but I’m gonna tell you the truth, I’ve discovered my preaching is mostly about me”

 

as much as most people on here hate the judah interlude this line really explains lana's music and her writing/lyricism in such a good way. her mind for using that line in the album. 


55-DE2-A0-B-B97-D-4347-B872-77-FA28787-E

miss born to lose

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6 minutes ago, Harry Nilsson said:

of the three, Lana is the top ranked artist on Spotify

 

 

Can someone please paste that god-damn review?

On 3/20/2023 at 12:35 PM, taco truck said:

Then do the reviews mean anything in the first place? Tbh this is an unpopular opinion but the only reviews I find interesting/care about are pitchfork and fantano… GP opinion is more important in the music sphere for relevancy so im waiting to see how they will feel about it. 

 

New review from Riff Magazine, whoever they are. Seems very positive:

 

https://riffmagazine.com/album-reviews/lana-del-rey-did-you-know-that-theres-a-tunnel-under-ocean-blvd/

 

 

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20 minutes ago, barttttender said:

 

that link dont work gurrl

 

Awe okay! I'll just paste it:

 

 (TIMES REVIEW)

Spoiler
★★★☆☆
 
In the recent furore over the announcement of Glastonbury’s all-male, all-white headliners (the female and black members of the heavy rockers Guns N’ Roses don’t count, apparently), one high-profile figure weighed into the battle.
 
Lana Del Rey appeared to suggest in an Instagram post that she might pull out of the festival in protest — in protest that she didn’t get top billing, that is. In truth, she doesn’t match the mass appeal of Elton John and the Arctic Monkeys, and she is still headlining the festival’s Other Stage, which is pretty massive.
 
However, perhaps because of her voice-of-a-generation status with people who see something of their own dreams and torments in her, and her overly large influence on a generation of moody and introspective pop stars from Lorde to Billie Eilish, the impact of Del Rey’s persona outweighs the reach of her music.
 
All this helps to explain why her latest album shows evidence of a thoughtful, complex songwriter underneath the all-pervading image of a Hollywood siren for the age of anxiety, but one whose excesses have not been curbed by herself or anyone else.
 
A running time of 77 minutes is a stretch for any album, not least when within it is a lengthy and not particularly illuminating sermon with some giggling over it, and so many sad, languorous ballads that listening to them all in a row has not so much an emotional impact as a soporific one.
Yet there are some brilliant songs in here too, with reflections on family, the distortions of fame and Del Rey’s signature subject, bad relationships, set against some of her most ambitious compositions yet.
 
An a capella section followed by plangent piano, soaring strings and a heavenly choir of voices sets the tone on the opener, The Grants. It is seemingly a song of hope, with Del Rey asking, “Do you think there’s a chance for us?”
 
The title track provides one of the most sophisticated moments on the album, with film score-style arrangements providing a backing to words about trapped beauty, doomed love and dashed hopes. “F*** me to death, love me till I love myself,” she sings, a quintessential Del Rey meeting point of eroticism and loneliness.
 
 
It isn’t all tortured melodrama. “If you want some basic bitch, go to the Beverly Center,” she suggests on Sweet, capturing the everyday snobberies of Los Angeles life with catty humour. On A&W she seems to be mourning the loss of innocence that comes with age, not least when you are an internationally known queen of despair. “I haven’t done a cartwheel since I was nine,” she laments over minimal electronics, and you do feel her pain.
 
The standard criticism levelled at Del Rey is that she’s a fake, an industry plant, a triumph of style over content. Actually, everything on this album feels and sounds real and from the heart whether it works or not.
She addresses less than favourable impressions of herself on Grandfather, a mid-album highlight on which she acknowledges the belief that she was put together by outside forces, “like a Frankenstein of your dreams”.
On a sweet song called Paris, Texas, which is reminiscent of the polite mid-1960s Gallic pop of Françoise Hardy, she sings about going to the Texas town with a suitcase in her hand after a failed relationship. Whether it is a work of fiction based on the cult film of the same name or a memory of a time when she could do exactly that without being recognised, the feeling driving it is authentic.
 
