The LA artist's ninth album – amongst her most revealing work yet – continues to expand the modern icon's artistry

‘Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Blvd’ begins with a mistake. As a trio of backing singers are conducted through a burst of ‘The Grants’’ central chorus line, they slip up. “I’m gonna take mind of you with me,” they sing, “mind” instead of the intended “mine”. They’re halted, coached through the correction and restart, but you can still hear an erroneous ‘d’ taking ‘e’’s place on the next two goes round.

Other artists might have scrubbed that faux pas and replaced it with something perfect and polished, but not Lana Del Rey. That error is reflective of how she portrays the world and life itself in her music – imperfect, sometimes messy. In many ways, she is a documentarian capturing angles that aren’t just bright and beautiful.

Her ninth studio album is another testament to that approach. On ‘… Ocean Blvd’, she opens up on her life now, pondering the big questions and contemplating family, home and her future. The songs cross-reference each other, looping back to earlier thoughts and feelings, making it feel like you’re with her in her day-to-day as she muses on these weighty topics.

In particular, the record faces up to the queries and doubts that loom over even the most non-traditional of women as they journey through their thirties (Del Rey is now 37) – ones society haunts you with until you have an answer. After chiding her brother to stop smoking and asking her sister if she’ll be by her side on the string-laden swoon of ‘Fingertips’, a flurry of hushed questions follows. “Will the baby be alright? / Can I have one of mine? / Can I handle it?” she asks softly. Earlier, on the gorgeous piano-led ‘Sweet’, Del Rey challenges a potential partner to talk “about stuff that’s at the very heart of things”: “Do you want children? / Do you wanna marry me? / Do you wanna run marathons in Long Beach by the sea?”