Captivating audiences with her unique brand of dreamy, vintage-inspired pop music since the release of her debut album in 2010, Lana Del Rey’s Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd is a testament to her growth as an artist and an exploration of new sonic landscapes. With flashy, seductive songs like “Peppers” and haunting, melancholic ballads like “The Grants,” Del Ray’s ninth studio album emphasizes her range as an artist and her evolving musical identity, while being a commentary on the experience of love, heartbreak, and nostalgia.
The album opens with a beautiful, textured ballad titled “The Grants,” referencing Del Rey’s family name. The song’s first half uses a soulful chorus of voices before progressing into deep, rolling piano chords, a hallmark within Del Rey’s discography. Asking listeners “Do you think about Heaven?” and “Do you think about me?” Del Rey sets a pensive, glittering tone that colors our perception of the self-exploration to follow.
“Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd,” the second song and namesake of the album, continues with yearning and contemplation, but marks a departure from lyrical reflectiveness in the rest of Ocean Blvd. The song ostensibly describes the closed Jergins Tunnel in Long Beach, CA. An homage to something intangible that’s been lost to time, the track plays with the fear of being forgotten, using the tunnel as a metaphor for Del Rey’s desire to be seen as worthy by a lover. Yet this chase for approval is deemed futile by the end of the song, when she reveals, perhaps intentionally crudely, that the love we look for in others must first come from within ourselves.
“Sweet” is not a standout for me but represents a Lana fans know and love. Repeatedly describing the “stars” in her eyes and her own beauty and sweetness, the song explores self assuredness within a rush of violins and piano. Folk undertones and the inquisitive nature of the track create a vulnerability in the song that reflects Lana’s uncertainty about love at this point in the album.
The darker undertones in Del Rey’s second track are mirrored in “A&W,” an abbreviation for “American whore.” A testament to the fragile yet withstanding nature of her character, the seven-minute track begins with soft reflections on her experience in various sexual relationships before a shocking and seductive shift four minutes in. The track’s murmuring piano backings highlight the softness of Lana’s vocals before developing into a low, droning baseline in the second half of the song. Del Rey begins “A&W” reflecting on what it means to be deemed a whore before flipping this narrative on its head through a series of sexy trap beats and punchy, seemingly random lyrics like “Jimmy, Jimmy, cocoa puff, Jimmy get me high.” Twisting her commodification into empowerment, “A&W” is a sultry masterpiece and testament to Lana’s reclamation of male objectification.
Cryptic and aggressive, “Judah Smith Interlude” sits awkwardly amidst the melodic tracks surrounding it and, in my opinion, misses the mark. A recording from controversial Churchome megachurch preacher Judah Smith, it sparked confusion among Lana’s fans due to homophobic and pro-life claims made by the preacher—it seems illogical that Del Rey would choose to highlight such a figure. However, examined alongside tracks like “A&W,” where a woman derives power from sexual liberation, and the sounds of Lana and her friends laughing over the preacher, the track becomes ironic and provocative: a discussion on female oppression and the condemnation of female desire and lust.
“Candy Necklace” (feat. John Batiste) and “Jon Batiste Interlude” follow, providing an intriguing respite. Sweet and ruminatory, these songs suggest Del Rey devoting herself to a lover to a point of self-destruction. With Batiste’s piano creating a somber atmosphere in both pieces, the pieces are melancholic and dreamy to an almost unsettling degree—suggesting how it feels to be intoxicated by the love of another.
The muted piano and angelic vocals continue in the eighth track, “Kintsugi,” which describes the Japanese art of repairing broken pieces of pottery with gold, a metaphor for Lana’s own attempts to heal her soul. Beginning with lines like, “there’s a certain point the body can’t come back from,” the song explores feelings of being swallowed by pain and abandonment. However, motifs like, “That’s how the light shines in,” show Lana’s attempts to heal in spite of this. A contemplative metaphor on redefining pain, “Kintsugi” is a treasure.
“Fingertips” feels dreamy and mysterious from its onset, layering soft piano with swelling orchestral compositions to highlight the sadness within Del Rey’s lyrics. Taking a different approach to nostalgia and femininity, “Fingertips” explores mother-daughter relationships, asking listeners to imagine themselves as mothers. Del Rey reveals a deep seated resentment toward her familial relationships in a manner that chokes up the listener. “Fingertips” is breathtakingly stunning and a haunting slap in the face—cannot be missed!
Though I am biased in my support of Ocean Blvd generally, “Paris, Texas” (feat. SYML) is a standout. With delicate, peddling piano backings and sparkling, angelic vocals, it examines looking toward the future while carrying the weight of one’s past. “When you know, you know / It’s time, it’s time to go” is a heartbreaking motif, yet a confirmation of a newfound courage within Lana to search for ‘home’.
“Grandfather please stand on the shoulders of my father while he’s deep sea fishing” may be my favorite song in the album. With ruminations like “I know they think that it took somebody else to make me beautiful,” Lana speaks to accusations of inauthenticity surrounding her image and expresses frustration with people who don’t recognize her agency in her identity. Del Rey also speaks to the notion of having a spiritual figure to protect you, the ‘grandfather’ in the song’s title. The slow rise and falls of the track are infectious, and make me feel intensely inclined to deep sea fish after each listen.
“Let The Light In” (feat. Father John Misty) is a triumph within the melancholic dreamscape that characterizes the album. It continues the sentimental inquiry into the relationship between lover and the self, yet radiates a uniquely warm, comforting feeling. Mismatched harmonies and the beautiful resonance between Misty and Del Rey’s voices create a bright undertone to the song that’s emblematic of growth and self acceptance: a theme the entire album seems to converge to.
“Margaret” (feat. Bleachers) is another stunning composition. Though “Margaret” maintains Del Rey’s usage of muted piano and guitar to highlight the soft, grittiness of her vocals, the track recycles the “When you know, you know” from “Paris, Texas” in a way that is entirely changed. Celebratory and confident, the piece flips the previous sadness in a way that is at once elated yet understanding of the weight of those feelings.
“Fishtail” is Del Rey’s “Tulsa Jesus Freak” repackaged, and I could not be happier. Intentionally synthetic and edited to sound mysterious and otherworldly, the track is a cinematic, synth gem. It’s fundamentally sad, yet sensual and, once again, infectious.
“Peppers” (feat. Tommy Genesis) offers a tangible departure from Lana’s typical reflective style. Upbeat and sultry, the piece is instantly both catchy and unique, repeating “Hands on your knees, I’m Angelina Jolie.”
Perhaps the album’s greatest shock is the resurrection of “Venice Bitch” from Lana’s 2019 album Norman Fucking Rockwell! “Taco Truck x VB” is a masterpiece and an homage to Del Rey’s continued pursuit of building on her past self. The “Lanita” in this song is an enigmatic version of Lana, one who, like “Venice Bitch” and the Jergins Tunnel, will not be forgotten. “Taco Truck x VB” demonstrates Lana’s evolution through Ocean Blvd from scared of being forgotten to confident and commanding: she revels in her femininity, and that feeling is contagious. The lyrical rollercoaster that is Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd is one that I wish with my entire heart that I could ride again for the first time.
Clara Corcoran ’25 (claracorcoran@college.harvard.edu) recommends a good cry to all listeners!