Thought Gang: Messages From the Black Lodge

A discussion on the collaborative album from Angelo Badalamenti and David Lynch, with an eye on its relevance to the Twin Peaks canon.

The previous post on Fire Walk With Me Dr Spin swag

Remembering Angelo - Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me

A memorial post for Angelo Badalamenti through the lens of the Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me soundtrack.

Relevant links: Text post on Twin Peaks music

A text post explaining the Chanteuse archetype

And, of course, that playlist.

2022 Album Appetizers Part 4 of 12

Another platter of new music served up to you, featuring music by

Jon Anderson - 1000 Hands (2019)
Alice TM - Little Body in Orbit (2021)
Emma-Jean Thackray - Yellow (2021)
Shadoko - Le Domaine de Seedmills (OST) (2020)

And the ever-expanding 2022 Radio playlist

2021 Album Preview Series: October Showcase

Preview of new music in rotation for October, including releases by:

Arlo Parks – Collapsed in Sunbeams (2021)
Gaspard Auge – Escapades (2021)
Hans Zimmer – Dune OST (2021)
Weezer – OK Human (2021)
The Armed – Ultrapop (2021)
TEKE::TEKE – Shirushi (2021)

Relevant Links:

Full Arlo Parks performance
Full TEKE::TEKE performance
Full Weezer performance
Text post on Jodorowsky’s Dune OST

Going Inside with Bo Burnham

 Review and discussion on Bo Burnham's 2021 release Inside (The Songs).

Relevant links:

Full clip from I Don't Wanna Know by Indivoidual Elimination round against Frank Zappa

Göransson's "Black Panther:" Hegemony and Representation

Review and discussion on Ludwig Göransson’s 2018 score to Marvel’s Black Panther movie.

Relevant Links:

The Making of the Black Panther Soundtrack with Ludwig Goransson

Song Exploder Podcast ep. 131

Album Overview Spring 2020: Quarantunes - The Sequel! (Part 2)

Overview of recent listening, including:

Fountains of Wayne – Welcome Interstate Managers (2003)

The Sorcerers – In Search of the Lost City of the Monkey God (2020)

Gaijin Blues – Gaijin Blues II (2019)

Brendan Benson – Dear Life (2020)

Stephan Thelan – Fractal Guitar (2019)

Other Lives – For Their Love (2020)

Relevant Links:

Previous post on Fountains of Wayne

An older pair of text posts (1,2) on Brendan Benson

An older text post on Other Lives Tamer Animals

The ever-growing 2020 playlist:

2020 Album Preview Series Part 4: To Vet During the Threat

Previews of upcoming 2020 listening, including: Field Music – Making a New World (2020) DIIV – Deceiver (2019) Craig Armstrong- The Incredible Hulk Original Score (2008) Deerhoof – The Runner’s Four (2005) The Aristocrats – You Know What…? (2019) Shana Cleveland – Night of the Worm Moon (2019)


Relevant Links
Previous review of Field Music’s Plumb Previous review of My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless
Introduction to the Superhero Theme Project
Recalling a cold night with Deerhoof The 2020 Playlist grows:

2020 Album Preview Series Part 2: To Reshape the Cliche

Album previews for Spring 2020, including:

The Rentals – Return of the Rentals (1995)

Frank Zappa – You Can’t Do That On Stage Anymore Vol. 3 (1989)

John Williams – The Rise of Skywalker OST (2019)

Iron Maiden – Somewhere in Time (1986)

Saariselka – The Ground Our Sky (2019)

Stevie Ray Vaughn and Double Trouble – In Step (1989)

Related Links:

Overview of Weezer albums

Recent thoughts on Weezer’s Pinkerton AND Star Wars

Posts on Zappa’s You Can’t Do That On Stage Anymore Vol. 1 and Vol. 2

The ever-growing 2020 playlist

C418's "Excursions": Playing a Different Game

Review and discussion of Excursions by C418 (2018).

Dr. Spin's 2019 Preview - Episode 5

Previewed in this episode:

Kapil Seshasayee– The Sacred Bore (2018)

Phoenix – Ti Amo (2017)

Alan Silvestri – Avengers: Infinity War OST (2018)

Talk Talk – Laughing Stock (1991)

Evership – Evership (2016)

Images for Ascension Day clip by Paul Dinning and Thu Trang Pham Tran

Spring Roundup Part 4: Good Car

People's taste in music is often shaped by the distinctive ways in which it is consumed and used.  Take my father, for instance. For most of my adult life, my father has had an explicit preference for instrumental music that he listens to in the car.  As I have stated elsewhere, the automobile as a listening site has its advantages and limitations. One such limitation arises due to the significant amount of background noise that we take for granted while driving, making it more difficult to appreciate music’s quieter aspects.

