When the struggling singer-songwriter once known as Lizzy Grant reinvented herself as Lana Del Rey for her epochal 2011 single “Video Games,” the wistful orchestral ballad introduced an artist who delighted in breaking hearts and the internet alike. It also carved out a space for languid, arty pop in the Top 40, with the swooning “Summertime Sadness” going multiplatinum in multiple countries the following year. The tragic tinges and glossy Hollywood iconography of her songwriting and videos alike made Del Rey a natural fit for soundtracks, from the ghostly “Young and Beautiful” for The Great Gatsby to the lullaby-esque “Watercolor Eyes” for Euphoria. Since then, Lana has kept listeners guessing. Informed equally by classic-rock mythology and modern hip-hop attitude, she proved that she can name-drop Lou Reed in a dream-pop serenade (2014’s “Brooklyn Baby”) as effortlessly as she communes with R&B futurist The Weeknd (2017’s “Lust for Life”). And on her 2019 masterwork Norman F*****g Rockwell!—included on Apple Music’s 100 Best Albums list—she scaled the heights of Elton John’s early-’70s classics (see the casually damning title track) while she still making room for a cover of Sublime’s stoner-funk anthem “Doin’ Time.” In the 2020s, she has remained effortlessly provocative, with the self-referential yearning of 2021’s “Chemtrails Over the Country Club” and the unfiltered intimacy of 2023’s “Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Blvd.” As she continues to build the mythology of Lana Del Rey, she seems to be gradually blurring the line between her art and herself.