Keep my address to myself / Coz we need secrets back right now
—Pavement, “Gold Soundz”
Shhh: This record’s a secret. A terribly kept secret, but still…
Cindy Lee – Diamond Jubilee
One of my least favourite crit clichés is “Lynchian.” As in: David Lynch. I know I’ve abused the term myself.
What bugs me about “Lynchian” is that it’s a cheap shorthand for “weird,” for “something that would befuddle your normie family or officemates.” Usually it’s something rooted in sepia-toned American pop culture of the ’50s and ’60s filtered through a slightly (or overtly) sinister lens. But it usually gets applied to something slightly torchy but as completely normal and mainstream and ooh-aren’t-I-shocking as Lana Del Rey. A few ’50s chord progressions, a twangy guitar and lots of reverb usually do the trick.
Diamond Jubilee, however, is the kind of record that absolutely lives up to its Lynchiness, in every sense: like every song here is being sung in front of a room of terrifyingly pervy small-town thugs who are paralyzed by the notion of romantic vulnerability. It would be inappropriate for me at this point to mention this androgynous artist is Albertan.
Has anyone synched up this record with Blue Velvet yet? Like people do with Dark Side of the Moon and Wizard of Oz? The reason I ask is that unlike that pairing, Diamond Jubilee is almost exactly the length of Blue Velvet. Yet it feels longer than—and more akin to—Inland Empire.
What’s legit Lynchian about it? Well…
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