Twin Peaks: The Missing Songs*

You—rock star Twin Peaks fan that you are—have undoubtedly had that experience of hearing a piece of music and thinking, “Whoa, that totally sounds like ‘Twin Peaks’ music!” So have we! (No way! Way!) In fact, we decided that for this Very Special Week, we would bust out another special mixtape for you (following our BRR Bowie Playlist). Allow us to present to you, THE MISSING SONGS: 18 tracks that belong in the Lynch-verse! (*According to us, your hosts, here at Back to the Double R!)

What do you think of our choices? Let us know, and tell us what music YOU love that could be wafting through the Twin Peaks Sheriff’s Station, or on the radio of an ocean-blue Caddy pulling into the Executives’ Lot at the Great Northern! Shoot us an email at backtothedoubler.com or hit us on the socials. We’d love to hear from you, and if we get enough suggestions, we’ll bust out a special playlist by YOU, our dear listeners!

The Missing Songs 

Now Spinning: Damon

Artist: The Beatles
Song:
Cry for a Shadow
Album/Year: The Beatles Anthology Vol 1, 1995 (originally recorded 1961)

Aside from having a title that sounds like something right out of the Lynch-verse, this instrumental George Harrison composition from the Beatles’ early days has that late-50s/early-60s vibe that is found in so much of Lynch’s world. In spite of the dark title, it’s a fun little tune (which itself feels kind of Lynchy) and I can imagine it playing in someone’s car or as non-diagetic music for a scene with Bobby or James doing something that makes them look cool. 

Link Wray
Rumble
Single, backed with “The Swag,” 1958

“Rumble” is a classic instrumental from the early days of Rock, deemed by Bob Dylan to be the greatest instrumental ever.  Even if you don’t know this song by name, you’ve heard it before in a ton of movies and tv shows, which is maybe why Lynch doesn’t use it.  But I think it fits right in with some Badalementi’s more surf-rock influenced tunes, and if I had to make a bet as to what James Hurley’s favorite song is, my money is on Link Wray’s “Rumble.”

Portishead
Cowboys
Portishead, 1997

Any song from Portishead’s self-titled album would fit very well into the world of David Lynch. These triphop pioneers create a dark, spooky sound with their thick bass, sparse but reverb-saturated guitars, samples, and haunting jazzy vocals. I chose “Cowboys” because it’s the first track on a record that you could really choose any song from, but also because we’ve been talking about cowboys recently on the podcast.

HIDE
Raw Dream
Hell is Here, 2019

I’ve seen a lot of bands play, but HIDE is one of a few that I can say made me feel genuinely uncomfortable, providing one of the most intense live music experiences I’ve ever had. HIDE is an electronic/industrial/noise duo from Chicago. These abrasive sounds feel like they would pair well with some of the hideous violence that we sometimes see in Lynch’s work. Lyrically, many of HIDE’s songs also deal with the abuse faced by women in our society, a common theme in Twin Peaks and the Lynch oeuvre. Aesthetically, they use a lot of black and white imagery and in their live show bounce chaotically between total darkness and blinding white light in a way that also feels Lynchian. 

Now Spinning: Jennifer

Clara Rockmore
The Swan
The Art of the Theremin/1977

It seems imperative to have the spooky sounds of Clara Rockmore’s divine theremin playing represented on Twin Peaks. It would be even more amazing to have a resurrected Clara Rockmore on stage at the Roadhouse or at that mysterious theater from Part 8. “The Swan” is beautiful and haunting, just like that episode.

Pauline Oliveros
Mnemonics III
Oliveros: Four Electronics Pieces 1959-1966 (piece is from 1965)

Twin Peaks often features mid-20th century music of the jangly or jazzy sort, but wouldn’t it be incredible to include some electronic and tape music luminaries from the 1950s and 60s on the show? Composer Pauline Oliveros’ “Mnemonics III” from 1965 would complement some of the dark, industrial scenes, like in the glass box in New York or on the metal spaceship above the purple sea. It’s noisy, experimental, and unsettling in the best possible way. 

