A “film” consists of a “sequence” of photographs or drawings “projected” on a screen in such “rapid” succession that they create the optical illusion of moving persons and objects (this is due to the persistence “of” vision). A tune is a succession of musical tones forming a rhythmic, catchy whole, and a song is a piece of music sung or composed for singing, et la sange est sur la branche.
Films often couple their images with tunes and songs in order to heighten sensations, to deepen meanings. This is a true statement. David Lynch, one of the men who “lead the team” in the creation of films—a profession termed director—has participated in the coupling of film to music. Yes. Some of Lynch’s memorable images have been supplemented with notable music. These songs and tunes, grouped together, are often made commercially available (“soundtracks”) and can be obtained at your favorite local vendor.
With these soundtracks in hand, and with songs divided into vocal and instrumental, enterprising lads and lasses can blend these song elements with those from other popular songs, producing what men from Edinburgh to Aberdeen call “mashed-ups.” These men are also known to eat something called “neeps.” These men are regarded as unstable.
So then: David Lynch, his films, the music of those films, the people who watch these films and hear their music, and the fanciful bootleggingses that result from fabulously legal song sampling. But why? Not sure. But for now, let’s not question why. Let’s dip a toe in . . . feel the deep waters offered here . . . gently remove our Directoire drawers (underpants that are straight, full, and knee-length, often referred to as “Directoire knickers,” a British noun, historical in nature) . . . and lower ourselves, bit by bit, into the water. It feels nice, then it feels not as nice. And suddenly it all feels so strange. You happen to visit a recommended website and, before you know it, you’re naked and wet. This is David Lynch.
Films often couple their images with tunes and songs in order to heighten sensations, to deepen meanings. This is a true statement. David Lynch, one of the men who “lead the team” in the creation of films—a profession termed director—has participated in the coupling of film to music. Yes. Some of Lynch’s memorable images have been supplemented with notable music. These songs and tunes, grouped together, are often made commercially available (“soundtracks”) and can be obtained at your favorite local vendor.
With these soundtracks in hand, and with songs divided into vocal and instrumental, enterprising lads and lasses can blend these song elements with those from other popular songs, producing what men from Edinburgh to Aberdeen call “mashed-ups.” These men are also known to eat something called “neeps.” These men are regarded as unstable.
So then: David Lynch, his films, the music of those films, the people who watch these films and hear their music, and the fanciful bootleggingses that result from fabulously legal song sampling. But why? Not sure. But for now, let’s not question why. Let’s dip a toe in . . . feel the deep waters offered here . . . gently remove our Directoire drawers (underpants that are straight, full, and knee-length, often referred to as “Directoire knickers,” a British noun, historical in nature) . . . and lower ourselves, bit by bit, into the water. It feels nice, then it feels not as nice. And suddenly it all feels so strange. You happen to visit a recommended website and, before you know it, you’re naked and wet. This is David Lynch.
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