Lizzy Grant and her alias Lana Del Rey have been entirely separate entities for quite a while now. As much as she tries to convince us that the pouty-lipped, Americana obsessed popstar is a true to life extension of herself, it’s rapidly becoming more apparent that there’s a sizable proportion of personality air-brushing involved. One of the many marvels of the internet is the forum it provides for debate, and fewer artists have caused as much of a stir over the past twelve months as Miss Grant. Hounded by rumors of bottox injections, a millionaire father and her immaculate appearance being an elaborate PR stunt; almost every aspect of Lana Del Rey has been comprehensively scrutinized, well, apart from her music that is.

With her recent single Born To Die expected to enter the UK top ten this weekend, and her debut album of the same titled released on Monday, the steam-train of anticipation is reaching peak speed. Whilst her live performances may leave much to be desired, her angelic voice on record is undeniably attractive and is an attribute not to be scorned at. Embodying the wistful charm of Brigitte Bardot and the insightful adventurousness of Nancy Sinatra, it’s a voice primed to seduce, admire and enrapture.

Opening with the aforementioned Born To Die, it’s a bold and memorable footing to begin on, showcasing the elegant, almost magical side to Lana Del Rey. Sweeping violins and a prolific beat underpin the entire track, with Grant’s vocals shifting effortlessly between sensually evocative and ravenously confident. It’s this self-assured attitude that allows the record to excel and truly develop characteristics of it’s own, such as the luxuriously tenacious Off To The Races, that’s as much Christina Aguilera as it is Sinatra.

There are times when the attenuated traits of the record become slightly overpowering and verge upon tedious, much to the detriment of Born To Die. Lana’s apparent obsession with Ameriana seems niche and alluring on first listen, however numerous cliched mentions involving cigarettes, red dresses and thinly veiled drug references later, and the shine truly begins to pale. Three tracks in and the album reaches an early peak with the bewitching Blue Jeans, that despite featuring as the B-side to Video Games, will undoubtedly see a full single release before the year is out.

After the exquisite bliss of Video Games, a song so hyped that it needs little explanation, comes the aberrant pairing of Diet Mtn Dew and National Anthem. Two tracks that originally appeared in demo form last year, and that aided to bolster the steadily growing anticipation, making the reworkings prove even more bizarre. Both lack any vibrancy, regardless of the attempt of the latter to focus it’s energies into forging an epic, chart-busting pop hit; sampled fireworks included. Finding Lana snarl ‘money is the reason we exist‘ on the demo was appealing and captivating, yet appears overly introvert and self-obsessed on the album version.

Halfway through Born To Die, and you’d be forgiven for feeling the urge to simply return to the beginning, given that the ‘hits’ all come within the first six or seven tracks. However it’s in the latter section of the record that Lana spreads her wings, such as the enchanting Dark Paradise and Madonna-esque Summertime Sadness. Disregarding the rumors of a PR manufactured personality, it’s a deeply self-infatuated record, with almost every track poignantly centered around ‘you’ and ‘I’. Even when Lana is in full popstar mode (Radio), there’s still the underlying, claustrophobic self-devoted element, that’s as attractive as it is unsettling.

Lyrically Lana is never going to be a Bob Dylan or Conor Oberst, yet she doesn’t need to be, and barring a few blunders (Radio – “Pick me up and take me like vitamin, ‘Cause my body’s sweet like sugar in the morning“) it’s a relatively solid, albeit dramatic effort. Another of the records high points is Carmen, where we find Lana reciting the story of a slightly disturbed but monstrously beautiful adolescent, not too dissimilar to herself if truth be told.

Whilst Lana may have haters in abundance, there are clearly those who adore her, and buy into her contrived backstory. To the same merit, there are those like myself who couldn’t care less whether she’s the commercialized lovechild of America and a celebrity-obsessed culture, providing that she releases material as confident and, in parts, frankly as brilliant as Born To Die.