No matter how objective I try to be, my song choices for this blog always seem to reflect whatever is going on in my life at the moment. Currently it is my worryingly constant fascination with everything 60s and 70s. At times I feel like Barbra Streisand in the (70s classic film) The Way We Were, banging on about how easy and uncomplicated the past seemed to be, except there is no Hubbard reminding me that it was never uncomplicated. (Or if there is, he is no Robert Redford.) Part of me is acutely aware of the uselessness of aching for the past, but I gravitate towards nostalgia inducing songs like a confused moth to a distant flame. Newcomer Lana Del Rey has released one of those songs. Full of yearning and regret, Lana pouts through Video Games like a duck doped up on valium, radiating ruined glamour and vacant starlets. The early adoration in blogland has turned to vitriol after it was discovered she used to be plain ol’ Lizzie Grant, a pretty but run-of-the mill pop singer who did not exactly set the world on fire. (And by the way, those lips weren’t there either.) After a complete image and history overhaul, Lizzie has emerged as a self-described Lolita-from-the-hood, a gangsta Nancy Sinatra breathily vamping it up for the no-good lover who likes bad girls and leaves her weeping crocodile tears somewhere west of Sunset and Vine. The video mixes old and new footage in the manner of old home movies, projected on white living room walls all those decades ago.