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Lipsters Awards 2015 (1/23)

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All of us going back home after the afterparty

 

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I almost used Marina for my red carpet photo but that fuzzy green thing :rip: Surprised no one posted Lana at the Gatsby Premiere, I think that's her best red carpet look.


Goddesses don't speak in whispers. They scream.

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yet another reason he shoulda won

 

Is there like a list of the winners? I don't want to go through like thirty pages.

 

Miss America will apparently do a list

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I'll edit the first post tomorrow but here you go:

 

 

Most Active: annedauphine

Best Username: analwinterofmylife

Best Taste: National Anthem

Worst Taste: Jack

Favorite Hoarder: Eclipse in risk of being dethroned :oprah3:

Blogger: trayertrash

Status Updater: Bekim

Attention Whore: Jack

Troll: Jack

Nicest Member: annedauphine

Rudest Member: leaked_version

Biggest Bitch: leaked_version

Drama Queen: Jack

Most Iconic: evilentitty

Veteran Member: evilentity

Underrated Member: LoreleiLee

Best Banned Sis: InTheSummer

Biggest Stan: annedauphine

Be My Daddy: Constantine

Delete It Fat: Jack

Guardian Interview: Jack

Girl That Got Away: Monicker

Graphic Design: Trash Magic

Video Editors: COLACUNT

Musician: butterflies

Space X and Tesla: annedauphine

Drama of the Year: Scat Gifs

Christina Lucci: Bekim

Lipster of the Year: annedauphine

 

 

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There should've been a post of the year award.

 

You forgot this :hooker: :

 

 

(About video "High By The Beach")

I love this transformation from submissive, needy and masochistic cry baby to revengeful and bloodlust Amazonian that grabs destiny in her own hands and clutches god by the balls. Sooo refreshing in contrast to her usual imagery. I am glad this is not overly produced, ultrapolished, fancy-schmancy grandiose video, because she already had ones, and also that it isn't flippant, sloppy and hermetic jerking off like Ultraviolence (ok, I don't hate that one, I just state that this overshadows Ultra, although it is as much as simple). It is something brand new, crazy hybrid between Tarantino action and Dogme 95/home video/Steve McQueen seventies/Larry Clark/documentary/voyeuristic  shaky camera, and you can feel that this kind of filming is deliberate. And it is masterfully delivered, because your site is really narrowed in suspense and you feel the excitement and vehemence of the action. Even slow parts are thrilling. Speed and poetry in one. And there is an excellent use of color (azure blue of vast ocean and bare, luminant crinoline of the sky), and frame from the balcony seems cosmically wide –that is the greatness of the vid also: the contrast between tight, claustrophobic tubes of villa halls with her rush like mercury through them and magnificent freedom of the big blue nature principles.

 

Although Shades of Cool have very strong visual metaphores, such as Lana in 3D illusion, stabbed by a sword, or gun pointing at her, bullets flying, flowers softly exploding, and magical amalgam of gem-like colors, like ruby, royal blue and mystic violet, this is much more cohesive and that Scarface shooting and explosion in the sky is like her initiation into whole new dimension of existence, personal (spiritual) and artistic. Enough experimental and intimate ("indie" formally, so to say) yet enough cohesive, articulate and charged, or should I say, blessed, with (almost) unexpected, brilliantly depicted culmination and message hidden in it. That climax is like her awakening from the nightmare into pure white bliss. Thousand orgasms from me.

 

And yes, she is so cute, funny, vulnerable and human in that scene of her gown being stuck, and the fact that we see her in different emotional states and in physical movement (running, stumbling) is a breezy shift from her gloomy, elusive, mysterious and impenetrable poutiness of a diva. I adore that expression of healthy rage and determination on her face. So complex, soulful and relatable. She creates a powerful space for catharsis.

 

------------------

 

(About album "Ultraviolence")

 

 

"Ultraviolence is strong, intense, deep, versatile, it quivers in fury, sadness, ecstasy, despair, longing and every other emotion from the spectrum. It has spikes, thorns, explosions and fire, but also ocean, blood, tears, honey, and stars. It is built from contradictions and numerous contrasts and layers. And I adore its rawness and shamelesness. An album with heart and soul, but also with balls and guts.