Las Sucias
Chiquito, Bendito
Salte Del Medio/2016

I would SO love to see the powerful women of the Oakland duo of Las Sucias on stage at the Roadhouse. I’d like to think that their mesmerizing dark electronics and “brujeria noise” would tranfix the Twin Peaks baddies, counteracting the evil energy emanating from some of the booths. 

Dane Waters
Blue
Dark Waters/2011

I saw Louisville, Kentucky-based artist Dane Waters do a remote show in 2020 and was mesmerized by both her voice and by her ethereal stage presence. “Blue” is pretty and somber and would be a lovely capper as a Roadhouse moment on Twin Peaks.

Now Spinning: Jonathan

Mother Love Bone
Chloe Dancer/Crown of Thorns
Apple (1990)

I don’t remember when we had this discussion but I remember lamenting/commenting on the fact that despite Twin Peaks being released on the cusp of the grungemania that was about to consume Seattle–and later, the globe–the show does not contain any inkling of the sound so associated with Washington state in the early 1990’s. There’s a couple of reasons for that.  One–I don’t really feel that the fuzz and crunch that is a signature sound of the guitars in grunge is one that fits with David Lynch’s personal aesthetic. Two–the music of the show is clearly a reflection of the music Lynch and Mark Frost must have heard all the time as children of the 50’s and 60’s.  Perhaps if I made Twin Peaks the show would have had a grunge vibe.  

Anyway, if there is a grunge song that would fit perfectly in Twin Peaks it is Mother Love Bone’s “Chloe Dancer/Crown of Thorns”. (Technically, this is two songs sequenced together on Apple, but I have always heard them as one track, and the song’s use in Cameron Crowe’s Seattle-set …say anything and Singles popularized the two songs as a suite.) The song opens with a haunting, ethereal piano that feels not too far off from something Angelo Badalamenti would compose.  Similarly, lead vocalist Andrew Wood has the same tones in his voice–almost a male Julee Cruise. Of course, Wood’s overdose from heroin makes him the ghost that haunts all of grunge music, so it is very easy to ascribe those qualities to the tune.  

The song itself is about Wood’s relationship with his girlfriend Xana La Fuente. Wood had convinced LaFuente to turn to stripping to support their relationship (and his addiction).  Legend has it LaFuente quit after only an hour, and this led to the crumbling of their relationship and Wood to spiral into self-immolation. Toxic relationships are ever present in Twin Peaks, perhaps none more acutely than with Shelly and Leo Johnson.  And of course Laura Palmer is another poster child for self-immolation.

The Roots (featuring Ursula Rucker)
Return to Innocence Lost
Things Fall Apart, 1999

The Roots, for their first five albums, closed each of them with an instrumental/spoken word piece.  “Return to Innocence Lost” closes their 1999 masterpiece Things Fall Apart (which takes its name from the Chinua Achebe novel). The music that underpins the song is intentionally meant to sound like a lullaby, and again, I can’t help but think that it would fit right into Badalamenti’s repertoire (in fact, the music throughout Things Fall Apart is Badalamenti-esque).  The spoken word portion of the song is performed by Ursula Rucker, who tells the story of her oldest brother.  Key to the story is the fact that their drunken, slovenly father would come home each night and rape their pregnant mother, thus profaning the womb.  Rucker’s thesis is that this act of profanity set her brother down an irrevocable path of pain, crime, addiction and misery that inexorably led to his death. The sins of the father thus passed down to the son.    

This idea in Twin Peaks manifests itself most clearly in the character of Richard Horne, who, without directly spoiling a major Season 3 plotline, was born under similar profane circumstances.

Nine Inch Nails
Copy of A; Came Back Haunted
Album/Year: Hesitation Marks, 2013 

Nine Inch Nails are absolutely one of my favorite bands. I lost my motherfcking mind when they performed at the roadhouse in “Part 8/Gotta Light?” I remember reading the cast list and seeing Trent Reznor listed and going “Whaaaaaaat?” but then sort of forgot about it.  Genuinely surprised when they showed up and rocked the Road House with “She’s Gone Away,” a song I had never heard before seeing it performed in “Part 8/Gotta Light”.  

