David Lynch: Catching the Big Fish: Meditation, Consciousness, and Creativity

Rebekah Del Rio: Llorando (Crying) (from Mulholland Drive)

Angelo Badalamenti: The Voice of Love (from Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me)

Burial: In McDonald’s

Chopin: Nocturne No.2, Op. 27 in D-flat



David Lynch opens our collection with a few words of his own.  “Ideas are like fish.  If you want to catch little fish, you can stay in the shallow water.  But if you want to catch the big fish, you’ve got to go deeper.”  In film, in music, in meditation, in life: this is true. What do we find in the deep water?  We find scenes as in Mulholland Drive, with Rebekah Del Rio’s “Llorando” piercing walls of stone and heart muscle, the song continuing in the air after the singer has fallen unconscious.  This is as it is with the films of David Lynch: the song and its meanings continue in your head long after the flickering light of the projector has fallen dim.


Lynch has created some of the most memorable visual songs we’ll ever see on a film screen: the lovely, the horrifying, the deeply disturbing, the consoling, the existentially echoing, the puzzling: all of them pulling us back into the deep water, all urging us to once again peer into the dark, to see what it is that’s been brushing against our leg all this time, down there, just out of conscious sight.

The Voice of Love is Crying (artwork by Colatron)

Well here we are.  But why?


A “film” consists of a “sequence” of photographs or drawings “projected” on a screen in such “rapid” succession that they create the optical illusion of moving persons and objects (this is due to the persistence “of” vision).  A tune is a succession of musical tones forming a rhythmic, catchy whole, and a song is a piece of music sung or composed for singing, et la sange est sur la branche.


Films often couple their images with tunes and songs in order to heighten sensations, to deepen meanings.  This is a true statement.  David Lynch, one of the men who “lead the team” in the creation of films—a profession termed director—has participated in the coupling of film to music.  Yes.  Some of Lynch’s memorable images have been supplemented with notable music.  These songs and tunes, grouped together, are often made commercially available (“soundtracks”) and can be obtained at your favorite local vendor.


With these soundtracks in hand, and with songs divided into vocal and instrumental, enterprising lads and lasses can blend these song elements with those from other popular songs, producing what men from Edinburgh to Aberdeen call “mashed-ups.”  These men are also known to eat something called “neeps.”  These men are regarded as unstable.


So then: David Lynch, his films, the music of those films, the people who watch these films and hear their music, and the fanciful bootleggingses that result from fabulously legal song sampling.  But why?  Not sure.


But for now, let’s not question why.  Let’s dip a toe in . . . feel the deep waters offered here . . . gently remove our Directoire drawers (underpants that are straight, full, and knee-length, often referred to as “Directoire knickers,” a British noun, historical in nature) . . . and lower ourselves, bit by bit, into the water.  It feels nice, then it feels not as nice.  And suddenly it all feels so strange.  You happen to visit a recommended website and, before you know it, you’re naked and wet.  This is David Lynch.

Angelo Badalamenti: Dance of the Dream Man” (from Twin Peaks)

Kylie Minogue: Two Hearts



There is a certain romance in Twin Peaks.  The love a mature woman has for a log.  The love a suited man has for a good cup of coffee and a slice of cherry pie.  The love a small man has for a spastically rhythmic dance. Kylie Minogue understands this.  Kylie Minogue understands the small man.


Give your feet over to the cool cat walk.  Now do it backwards.  Give your heart over to the romance.  Now see the people that aren’t there.  Now you’re not there.  Only the feeling remains.


Blue Rigby (artwork by Colatron)
Lynch and the Cow (artwork by Colatron)

David Lynch: Catching the Big Fish: Meditation, Consciousness, and Creativity

Angelo Badalamenti: Mulholland Drive (from Mulholland Drive)

Miranda Sex Garden: In Heaven (Lady in the Radiator Song)

Diamanda Galas: Swing Low, Sweet Chariot



Nobody has made anyone feel less secure in the knowledge that “in heaven, everything is fine” than the Lady in the Radiator.  She fairly well makes us sure that no, indeed, things are not going to be fine: here, there, or anywhere.  And Diamanda Galas isn’t helping things either.


If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll get what Mr. Lynch wishes for you.  “You pass through a gap, and you maybe see some white light and get a little jolt of bliss.  And you say, ‘Holy jumping George.’”  Thank you, sir.  Your wish for our hopes is appreciated.


Let this track console you, trouble you, embrace you, disturb you.  Let it be a tiny David Lynch, peering out from your radiator, your radio, your bread box.