For the most part, all this sticks to the slow and sultry, although when guests pop up they change the mood somewhat. Father John Misty, who has made his name as a modern answer to the kind of louche songwriters 1970s LA was filled with, raises the tempo a bit on the catchy Let The Light In, while the Canadian rapper Tommy Genesis gives Del Rey a chance to veer toward hip-hop on the innuendo-laden Peppers.
It expands her vision and helps to make at least half of Did You Know? a classic album that captures modern ennui in a way that is romantic and familiar. If only it weren’t so goddam long. (Polydor)

 

 

 
 

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16 minutes ago, Venice said:

 

Awe okay! I'll just paste it:

 

  Hide contents
 (TIMES REVIEW)
 
In the recent furore over the announcement of Glastonbury’s all-male, all-white headliners (the female and black members of the heavy rockers Guns N’ Roses don’t count, apparently), one high-profile figure weighed into the battle.
Lana Del Rey appeared to suggest in an Instagram post that she might pull out of the festival in protest — in protest that she didn’t get top billing, that is. In truth, she doesn’t match the mass appeal of Elton John and the Arctic Monkeys, and she is still headlining the festival’s Other Stage, which is pretty massive.
 
However, perhaps because of her voice-of-a-generation status with people who see something of their own dreams and torments in her, and her overly large influence on a generation of moody and introspective pop stars from Lorde to Billie Eilish, the impact of Del Rey’s persona outweighs the reach of her music.
 
All this helps to explain why her latest album shows evidence of a thoughtful, complex songwriter underneath the all-pervading image of a Hollywood siren for the age of anxiety, but one whose excesses have not been curbed by herself or anyone else.
 
A running time of 77 minutes is a stretch for any album, not least when within it is a lengthy and not particularly illuminating sermon with some giggling over it, and so many sad, languorous ballads that listening to them all in a row has not so much an emotional impact as a soporific one.
Yet there are some brilliant songs in here too, with reflections on family, the distortions of fame and Del Rey’s signature subject, bad relationships, set against some of her most ambitious compositions yet.
 
An a capella section followed by plangent piano, soaring strings and a heavenly choir of voices sets the tone on the opener, The Grants. It is seemingly a song of hope, with Del Rey asking, “Do you think there’s a chance for us?”
 
The title track provides one of the most sophisticated moments on the album, with film score-style arrangements providing a backing to words about trapped beauty, doomed love and dashed hopes. “F*** me to death, love me till I love myself,” she sings, a quintessential Del Rey meeting point of eroticism and loneliness.
 
 
It isn’t all tortured melodrama. “If you want some basic bitch, go to the Beverly Center,” she suggests on Sweet, capturing the everyday snobberies of Los Angeles life with catty humour. On A&W she seems to be mourning the loss of innocence that comes with age, not least when you are an internationally known queen of despair. “I haven’t done a cartwheel since I was nine,” she laments over minimal electronics, and you do feel her pain.
 
The standard criticism levelled at Del Rey is that she’s a fake, an industry plant, a triumph of style over content. Actually, everything on this album feels and sounds real and from the heart whether it works or not.
She addresses less than favourable impressions of herself on Grandfather, a mid-album highlight on which she acknowledges the belief that she was put together by outside forces, “like a Frankenstein of your dreams”.
On a sweet song called Paris, Texas, which is reminiscent of the polite mid-1960s Gallic pop of Françoise Hardy, she sings about going to the Texas town with a suitcase in her hand after a failed relationship. Whether it is a work of fiction based on the cult film of the same name or a memory of a time when she could do exactly that without being recognised, the feeling driving it is authentic.
 
For the most part, all this sticks to the slow and sultry, although when guests pop up they change the mood somewhat. Father John Misty, who has made his name as a modern answer to the kind of louche songwriters 1970s LA was filled with, raises the tempo a bit on the catchy Let The Light In, while the Canadian rapper Tommy Genesis gives Del Rey a chance to veer toward hip-hop on the innuendo-laden Peppers.
It expands her vision and helps to make at least half of Did You Know? a classic album that captures modern ennui in a way that is romantic and familiar. If only it weren’t so goddam long. (Polydor)

 

 

 
 

 

THANK YOU! Truth be told, the album IS very long, and at least three songs should have been cut for a bigger impact. The review praises all the right songs though.