My personal relationship with NIN was basically being way into them during The Downward Spiral record in the mid 90’s and sticking with them through With Teeth, their 2005 album I bought but never really connected to and never actually listened to all the way through (though I do really appreciate it now). In our “Part 8/Gotta Light?” pod, Damon mentioned growing out of being an angry young man and thus, kind of not really digging NIN anymore, and I think I can echo that statement.  Hearing “She’s Gone Away” really brought out feelings of nostalgia for that mid-90’s NIN era and I was inspired to go back and listen to the music they released during my time away from the band.

Interestingly, Reznor himself may have been tired of being an angry young man.  Hesitation Marks was released after he took a five year hiatus from recording any NIN material.  Between 2008 and 2013 Reznor, along with bandmate Atticus Ross became respected composers co-authoring Oscar winning film scores (their score for 2010’s The Social Network is a true masterpiece and well-deserving of the Oscar it won), a move presaged by the 2008 NIN album Ghosts I-IV. Reznor also got married, started a family and generally mellowed and wizened as he entered middle age.  

Yet the urge to return to the angry young man era NIN never completely left Reznor, and the result is Hesitation Marks, an album that definitely wants you remember this is the same dude who recorded The Downward Spiral (the two albums share the same cover artist/designer in Russell Mills) but is also the more mature and musically adventurous composer. This is a NIN album you can groove and dance to.

“Copy of a” and “Came Back Haunted” are the two lead singles, and when I first heard “Copy of a” with its refrain “I am just a copy of a copy of a copy” I couldn't help but think of Cooper and all of his doppelgangers. “Came Back Haunted” reminds me of another character from Twin Peaks: The Return. I won’t spoil who except to say we won’t meet them until the very last hour.  

Nina Simone
Wild Is the Wind
Wild Is the Wind (1966) (though Simone first performed and recorded a version of the song in 1959, and it was originally written for Johnny Mathis in 1957)

Finally, a tune from the 50’s on my list.  Perhaps even one David Lynch would approve of! I came to “Wild Is the Wind” from another Lynch collaborator, David Bowie.  Bowie covered the song as the closing track on his 1976 album Station to Station.  Many Bowie fans consider his version of the song among the if not the finest of his vocal performances.  I would have put Bowie’s version here, but we did dedicate a whole playlist to him (and was strongly considering putting his “Wild Is the Wind” on that playlist).  Bowie’s cover is in the style of Nina Simone’s version.  
Simone’s version is equally beguiling.  There is minimal musical accompaniment on the track–only Simone’s piano playing and a bass drone.  The focus is on Simone’s haunting, smoky vocal performance.  When I heard it I was immediately reminded of Jimmy Scott’s performance of “Sycamore Trees” which also has a minimal musical backing and with it bringing the fierce power of Scott’s vocal to the forefront.  I could easily imagine Nina Simone crooning in front of those red velvet curtains on those chevron tiles, welcoming poor, doomed souls into the Black Lodge.  

Now Spinning: Colin

Sleigh Bells
Run the Heart
Treats, 2010

Thoughts: Sleigh Bells is the Brooklyn-based duo of Alexis Krauss, Derek Miller, and their first album, Treats, is a delicious sampler of overcranked guitars and pristine electronic beats. Highly structural and atmospheric, their stuff rocks and strains against the almost mathematical perfection of their design. I love a lot of tracks on this album, but the one I think best suits the Lynch vibe we are talking about is “Run the Heart,” which has stuttering, floating vocal harmonies, a slate of otherworldly synth tones, a buzzy backbeat, and spooky lyrics worthy of a Season 3 enigma: “You don’t know, You don’t really wanna know, You take a heart, I can take out two, You take a heart, I can take out you.” Runners up from this album for the Lynch-verse include the sunny, thumping youth anthem “Kids,” and the ominous 1950s-tearjerker echos of “Rachel”: “Rachel, please, don’t go to the beach…”

The Kills
Superstition
Keep On Your Mean Side, 2003

This track from American Allison Mosshart and Jamie Hince kicks off their 2003 album and sets a tone of fierce, grinding, scraping, screaming licks, and pulsing, blues-inflected guitar rhythms. As with Sleigh Bells, the Kills’ music is exquisitely constructed and often feels like it is straining to break free of its own boundaries, clawing at your speakers to get out. In “Superstition,” the tempo shifts, the rising rage, it’s all there in different elements of Season 3, echoing the headlights-at-night shot that tracks with Muddy Magnolias’ “American Woman” in Part 1, and the Nine Inch Nails interlude in Part 8.

