The dark, surrealistic artistic vision of David Lynch, whose death was announced on January 16, was shown through films like Eraserhead (1977), Mulholland Drive (2001) and Blue Velvet (1986), and his TV show Twin Peaks (1990-2017).
Lynch’s work is unique and influential enough to have spawned the adjective “Lynchian”, which, like the man himself, is at once both easy to recognise and hard to define. It involved a unique storytelling approach, surrealistic visuals, atmospheric techniques and complex characters.
Lynch also understood that sound was as important – and at times more so – as the images on screen. A key aspect of the worlds he created was the music that inhabited them.
Whether it’s Audrey Horne dancing to a jukebox in the Twin Peaks RR diner, the “lady in the radiator” singing a twisted lullaby to Henry in Eraserhead, or the bamboozling all-singing, all-dancing finale to his 2006 film Inland Empire (featuring a monkey, of course), the soundtracks to Lynch’s works are as iconic as his trademark silver quiff.
In Lynch’s head, music, imagery and narrative were inextricably intertwined. Although most of the praise surrounding the Twin Peaks soundtrack understandably goes to composer Angelo Badalamenti, the way it ideally matches the images and actions it underscores is very much Lynch’s doing.
Take Laura Palmer’s Theme, from Twin Peaks, for example. In the documentary Secrets from Another Place: Creating Twin Peaks (2007), Badalamenti explained how Lynch sat next to him on the piano stool as he composed. Lynch described the scenes and moods and encouraged Badalamenti to realise what he was visualising.
Badalamenti explains how he and Lynch wrote Laura Palmer’s Theme.
Similarly, when Lynch wanted Badalamenti to write music for the Blue Velvet soundtrack song Mysteries of Love, he handed him some lyrics and asked for something in the same dream-like vein as the film. “Make it like the wind, Angelo,” was his typically Lynchian brief. “It should be a song that floats on the sea of time.”
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David Lynch: the filmmaker with singular vision who believed that ‘no one really dies’
Lynch’s albums
As well as his soundtracks, Lynch’s love of music extended to the release of three studio albums, BlueBOB in 2001, Crazy Clown Time in 2011, and The Big Dream in 2013. Although technically separate from his film and TV work, these albums still saw Lynch channelling and mining these worlds.
Pinky’s Dream, the opening track of Crazy Clown Time, features tribal drums and typically Lynchian reverb-soaked guitar. It’s unmistakably similar to the opening credits of 1997 film Lost Highway.
Cold Wind Blowing meanwhile, from The Big Dream, sounds like it’s been plucked straight out of Twin Peaks’ Red Room, with its bluesy guitar and 50s-inspired chord sequence. And just as Lynch’s films explored feelings of detachment and artificial realities, so did his music.
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Similarly to John Lennon, who only felt comfortable when manipulating and treating his vocal tracks, Lynch, who by his own admission “wasn’t a confident singer”, bathed his voice in otherworldy effects. This added to the already eerie atmospheres he’d created.
The 2011 track Football Game, for example, sounds like Lynch is singing with fabric in his mouth (blue velvet, anyone?). Star Dream Girl, from 2013, has an unmistakable Wild At Heart (1990) road-trip feel to it. And the cracked falsetto of Crazy Clown Time delivers a track that you might only find on the iPod of Bob from Twin Peaks.
The coming weeks will likely see a surge in Lynch’s films being played on TV and streaming channels. Spending some time with his weird and wonderful creations will be the perfect way to honour a great artist. Just make sure you also pay close attention to the soundtracks. And treat yourself to a plunge into his studio music too.