The problematically labelled “new age” music that my father likes capitalizes on dynamic contrasts, and he would often get annoyed at having to turn his volume up and down to follow the details of softer passages. When he found an album that stayed within a dynamic range that he would not have to adjust, it would receive a label designating it as “GOOD CAR.”

Although I used to tease my dad relentlessly about choosing music based on the narrowness of its dynamic range, there is merit to the designation. Only in recent years have I realized how much I limited myself by making the car my primary listening site. Even now, the majority of my music begins in the car and gets distributed into different settings as the need arises.  Still, there are some kinds of music whose darkness, angularity, dissonance, or general intended volume are best suited for the private setting of my car. These albums are my version of Good Car.


John Williams - The Last Jedi OST: while this may not be John Williams most memorable Star Wars score, just might be his most masterful. The way that he interweaves themes from throughout the franchise is incredible in this soundtrack, and is best appreciated at max volume.

LITE - Cubic: A few years ago, I would have cited LITE as one of my favorite bands. They have steadily moved away from the aggressive intensity of their earlier work, however, towards a more jazzy fusion approach that lacks the same emotional impact.

Mouse on the Keys - The Flowers of Romance: When I first discovered Mouse on the Keys, they were strictly a piano duo with a drummer. They have significantly expanded their sonic palette since then, but in the process may have lost some of the essence of what made them interesting.

Alcest - Kodama: it's hard to resist an album that cites Deafheaven, Tool, and Princess Mononoke as equal influences. Kodama balances light and dark, beauty and ugliness, hope and despair in ways that convincingly reflect these somewhat diverse inspirations.

The Who - Who Are You?: I'm a big fan of The Who, and I've slowly been putting their albums in my collection for the past 30 years. Despite a couple of really compelling high points, this is the first one I really thought was a big jumbled up mess on the whole.

Andrew W.K. - You Are Not Alone: I got this on the suggestion of several friends, and quickly found that there was more to Andrew W.K. than a comically optimistic attitude and theatrical riff-rock. Once I let go of my cynicism and embraced the idea the he might be genuine, I came to really appreciate his mission statement.

Wei Zhongle - The Operators: A songwriter and an eccentric clarinet player walk into a Chinese opera and start covering the Talking Heads. This isn’t beginning of a joke - its Wei Zhongle

Piniol - Bran Coucou: Piniol is, apparently, a mashup of two separate mathty French noise bands, Piol and Ni. In this incarnation, with two bass players and two drummers, they blast through Bran Coucou with the precision of Battles and the Zorn-esque zaniness of Mr. Bungle.

John Powell - Solo: A Star Wars Story OST: To me, the most important aspect of continuity in the Star Wars universe is John Williams' scores, and there has been no small amount of anxiety to find someone to pass the baton to before he retires. John Powell’s approach is noticeably more polyrhythmic and driving than Williams, but his melodic sense is completely compatible with the franchise’s already established musical canon.

Kite Base - Latent Whispers: This album came too late to make the Dinner Music post, but its Bjork-meets-Nine Inch Nails-meets-The XX would probably fit in that category as well. It is just a bit dark in tone (not content), but it abounds with memorable tunes and smart arrangements.

Spring Roundup Part 2: Evening Music

I have a longstanding interest in music that is "soothing but not boring," but this area of my listening is often eclipsed by more energetic styles. This is probably because the primary site of listening has traditionally been my car, and active music more readily overlays the experience of driving. The increased access provided by the Plex app, however, has opened up new spaces in my everyday routine.

For example, Seabuckthorn’s Turns is a masterful, atmospheric yet emotionally moving album that worked in the car well enough, but its status as the 2017 Album of the Year is a result of its pervasive presence in the evenings after the kids went to sleep. Towards the end of last year, I became increasingly interested in finding more music that could fill this space, giving rise to the second category that has arisen in the past few months - Evening Music.

There are many albums that I put in this category, and virtually all of them are engaging, but very few of them actually ended up working as well as I had hoped. With only a couple of exceptions, most of them balanced ambient aspects with at least a few moments of explosive noise. I find this musically interesting, but from a functional standpoint, Evening Music can’t wake up the kids or cause study room doors to slam in irritated disgust.



