Ending the debate once and for all
By: Issa Longstreet
On August 30, 2019, pop star Lana Del Rey released a near-perfect body of work. It consisted of 14 songs and ran for an hour and 17 minutes. It birthed classics like “Venice B*tch,” “Cinnamon Girl” and my personal favorite: “Happiness Is A Butterfly.” This album has effortlessly transcended time and is potentially the greatest pop album of all time. Yes, I said it.
To preface, there are a lot of albums that could be contenders for greatest pop album. Some people would refer to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.” Valid contestant, but I have a bone to pick with people who believe that.
First of all, “Thriller” isn’t the lyrical masterpiece that “Norman Fucking Rockwell” is. Not in the slightest. I’ve never listened to “Thriller” and bawled my eyes out; I have to “Norman Fucking Rockwell.” I’ve never sent anyone lyrics from “Thriller.” Ever. Like, let’s be for real, have you ever thought about your crush and thought to yourself, I’m gonna send them a lyric from this album?
Now, it’d be ignorant to say that there are no love songs on “Thriller.” I’m well aware that “The Girl Is Mine” and “Baby, Be Mine” do exist. But they pale in comparison to “Love song.” They are quickly dismissed when someone turns on “Venice B*tch.” And, frankly, I’d be embarrassed for anyone who put any of those against “The Greatest.” Like, let’s grow up a little. You’re putting a man who made a fortune off saying “heehee” against a poetess who said “they write that I’m happy, you know that I’m not, but, at best, you can see I’m not sad.”
But I can’t hate on “Thriller” forever. I was once a child, too. But I was a tortured soul, so I always knew there was more out there. And when I heard “Norman Fucking Rockwell,” I knew I had found it. I knew I had stumbled across the greatest pop album of all time.
So you can imagine my horror, my shock, my disgust, the enormity of my grief when I saw an article ranking The Beatles “Revolver” as the greatest pop album of all time. Are we serious? The Beatles? I thought we had all unanimously agreed that if The Beatles were around today, not a single soul would like them. Right, so why are we throwing Paul, John, Ringo and whoever the other guy is into these debates? Who under the age of 70 is listening to The Beatles unironically? No one I know likes The Beatles. I asked my grandfather, who is over 60, and he remembers The Beatles quite vividly and has said on multiple occasions that he, in fact, did not like the Beatles.
Now, I do have to say, they had more lyrical prowess than Michael Jackson. But listenability? I have genuinely never been more bored in my life.
“Issa, give it a chance! It’s a classic! You don’t properly enjoy music! It was a different time!” That’s exactly my point. If we have to make excuses for the album, it’s not good. If we have to make a disclaimer every time it’s about to be played, then maybe it’s time to consider that maybe you don’t have good taste in music.
And that is a reality not everyone is ready to accept. It’s okay.
But “Norman Fucking Rockwell” is an album right now in 2025 I can turn on, and it will bring the damaged, heartbroken, delusional lover in me. It’s been six years; I’m still recovering.
I attempted to listen to “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” and it makes sense they were lonely. Even “With A Little Help From My Friends” it was boring.
So, in conclusion, “Norman Fucking Rockwell” is the greatest pop album. No contest. Lana clears Michael Jackson and is light-years ahead of The Beatles. Honestly, it’s disrespectful at this point that I even had to write this article, but it is what it is.
