Lana del Rey closes the BST season in Hyde Park [Dave Hogan / Hogan Media]

“THIS is the bit where we were cut off last time,” snapped Lana del Rey as she headed into her final songs on Sunday night, a reference to her power-off moment at Glastonbury which ensured she came away from Worthy Farm with more headlines than Guns N Roses on the other stage.

Almost – let me be cynical – as if such a thing was planned.

Extra readers will be well versed in the rules in Hyde Park though, that things must shut down at 10.30pm sharp or risk a licensing battle with Westminster City Council.

And so, despite an aura that we were collectively padding through a sunset trance and smoking a magical woodbine without actually smoking one, this time it all ran like clockwork.

Really this is quite an accomplished caper, to create the mystique that anything might happen in a show which is so polished and carefully choreographed right down to the on stage hair-styling and trademark vaping.

She may seem carefree and unpredictable, but Del Rey knew exactly what would happen, right down to her parade through the front row which saw the fandom break down in tears in the presence of their queen. At times, it is almost cultish.

There were bigger names on the bill over the past few weeks but she was perhaps the most intriguing of the British Summer Time guests in the park this summer.

Billy Joel a couple of nights before admitted he had nothing new to sing but he felt sure, rightly as it happens, that the crowd only wanted to hear the hits. Springsteen played a long slog but his performance could have been a repeat of any of his shows from the past 20 years.

The wider world, even after nine albums, seems a little less sure of what Lana Del Rey is doing, or even who she really is.

Certainly, you have to work hard to learn all the lyrics, but that’s part of the triumph for the Lana clique on the Hyde Park grass who knew every one of them. The reward for a thousand women of indeterminate ages in white dresses, floral crowns and cowboy boots was a trace back through the breakthrough moments.

The evergreen album Born To Die was raided and she peppered this 90 minutes with all the poppier favourites. Her smoky, spoilt princess routine may tire some, but it’s true there aren’t many acts who sound like her in this mood and you can see how new waves of teenage fans are seduced, and see her as an auteur for something, whatever that may be.

It’s quite a scene, as they, as one, sing back the lyric “f*ck me to death” during one of her new works.

Of course, it all ended with Video Games, the song even the passing trade know her for, but she had already cast a winning spell by then with her collection of doleful but soulful lullabies.

The besotted were itching for Lana to be Lana and to break the rules by singing on, but the occasion required no further rebellion and the curfews were now dutifully observed.