Pejman Hadadi - Epiphany: It's hard to believe that I never wrote about this, but last semester we had a housemate from Iran (via Belgium) who was auditing the PhD program that my wife is in. She gave me this CD as a Christmas/parting gift, and it has served very well as my “non-Western” listening at the beginning of this year.

Tangerine Dream - Zeit: I walked into Zeit hoping to investigate retro-synth source material, only to find that Zeit is hardly the place to start this kind of research. As it turns out, however, it is a surprisingly captivating proto-ambient album that shares more common ground with Pink Floyd’s Ummagumma than Jean-Michel Jarre’s Oxygene.

Kyle Dixon & Micheal Stein - Stranger Things 2 OST: Like its predecessor, Stranger Things 2 shows its intent in its structure. It is a collection of cues, rather than freestanding compositions, which opens up different creative freedoms for Dixon and Stein.

The Radiophonic Workshop - Burials on Several Earths: This is more in line with what I thought Zeit would be like, but it is also far more ambient than I had anticipated. In terms of authenticity, however, you really can't go wrong with three or four guys who worked in the BBC radiophonic Workshop during its heyday in the 70s.

Hans Zimmer & Benjamin Wallfisch - Blade Runner 2049 OST: This soundtrack doesn’t speak quite as clearly as a lot of Hans Zimmer’s work, but it matches the movie so well that it is hard not to appreciate. It falls prey to the unfortunate trend of closing with a painfully formulaic pop song.

Burial - Untrue: This album has received some attention recently due to its rhizomatic influence on several current electronic styles. Although it’s dark atmosphere has found a pretty regular spot in my evening music listening, its complexity and subtle energy allows it to spill beyond this setting with ease.

Park Jiha - Communion: I love Communion’s emotional cross-pollination of jazz, classical, and traditional Korean music. When it moves into more strident territory, however, other people in the house unfortunately start to plug their ears.

Air - Moon Safari: Moon Safari came up on a Pitchfork “best of the 90’s” playlist a week before I found it in a used bin, I have had Air on my playlist for years, mainly due to Jason Falkner’s involvement, and,despite knowing that Falkner was not involved, I got it on a whim.

Matt Chamberlain, Viktor Krauss, and Dan Phelps - Modular: This one is my favorite of the bunch by far. Its got an amazingly well-thought out concept that binds it together, fantastic playing, and enough mystery as to its overall construction that I simply can’t stop listening to it.

Dr. Spin's Best of 2017: Part 1

Its almost mid-December, which means its time to start revealing my Top 20 albums for 2017. As usual, I will present this in two parts, with entries 11-20 posted below and the Top 10 going up in a couple of weeks. I follow this format mostly to generate some vague feeling of anticipation to those who follow the blog, but it also allows me to spend just a little extra time with the Top 10 for some last minute tweaking if necessary.

Truth is, though, the harder of these two posts to write is undoubtedly this one, because it represents the cut-off - what albums “made it” and what albums “didn’t.” Last year, I kind of cheated by expanding the list to 30, but even so, there were several great albums that I didn’t include. I have been more diligent in my “roundup” practices this year, though, and in the process have created a relatively accurate record of what has gone through the player.

As a result, I have gone back to 20, and in the process have sadly left off many great albums by longstanding favorites and newer artists that might need the exposure. If these albums prove their mettle in the long run, however, they may receive a dedicated post at some later date.

The same criterion apply as in previous years. An album doesn’t have to have a 2017 release date to qualify, but it has to have connected with my 2017 experiences in one way or another. An album cannot be repeated from a previous year or be strongly associated with experiences previous to 2017, and there can be only one entry per artist.

20. Twin Peaks -The Return OST: This entry represents a whole lot of Twin Peaks music I listened to this year. Although I strongly reconnected with the Fire Walk With Me OST before the new series began, it has past associations preclude its status as a clear representation of 2017.

19. Steven Wilson - To the Bone: I have a few reservations about this release. It’s many good moments, however, represent some of the best music I have had the pleasure of checking out this year.

18. Fleet Foxes - Crack-Up: Where Wilson’s above-noted album represents more accessible aspects of his style, Crack-Up veers towards a more contemplative and open-ended approach. If you perceive the Fleet Foxes to be “The Beach Boys of Winter,” this might be considered their SMiLE.

