ION INDIE MAGAZINE August 2015, Volume 15 - Page 88

Story and Photography by Scotty J • I'm not exactly sure when in the last year the incident occurred, but I happened to stray in to my wife's office as she was blasting her Pandora application on her iMac. What I heard seemingly hypnotized me almost immediately. Now I'm a Heavy Metal/Hard Rock kind of guy at my core, but this unique sound I heard being generated from the voice of LANA DEL REY really grabbed my attention. From that random moment when I heard Lana streaming on Pandora, I was hooked. A couple of months back, my wife scored some Lana Del Rey tickets much to my liking. After watching this dark “Rock Angel”, for months periodically on YouTube, I'm was finally going to see her in person. With all that said, little did I know that I was about to find out what “cult following” was all about. Oh, I've been to my share of concerts for some legendary artists with very loyal and passionate fans, but what I'm talking about with Lana Del Rey is something different. Prior to going to the concert, I had heard stories…the sea of iPhones and Androids. The incessant sing-alongs. And not to be forgotten, all the young impressionable ladies playing “dress up” to look like their idol from the music videos, of which Lana has made many. So the night has finally arrived. I'm at the Lana Del Rey concert at THE BORGATA HOTEL & CASINO, drinking a beer that tastes like dog piss. Not that I would know what dog piss tasted like, but it was bad. I suppose that's what I get for sending the wife on a beer run. Within no time, I find myself standing in a crowd of youthful flower headband-wearing cult worshippers making me feel like a total chaperone. We've got General Admission standing-room-only tickets, since Lana (aka Elizabeth) and her management completely blew me off for the interview I had originally been seeking for both my ROCK TITAN production company and this ION Indie Magazine publication coverage. Growing weary of the shoulder to shoulder experience, while waiting for Del Rey to grace the stage, the wife decides to pop a squat on the floor. With the heat increasing and my patience waning as we wait for the show to start, I go to get a drink. No sooner do I get to the bar area when this all-in-black clad, vertically-challenged, pretty boy says, “If you want a drink you have to go outside.” I say, “Well, when does this bar open?” He says, “It's only for VIPs.” So here I am…still waiting for my “hall pass” to perform. Don't know what “hall pass” means? Look it up. Security as a whole has been pretty damn rude regardless of age, race or gender. I'm thinking maybe it's just a Jersey thing? It definitely would have been better to have seats verses standing room, because I felt like sardine and was already sweating. It's hot in the event center. The show was supposed to start 20 minutes ago. Agitation is setting in. There's so much talk and chatter, it's like listening to “white noise”. It's somewhat amusing how many people standing around me had been