Long ago, in a time called 2012, Lana Del Rey was actually even more polarizing to people than when she offered up that apropos-of-nothing “question for the culture” in 2020. Accused of everything from having major plastic surgery to getting her rich daddy to buy her career, the main complaint about Del Rey, formerly Lizzy Grant, was that she was entirely manufactured. Which, of course, every musician is to some degree. Even though that’s not the “chic” thing to admit anymore, “authenticity” being the name of the game in the present despite the fact that everything is more ersatz than ever (compounded by use of social media for the perfect, curated presentation of oneself). Madonna is perhaps among the few who melds seamlessly the notions of “being real” with her own era-branded artifice. With each phase of her career representing a new persona that was already embedded somewhere within herself, it’s to be expected that M has been the most adept pop star at shifting with the times like the trend-absorbing sponge that she is.
In contrast, Del Rey’s “evolutions” have been slow and ultimately rooted in the approach that she’s always had, even when she transitioned into a Mama Cass aesthetic with a Joni Mitchell singer-songwriter style—a long way from some Lolita vixen with a Daddy fetish (though “Daddy” tropes still do get mentioned quite a bit, even on her most recent album, Blue Banisters). Thus, for Del Rey to essentially be pushed into being something she wasn’t (an “EDM queen”) back in early 2013, when songs from Born to Die were only getting modest radio airplay (mainly because radio airplay was no longer necessary for success), the reaction on her part was, naturally, tepid at best. Technically, Del Rey might have given her “permission” for a remix of the then-new single “Summertime Sadness,” but she had no say or knowledge of what was eventually put out in the U.S. while she was off doing her thing in Europe.
An article from 2014 for The Irish Independent phrased it succinctly when they said, “She’s an American pop superstar with hardly any actual radio hits in the U.S., just a remix of her song ‘Summertime Sadness’ that she never even heard before its release.” Of course, the story of how the remix came to be has been jumbled and muddled over time to suit different narratives. But the bottom line is, Del Rey didn’t like it and never embraced the fact that her biggest hit (and the only song of hers that’s ever won a Grammy—specifically for Best Remixed Recording, Non-Classical) was something she had no real say in. Apart from, of course, providing the “source material.” Including the music video that got “remixed” as well for the sake of Cedric Gervais’ (no relation to Ricky) remade version.
So it is that a person might speculate as to what Del Rey’s reaction would have been in the TikTok climate of today, when remixes of artists’ songs are constantly being thrown out by “legitimate” DJs and aspirants alike. Which is what happened when Canadian DJ Sickick posted a remix of Madonna’s 1998 single, “Frozen,” in March of 2021 that took off like a runaway train. Much to Madonna’s delight rather than dismay.
While the intersection of Madonna and Del Rey might seem nonexistent to most, there have been a few glimmers of acknowledgement and appreciation between the two, including a post Madonna put up of herself (also in March of 2021) dancing at a studio while in college with “hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have (but i have it)” playing over the choreography. Madonna captioned the video, “Where the seed was planted that i could be an artist………………that I could leave the provincial world i was in…………….I never stopped………had no idea what was in store for me.” Nor did Del Rey, going from her quaint, alcohol-addicted Lake Placid days that led to boarding school and then waitressing and then a trailer park and then a record deal—with a philosophy degree from Fordham thrown in. Which is one major distinction between Del Rey and Madonna—the latter didn’t bother finishing college and was driven to succeed at all costs upon arriving in New York after dropping out of the University of Michigan. Del Rey, instead, was ready to give up on her lofty dreams of singing after so many years spent playing various NYC dives. Indeed, that’s what inspired “Video Games”—embracing the bittersweetness of surrendering to “normie life.”
Their approaches to academia are as varied to their ones on remixes, with Madonna’s entire career built on thriving in the club scene. Del Rey’s music, in opposition, was built for the bedroom sadcore set, her baroque pop stylings a product of DIY internet culture that raised millennials and the generations that have sprung up after them (ahem, Billie Eilish).
But that’s likely not the only reason Del Rey was averse to embracing her “viral” (before that term really meant something) remix. The other key aspect, of course, is that Madonna was over thirty years into her career when TikTok came to roost and remixes could be made on the turn of a dime without something like “artist consent.” And, because of the “youth-centric” nature of TikTok, Madonna—and others who have been in the industry for quite some time—wasn’t vexed by the Sickick reinterpretation, so much as delighted that “Frozen” had reached an entirely new audience. Seizing upon the moment, she proceeded to create other versions out of what Sickick did, including fresh takes that featured Fireboy DML and 070 Shake. Even going one step beyond by allowing Sickick to sing on still another edition called “Frozen on Fire.” How at odds with the Del Rey-ian response to a remix that gave her career a huge boost by extending her music into demographic realms previously untouched. And, although the circumstances around each were both vastly divergent and a product of the time, one wonders what might have been had Del Rey tried to take more ownership over the song and parlay it into an entire series of remixes as a “fuck you” to anyone that would try to take credit for her “mainstream success.”
It was actually Universal Germany that opened the Pandora’s box on a remix of “Summertime Sadness”—and when Del Rey’s American and UK labels (Interscope and Polydor) ended up not wanting to release what Gervais came up with, at the advisement of Gervais’ manager, Spinnin’ Records decided to do what no one else would. Once the song became a major hit, Interscope came around to getting on the official release bandwagon. Again, Del Rey had no involvement at all, which is part of the salt in her wound about the song. In addition to the “real” fans who preferred the original version. To that ilk, one of the things Gervais tweeted around the time was, “I love Lana’s fans they are so cute let me ask you all a question when that publishing money and sale money came in did she refuse it?” Well, why would she? She’s the one who came up with the content, so shouldn’t she be paid? The bitterness briefly manifested again when Del Rey referred to the single as “a song someone remixed the shit out of” at a 2014 performance in Las Vegas.
Such a reaction is a far cry from Madonna gushing about Sickick’s impromptu “Frozen” remix (in this case, the “Frozen on Fire” one), “…when I heard it, I was blown away by his musicianship, by his sense of musicality, by his melody, his singing, everything. When I ended up going in the studio with him and recording with him, I thought, ‘This makes perfect sense to end with him because he started it, the remix.’” Should Del Rey be as open to such a “TikTok collaboration,” who knows where her songs or albums might re-chart (just as they have for a fellow “2012er” named MARINA, with “Bubblegum Bitch” and the entire Electra Heart record taking TikTok by storm). But fans, and maybe even Del Rey herself, would argue that she doesn’t need “that kind” of validation. Though her crestfallen face at the Grammy Awards when Billie Eilish won instead of her would indicate otherwise.