17. Roger Waters - Is This the Life We Really Want?: To pose a third contrast, Water’s newest release is no more experimental or accessible than his previous work, but instead digs further into his already well-established style. Times have come back around to meet him, however, and his acerbic social commentary seems more relevant now than it was during the last conservative political cycle.

16. Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith - The Kid: Smith is one of the more original artists that I have had the pleasure of discovering in the past couple of years. It is encouraging to hear the arc of her artistic development on The Kid.

15. Geinoh Yamashirogumi - Akira Symphonic Suite: This is an incredibly innovative recording for the time that it was released. When Paul Simon was barely scratching the surface of intercultural syncretism in his music, this collective had already reconciled the tuning discrepancies between Western keyboards and gamelan, cultivating a compelling pan-Pacific style that is crucial to the eerie feel of Akira.

14. Johann Johannsen - Orphee: Johann Johannsen’s soundtrack for Arrival was my most-played album of the year, but his free-standing 2016 album Orphee is a superior work by a small margin. Its subtle narrative provides an autonomy that Arrival, as great as it is, does not require in as great a measure.

13. Dungen - Allas Sak: Allas Sak has reinvigorated my respect for Dungen. There may be a journey into their back catalog in store sometime in the near future.

12. Weezer - Everything Will Be Alright In The End: I would confidently argue that Everything Will Be Alright In The End is the best album from the band in many years, beating out even last year’s Weezer [white]. It reinvents what was so compelling about the band in the first place by focusing on adult insecurity rather than faux teen angst.  

11. Gaye Su Akyol - Hologram Imparatorlegu: Gaye Su Akyol is an amazingly quirky and daring Turkish art-rocker that I was fortunate to stumble upon this year. I still insist that the world would be a better place if someone could get her contact information in front of David Lynch.

Twin Peaks Then and Now: Autonomy and Association

My stint as a record store employee in the late 80s and early 90s had a big impact on widening my taste in popular styles, but in retrospect, my preferences for soundtracks and instrumental music was still relatively narrow. Shortly after my good friend Snoopy and I invented binge-watching on a now well-worn Twin Peaks VHS box set, however, I purchased the Twin Peaks soundtrack. 

It might have seemed a bit incongruous with the rest of my collection back then, but Angelo Badalamenti’s unique mix of environmental synthesizers, emotive piano, dreamy pop, and dark four-dimensional jazz caused this soundtrack to emerge as a personal favorite that endures as a classic to this day. I used to put it on headphones and go on walkabouts, pretending like I could see into the inner worlds of people passing by and perceive the whispers that exist outside of everyday existence.



It was this album that allowed me to see the fascinating paradox that lies at the root of any good soundtrack. The various tracks on the Twin Peaks OST are able to stand on their own merit as self-encapsulated compositions, but are also inextricably bound to the show’s uniquely surreal narrative. While various tracks serve a multiplicity of purposes throughout the show’s run, no singular track sums up Twin Peaks more effectively than Laura Palmer’s Theme.  Its seamless travels through cycles of melodramatic ecstasy and sinister darkness unerringly reflects both the character Laura Palmer and the show as a whole.



The Twin Peaks soundtrack broke me out of a flattened and somewhat limiting rock sensibility that laid at the very foundation of my musical identity. It's effectiveness in bringing the playfully surreal tone of the show back to life for the listener is, in its own way, as masterful as anything produced by King Crimson’s technique or Jellyfish’s songwriting.  It ended up playing a very important role in my musical history, so it is understandable that when the new series was announced and Badalamenti was confirmed as its composer, I was very eager to get its soundtrack in rotation as soon as possible.

The burning question on my mind, of course, was whether or not the new series soundtrack would strike the balance between autonomy and association as effectively as the original. Although it similarly connects with the narrative of the new series, it doesn’t stand on its own as effectively as its predecessor, which is, again paradoxically, due to a change in the show’s narrative approach. David Lynch’s increased creative control in this new run has resulted in a darker, more ethereal, and often impenetrable version of Twin Peaks. Badalamenti’s new cues reflect this with less melodic, more ambient compositions.