Combustible Edison
Carnival of Souls
I, Swinger, 1994

Okay, we’re going way back for this one, kids! Come with me now to the lost mists of 1994, when the Internet was barely a thing and one had to seek out music at a place called Tower Records. One of the fun trends in the first half of that decade (or so) was the rediscovery and updating of some great old musical styles, such as the Tin Pan Alley revival with bands like Squirrel Nut Zippers, and the reissue of several of Juan Garcia Esquivel’s “space age bachelor pad” hits. Combustible Edison was part of what was later dubbed “neo-lounge” and their first album, “I, Swinger” is a love letter to an almost-lost ethos of smooth and softly swinging cocktail music. This entire album could fit within the Lynch-verse, I think, being, as it is, heavily influenced by cinema soundtracks and period instrumentation. Though it’s not actually my favorite track on the album, I can’t help but think the one Lynch would latch onto is “Carnival of Souls,” and, in fact, in doing some research, this is indeed a callback to the spooky organ music in the classic 1962 horror film of the same name, which has been said to influence Lynch, along with other cinematic greats. This is definitely an album that will make you want to dig out your cocktail shaker and mix up something dark and stormy.

Edvard Grieg (composer), Berliner Philharmoniker, Herbert von Karajan (conductor)
Peer Gynt Suite No. 1, Op. 46 -2. The Death of Ase (1875)
Grieg: Peer Gynt Suites, Holberg Suite, 1993

I am venturing a bit out of my own comfort zone here, but I think after the intense experience of Part 8’s use of Penderecki’s “Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima,” we can exercise a little latitude. I was first thinking about the other 20th-century composer whose work has had an outsized influence on American cinema, György Ligeti, but the piece I was thinking of, the “Requiem,” was used to stupendous effect alongside his “Atmospheres” and other pieces, in Stanley Kubrik’s “2001: A Space Odyssey,” so I expect Lynch would feel that a directors’ prerogative applies in that case and thus wouldn’t bring it into his own work. Instead, I landed on a less well-known passage within a piece that is quite well-known generally. Edvard Grieg’s “Peer Gynt Suite No. 1, Opus 46” was, in a kind of cool symmetry, the incidental music for Henrik Ibsen’s play of the same name–so, a soundtrack of its day. (For transparency’s sake, I don’t know all this stuff off the top of my head–well, I guess I do now–but I am poking around on Wikipedia to pin down dates and connections; apologies to actual experts out there.) 

There are several movements in “Peer Gynt” that you would recognize from other pop culture content, but I wanted to focus on a short, pensive interlude that accompanies a character’s death in the play, section 2, “The Death of Aase.” It has an exquisitely soft, searching tone, emotionally charged, but also restrained and respectful. After the musical experience of Part 8, I could imagine Lynch taking us through something mystical and ethereal with this music. It does have a quality that I think presages the work of Bernard Hermann, whose scores for Hitchcock films, and others, were wonderful inventions that drew on superb classical foundations. I’m sure there are many wonderful recordings, but of course one can scarcely go wrong with the Berliner Philharmoniker and von Karajan on the podium. 

The piece is only a few minutes long, but you may feel as if you have traveled a great distance, perhaps as Garland Briggs did: “In my vision, I was on the veranda of a vast estate, a palazzo of some fantastic proportion. There seemed to emanate from it a light from within—this gleaming radiant marble. I had known this place. I had in fact been born and raised there. This was my first return, a reunion with the deepest wellsprings of my being.”

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