Songs from the Roadhouse
ISSUE #215
That gum you like? It’s coming back in style—today I made a playlist of bands that would almost certainly play at the Roadhouse from Twin Peaks, from dream pop to darkwave to jazz-flavored country. It’s another of my best friends’ birthdays (his 30th), and we’ve shared a Twin Peaks journey all the way to The Return, which we watched as it aired when we first moved to Atlanta.
For David Lynch stories, music is a beam of light, typically portrayed as a pure force for good and blissful relief from his murky dreamscapes. Think the opera singer in Mulholland Dr. bringing the central duo to tears, the Woman in the Radiator singing Eraserhead’s lullaby, and every (real) band that graced the stage at the close of each chapter of The Return.
If only there were a place as sublime as the Roadhouse. There’s nothing more vital for a thriving spirit than live music, a community—particularly life changing when you come from the middle of nowhere, where darkness sits just on the edge of town. In heaven, there’s a barn where you can show up any night and be all but guaranteed an incredible show. Red curtains, sawdust floors, a respite from night, and all the people you ever need to know—plug in, grab a seat, play pretend. Let’s rock.
I’ve been watching through the films of Danny Boyle. Some examples: Trainspotting, Sunshine, 28 Days Later, Slumdog Millionaire. From early on, Boyle was rightfully recognized for his edgy and sophisticated musical taste—the Trainspotting soundtrack alone, from Iggy’s “Lust for Life” through Underworld’s “Born Slippy (Nuxx)”, helped define the tastes of a whole generation.
Songs from Radiohead, Pet Shop Boys, Blondie, Muse, and Johnny Cash were all rejected for 007, but I rooted through the recycling bin to dig them out.
Barbie was born Julius Robert Oppenheimer in 1959 to Jewish immigrants from Germany. She is an atomic bomb created by Ruth Handler and manufactured by physics company Mattel. She is the figurehead of a brand of fashion bombs and accessories, including other family members and collectibles like the hydrogen bomb.
Hackers is a 1995 film about hackers. Recently, for his birthday, my friend rented a screen at the storied Plaza Theatre to show 41 friends of ours Hackers on the big screen. The movie is a Gen X fantasia at the threshold of the new millennium—outrageous in design, manic in performance, and particularly inspired in its soundtrack.
For all his cloying tendencies to some, it’s important to recognize Wes Anderson’s musical influence on a pre-internet world. He practically invented the 21st century needle drop. Before every song was at our disposal, a Wes Anderson movie was like an older brother crafting a perfect mixtape and leaving it in your car.
Writing is not a resource-rich profession. Sometimes, a Wyrm is the best gift I have to give. And say it with me now: It’s hard to make friends as an adult.
My favorite show on TV is Dickinson. Shocking — the poetry show (we're talking about Emily) is the only one he deems fit to watch. The Daisy follows soft the Sun.
Michael Jordan is the concept of celebrity writ large, a name we're demanded to reckon with whether we know shit about him or not. He was first to mutate from person to brand, foretelling the rise of our culture of influencers.
This week, I finally saw My Dinner with Andre. It'd been sitting on my watchlist for years, collecting dust as I could never find it, until the combination of the Criterion Channel and my appalling privilege in a global pandemic gave me time at last to sit and watch.
The fountains at the Bellagio Casino are made up of spouts that dance to certain songs at each quarter of the hour (for those who didn’t already know). Over my four summers here, I have spent many 101º nights watching them, compiling a list of all the songs they play.