There is a bluebird in my heart

My recent favourite moments - riding on bus after work and listening to Crazy Clown Time of David Lynch. Everything was dark, with tints of misty yellow under the line of street lamps, the same old wasteland, the same old slow crawling bus and the same old me, feeling dejected, tired or just numb, that's my constant/default mode, sadly no other option. But it is this totally uninspiring state of being fits so much to the album. I think I must have listened to it more than 50 times just over a week. Sounds very addictive, yes, it really is.

Crazy Clown Time was not rated high in many album reviews. The critics said it was repetitive, robotic, and the voice of Mr Lynch was ...err, strange. But maybe I'm such a fan of Blue Velvet, Twin Peaks and Mulholland Drive. I think this album is the audio version of his films, completely enthralling. Some electro-pop songs are so upbeat that it is very hard to believe the songs were written and sung by an old man, some are so dreamy and trippy. They are all dark and cinematic, my brain was just full of vivid images for every song. If David Lynch is not a film director, will he be a psychologist? For those repetitive and fragmented lyrics, I will call them the soliloquies in dreams, something from the subconscious. They are nightmarish, wicked, evil, sometimes absurd, sometimes sublime.

At this moment my most favourite track is "These are my friend" as it always reminds me of Bukowski's Bluebird. I know they are unrelated to each other, but I made the association anyway. Lynch and Bukowski are both good at writing about the lonesome social misfits, those who keep the bluebird in heart and weep at night, (oh, but i don't weep, do you?) trying hard to find the prescription for our problems (by real or imaginary friends?)




David Lynch - Crazy Clown Time (I don't know why, though I like this album, I have a nauseating feeling for the cover)