In the age of generational grandstanding, when “nepo babies” break a sweat to deny their indisputable advantages in their parents’ lines of work, it now seems quaint that 10 years ago, Lana Del Rey was controversial for her acute lack of background. Who was this mysterious all-American woman here to croon about blue-collar boys and the Hollywood Hills? How could she sing so knowingly about dive bar romances if she used a pen name? We could handle Lady Gaga, whose rebirth from Stefani Germanotta was cloaked in flank steaks and vaudevillian drama. But in choosing a stage name, the woman raised Lizzy Grant seemed to lose her ability to claim the person she was before her rechristening. Her songs, even in their specificity, were written off as record label retconning, a ghostwriter drafting the heartbreak and torment that would fit on the lips of a woman called Lana Del Rey. Lana Del Rey might not have a family, but Lizzy Grant does, and on her ninth album, Did You Know T