Lana Del Rey live at Vicar St.

It’s funny/sexist how critics applaud David Bowie for being a serial persona assumer whilst deriding Lana Del Rey as a fake because that’s not her real name and, like all good pop stars, she’s heavily edited her back-story.
As much an actress as a singer, the New Yorker has had a good look at the 20th century’s most iconic American females, decided to leave Jayne Mansfield and Marilyn Monroe to Madge and Gaga and opted instead to bring Jackie Kennedy into the modern rock arena. From the flicked big hair to the understated elegance, Del Rey is a trailer park girl dreaming of First Lady finery.
Her gazillion-selling Born To Die debut may exude glacial pop cool, but presented with a boisterously supportive Vicar St. crowd the 26-year-old can’t help squealing, “I’m so happy to be here!” during the opening ‘Cola’.
The art deco palm trees and candelabras aside, it’s a fairly simple set-up with Lana flanked on one side by a shit hot session band and on the other by a string section who swoop and soar in all the right places.
She’s never going to beat Mariah and Alicia in a singing contest, but whether belting it out (‘Body Electric’, ‘Blue Jeans’, ‘National Anthem’) or paring it right back (‘Carmen’, ‘Without You’, the dreamy ‘Blue Velvet’ cover), Del Rey’s vocals tonight are impressive throughout.
Determined to press Irish flesh, she jumps into the crowd after just three songs and is rewarded with a gifted pair of knickers, which she triumphantly twirls around her head.
“I sense electricity in the air tonight,” she coos mid-set, eliciting another Aviva Stadium-like cheer from an audience who at this stage are putty in her impeccably manicured hands.
“We’re definitely being trained to adore,” proclaims my +1 for the night. I reckon she’s being cynical/jealous until stylised images of Lana in burning Joan Of Arc mode appear on the big screen and the quasi-religious penny drops.
Del Rey is aiming for that deified place beyond mere celebrity. On tonight’s showing, it’s going to take more than a battalion of media snipers to stop her.