West Coast

That sparse, echoing production opens onto an aching romanticism, a tragic Hollywood glamour that became synonymous with Lana’s entire aesthetic. I’ve probably listened to it a hundred times and it never stops sounding like the saddest, most beautiful description of longing—her voice like some old starlet whispering from a past that was always more myth than reality. It’s the kind of song that makes a memory of somewhere you’ve never been feel more real than your actual life.