The familiar Lynchian tropes are evident throughout this second solo album from the auteur director. What's not here, though, is the craft and the sheer peculiarity that might make The Big Dream more listenable.
Lynch utilises a skeletalsound that's like creaky, slowed-down rockabilly in places, with rough guitar and clunky beats behind his plaintive, voice. It's a sound with all flesh stripped off the bone, but Lynch himself sounds like an intellectual playing bogus trailer-trash. It's telling that the most compelling story here is Dylan's “The Ballad of Hollis Brown”.
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