The Gangsta Nancy Sinatra tag she used to describe herself fits Lana well, if Nancy had grown up on Lynchian sleazy jazz and sipping from a cup of sadness and nostalgia. She projects a kind of melancholy that drifts along and occasionally peaks in a Roy Orbison homage. But that is only one aspect of it. Elsewhere there are hip hop elements and some awkward cute high pitched voice that made me skip tracks. There is a lot of repetition and it's apparent very quickly, however there is almost enough maturity and seduction to sustain the interest. It’s not perfect but it has a certain slithery something that worked its way into my head.