Goddamn, manchild - Lana Del Rey ended the ‘10s with an album that sounds like an elegy for the ten years, and for California, and for America, and maybe for human everyday living on Earth. In a series of masterful torch-track lullabies, Del Rey - her whispery shut-mic’ed alto a lot more evocative than ever - provides up glimmering images of hedonism and depression and dying. sixty seven Lana Del Rey - Norman Fucking Rockwell!