Heaven's Drive-In (artwork by artofmarty)

Angelo Badalamenti: Laurens Walking (from The Straight Story)

Opus III: It’s a Fine Day



A simple intent from a genuine-hearted man, Alvin Straight, is the focus of The Straight Story.  He will journey across two states in order to visit his estranged brother who’s recently suffered a stroke.  Hitching a trailer to his lawn tractor, he sets off from Laurens, Iowa.  His destination: Mount Zion, Wisconsin.


The modest optimism of the film and its soundtrack are given a more hopeful lift here by Opus III’s “It’s a Fine Day.”  Sweet and lilting, the track transports us to a place alongside Alvin, watching the landscape pass by, most any simple thing seeming possible.








Lauren's Opus (artwork by Colatron)

John Morris: The Elephant Man Theme (from The Elephant Man)

Sarah McLachlan: The Rainbow Connection



The Elephant Man has a terrible fairytale quality to it, like a bastard Brothers Grimm yarn.  People in it are struck as if in magical trances, bewitched and horrified by the sights they’re given to witness.  In this track, the use of “The Rainbow Connection” is diabolical.  A fantasy world of peace and understanding is evoked.  And the taste left in our mouths shuttles from the cynical and bitter to the desperately hopeful.  Imagine these lyrics as spoken by Mr. Merrick, or Mr. Lynch, or most any of Mr. Lynch’s other creations:


  Have you been half asleep and have you heard voices? / I’ve heard them calling my name.

  Is this the sweet sound that calls the young sailors? /  the voice might be one and the same.

  I’ve heard it too many times to ignore it, /  it’s something that I’m supposed to be.

  Someday we’ll find it, the rainbow connection. /  The lovers, the dreamers, and me.


It’s no surprise that the song was originally written for and performed by the Muppets, a band of misfit personalities controlled by other beings.








Presenting to Lynch the Elephant Man (artwork by Colatron)

Linda Scott: I’ve Told Every Little Star (from Mulholland Drive)

The Smashing Pumpkins: 1979


Linda Scott’s 1961 charmer drips brightly with the hopefulness of the Fifties and early Sixties, while The Smashing Pumpkins, formed in 1988, take us on to “1979,” from their 1995 album Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness (an appropriate alternate title for Mulholland Drive).


“I’ve Told Every Little Star” was written by Oscar Hammerstein II and Jerome Kern for their 1932 production Music in the Air.  The bubble-gum sweet song tells of a lack of communication between two lovers.  Scott, born in 1945, saw her version of the song become the first of her chart hits.  Her last, coming in 1964, was entitled “Who’s Been Sleeping in My Bed?” (an appropriate alternate title for Mulholland Drive).


As Ms. Scott’s star waned after 1964, her recordings became more soulful.  In 1970, she finally quit show business to pursue studies in theology.  This turn of events may have been presaged by her 1965 single “Don’t Lose Your Head” and it’s b-side “I’ll See You in My Dreams” (both being appropriate alternate titles for Mulholland Drive).










Every Little Lynch (artwork by The Reborn Identity)

David Bowie: I’m Deranged (from Lost Highway)

Tori Amos: Caught a Lite Sneeze



Om is a sacred syllable in the Buddhist and Hindu religions.  It is the first syllable in the Buddhist om mani padme hum mantra, in which, it is said, all the teachings of the Buddha are contained.  The syllable is written in honey on the tongues of children when they are born, the infants eating of the Buddha’s teaching.  Meditation as sustenance. Satori is a Buddhist term for a lasting state of enlightenment.  Meditation is one of the disciplines by which one attempts to transform the mind and reach satori.  In satori, one achieves freedom from (or oblivion to) the external world and its desires.


Tori Amos may or may not be an anagram of satori om, but it’s a certainty that David Lynch is a firm believer in the practice of Transcendental Meditation.


Phillip Jeffries is an FBI Special Agent who disappears from a hotel in Brazil only to appear moments later in the elevator of the Bureau’s Philadelphia office.  Seeing Special Agent Dale Cooper as he is (“Who do you think this is, there?”), he confronts Regional Bureau Chief Gordon Cole with the knowledge.  His words are deranged, unconnected, and he finally calls out, “I found something . . . and then, there they were.”  With that, he disappears: again in the wrong place, and his voice applied to the wrong film.











Tori's Deranged (artwork by Wax Audio)

Angelo Badalamenti: Main Title (from Blue Velvet)

The Beatles: Eleanor Rigby



Eleanor Rigby is a woman in trouble.  Her son and husband have been kidnapped and she is being controlled by a sociopath, told she must do as she’s told or her family will be murdered.  Dorothy Vallens is dreaming she’s just been married, waking to find she’s as lonely as ever.  By the door is a jar in which she keeps her face.


