Lana Del Rey can do whatever she wants.
For example, she recently picked up a shift waiting tables at a Waffle House in Alabama. No explanation has been given, but fans are quick to shrug off the bizarre stunt. She’s just like that, they say.
Her current tour, which included a sold-out show at Dos Equis Pavilion on Tuesday night, is no different. Notably, it is primarily hitting cities in the South, with shows no farther north than Pennsylvania or farther west than Texas.
(This choice stung for fans on the East and West coasts, who left comments like “What the fuck are these cities” on her Instagram post announcing the dates. But they’ll forgive her. They always do.)
While fans in these normally underserved markets are grateful, this trek across the South is less likely an act of kindness and more likely her chasing the same feverish muse that led her to work at that Waffle House and to include Tammy Wynette’s “Stand By Your Man” on her current setlist.
Tuesday night’s show started on an auspicious note, with lightning storms forcing concertgoers to shelter in place and organizers to delay the show. Opener Nikki Lane’s set was unfortunately canceled, creating anxiety around the possibility that the entire event would be a literal and figurative wash.
Del Rey eventually announced on her Instagram that her own set would be moved from its announced time of 9 p.m. up to around 8:30 p.m to work around the projected weather. But in true chaotic Lana fashion, she still didn’t go on until around 9:10 p.m. Again, immediately forgiven. She’s just like that.
Del Rey’s tumultuous career has seen her through the highs of multiple Grammy nominations and a steadfast cult following that includes Taylor Swift and Billie Eilish as devotees. She has also endured the cratering lows of consistent backlash and one famously bad Saturday Night Live performance.
It’s not that Del Rey’s followers don’t know all of this. It’s not even that they excuse it. To call out Del Rey feels almost akin to trying to cancel a Greek god. Sure, she can be messy, but there’s also something immensely powerful and compelling about her. No matter what she’s doing — good, bad or bizarre — she’s pulling you deeper into her world. Above even the brilliant songwriting and vast artistic influence, that's the key to her longevity.
It’s also worth noting that like the Greek gods, Lana Del Rey probably isn’t real. She’s the stage persona of Elizabeth Grant, and the lines between an authentic expression of Grant’s lived experiences and another chapter of Del Rey’s highly stylized mythology are constantly blurred.
She brought this dichotomy with her on Tuesday, inviting fans into a world that was both fantastical and deeply personal. The stage design evoked a period romance movie, an aesthetic not too detached from her music videos (some of which played in the background throughout the night) or her general likeness. It’s what would happen if a divorced travel agent from the 1960s had a fling with Don Draper from Mad Men; if Midge Maisel from The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel pursued interior design instead of comedy and lived on the same floor as William S. Burroughs.
Del Rey has the unique ability to create a deep intimacy with her audience while still holding them at arm’s length. The audience was invited to process its real-world troubles through a palatably romantic lens. In a staged world consisting of lacy dresses, floral swings suspended from the ceiling and surreal choreography, the character of Lana Del Rey poured her heart out to fans while the real woman Lizzy Grant lovingly but meticulously pulled the strings.
The setlist for Del Rey’s show was packed with some of her most beloved hits for her devoted congregation to scream every word. The atmosphere bordered on spiritual; if a Catholic church was loud, sad and drunk it would sound like a Lana Del Rey concert. Del Rey has fully embraced her status as cult leader, with the visuals behind "Summertime Sadness" depicting her backlit with her arms outstretched. Christlike, if you will.
That’s probably why after all the ups and downs of her career, it takes a literal act of God to bring down one of her shows. After the emotional peak of her show, her 2012 breakout single “Video Games,” she abruptly announced that lightning storms were once again passing through the area and she would have to cut her show short.
She rushed through some heartfelt thank-yous to fans and platitudes about following your dreams. She ended it with perhaps her most on-brand statement of the night: “Stay safe. Or fucking don’t, you know?"
She laughed, and her audience laughed with her — one more detached connection in Del Rey’s fantasy before facing the sobering reality of inclement weather.
