Lana Del Rey’s 2017 album was a weird pivot. Honestly, looking back at the Lust for Life tracks now, it feels like we’re looking at a time capsule of a version of Lana that doesn’t really exist anymore—the one that actually wanted to smile on the cover. Before this, it was all "Born to Die" and the gritty, nicotine-stained blues of Ultraviolence. Then, suddenly, she’s sitting in the "H" of the Hollywood sign, collaborating with The Weeknd and A$AP Rocky, and trying to figure out how to be a "happy" artist in a political landscape that was, frankly, falling apart.
People forget how polarizing this record was when it dropped. Die-hard fans were used to the lonely girl in the trailer park. They weren't ready for a trap-heavy duet with Playboi Carti. But that’s the thing about the Lust for Life tracks; they represent the exact moment Lana stopped being a character and started being a person who lives in the real world.
The sonic whiplash of the early Lust for Life tracks
The album starts with "Love," and if you don't think that's one of the best pop openers of the decade, we might need to have a serious talk. It’s cinematic. It’s huge. It feels like a vintage postcard found in a dusty attic. But then the record takes a hard left turn.
You go from the 1960s girl-group aesthetic of the title track into "13 Beaches," which is arguably one of her most vulnerable songs. She literally sings about having to hide from the paparazzi just to have a moment of peace. It’s heavy. It’s slow. Then—boom. You’re hitting "Cherry."
"Cherry" is where the album finds its soul. It’s got that "f-it" energy. The way she drops those casual swears over the dark, rhythmic beat makes it feel dangerous again. It’s a masterclass in tension. Most people skip the deep cuts, but if you aren't listening to "Cherry" on a loop, you're missing the bridge between her old "Gangster Nancy Sinatra" persona and the folk-inspired poet she eventually became on Norman Fucking Rockwell!.
Collaborations that shouldn't have worked (but did)
Let’s talk about the features. This album is stacked. You’ve got:
- The Weeknd on the title track (pure synth-pop bliss).
- A$AP Rocky appearing twice, notably on "Groupie Love."
- Playboi Carti bringing a weird, mumble-rap energy to "Summer Bummer."
- Stevie Nicks—yes, the actual Stevie Nicks—on "Beautiful People Beautiful Problems."
- Sean Ono Lennon on "Tomorrow Never Came."
That’s a chaotic guest list. Most albums would collapse under that much star power. It usually feels like a marketing ploy when a singer brings in this many names. But with the Lust for Life tracks, it felt more like Lana was hosting a party at her house and invited everyone she thought was cool. The Stevie Nicks collaboration is particularly important. It felt like a passing of the torch. Stevie is the blueprint for the "witchy woman" archetype that Lana spent years refining. Hearing their voices together—one raspy and weathered, the other breathy and ethereal—is a highlight of 21st-century alt-pop.
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Decoding the political shift in the middle of the record
Around the halfway point, the album stops being about Lana’s boyfriends and start being about, well, the world. 2017 was a messy year. The political climate in the U.S. was shifting, and you can hear Lana grappling with it in real-time.
"Coachella - Woodstock in My Mind" is a weird song. It’s kind of clunky, right? She’s at a music festival watching Father John Misty, but she’s thinking about North Korea. It sounds like a journal entry that wasn't supposed to be a song. But that’s why it works. It’s honest. It captures that specific anxiety of trying to have fun while the news cycle is screaming at you.
Then there’s "God Bless America - and All the Beautiful Women in It." Some critics hated the title. They thought it was too on-the-nose. But listen to the lyrics. It’s a feminist anthem disguised as a patriotic ballad. She’s reclaimng the imagery of the flag. She’s talking about independence. For an artist who was previously accused of "glamorizing abuse," this was a massive middle finger to her detractors.
The acoustic ending: A hint of what was to come
By the time you get to the end of the 16 Lust for Life tracks, the trap beats are gone. The glitz is stripped away.
