Lana Del Rey

Mr Jay Taylor.

On the 4th day of November, your Ruby-hued venue plays host & bellows to an up-gust in a conflagration of the fates - One of the most significant, potentially Century-defining moments of it’s short, but already illustrious lifespan. The Mancunian debut of one Elizabeth Grant (a. k.a. Lana Del Rey), has potentially wide-reaching consequences for, not only music; but popular culture at large, art, feminism, dare I say it - even our very children?

I was initially nonplussed by the ‘phenomenon’ of the aforementioned person(s). Her incendiary debut, while a mildly diverting, admittedly affecting piece of pop-music was sha-boobled through a mouth so potentially measured & precise in it’s laconic offering of time-worn lugubriosity - that I was galvanised in a steely resolve to resist her harp-strings’ assault on my finger-gunk encrusted heartstrings.

Still, I must admit there is something beguiling about the girl…More fascinating still, is the clandestine but unarguable backstage machinations. The manoeuvres of certain ‘shady-agents’ if-you-will.

It is not, I assure you, my aim or intent to smite, slander or sully her already Punch Drunk reputation in the ‘Indie’ community - but rather to encapsulate a blisteringly significant moment in time.

Is she Betty, frigging herself red-raw on an acne’d couch? Or Camilla ‘THIS IS THE GIRL’ Rhodes? These duplicitous ripples are what I want, nay, NEED to witness. It is of utmost importance that I be party to the events that transpire tomorrow night.

I believe your guestlist to be already swollen to haemorrhage with curious onlookers. But should one of their number be unable to attend, I implore you draft me-in in their stead.

I’m a cantankerous bastard. A foul-mouthed and malodorous hobo. But one thing on which I pride myself, is a highly attuned Justice-Button. My ultimate aim is righteousness, and if the word of a stranger has any worth - I offer it unreservedly. Further to that word, I swear that the architects of my ethics forbid me from misplacing any faith you might deign to reciprocate.

Sincerely,

Chester Whelks