There are other distinguishing factors that, I think, also have something to do with Lynch’s greater creative control. With the exception of the original Twin Peaks OST, most of Lynch’s soundtracks are usually a mix of composed musical cues and curated tracks, and the soundtrack for Twin Peaks: The Return is aligned with this tradition. Badalamenti’s cues are prominent, but I admit that I am a bit disappointed that the soundtrack is not entirely his music. The curated tracks pulled in from other sources, however, play significant roles throughout the series and would be noticeable in their absence.   As an example, Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima, which is presented in its entirety on the soundtrack, and used to devastating effect in the show.



Clearly, patience is the name of the game with the new series, and subsequently there are portions of the soundtrack that require a similar mindset. While the “coffee and cherry pie” crowd might have been largely chased off by this new approach, I found it compelling, if not always entertaining.  Entertainment, however, at least in the superficial sense, is perhaps not the immediate point of Twin Peaks: The Return.  The real value of David Lynch’s idiosyncratic style, and what makes this run so appealing, is that it demands that the viewer participate in creating meaning. Valued on this criterion, Twin Peaks: the Return was an unmitigated success, and its soundtrack is similarly successful in capturing its open-ended mystery.

The Auspicious Toss: 2017's Final Roundup

Since O came into the world, I have not posted very often on individual albums, but I have remained diligent in keeping track of what albums I have been listening to and with what frequency.  As a result, 2017’s roundups serve as a pretty complete document of my listening this year.  There is a small gap, however, that began in September and ends now, in mid-November, that I still need to document.  These final albums are the last contenders for my 2017 favorites.  

Grizzly Bear - Painted Ruins:  From a songwriting standpoint, Painted Ruins is perhaps a bit less memorable than Grizzly Bear’s previous albums.  In the end, however, its sonic characteristics push their sound to its most theatrical and refined iteration, making for a consistently engaging listening experience.

Steven Wilson - To the Bone:  Wilson’s most recent effort is an intentional break from the progressive masterworks that have defined his solo work.  It is, instead, a somewhat inconsistent but successful move towards a more concise and accessible sound.

Twin Peaks: The Return OST:  The soundtrack to the recent Twin Peaks series is as effective in representing the show as its predecessor.  That doesn’t mean, however, that it is necessarily an easy or accessible listen as much as it is an intriguing one.

Twin Peaks: Songs from The Return:  I am usually ambivalent about curated soundtracks, but my quest for answers to the myriad questions posed by the new Twin Peaks piqued my interest.  Of course, it doesn't provide any obvious answers, but it does reveal the subtle influence that Lynch’s work has exerted on popular music.

Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith - The Kid:  Smith’s last album immediately grabbed my attention and blew my mind, and I was concerned about her capacity to follow it up.  With its linear narrative and streamlined song structures, The Kid is a worthy successor.

Geinoh Yamashirogumi - Akira Symphonic Suite:  My current interest in soundtracks landed the rerelease of the Akira OST in rotation on an impulse.  Although I have seen the movie several times, I did not remember it being so “world-fusion” in execution, and I certainly did not realize that it was written and conceived by such a fascinating collective of musicians.

Lunatic Soul - Fractured: Lunatic Soul has been on my wishlist since the KScope Sampler a couple of years ago.  Positive reviews on this most recent release forced my hand, and it has not disappointed.

King Crimson - Starless and Bible Black:  I was fortunate enough to see King Crimson on their most recent tour, and in the process of preparing myself I spent a little time reviewing their back catalog.  This is a gem from the John Wetton era that I have often overlooked but that has taken on new life in the wake of the concert.

Mark Mothersbaugh - Thor: Ragnarok OST: Mothersbaugh’s (of Devo fame) name caught my attention, but a cursory listen really got me excited.  Thor: Ragnarok is a compelling blend of orchestral grandeur and retro-synth mayhem that really hit me where I live.

Johann Johannsen: Arrival, Orphee, and the Icelandic Essence

Being a fan of heady, philosophical sci-fi, I assumed that sooner or later I would eventually see Arrival.  The love affair that I had last year with the Interstellar soundtrack had also left a void, so it seemed fitting that I should check out Arrival’s score.  In my opinion, the best soundtracks can stand on their own compositional merit without being attached to the action of a movie.  This paradigm was cultivated in, and perhaps limited by, the work of John Williams, but in recent years Hans Zimmer and Steve Reich have opened my ears to increasingly subtle uses of melody.  This increased interest in less “Neo-Classical” forms of film scoring cleared a path for me to readily appreciate Johann Johannsen’s soundtrack to Arrival.

