![]() One might even be capable of dancing to it, if spiked with suitable pharmaceuticals and threatened by the tip of Frank Booth's flick-knife. With more of a propulsive groove than elsewhere, 'Wishin' Well' achieves a blurred, spooky sexiness. A six minute lumber across a swampland planet spent gazing at the unreachable prettier stars, it has the fragility of one of Moby's better self-sung singles. Returning to the highlights, there is a dreamlike tenderness to 'The Line It Curves'. 'Last Call's verses exhibit an even less defensible crime of insipidity: "One foot had a red sock / The other had blue / It's Tuesday, baby / Where are you?" How on Arrakis did that make it out of Lynch's transcendental jotter? This is in stark contrast to the poetical nadir of the preceding number with its uninspired chorus of "Last call / Time gentlemen please". Its straightforward lyrics boast the kind of universally-appreciable sadness that Lynch's hero Orbison would be proud of: "Got a cold wind blowing / Through my heart / The game is over / You win / I lose", he sighs. 'Cold Wind Blows' recaptures that Twin Peaks mood of forlorn melancholia. There are, to be fair, some near-exquisite moments here. For the second track he even adds an exaggerated blues 'burr' to his pronunciation and winds up resembling a waxwork Seasick Steve melting inside a broken television. Lynch's voice, throughout, remains heavily distorted, yet seldom warped enough to completely conceal its innate trebly bleat. Lynch seems to be going for a half-speed Neil Young plays hazy blues on a dilapidated galactic cattle ranch. Clicking minimalist beats back moody, effects-laden trad-guitar patterns and abstract ambient washes. The Big Dream kicks off with its title track more or less setting the template for what follows. Hopefully that Wim Wenders/Lars von Trier LP of thrash-polka duets lies just around the corner. This being his second movie-less studio album following 2011's Crazy Clown Time, perhaps Lynch is competing with fellow cult director Jim Jarmusch who's also branched into music with his Jozef van Wissem collaborations and rock group SQURL. John Morris' delicate Elephant Man score. Rebekah Del Rio's show-stopping Spanish a-cappella rendition of 'Crying' - aka 'Llorando' - (Orbison again) in Mulholland Drive. Dean Stockwell's character in Blue Velvet pacifying and then enraging Dennis Hopper's petrifying Frank Booth by lip-synching to 'In Dreams' by Roy Orbison. There was the industrial storm that blustered menacingly across Eraserhead's dystopia of writhing, bleeding chicken dinners and swaddled spermatozoon alien babies, pausing only for the swollen-cheeked Lady In The Radiator to sing her soothing (but no less sinister) tribute to the joys of heaven. Sound has always been crucial to David Lynch's film work.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |