Lana Del Rey came to us as a David Lynch fever dream made flesh. Since her debut album in 2012, however, the artist born Lizzy Grant has subtly yet perceptibly recalibrated her image, from Instagram siren to something considerably earthier and more substantial. By the time she played her first ever Irish show at Vicar Street in 2013, she’d remade herself as a retro-future Jackie Kennedy, clambering down the front to meet her fans and spending more time embracing devotees, it briefly seemed, than singing.
The transformation continues with her third full length record, which pivots further from the Lynchian-overtones of her earlier output and arguably frames Del Rey as a retro-pop Joan Didion – an upper middle class debutante on a journey of discovery through the seedy underside of America, half-dazzled, half-disgusted by what she finds.
Working with writer/producer Rick Nowels (Robyn, Madonna, Ellie Goulding), Del Rey lowers the tempo, so that sometimes it seems the record is in danger of slipping into a blissful languor. But languidness is a sweet fit with Del Rey, and Honeymoon contains some of her most solid work – with the key distinction, it seems, that Del Rey has no interest in drawing attention to the persona that fascinates fans.
On the swooning, ‘High By The Beach’ and ‘Music To Watch Boys By’, she’s happier stepping back, allowing the songs claim the limelight. For an artist who once seemed more internet sensation than musician it’s a gutsy gesture – one that suggests this latter-day matinee icon might be at her best when leaning back, a glorious mystery concealed in plain view.

KEYTRACK: 'Honeymoon'