Arrival, as a freestanding piece, is minimalistic but not minimalist, at least not in the mathematic tradition that Reich and Glass epitomized.  Melodic content is used sparingly throughout, with an emphasis on soundscapes and atmospheric textures.  This might suggest that Arrival veers towards mere ambience, but tastefully placed tension and non-orchestral timbres imbue it with a certain narrative capacity.  At its most intense, Arrival captures the austerity of Japanese Gagaku, while otherworldly murmurs and voices provides a sense of impenetrable, creeping alienness.

All of these ingredients are essential to the tone of the film and make Arrival a fascinating piece of sound sculpture.  More impressively, it sustains a narrative that allows it to work as a freestanding composition, but in a way more aligned with contemporary composition practices than the thematic leitmotif that I have often used to define a successful soundtrack.

I began to dig a little deeper and  discovered that Johannsen is quite prolific.  In addition to scoring quite a few films, he has also composed several freestanding works.  In the spirit of collecting some new music for late-night feedings, I put 2016's Orphee into rotation.  Like Arrival, Orphee is minimal but not really minimalist, using simple melodies can draw out a lot of emotion. For me, the first note of opening track Flight from the City, causes the world to slow down.  

I try the best I can to shy away from generalizations, but here is seems fitting: Icelandic musicians are able to capture something unique.  It is not difficult for me to imagine Jonsi from Sigur Ros vocalizing in his signature falsetto over Johannsen’s contemplative soundscapes.  This is not to say that Johannsen is copying Sigur Ros’ hyperbolic post rock, but that there is something essential that the two artists share, not the least of which is a tendency to blur the borders of “classical” music.  

Orphee bears this problematic label, but there are many aspects of the album that are in no way traditional.  While there are moments that pay homage to the eloquence of a Bach Cello Suite, these passages play out on a stage set by impossible background textures, buzzes, and static.  Like Arrival, Orphee seems to play with tradition and technology to widen the horizons of what “classical” music is.  The edges of these horizons will certainly be under scrutiny at 2 am when it is my turn to feed the newborn.

Which will happen very soon.  As I am finalizing this entry, I am in the Labor and Delivery room watching the birthing process slowly progress.  The birth of our son (referred to for the time being as #3), is imminent.  I cannot imagine ever receiving a more meaningful Father’s Day gift.

David Lynch, The Chanteuse, and Gaye Su Akyol

It was probably around 1991 when I purchased the full Twin Peaks series box set on VHS. At that point, I had never seen the show, but was my intention to watch it in Denton while a couple of close friends from High School simultaneously watched it in Austin. In theory, we agreed to watch an episode a week and have discussions when we visited every few weeks. In practice, none of us had any idea how addictive the show would be. We quickly became prototypical “binge-watchers,” secretly going ahead with “just one more episode.” Our plan to watch the show over the course of months barely lasted a week, but our respect and interest in the work of David Lynch stretched out into the decades to follow.

After Twin Peaks, I followed Lynch’s work unwaveringly, and I started to notice that some images and events recur in his work. I started to give them pet names: The Transformation, the Jagged Carpet, The Scream, etc. These Lynchian tropes seemed symbolic in a way similar to Salvador Dali’s use of melting clocks and ants as surrealistic images. In an attempt to give this armchair analysis of his work some credence, I often referred to these as Lynch’s “iconography.”

One role I named “The Chanteuse.” It takes the form of a lip-synched musical performance, almost (but not always) performed by a female actor in a private late-night setting. In Twin Peaks, this character was represented by Juliee Cruise, but it shows up in nearly all of David Lynch’s films in one form or another. In 2001’s Mulholland Drive, for example, he goes so far as to acknowledge the symbolic nature of this character, providing some uncharacteristic insight as to its meaning.

Lynch is gearing up to be back in the spotlight again with the imminent release of the new Twin Peaks season this coming May. Suffice it to say that I am extremely excited. If the hints that we have gotten through the show’s casting are any indication, the role of The Chanteuse might very well be played by Austin musician Chrysta Bell. Which is great - Bell is an incredible artist that fits the aesthetic perfectly. If the Twin Peaks revival is the beginning of a new creative arc, however, I would make a case to Mr. Lynch to consider the Turkish art-rocker Gaye Su Akyol for a future incarnation of The Chanteuse. 