 

Thank you!

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On 3/17/2023 at 7:11 PM, Sportscruiser said:

I’m incredibly emotional with one of the songs right now. Apologies for pouring my thoughts into here rn.

 

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Paris, Texas has managed to capture what no other song by anyone was ever able to - in fact, I remember often trying to think of a song that could express this very specific feeling I’ve always felt but couldn’t really explain or even decipher. A feeling of longing, not for someone or something, but for home - not just in a spacial sense but also in an emotional one.

 

5 years ago I moved from this smaller town here in Portugal to our capital Lisbon and it changed myself for the better specially after all the traumatic events that had happened in the years prior. Since moving, I have found a group of friends that I consider my family, I’ve strengthened the ties with my mother and little brother even further (they’re still in our hometown) and I’ve had a lot of good and bad experiences living as a functional and independent adult - in all of them there was always this constant state of navigating in between places, people and experiences, in search for that ultimate feeling of belonging and rooting in a place or a perfect mental state or a fulfilling relationship or this illusion that I’m not growing old soon and still have a lot of vitality and life left. And yet, despite all of my complications as far as my past and my traumas go and all of the adversities the cosmos keeps throwing my way, there’s always this little fuzzy spark inside (intuition?) that keeps me traveling above the clouds in search for my own definition of home. It seems like it’s a journey that never ends - maybe that’s the point.

 

And it’s perfectly depicted in Paris, Texas by the entire song but summed in two perfectly simple sentences “when you know, you know, it’s time to go”. It’s exactly that. What a tremendous gift this song (and album) is. It feels less lonely now. Thank you for that, Lana.

 

 

Spoiler

I absolutely adore Paris, Texas!! Well put. The first time I listened to it I felt like I had actually never experienced a song like that before :ohno: 

 

 

On 3/20/2023 at 3:40 PM, The Stargirl Pinky said:


So true :true:

 

And how dare you skip me!! This isn't over 

 

cat-drive.gif 

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21 minutes ago, Venice said:

 

Awe okay! I'll just paste it:

 

 (TIMES REVIEW)

  Hide contents
★★★☆☆
 
In the recent furore over the announcement of Glastonbury’s all-male, all-white headliners (the female and black members of the heavy rockers Guns N’ Roses don’t count, apparently), one high-profile figure weighed into the battle.
 
Lana Del Rey appeared to suggest in an Instagram post that she might pull out of the festival in protest — in protest that she didn’t get top billing, that is. In truth, she doesn’t match the mass appeal of Elton John and the Arctic Monkeys, and she is still headlining the festival’s Other Stage, which is pretty massive.
 
However, perhaps because of her voice-of-a-generation status with people who see something of their own dreams and torments in her, and her overly large influence on a generation of moody and introspective pop stars from Lorde to Billie Eilish, the impact of Del Rey’s persona outweighs the reach of her music.
 
All this helps to explain why her latest album shows evidence of a thoughtful, complex songwriter underneath the all-pervading image of a Hollywood siren for the age of anxiety, but one whose excesses have not been curbed by herself or anyone else.
 
A running time of 77 minutes is a stretch for any album, not least when within it is a lengthy and not particularly illuminating sermon with some giggling over it, and so many sad, languorous ballads that listening to them all in a row has not so much an emotional impact as a soporific one.
Yet there are some brilliant songs in here too, with reflections on family, the distortions of fame and Del Rey’s signature subject, bad relationships, set against some of her most ambitious compositions yet.
 
An a capella section followed by plangent piano, soaring strings and a heavenly choir of voices sets the tone on the opener, The Grants. It is seemingly a song of hope, with Del Rey asking, “Do you think there’s a chance for us?”
 
