Peachy Keen.

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 Still processing the death of David Lynch here, like Bowie he's been a huge presence/influence on my life since I first saw Eraserhead as an impressionable 14 year old film fan and I'll admit it now that all of the sinister subtexts, oppressive sound designs and dark humour was lost on me at the time - I just saw a director speaking exactly the same language that I did and I fell in love with his work (in that way only an obsessive Autistic can) immediately.

I could wax lyrically for hours about how influential Lynch was and how his work was truly groundbreaking, throwing in tales of my days at art school when an unknown student (for reasons only they were aware of) spent 6 months leaving photos of Henry Spencer in my locker, how at one of the Peachy Keen Lynch nights Rho and myself hosted a guy turned up who was the spitting image of Killer Bob - we thought he was in fancy dress for the night but it turned out that he was just there for a drink with no idea who Bob was (he did pose for photos tho') and how we got married in Vegas - by Elvis - partly due to Wild at Heart.




 

Even my bequiffed bonce isn't immune from the Lynch influence, especially over lockdown when I recorded its mutation from Chris Isaak-like sculptured coolness to loopy Lynchian locks.


Oh yes, and don't forget that The Straight Story is THE most perfect piece of cinema as an artform ever created.

And his version of Dune is far superior to the Denis Villeneuve version - and the book if I'm honest.

Fact.


The world this morning makes slightly less sense now, looks so much duller and sounds pretty rubbish.

I'll probably be fixated on this for a good while to come.

Apologies in advance.



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