Lana Del Rey, Wembley Stadium, London review • DIY Magazine

Last year’s announcement of Lana Del Rey’s return to the UK and Ireland struck like lightning in a bottle. Although she’d made recent festival appearances, this small run of summer shows marks the singer’s first full-scale tour east of the Atlantic since 2017 — and her first stadium tour here, ever. Expectations were sky-high, though early shows were met with criticism: fans voiced disappointment over tardiness, pre-recorded vocals, and a truncated setlist. But as Lana takes to the stage for her first sold-out night at Wembley Stadium, redemption is on the cards.

While the announcement of support acts didn’t arrive until late June, the reveal of TikTok It-girl turned pop newcomer Addison Rae was a pleasant surprise. It’s an astronomical slot for someone who only released a debut album last month, but tonight, she makes clear she’s not here to coast. With a troupe of dancers in tow bringing captivating choreography, Addison shows genuine star power at her stadium debut, treating the crowd to ‘Money Is Everything’, ‘Summer Forever’, and apparent crowd-pleasers ‘Aquamarine’, ‘Fame Is A Gun’, and ‘Diet Pepsi’.

While the wait for Lana feels uncertain, the elaborate stage setup hints at why. A full Craftsman-style house sits beneath a weeping willow, encased by white picket fences; it’s an Americana dreamscape pulled from a moody small-town fairytale. Her band and a string ensemble gradually take their places, joined by three white-clad backup singers, standing like spectral sentinels, and a host of dancers poised to move as graciously as angels. A warm window glow under a projected night sky holds the audience in suspense until Lana finally emerges in a bow-backed Valentino gown, opening with ‘Stars Fell On Alabama’. In this wonderland filled with red roses and glimmering candelabras, the ever-glamourous star is fully in her element.

And, as has been noted, instead of launching into a greatest hits selection, Lana instead opts for her own favourites: the more obscure ‘Henry, Come On’, opens the set, followed by a cover of Tammy Wynette’s classic ‘Stand By Your Man’. Clearly, this isn’t a set curated for fan service. But then comes the pay-off: a chronological trip through her back catalogue, including ‘Ultraviolence’, ‘Ride’ (a highlight thanks to its tender strings, monologue, and crowd scream of “I’m tired of feeling like I’m fucking crazy!”), and breakthrough hit ‘Video Games’. The stadium lights up for her older material, more than proof enough that Lana’s songs have stood the test of time.

Midway through, she disappears into the house, reappearing not in person but via projection, through a glowing upstairs window for ‘Norman Fucking Rockwell’ and ‘Arcadia’. The controversial choice is a touch uncanny but not wholly disengaging, and the spirit of the show still holds firm.

Her dancers moves like porcelain dolls come to life, while the backup singers are also offered space to shine - most notably during ‘Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd’, where their solo harmonies and final convergence take centre-stage.

With her homespun persona - equal parts Southern beauty queen, porchlight muse, and Old Hollywood bombshell - Lana delivers one of tonight's most compelling moments quite unexpectedly, when her hologram self returns to recite Alan Ginsberg’s ‘Howl’, the anti-establishment beatnik poem providing a marked contrast from the romanticised Americana on stage. Projected flames then engulf the pristine house in a symbolic blaze, torching the fantasy she's spent the set cultivating, and in its place comes a rebirth. Human Lana re-emerges in a white and yellow gown, flanked by dancers in fiery red, to give ‘Young and Beautiful’ an ethereal glow, adding rock-inspired scorn to ‘Summertime Sadness’ and a stated drama to ‘Born to Die’.

And the night isn't over for Addison Rae, either. Lana welcomes her support back onstage, hand-in-hand, joking that she loves ‘Diet Pepsi’ so much she wants to hear it twice - this time while singing along. As they flow into ‘57.5’, it feels, in some ways, like a passing of a torch. But this show breathes new life yet into Lana's older material, makes space for newer songs to bloom, and casts a questioning eye over the mythology she’s spent years crafting. By the time she closes with another cover - this time John Denver's ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’ - it would seem that for Lana, tonight is a personal milestone defined less by perfection and more by intention.