By Alexei C. Summers (The Cascade) – Email
Print Edition: November 23, 2011
Savagely surrealist and deranged: all words that seem to be widely associated with filmmaker David Lynch. David Lynch is a name that has become extensively well-known to moviegoers as being the man who makes all your deepest nightmares and dreamscapes unfold on the screen before your eyes. In the past he has shown us cinematic images of fear and trepidation, ruined minds, and scattered, fragmented scenes of delusion and imagination. He has shown us what lies beyond the veil. This is the same man who brought us films and television series such as Eraserhead, Blue Velvet, Mulholland Drive and the cult fan hit Twin Peaks. Now he wants us to hear the fear. Crazy Clown Time is David Lynch’s first solo artist album. It features the lawless rock and roll vocal talents of Karen O, lead singer of the New York indie rock band the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. She sings the first song on the album, entitled “Pinky’s Dream.”
If I were trying to summarize this album up in two words, all I could really say is: it’s weird. The album is full of electro-pop and features jazzy musical flourishes that are reminiscent of the Twin Peaks soundtrack joint-composed by Angelo Badalamenti and David Lynch in the early 1990s. As someone who grew up watching that show as a child, this album brought back many memories and surrounded me with an atmosphere of general nostalgia. The most disturbing part of the album is Lynch’s own vocals. He sings in a high-pitched clown voice through most of it, relaying the images the clown sees in the form of the lyrics of each song, giving us a disturbing depiction of the imagery which passes before the clown’s eyes. One can sense that the lyrics of this album are not devoid of meaning; however, it is impossible to determine said meaning, and one won’t even want to try, so as to avoid a headache. I don’t understand what it means, and I don’t pretend to understand what it means. I also won’t bother trying to understand what it means. I’ve learnt that when it comes to David Lynch it’s best to simply let the river of nonsense and balderdash flow and not to question its meaning.
Trust me: It’s weird.
But while the album is certainly strange and outlandish, that may be all it is. Its tracks are sometimes catchy, but ultimately repetitive, and the lyrics go beyond the realm of nonsense, venturing into the unforgiving exile that every artist wants to avoid – the badlands of trying too hard. Of course, that’s not to say Mr. Lynch’s efforts aren’t greatly appreciated by many, including myself. This album is certainly worthy of any of his fans. However, it makes one wonder, and begs the question that if one was not his fan, and if he was not already an internationally-acclaimed director and maker of movies, would anyone give this album the time of day? If Lynch were simply a struggling musician trying to get his first album out there, would this album really matter? The answer is, disappointingly, probably not.
However, as with most of Lynch’s work, it is lacking in any central form of discipline. Lynch’s work flows freely and madly, like the dreams and nightmares that inspire him. Most of the time it works out, but sometimes it lapses into a furious anarchistic running river of sound and strangeness. If you like weird shit this album is for you. If Lynch’s only goal in this album was to create a record full of confusion and strangeness, he has succeeded. It remains, however, a general disappointment to most non-specific audiences, and if one were not familiar with the works of David Lynch, I would not recommend listening to it.
Still, for those familiar with Mr. David Lynch, give it a try. It’s not the scariest thing I’ve ever seen/heard, but it’s worth a listen for his avid fans.
Oh, by the way, did I mention it’s weird?