Eleanor is abused, sexually and psychologically.  She is reunited with her son but only after her husband has been disfigured and murdered.  Dorothy, a pious woman, dies and is buried along with her name.  Her name, now widowed, is disinterred by the emotionally disturbed Eleanor.  Eleanor takes the name as her own, becoming Dorothy.  Dorothy, happily raising her son and later remarrying, takes on a job singing covers of Beatles and Bobby Vinton tunes in a place called the Slow Club.  One day, a man named Frank comes in with some friends.













Blue Rigby (artwork by Colatron)

Angelo Badalamenti: Night Streets (from Blue Velvet)

Angelo Badalamenti: Lumberton U.S.A. (from Blue Velvet)

Roni Size: Snapshot



In the legend, it is said that Dracula cannot intrude upon your home; he must be invited.


Jeffrey imposes himself on a situation in what he thinks is an act of mercy.  Sandy steps beyond her safe cocoon of family and home.  Frank runs roughshod over societal decorum.  Jeffrey hears justice urging him on, Sandy hears the siren call of excitement, Frank hears society’s darker seams begging to be split by his wrath.


But alone, Ben stands as the welcoming presence.  He is the embracer of all things simultaneously: chaos and order, the demonic and angelic, the guilty and the innocent.  Ben welcomes Frank over his threshold, into the home where Dorothy’s son is held prisoner.


Ben is the center pivot.  Ben is both Vishnu and Kali, preserver and destroyer.  Ben is the presence inside each of us, whispering things.  Ben is Conscience.  And once in a while, at the door of the soul, Ben says, simply, “Frank’s here” . . . and he welcomes him in.













Frank's Here (artwork by Colatron)
Mashed in Plastic (artwork by Colatron)

David Lynch: Catching the Big Fish: Meditation, Consciousness, and Creativity

Angelo Badalamenti: Shelly (from Twin Peaks: Season Two)



As David Lynch opened this collection with his words, so he closes it.  After speaking of the essential element music brings to his films, and of dream logic, he asks of the universe the following: “May everyone be happy.  May everyone be free of disease.  May auspiciousness be seen everywhere.  May suffering belong to no one. Peace.”


May fitful dreams be yours . . . followed thereafter by understanding, clarity, and peace.  This, we devotees of Lynch believe, is possible.  Dive into the deep water so that you may bring the darkness up to the light, where it will dissolve . . . and the two become as one.


Good night.




Angelo Badalamenti: Twin Peaks Theme (From Twin Peaks)

Angelo Badalamenti & Julee Cruise: Falling (From Twin Peaks)

Jackson 5: I’ll Be There

Leona Lewis: Bleeding Love

Angelo Badalamenti: Haunting & Heartbreaking (From Lost Highway)


The Jackson 5’s “I’ll Be There” slows and melts into Angelo Badalamenti’s “Falling,” the theme music for the “Twin Peaks” series.  In it, we hear Donna ask, “Do you think that if you were falling in space that you would slow down after awhile or go faster and faster?”  To which Laura responds, “Faster and faster.  For a long time, you wouldn’t feel anything.  Then: burst into fire.  Forever.  And the angels wouldn’t help you.  Because they’d all gone away.”


Lynchian metaphysics.  A staggering topic, informed thoroughly by the human heart, human soul, human understanding and misunderstanding.  The image evoked is a spacebound Alice, not yet in Wonderland, Laura Palmer falling from her own grace and that of her quiet town, a place burbling with subcutaneous demons. Maybe Michael Jackson, his adult self crying out for release from his tortured earthbound skin, imagines some fantastical, child-safe otherworld, a place where someone will reach out their hand and be there for you.  Just as Laura Palmer still does, somewhere.


I'll Be There in Twin Peaks (artwork by Colatron)

Barry Adamson: Something Wicked This Way Comes (from Lost Highway)

Garbage: Stupid Girl



Shirley Manson, not Marilyn Manson, leading the band Garbage, drawls out a story suitable for Naomi Watts’ character in the second half of Mulholland Drive, while a Marilyn Manson contribution to the Lost Highway soundtrack, “I Put a Spell on You,” penned by Screamin’ Jay Hawkins and appropriately trance-inducing, might seem the perfect complement to the tone and bewildering existentialism of either Lost Highway or Mulholland Drive, although its pulsing, driving tone really only fits one of them, not Mulholland Drive, while this, the track we’re concerned with, clearly suits Lost Highway and its regard of the monotony of the road of existence, its relentless reach stretching out to the horizon and beyond, rendering all of us dumb animals in the face of our own long mortality, the circularity of life and death and the never-ending cycles, cycles of perception and intent and soul-dropping despair, continuing, on and on, a story forever drawling out its next line, never quite completing, never slowing, never ceasing, never . . .



