The first of those, 2012’s Born to Die, is one of only three titles by a woman to spend over 300 weeks on the Billboard 200. Collectively, her catalog of albums has sold 3.2 million copies in the United States, and all of her full-length major-label studio albums have debuted on the Billboard 200 at No. 1 or No. 2. Yet it’s an approach that has worked for Del Rey: Her songs, even the long, weird ones, easily rack up tens of millions of streams, and overall they have amassed a solid 3.9 billion on-demand streams in the United States, according to Nielsen Music. This is not exactly a surprise: Del Rey’s only top 10 hit on the Billboard Hot 100 was a raving Cedric Gervais remix of her song “Summertime Sadness.” But in the streaming era, when success often means getting easily digestible singles on the right playlists, making an album that’s meant to be wallowed in for 70 minutes isn’t just inspired - it’s defiant.
There are no big bangers, just songs you can jam out to during beach walks and long drives. Norman Fucking Rockwell, out Aug. 30, is a “mood record,” as Del Rey describes it while perched barefoot on a velvet couch in the new office of her longtime management company, an airy pad way up in the Hollywood Hills with platinum plaques scattered about that no one has gotten around to hanging up yet. That means songs like the nearly 10-minute-long “Venice Bitch,” the most psychedelic tune in her catalog, or the title track, a ballad rich with one-liner gems like, “Your poetry’s bad, and you blame the news” - songs that represent the best writing in her career yet have almost zero chance of radio play.
Del Rey wears a Levi’s jacket, L’école Des Femmes dress, Beladora necklace, XIV Karats bracelet and ring, and Selima Optique sunglasses.