‘Twas the night before Pride in London, and all was not quiet. Thousands of flower-crowned, boho chic, Tumblr-core fans descended on the 90,000-capacity Wembley Stadium to behold the wonder of the Sparkle Jump Rope Queen herself, Lana Del Rey.
The anticipation was palpable. With a career that has spanned more than a decade, Lana has cultivated her own aesthetic and sonic identity – equal parts faded Americana, tragic romance and Southern Gothic surrealism. The final stop on her UK and Ireland stadium tour on 4 July fittingly seemed like a celebration of all that and more.
For me, this show felt incredibly full-circle. I missed out on Lana’s gig at the 3,500-capacity O2 Apollo Manchester back in 2013, and to now witness her command a stadium over 10 years later was moving in more ways than one. As a depressed teen, the singer-songwriter’s melancholic melodies spoke to me deeply, and as a depressed adult, they still do.
Of course, the performance started fashionably later than billed, but as the saying goes, a queen is never late… everyone else is simply early. And besides, from the moment Lana Del Rey stepped on stage, it was clear: the wait was worth it.
In an age of three-hour-long, 45-song, larger-than-life stadium shows, Lana’s more languid, poetic approach felt somewhat refreshing. Clocking in at just 90 minutes with a concise 17-song setlist, this was the calmest stadium concert I had ever attended – and yet, it was no less magnetic. Most tracks were performed in full, with many given space to breathe and unfold with added instrumental flourishes and cinematic extensions. The crowd hung on her every haunting word.
The stage was set as an old wood-panelled house, complete with a front porch, swing and willow trees. The front door became Lana’s entry and exit point from the stage, with the upper floor window playing host her hologram for a pre-recorded performance of ‘Norman f**king Rockwell’ and ‘Arcadia’. The homey Southern tableau gave the stadium a strangely intimate feel, as if we were peering into a dreamlike diorama.
Lana’s vocals were sublime – smoky, otherworldly and reminiscent of a different time and place. If that wasn’t enough, her backing vocalists were given their own time to shine, especially during a spellbinding outro of ‘Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd’, which became easily one of the most mesmerising moments of the evening.
Speaking of the setlist, the 11-time Grammy nominee performed songs from across her decade-long career, a treasure trove for longtime fans and newcomers alike. Lana offered up highlights from her expansive discography, from early-career anthems like ‘Born to Die’, ‘Video Games’, and ‘Young and Beautiful’ to newer tracks from her recent projects, such as ‘Chemtrails over the Country Club’ and ‘57.5’.
She also surprised the audience with a selection of country covers, deep cuts and unreleased tracks, further underscoring the Americana tilt of the evening. Even if you didn’t know every song, Lana’s intriguingly demure stage presence kept your attention. Her movements were minimal but intentional, each glance piercing through the crowd.
The show’s production itself felt hugely different from the stadium spectacles we’ve come to expect from the likes of Taylor Swift. However, with a sold-out venue and a floor packed like sardines, it was clear that Lana doesn’t need a dozen costume changes, choreography or fireworks to captivate a stadium (just a vape break or two).
One of the liveliest moments came when Lana was joined onstage by her opener Addison Rae, who she introduced with great excitement, for a rendition of the already LDR-coded ‘Diet Pepsi’, which the crowd went wild for, injecting a burst of fun, pop-infused energy into the show.
The concert came to a close with a communal singalong of John Denver’s ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’. The choice, while surprising on paper, made perfect sense in context. It was a tender, nostalgic ending that felt simultaneously warm and wistful, leaving the audience swaying in a shared moment of joy.
Whilst Lana Del Rey may be a quieter, more understated performer, this show reminded us that grandeur doesn’t always come from loudness or extravaganza – sometimes, it comes from stillness, storytelling and the sheer power of presence.
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