Something Stupid This Way Comes (artwork by Colatron)

Angelo Badalamenti: The Pink Room (from Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me)

AC/DC: The Jack

Dead Can Dance: Dawn of the Iconoclast



The full despair behind the story of Laura Palmer is revealed in this track: hopelessness, perverted sexual desire and heart-dropping abuse, the loss of sanity that accompanies a loss of soul.  By taking a raunchy rock tune and showing up its sexually negligent side, a new (and still more vertiginous) twist is given to a dark tale. The light menace of the instrumental track is turned all the more grim . . . and the result is one of the most emotionally disturbing portraits in sound you’ve ever heard.












The Pink Jack (artwork by Colatron)

Angelo Badalamenti and Kinny Landrum: Cool Cat Walk (from Wild at Heart)

Nine Inch Nails: My Violent Heart

Julee Cruise: Kool Kat Walk

Angelo Badalamenti: Rita Walks (from Mulholland Drive)



“Our blood will stay: we will not go away.  On hands and knees, we crawl: you cannot stop us all.  Our blood, our brains: will never leave this place.”  So sayeth the Book of Reznor.


Within a film filled with blood rising hot beats a slow cold heart.  And with this track, it is exposed.  The freaks and mental aberrants of the movie beat upon the battlements of Lula and Sailor’s love, trying to tear it down. These degenerates—this word is chosen most carefully—attempt to wrest from the lovers what they themselves cannot encompass: love, desire, and devotion.  If these individuals who are more demon than flesh cannot have peace, they will not allow any other to have it.


And once you’ve seen Willem Dafoe in dental prosthetics, moving his mad-dog face closer and closer to Laura Dern’s, whisper-barking moist and vile words, you won’t forget the image.







Violent at Heart (artwork by The Reborn Identity)

Chris Isaak: Wicked Game (from Wild at Heart)

Yazoo: Don’t Go



Sailor and Lula must deal with the demons that pursue them.  A tempestuous love binds them.  Friction is everywhere.


This track captures the essence of that rub.  As Chris Isaak croons of wicked games in love and the rifts they form, Alison Moyet of Yazoo pleads with her loved one to not leave.  Push and pull . . . in conflict, in sex . . . always setting the teeth on edge.  And waiting for the inevitable climax to come.





Don't Go All Wicked On Me (artwork by Colatron)

Peter Ivers: In Heaven (Lady in the Radiator Song) (from Eraserhead)

Crystal Method: I’m Ready for Action

Geza X: Mean Mr. Mommy Man



David Lynch had an infection, a persistent infection that took years to process and give full birth to, and he spread it to several others around him.  These included Jack Nance, the man who gave a body to the dark spirit that is the main character in Eraserhead.  The film was the first full-term progeny of Mr. Lynch.  The Lady in the Radiator was there, the Baby-Not-a-Baby was there . . . and so were some of the worst fever dreams ever sweated out.


This track captures the essence of Eraserhead: its disjointedness, its fearful happenings, its primal terror.  Plus beats!









Lynchhead (artwork by Colatron)

Roy Orbison: In Dreams (from Blue Velvet)

Bobby Vinton: Blue Velvet



While the spirit of the Bobby Vinton track hangs heavily over the film, it’s Roy Orbison’s “In Dreams” that marks us the deepest.  Dean Stockwell, as wraith-satyr Ben, lip-synchs the track, mesmerizing not only Frank Booth but us as well.


Syrup-sweet Fifties sentiments may provide the template for the song “Blue Velvet” and the small-town appearance of the film, but it is revealed to be nothing more than a thin veneer.  As Lynch would explore further in Twin Peaks, a darkness lies in the heart of small town Lumberton.  And Dorothy Vallens, a tragic figure both mirror-image and photo-negative of Laura Palmer, is trapped at the center of that darkness.  We are beside her.











Lynch is in My Dreams (artwork by Colatron)

Julee Cruise: The Nightingale (from “Twin Peaks”)

The Beatles: In My Life



Sometimes a song embodies our deepest longings and our best intentions, as “In My Life” does.  My own thoughts on the track lead to considerations of those people who’ve entered my sphere and passed from it. Arms reach out, wanting to hold the person, the soul, the memory of the experience.  Bend your will to contortions deeper than you’ve ever attempted, stamp your foot and wish it all to return: it won’t.  Back in time the person is with you and within you; but in the now, and forever, they’ve flown, a nightingale taken wing, disappearing into the sky.







In My Twin Life (artwork by artofmarty)

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Mashed in Plastic is available two ways: as two long tracks (sides A and B) or as eighteen separate tracks with unbroken transitions and film audio excerpts.



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18 track version