September 10, 2017 – My only concert of the year, for that matter, my only outing for the year. And if I could wish for anything as my only concert, my only outing of the year, my wish would be to see her concert, Elizabeth, Elizabeth Woolridge Grant, to be exact, known by her stage name, Lana Del Rey.

Lana doesn’t tour much. She has the occasional show here and there. With her new album, Lust for Life, her website had only a handful of concerts in Europe. That is, until August when she announced two sort-of local dates in two fairly small venues, the House of Blues, Anaheim, California, being the closest. There was a trick, however. To get tickets required a purchase before-hand of Lana’s Lust for Life record, in any format, from her official store. That gave the purchaser a code that might or might not work to get a ticket. I learned the trick too late for Anaheim, but after that, I stalked her Twitter feeds, hoping for another chance, another pop-up announcement for another show. And for good reason because she announced a set of two shows in New York, both in October, I believe. Testing the ticket trick, I bought her record from her official store, the digital version with an alleged autographed lithograph that has yet to come. Recently, I got an email from the Lana store saying delivery of the litho will be delayed. I guess Lana’s too focused on her shows to sign these lithos, but I know she will … because Elizabeth loves her fans. I promise, I promise, the Elizabeth angle will come.

Almost missing one of her feeds, I checked Twitter after a particularly rough couple of days where I had forgotten to check it, and lo and behold, that very night it said to purchase a ticket by the next day for a code for a show at the Santa Barbara Bowl, a smaller version of the Hollywood Bowl. This time, I purchased a cassette for my Rover; my pre-historic truck has a cassette player, no cd. The Lana store hasn’t shipped that either, but never mind; whatever problems they are having with their products, they did ship me a code, in fact two codes as that purchase of the lithograph prompted a code as well. Armed with the codes, at the appointed time, I put both codes into two screens, and was placed into a waiting room. The waiting room eventually allowed me access to “best available” general admission floor tickets, and I put one into a cart. Then, tragedy! The payment screen locked up and counted down to zero. Thinking I was never going to see Lana, and about to cry, the second screen gave a prompt. I clicked best available, and then managed to check out with my one ticket — general admission-floor.

Fast forward three weeks to Friday night, concert night. I wasn’t feeling particularly well, and I had to work. Still, I managed to play Lana songs when I could, even breaking out my own microphone to … well, pretend; you know how that goes. Then, my three-plus hour drive for 87 miles (the 101 Freeway sucks) took me happily to Santa Barbara, past twilight views of the Pacific Ocean. I really should have gone earlier, but that’s how it went that day. The venue is in a quaint residential neighborhood in the hills of Santa Barbara, trees lining the walkways up to the venue. I parked in the neighborhood, walked to the entrance of the venue, and dare I admit this, cut into the line to get into the venue, perhaps the benefit of being by myself. The crowd waiting in line was an interesting mix. It was about 65-70 percent what I would expect, heavily female, mostly young, late teens to middle twenties. The other 30-35 percent was a mix of anything-goes, older people, couples, men, perhaps gay, an interesting mix. Somehow Lana’s not-played-on-the-radio music is hitting a fairly wide audience. The security was a frisk and bag/purse check of everyone. Talk about slow. I was glad I managed to get a good spot in that line.

The good spot in line gave me fast access to get my wrist band for that floor access, and I walked onto the floor. I looked back and the venue was practically empty. There were people on the floor. They appeared like they had been there a very long time. I walked into that crowd, settling into a spot front and center at Lana’s microphone about seven rows of people back. The spot was less than ideal though because there was a particularly tall man — big, slightly balding — right on the barrier wall directly in front of me. Still, there was room, and people were talking, so it seemed a good spot to stay.

I struck up conversations with three groups of people, sort of uniting each of them. We watched the stage set up – I don’t think they were as interested in the equipment as I was, talked about our choice in footwear — I had on Uggs … because they are soft, they had on tennis shoes. We talked about where Lana lives, and I answered everyone’s questions about why I was there by myself. One of the guys said he would go by himself too. The others weren’t sure, but I think they wanted to take me in, and I fought the urge to think of myself as pathetic and somehow missing out on the point of this charming and romantic venue by being alone. In keeping with our Lana fandom, two of the girls showed me on their phone Lana’s new house; apparently Lana bought a house in Studio City (my general city area), off Coldwater and Mulholland. Her purchase is apparently of two neighboring houses, one for her sister too. That makes Lana Eddie Van Halen’s neighbor too. We discussed her house in Malibu. The girls said Lana and her sister are at the Malibu house a lot. The guys talked about Lana’s previous San Francisco show. They had been to that show. They had also seen her in London and are going to New York. I asked about flying to New York, and they clarified they live in New York and had flown here. Seriously, people? If you think I’m a Lana fan, you should have seen these people. The guy from New York showed me pics of Lana with him and his friend. They had met her after the show. They took a video, and in that video, Lana was talking to some other very familiar-looking faces, men as well. As I stared at the phone, the guy pointed to the tall guy on the front row by the barrier wall. Same guy. Seriously? I only got one Lana show? What are these people doing? Is Lana even safe? Was I?