Gaye Su Akyol’s most recent release Hologram Imperatorlugu is an engaging blend of gypsy-flavored tradition and twangy guitar rock that seems ready-made to plug into one of David Lynch’s late-night soirees. Her image fits seamlessly within the already established characteristics of the role.  Not only does her music blend “otherness” with familiarity, Gaye Su Akgol also captures the aloof distance that The Chanteuse almost always exudes. Bubituzak, her backing band, extends the sense of mystery by performing in cyptic black masks.  It is not a stretch to envision her performing to an enthralled audience teetering on the brink of an otherworldly encounter.



I feel pretty certain, however, that Chrysta Bell has a lock on the role for the new Twin Peaks episodes. I am grateful in any case, because I never realistically thought that I would see a continuation of the Twin Peaks series. Her presence in the cast is particularly exciting because it suggests that Lynch might be as interested in injecting new blood into the show as he is in revisiting the things that made it so engaging in the first place. This makes me think that Gaye Su Akyol could not only play the part of The Chanteuse in the future, but also could contribute to its continued evolution by diversifying its cultural background even further.

Spring Break Roundup: A Com-PLEX Issue

My PS3 had been dying a slow death for over a year, and somewhere during the move to Denton it finally bit the dust. Although I don’t game very much, I used the console as the central entertainment unit in our house for playing music and streaming video. I embedded a PS4 in our move-in purchases and was horrified to find the PS4 doesn’t support the CD format - at all. There is a Blu-Ray player on the console that is entirely capable of reading music CDs, but it just doesn’t.

My past method of uploading CD’s into the console hard drive for play in the house simply would not work, and this was a very serious problem of the first-world variety. I have known for a long time that the CD is a dying format, but to suddenly not be able to play them in the house at all seemed unconscionable. Due to limited libraries and unethical artist compensation policies, I refused to submit to Spotify or Amazon Prime. I just needed access to my own library. After quite a bit of soul-searching and scrolling through PS4 forums, the answer came in the form of an app called Plex.

Plex allows me to use my computer as a media server and stream my music straight to the PS4, giving me open access to all the music on my computer. Not only that, it painlessly and beautifully organizes albums, displays cover art, and manages playlists. Despite having a few minor bugs, Plex really changed the game for me. I uploaded the entire Superhero Theme Project, complete with track-specific images, and created playlists based on my end-of-year best of posts from the last six years.

Over Spring Break, I ripped CDs to my computer with the renewed vigor of a full-fledged music nerd. Several of these albums are currently in rotation in the car, which represents my listening since my birthday. My birthday was actually at the end of January but, due to some date confusion, I got a second stack of albums at the end of February, too. Not a bad deal.



The Flaming Lips - Oczy Mlody: There is a lot to like about the album, but it wanders. I am still not sure if The Flaming Lips’ current direction has a larger point to make that I just haven’t locked into or if they are just being weird for the sake of being weird.

Run the Jewels - RTJ3: RTJ3 definitely picks up where its predecessor left off, but doesn’t seem to have the standout tracks that kept me coming back to RTJ2. It took me months to really appreciate RTJ2, however, so I will let this one simmer for a while.

The Neal Morse Band - The Similitude of a Dream: I am a huge fan of Neal Morse but, paradoxically, not a devoted follower of his solo work. This album garnered great critical praise, most of which is deserved, but there are a few “tribute band” moments that I have to accept.

The xx - I See You: The xx’s debut album played a big, big role in my soundtrack for 2010, but the follow-up Coexxist seemed like more of the same, but not quite as good. I See You doesn’t change the formula, but it does contain enough new elements to stand on its own and still capture the vibe that made their debut so great.

Gaye Su Akyol - Hologram Imperatorlagu: Really great Turkish artist that very effectively syncretizes Western rock and traditional ideas. David Lynch should pick her up as his new chanteuse.

The Dirty Projectors - Dirty Projectors: The mixed reviews that this album have received are, unfortunately, well deserved. Mixed is the key - it teeters between jumbled genius and obvious self-indulgence, which runs counter to the consistency of its predecessor.

Astronoid - Air: Stumbled across this “dream thrash” group and have been really impressed with it after several listens. Its Mew meets Deafheaven vibe is pretty unique amongst my listening right now.

Jóhann Jóhannsson - Arrival OST: Knowing that I will most likely watch this movie sometime, I looked into this soundtrack and discovered that Jóhannsson is a pretty interesting composer with an intriguing body of work. While the Arrival soundtrack may not reach the great heights of Interstellar, it immediately commanded my attention and has held it for weeks.