"Change" and "Get Free" are the most important songs on the record for understanding Lana’s trajectory. "Change" is just her and a piano. She’s singing about how she knows a transition is coming. It’s prophetic. "Get Free" is her "out of the black and into the blue" moment. It’s a literal manifesto. She’s saying she’s done with the darkness. She wants to be happy. She wants to move on.
Interestingly, "Get Free" famously landed her in some legal hot water with Radiohead because of its similarity to "Creep." But legal drama aside, the song functions as a perfect closing statement. It’s the final shedding of her skin before she moved into the more "serious" songwriter phase of her career.
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Why people still argue about this album
Is it too long? Probably. 16 tracks is a lot for a pop record.
Is it inconsistent? Definitely. Jumping from a trap song with Playboi Carti to a folk ballad with Sean Lennon is enough to give anyone whiplash.
But that inconsistency is exactly why the Lust for Life tracks matter. It’s the sound of an artist experimenting in public. Most artists are too scared to fail, so they stay in their lane. Lana decided to drive across four different lanes at once. It’s messy, beautiful, and occasionally confusing.
If you go back and listen to "Heroin," you’ll hear some of her best writing. "Topanga’s hot tonight, the city’s on fire." It’s evocative. It’s dark. It reminds you that even when she’s trying to be "happy," there’s always a bit of soot under her fingernails.
The legacy of Lust for Life
In the grand scheme of her discography, this album is often treated like the "middle child." People love Born to Die for the nostalgia and NFR! for the prestige. Lust for Life sits in the middle, wearing a flower crown and holding a vape, trying to bridge the gap.
But without these songs, we wouldn't have the Lana we have now. This was her testing ground. She learned how to handle features. She learned how to write about things bigger than herself. She learned that she could be a "pop star" and a "poet" at the same time without losing her core identity.
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How to actually appreciate this era
If you want to dive back into these Lust for Life tracks, don't just hit shuffle. You have to listen to the transitions. Look at the visuals—the music videos for "Love" and "Lust for Life" are essential viewing because they build the world. The grainy, 16mm film aesthetic isn't just a filter; it’s the lens through which she wants you to see this specific era of her life.
- Listen to "Cherry" and "Heroin" back-to-back. They are the true emotional core of the project.
- Watch the "Love" music video. It captures the "space-age 60s" vibe perfectly.
- Pay attention to the lyrics in "Get Free." It’s the most honest she’s ever been about her own mental health and creative process.
- Read up on the 1960s influences. From the Beach Boys references to the Woodstock mentions, this album is a love letter to an era of American culture that Lana feels connected to.
The record isn't perfect, and that's okay. In an era of polished, algorithm-driven music, the flaws in these tracks are what make them human. Lana Del Rey took a risk by trying to be everything to everyone on this album, and while she didn't quite hit every mark, the moments she did hit are some of the most memorable in modern pop history.
Go back to the deep cuts. Skip the radio hits for a second. Find the weird stuff. That's where the real "Lust for Life" is hiding. It's in the quiet moments between the heavy bass and the soaring strings where you find the artist herself, just trying to figure out how to be okay in a world that often isn't.
Take a Saturday afternoon and play the vinyl from start to finish. Don't look at your phone. Just let the sound of the California coast wash over you. You might find that the songs you ignored in 2017 are actually the ones you need the most right now. The transition from the "black" to the "blue" isn't a one-time event; it's a process, and this album is the roadmap for how Lana did it.
Practical next steps for listeners
If you're looking to explore this era deeper, start by comparing the demo versions of songs like "Lust for Life" (which was originally much darker and lacked the Weeknd’s pop polish) to the final studio versions. It reveals a lot about the creative compromises made during production. Additionally, tracking the lyrical themes of "Change" through her subsequent albums like Chemtrails Over the Country Club shows how this record served as the foundational shift toward her current Americana-folk style. For the best audio experience, seek out the high-fidelity FLAC versions or the original 180g vinyl pressing, as the layered production on tracks like "13 Beaches" and "Summer Bummer" relies heavily on bass depth and atmospheric textures that get lost in standard low-bitrate streaming.