News / / 25.06.14

In Dreams: David Lynch Revisited

Barbican London | June 20

“Every time I hear sounds, I see pictures. Then, I start getting ideas. It just drives me crazy.” – David Lynch.

David Lynch never describes himself as a filmmaker – he is but an artist in his own eyes, and a lengthy and amorphous career can only affirm this truth. He has enveloped everything from abstract paintings to distressed audio-visual experiments, eccentric internet shorts, and more recently, experimental musical releases. At the Barbican tonight, though, his finest art forms are celebrated, as some of his greatest fans take to the stage to recreate the mind-boggling atmospheres of a celebrated catalogue of ground-breaking feature films. In Dreams is a concert for those memorable moments of Lynch’s greatest works,  brought to life in mesmerising fashion for one special night at the Barbican.

The masked players take to the stage in creeping darkness as a solitary wood log lays in the spotlight, slowly sawed to conjure up the unique acoustics of Lynch’s otherworldly settings in an instant. From here, we are led on a journey of emotional delirium, reliving Lynch’s greatest mysteries through spiritual fantasy and darkened dreams.

Mysteries of Love and an astounding Blue Velvet, both of the same-titled Lynch benchmark, are a warm welcome to the acoustic guitar-led Conor O’Brien of Villagers. He later returns to re-enact one of the film’s most powerful scenes, where Roy Orbison’s ballad In Dreams humanises Dennis Hopper’s monstrous Frank Booth for but a few precious seconds in the terrifying film noir.  In Heaven, the surreal ode of the Lady In The Radiator in Eraserhead, is sung by Mick Harvey, whose gravelly voice is a major asset of this show – the theatrical works  from his time as one of Nick Cave’s Bad Seeds are transferred seamlessly. Sophia Brous is dazzling in her recreation of Rebekah Del Rio’s heart-stopping Spanish a capella Llorando; the defining moment of Lynch’s masterpiece Mulholland Drive, and Samuel Barber’s Adagio For Strings, from The Elephant Man, and more famously Oliver Stone’s Platoon, is chilling.

These harrowing effects are offset by Stealing Sheep, whose three-part doo-wop harmonies were the perfect remedy in Love Letters and The Nightingale, though despite being billed to play Linda Scott’s sublime ‘60s pop-piece I’ve Told Every Little Star, it was ultimately absent from their performance.

Pauline Haas’ solo harp performance of Laura Palmer’s Theme is one of many Twin Peaks-related highlights; a shimmering, climaxing crescendo of tearful refrains made all the more poignant by Haas’ delicate isolation. As the song draws to close, the lights come up on stage to reveal the billowing drapes of a familiar scene, and for a few moments we are in the iconic Red Room itself. Stuart Staples of Tindersticks does phenomenally to follow with a performance of the show’s famed title-theme, Julee Cruise’s Falling; his nasal, black-hole voice trembling alongside those baritone guitars and celestial strings. Flashes light up the walls; in short glimpses we see the villainous Bob staring back at us, much to the audience’s fevered amusement. Staples’ follow-up, David Bowie’s industrial juggernaut I’m Deranged – the ambiguous bookmark to open and close Lynch’s distressing, psychological odyssey Lost Highway – completes Staples’ show-stealing plateau.

Much of Lost Highway’s lurid soundtrack might have been performed by guests Cibo Matto, a duo of animated Japanese New Yorkers marked by their ecstatically bleeping machinery and overexcited screeches – but the likes of Marilyn Manson’s I Put A Spell On You, and Rammstein, are absent from this show. It’s a curious judgement, then, that results in their performance of Lou Reed’s This Magic Moment – their interpretation does little to resemble the movie’s own magic moment, where time almost stops as Pete Dayton lays his eyes on the beautiful Alice Wakefield for the first time. It is the penultimate track of the show, then, that is Lost Highway’s greatest gift – Jehnny Beth of Savages’ dedication to This Mortal Coil’s quavering Tim Buckley cover, Song To The Siren, is nothing short of breath-taking.

When the guests all take to the stage for one final performance, the night is concluded beautifully. Chris Isaak’s Wicked Game is an arpeggiated delight of falling guitars and softly-strung melodies, bringing Wild At Heart to our yearning ears, and an enchanting evening to a stellar climax. A standing ovation is our ultimate thanks as the Lynchian dream is complete.

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meltdown.southbankcentre.co.uk

Words: James Balmont

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