So the concert. I had to tell the girls serving as my companions three times “that’s not Lana” as the opening act, also a female singer, came on stage. Finally, I said “the place will go completely dark before Lana comes out”. Okay, those people hadn’t seen Lana before because they hadn’t seen anybody before. The place went dark, and then there was a rush of people into our spot. Somehow that pushed me up closer to the tall guy, about four rows back now, depending on where I held my head. I said to those girls … now. They got out their cameras. In fact, cameras went up all around, millennials, you know? Seriously, you can even see an effect in the lighting during the opening song.

As for me, I could barely move. I managed to snap a few pictures during the opening song. Mind you, I have the worst camera ever built in my phone, but you can see how close I was. I could see the detail of Lana’s tattoos on her hands, the “M” (not sure what it means to her), the word “Paradise” (for her first record). I could see the pattern of her white crocheted shrug. I could see her ear monitors. I could see her eyes. I could see she has colored her hair a bit too much, although I can relate to that one. I could see the bobby pins holding up her hair bump. I felt like I could have a conversation with her.

The crowd, however, they are crazy. It’s great, the audience participation, but it’s also bad, for me, at least. You see, my study of Lana’s music has made her, for me, “Elizabeth”, the Elizabeth of the credits in my song book, in the songs I download to study, to learn. What I saw so close in front of me was “Elizabeth”, this very talented person who inspires me, and I just wanted to take it in for what it was. And that was almost impossible for the first few songs, Cruel World, Cherry, Shades of Cool, Blue Jeans, Born to Die, all had so much audience participation around me, I had trouble hearing Lana. There was one particular girl to my right scream-singing. I watched though. I think Lana looked my way a few times. I wondered if she too thought, hey that woman is by herself, or hey that woman has colored her hair waaayyy too many times, or check her out, a head looking through the sides of three others. Who knows what she would have thought? But each time I smiled at her.

Then, when I thought it was going to get too annoying with the crowd overpowering her voice, and who knows if it was because I was covering my right ear to try to block the sound of the scream-singing girl, or the fact that Lana sang a new song, but the crowd around me suddenly stopped scream-singing, leaving only Lana’s singing as the star of the next two songs, White Mustang and Music to Watch Boys To.

Then came Ultraviolence, the usual point where Lana walks off the stage into the pit between the barrier wall and the stage to sign things and take pics with fans who are lucky enough to line up on the barrier wall. About that time, the sea of people rushed forward again. A guy squeezed in to my left, screaming to hand a cd up to Lana. At that point, I was pushed up even more. I had room only for my feet. I had to put my arms in front of my body to have room for my shoulders, and I was even closer, no more than six feet from the barrier, with the tall guy’s head in a particularly unwelcome place. To that man’s credit though, he spent the rest of the concert bent over so the girls behind him would have a better chance at seeing.

As for that experience, in Ultraviolence, Lana walked the entire first row, took some flowers and notes from the people down to my right, then stopped right in front of my place, and she stayed there for a long time, probably four or five minutes, an eternity in concert time. She signed everything, except that guy’s cd, that was placed in front of her. At that moment I was really happy I have that litho coming because it made me really want something signed too. Knowing she was right there, seeing her right there, just in front of me was so unbelievably special. If only they had pushed me into that tall guy. I would so love to have had a pic of myself with … Elizabeth.

Back on the stage she said she was going to sing another song from the new record, and with minimal accompaniment, sang Change. Live, she changes a line in that song from “when I don’t feel beautiful” to “’cause I don’t feel beautiful”. If she’s not beautiful, then, well…. Right then, someone shouted “Lana you’re beautiful”, then called out, “Elizabeth”. She turned, her face a bit surprised, the expression of a person answering to their own name.

The song that made me love her, Ride, was next. At the opening note, I said to my new-found friends that is my favorite. The guy from New York said he likes it; that girl with the information about Lana’s house said she loves the spoken part of the video. Everyone was quiet, or perhaps I had just gotten pushed far enough away from the girl who had scream-sang before. I’m really not sure. But the rest of the concert, all while literally crammed into these people around me, was, for me, a study of Elizabeth: Love, an a cappella shortened version, the entire crowd singing, me too (I could still hear Lana though); Body Electric, Summertime Sadness, Video Games, Off to the Races. Occasionally, Lana would have the audience sing a line of the chorus. I still noticed her looking over at us, at me, from time to time. I never said Elizabeth out loud, but there were about four or five more call-outs to her as Elizabeth. She would look my direction most of those times. So odd.

At the conclusion of the verse of the last song, she said goodbye to the audience and walked off stage. Knowing I had to walk to the neighborhood where I was parked, I started to walk through the crowd. It was a sea of people in the floor area, then a climb up a flight of stairs to the good seats. I stopped and snapped some pictures there just to get a feel for the stage, the concert if you will, the back drop that says “del Rey”, a different vantage point than my show where I could see nothing but Elizabeth.

(Photo taken from the row after the floor seats)

I noted a particular man, with a date, a girlfriend, a wife, whatever; he had long greying hair and a grey beard. They were the front row of those good seats. I wondered: are they my demographic? Did I belong there instead of in the place where I had been with barely enough room for my feet? I wondered if they had a romantic night under the stars, a man taking his lady to see Lana. I wondered if his date had gotten up to dance; I hear people can and do dance at concerts. Not where I stand, they don’t. We are lucky to have room for our shoulders; we have to wear comfortable, stable footwear. But looking at that sold-out sea of people, I felt like I had made all the right choices. You see? I feel like they saw Lana, a really wonderful thing to see. Me? I got outrageously lucky with this one.

I saw Elizabeth.