The Proper Ornaments - Foxhole: This album sits at the crossroads of pre-Dark Side of the Moon Pink Floyd and late 90s power pop mush. It’s an entertaining background listen, but doesn’t offer up much in the way of innovation.

The Devin Townsend Project - Transcendence: I gained respect for Devin Townsend’s vocal talents way back when he sang lead for Steve Vai’s ill-fated “Vai” group. Here he is unapologetically epic and bombastic in all the right ways.

The Who - Tommy: I have had Tommy since high school, but other entries in the Who’s catalog have traditionally held favor with me. Not so this time, as the album’s compositional genius and far-reaching influence seems more clear than ever before.

United Vibrations - The Myth of the Golden Ratio: Like its name implies, Universal Vibrations gets all of their influences into just the right balance to create something exciting and distinctive. It has the jazzy, political rock side of Dream of the Blue Turtles, but with a distinctive Afrobeat flavor.

Yussef Kamaal - Black Focus: An engaging foray into contemporary jazz/soul/funk that shared quite a bit of airtime in the house during Spring Break. I am looking forward to a more focused listening in the coming weeks.

Interstellar and Time Away

Regrettably, I haven't documented the trials and triumphs of EJ’s infancy as meticulously as I did her sister P. This is due in no small part to the job hunt, but also because EJ had a little trouble getting off the ground in the beginning. She had, to use the pediatric term, colic - which really means that she cried a lot.

And she did cry - a lot. Her sensitive tummy often made her inconsolable, and because of this the late night feedings that I came to enjoy with P were not quite as peaceful as I anticipated. It seemed pointless to have music playing when she clearly could not have heard it over her own screaming. When she finally did calm down, my wife and I both welcomed the quiet.

I had every intention of shaping EJ’s musical world as I have her sister's, but she clearly was going to take a different path.  To start, I started playing “wind down” music between dinner and bedtime.  Music for 18 Musicians was often first choice, followed closely by an album that I had purchased last year during the last push of the Superhero Theme Project but that only clicked for me earlier this year - Hans Zimmer’s Interstellar soundtrack.

This soundtrack received quite a bit of acclaim when it was released, and even though I had not seen the movie, it impressed me when I put it in rotation. In many ways, Interstellar struck me as a relatively traditional soundtrack when compared to Zimmer's more recent work, with strings and organs outlining its grandiose meditations rather than the earth-shattering intensity of Inception or the physics-bending atmospherics of The Dark Knight. Despite its more orthodox approach, it relayed a sense of exploratory fascination that clearly reflected the movie’s scope, even capturing the ominous wonder of a water planet with mountain-sized tsunamis covering its entire surface. 

I thought the Interstellar soundtrack was breathtakingly beautiful at the time, but it did not stick. I shelved it until I finally saw the movie earlier this year. Interstellar, as a film, affected me. It is certainly good science fiction, but one of its underlying messages spoke to me personally in a way that took me off guard, and it drastically altered my perception of its soundtrack.

The movie contains a plot line where, due to the tenets of relativity and space travel, a lifetime passes for a child while her parent experiences hours. In one scene, the father leaves his daughter to go on a mission that he is convinced is for the good of mankind, but that will most likely take him away from her for a substantial part of her lifetime.  As he drives away, she begs him to stay.



This scenario alludes to a real-world paradox that many parents face: they go off to work for the benefit of their families, an act which takes them away from their families. There is a deep, dark fear that we will look up one day from our work to find the children that we have been working so hard for have grown and that we never really took the time to know them. The elegant beauty of this soundtrack also harbors the pain and angst of this heartbreaking struggle. It felt even more meaningful when I went back to work a mere four weeks after EJ’s birth and was expected to act as if nothing had happened. Or as if I was getting more than three hours sleep a night.

Pediatricians say that most infants will grow out of colic, and fortunately that has been the case for EJ. She has turned a corner in the past few weeks and is much more peaceful in the evenings, so I came up with an alternate plan for late night music. Since my old ZEN MP3 jukebox finally bit the dust last year, decided to use my standalone bluetooth speaker.  It sounds surprisingly good for how small it is, so I uploaded five or six appropriate albums (Including Interstellar) on my phone. I was excited about cycling through them.

By this time, however, we were working on staging the house for its sale and the bluetooth speaker got unintentionally packed away in storage in the process. It won’t be seen again for several months. Looks like EJ’s Interstellar experience may be coming back at a future date - but probably in less than seven years.