 

Also, entering the world of Ultraviolence is like being bombarded and electroshocked with ultimatelly sincere and dismantling passion, and bathed in razorblades of heartwrenching anger and vengeful inclinations. It is pure, bold, gorgeous, shocking and soul-stirring emotional striptease and psychological crucifiction with spastic waves of dying and resurrection, and while Lana roars, moans, screams and begs on her blood-rose throne of lonely queen, I can feel her sonic teeth peeling my skin to the stellar schrapnels. Those dirty, desert rock, psychedelic ayahuasca noises and harmonies like skelletons in her psychic wardrobe catapult the listener in the land of rust, smoke and balsamic soul whispers. It is rudimentary tectonic disturbance, avalanche of tears, lust, avid greed and bitchy, yet sophisticated and aristocratic proud. It is desolate kingdom of lava and hurricane mist, while Lana weeps angelically and diabolically in her ivory tower, only to descend to opulent, decadent and rainbowish realm of hippy druggies, salacious feathers, pearls that symbolize innocence, luxury and device of choking – which is the crime lovers do.

 

Ultra is the weapon of her inflamed, crazed, obsessed mind and hounted, exalted emotions that floods all the floors of our mental pagodas, and drives us in hallucinant frenzy of sepia, sunblinded seventies and ghostlike merging of fairy, narcotic voice with opiumish, twang guitars. I can feel myself floating above the field full of poppies in July, bathed in golden ash, or on the indigo crests of growling, mystical ocean. Burning pyres of Cruel World and West Coast collide with sublime and celestial Shades Of Cool, and velvety, scarlet Sad Girl transfuses into textured, exuberant tar black despair and delusion of Pretty When You Cry.

 

She chants radiantly, dramatically and unwroughtly about her stabbed heart and galactic sadness, the siren song that rips and slits open our intestines in its intensity and tragedy, and she is furious, invincible and resolute dragoness who eats all of her peers for breakfast, because her own intimate garden of diamond mind, desires and dreams, although idiosyncratic, just pukes rubies, sapphires and amethysts  in all its splendour, seducing us and making us her slave. She is not abundant, talkative, logoreic Lolita from Off To The Races (although I adore that song), with lyrics oversaturated with rich images, but purified, consolidated witch that carefully chooses her words, still powerful and image-evoking, yet charged with harsh, unapologetic statement that colors the whole song in enchanting atmosphere of very specific emotion and message. She is sorceress surfing on the crimson waves of this catharctic oeuvre, where all the suppressed anxieties and explosive ferocities and darkest sorrows spill over like a tsunami and overwhelm us in the symphony of senses.

 

She, the lisergic acid mistress, drives us to indulge Mojave Peyote of her soul, being volcanic concubine and infusing us with fever and tempest. Sonically, the album is splendid fatamorgana that shines in all hues of the cosmos, revealing chameleon-like transformations of her soul, her violent mood swings and her experience that transformed her from ingenue and naive nymphet to real girl-woman of flesh and blood, goddess that has his earthly avatar and operates in her black chandelier tears, poisonous drives and nuclear loves for badasses with heroin boiling in their veins. But, her own mind is heroin and LSD, she doesn't need nightmarish mountains of vices to be wild, crazy and opalescent. Deranged, divine, stroboscopic and virulent melodies full of cuts and pulsations from devil within challenge us to reveal our own „sick to the bones“ state of mind. Ultraviolence chanteuse is cursed Persephone that three quaerters of the year spends in Hell milking the muses in that torture garden, but pain brings only best from her, leaving golden wounds and diamond scars behind, to shine in heaven like neon illumination.

 

UV is a vestibule to her inner turmoils and psychic gargoyles, a battlefield of conflicted emotions and a minefield to those who seek only dead calm of solace, idyll and harmony of tame, jazzy songs; its grungy, dirty, raw and aggressive sound bites polished, cinematic raffinement yet is transcended through gloomy, sepulchral or ethereal parts and pieces.

It is cathedral of sensual, fireworkish excess and aloof remoteness of a lonely eremite, fiery delirium and deepest melancholia, mirroring broken dreams and reflections upon doomed relationships with tyrants and sadists, but those memories are bittersweet because she is bended, masochistic tragic heroine and omnipotent empress at the same time. She rises out the ashes like Phoenix and that colossal moment of alchemic transformation pushes us into the mesmeric vertigo of album's epic, monumental experience. Phantasmagoric, orgasmic, devastating and leaving you with eternal, vampire thirst for more, more and more."

 

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I mean, I guess that is why I am the empress of underrated ones :lanahairflip2: :thirst: :cumming:

 

Besides, three or four members said I was so insanelly talented that I should become a writer :D Well, I already am, but I will improve to the stellar hights. :cumming2: :tongue: :bodyisready: :lanahottie:  - I PROMISE AND I THREAT :glasses: :illumilana:  :D  :D 

 

 

:hooker: :hooker: :hooker:

 

:troll:

 


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