The title track provides one of the most sophisticated moments on the album, with film score-style arrangements providing a backing to words about trapped beauty, doomed love and dashed hopes. “F*** me to death, love me till I love myself,” she sings, a quintessential Del Rey meeting point of eroticism and loneliness.
 
 
It isn’t all tortured melodrama. “If you want some basic bitch, go to the Beverly Center,” she suggests on Sweet, capturing the everyday snobberies of Los Angeles life with catty humour. On A&W she seems to be mourning the loss of innocence that comes with age, not least when you are an internationally known queen of despair. “I haven’t done a cartwheel since I was nine,” she laments over minimal electronics, and you do feel her pain.
 
The standard criticism levelled at Del Rey is that she’s a fake, an industry plant, a triumph of style over content. Actually, everything on this album feels and sounds real and from the heart whether it works or not.
She addresses less than favourable impressions of herself on Grandfather, a mid-album highlight on which she acknowledges the belief that she was put together by outside forces, “like a Frankenstein of your dreams”.
On a sweet song called Paris, Texas, which is reminiscent of the polite mid-1960s Gallic pop of Françoise Hardy, she sings about going to the Texas town with a suitcase in her hand after a failed relationship. Whether it is a work of fiction based on the cult film of the same name or a memory of a time when she could do exactly that without being recognised, the feeling driving it is authentic.
 
For the most part, all this sticks to the slow and sultry, although when guests pop up they change the mood somewhat. Father John Misty, who has made his name as a modern answer to the kind of louche songwriters 1970s LA was filled with, raises the tempo a bit on the catchy Let The Light In, while the Canadian rapper Tommy Genesis gives Del Rey a chance to veer toward hip-hop on the innuendo-laden Peppers.
It expands her vision and helps to make at least half of Did You Know? a classic album that captures modern ennui in a way that is romantic and familiar. If only it weren’t so goddam long. (Polydor)

 

 

 
 

I see no real reason why they just gave 3/5.

When critics don't know what to criticize, they say something like 'the album is too long'. :pls: 

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I went to bed during the Times review discussion and now I woke up and we’re still on this :thumb3: guys, fuck the times and carry on pleaseee, there’s so much more to discuss:kiss2:

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On 3/18/2023 at 7:40 AM, West Coast said:

Naur it's shrew :true:

 

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CLchOxe.jpg

 

 

JSFHJKFKJSFN local hottie Max's infamous thumb back at it again :brows: I stopped by at a small record store today but they didn't have it, will have to hit up Sunrise later - I'm really glad surprised they managed to mess up yet again 

 

 

On 3/16/2023 at 4:27 PM, drugsdesire said:

so excited but scared for the surprise, who knows what she has up her sleeve 

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a little rat perhaps :oic2:

 

 

Your personality reminds me of my own and ily :oic2: 

 

2 minutes ago, Harry Nilsson said:

I see no real reason why they just gave 3/5.

When critics don't know what to criticize, they say something like 'the album is too long'. :pls: 

 

Exactly. I'm not sure why length is even a criticism, like who cares. I also think they just quickly said whatever because of time rush to get the review posted.

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1 minute ago, x VB said:

The CDrip rotting in a random pc waiting to be leaked :crossed:

I feel that today is the day the CDrip we'll be set free!

With the listening party, someone will manage to get a copy. Hopefully. 

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32 minutes ago, Xenoblade 2 said:

That person gave NFR a 60. Are we suppose to care what that person thinks?:awkney:

some critics are so annoying

theyll go give positions, midnights, happier than ever etc a 5/5 then give masterpieces like magdalene, nfr etc a 3/5 

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2 minutes ago, Furor Poeticus said:

When she sings

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I wanted to go out like you in Fingertips :lange:

 

 

Favorite part of the song. :wub:

 

Honestly, my least fav interlude is

 

Jon Batiste just because his non-stop CACKLING starts to grate on me by the end

, but that's me off the record tho.

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6 minutes ago, Furor Poeticus said:

When she sings

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I wanted to go out like you in Fingertips :lange:

 

Spoiler

oh my god this and the “by the lake twisting lime” I love it 

 

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