This turns out to work fairly successful as an analogy for my experience with the hook of “Every Little Star.” I’d come into contact with four variations on the same song, discovered primarily independently of one another and without any clear indicators that they were homage. To the audience, there is a simultaneous sensation, whenever one of the actresses appears, of newness and recognition. Two are eventually revealed to be the same character, played by Naomi Watts, but make-up and context disguise this shared identity. In Mulholland Drive, an array of young, white actresses sporting blonde bobs slip in and out of the storyline, variations on an aesthetic theme. On Father, Son, Holy Ghost it was “Die”’s “Deep Purple” reference here it’s “I Love You Like I Do” (“Canon in D”) and “Heroine” (“Tide Is High”). It’s a welcoming break from the fetishization of originality (and, congruently, authenticity) in contemporary indie music, an attitude so far removed from the frequent inclusion of standards and traditionals in early-to-mid-century records. One element of sappy enthusiasm that does frequently work is Owen’s eager, unabashed embracing of the music he loves, often by offering his own takes on (or straight rips of) famous melodies. Back then, I had sworn Owens was referencing Blondie, specifically “Tide Is High.” Here’s what I wrote: 1 What’s surprising is that I’d had the exact same uncanny sensation when I heard “Heroine” the first time, almost a year before ever watching a Lynch film. It isn’t surprising that I so instantly caught the melodic overlap in Mulholland Drive. This meant I spent inordinate amounts of time in preparation, listening to the record until I knew it intimately. I’d written up Chrissybaby at the time of its release for a piece on irony and sincerity over at Rare Candy Magazine. I’d heard it in Christopher Owen’s “Heroine (Got Nothing On You),” off of the 2015 album Chrissybaby Forever. Except this isn’t where things became uncanny. See, I’d heard the opening pop melody - the one George sings around thirty seconds into the clip - before, and not from Linda Scott, who performs the track’s original version. One of these (diegetically) auditioned actresses is played by (real life) Melissa George, singing the rendition of “I’ve Told Every Little Star” shown in the footage below.Īnd suddenly, though Lynch never intended it, this uncanny sensation of familiar-unfamiliar set in. Shadowy organizations are pulling strings behind the scenes so that the casting decision is essentially out of his hands, but he cycles through the motions regardless, asking several of the actresses to perform different 50s pop hits in a mock-up recording studio. There’s a scene in the film during which one of its central protagonists, a successful Hollywood director, auditions lead actresses for his screenplay. That’s the sensation, right? Where listening to records or watching films in an era of unprecedented access begins to feel a bit like doing homework.Įxcept Mulholland Drive is, itself, an almost unprecedently interesting film, one capable of arousing sensations in the viewer which he was previously unaware existed.”Uncanny” is used frequently to describe a Lynchean landscape, a place where things are simultaneously banal and extraordinary, both incredibly familiar and unnervingly off. I filled in a long-standing gap in my cultural knowledge recently and watched Lynch’s 2001 noir masterpiece Mulholland Drive.
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