Reflections on Returning to Twin Peaks

Upon returning to Twin Peaks it only evokes what we all already knew; you cannot go back. It is so cruel that in life we are destined to go forward whilst we long to go back, we envy our younger selves as they mock us with the freedoms of youth, the beauty, energy, vigour and zeal that only youth can bestow, however we are obligated to trudge ever forward into the grey murk of tomorrow, without anything but wrinkles, old age and mortality to greet us along the way. In an age obsessed with youth and its inherent beauty, whereby your own experiences have been repackaged and reframed and romanticised a thousand times over, it is impossible to escape the allure of nostalgia and the seductive shimmer of yesterday. This cultural appetite for our former years and decades past says an enormous amount about our culture today, and by dwelling in the past we impede the vitality of our future, as what has been can never be again, yes, you can dust off the old suit, but it won’t fit the same.

This is where we find ourselves in the contemporary climate of post-modern meta TV, film and mass media consumption. Everything is being given a soft reboot, prequel, reimagining, continuation, or belated sequel. By re-entering old relics of film and TV’s golden era, we hope to find salvation and sanctuary in the fiction of a century that in hindsight looks simple, unfussy and extraoridnary. Perhaps we took it for granted, perhaps they were the golden years. The cinema of the seventies and eighties, the television of the nineties, certainly had a vibrancy that has never been recreated or bested, so we journey back. We re-tread the paths we have already trodden, we reframe it, redress it, adorn it in new clothes, but essentially this is make believe, dress-up – we are deluding ourselves that it is 1990 again, that these haggard and worn bodies are immune to the inevitable decay of mortality and will live eternally in these fictional lives. And in many ways, they will, such is the power of cinema and art, celluloid is immortality, the characters we love from every film and TV show we have ever adored will remain unblemished by the passing of time and retain eternal youth as the world goes on trucking. There is no need to go back, to try and make that which has passed present again, it is there whenever we wish to return for that is the beauty of art and the true sanctity of cinema.

So, as we begin to re-enter the world of Twin Peaks in the year 2017, some twenty-five years after the initial shows cancellation, it is with a pang of heavy dismay that we are left feeling un-satiated, naturally disappointed as we realise upon watching the season premiere that this isn’t the same as we remember, everything looks familiar but we recognise nothing of what it was that we loved. Because you cannot decant youth or the experiences which amounted to it, you cannot preserve or recapture the purity of how those experiences made you feel, nostalgia can only ever be the pang that that beautiful thing is no more, which makes it more beautiful as it will never age, never deteriorate and never disappoint. But once you revisit the past, once you put yesterday’s clothes on today, it only reminds us how much time has passed, how old we have all gotten, how much the world has deteriorated, how far away that golden century now seems, so it can only be viewed with a sense of sadness, a heavy sigh and a sense of dissatisfaction.

It is important for us culturally as we sail the choppy waters of tomorrows uncertain future, that to ensure the beauty and vitality never fades from the art we create, the films we adore and the TV shows we fall in love with, we must create new stories, new narratives, new characters and new worlds for it is in the genesis of pure creativity that we fall in love. We must relinquish our obsession with the past, the attachments we have for our former selves, our former lives, and our former bodies, no matter how wondrous they appear in hindsight. It is integral we greet our future, not with resignation and despair, but with the same romance and reverence we have for the past. It is time to create new stories and fall in love all over again.    

DREAMCAR

Dreamcar have finally unveiled their first song from their long gestating, tight-lipped supergroup. The band, comprised of former No Doubt members Tom Dumont, Adrian Young and Tony Canal with AFI’s Davey Havok taking Gwen Steffani’s former mantel as lead singer have been shrouded in mystery and causing a stir of fervent debate and anticipation for almost a year now. After much speculation, Dreamcar present the first glimpse of new music with lead single Kill for Candy, taken from the forthcoming eponymous debut LP, and it finds them as an exciting proposition.

The song is full on eighties, its synth heavy, rich production is evident from the off. The layered textures that echo familiarity to many beloved acts from the 1980’s such as Depeche Mode, Duran Duran, The Cure and Pet Shop Boys make a bold statement as to what kind of band this is. Dreamcar is a new-wave outfit, their influences are omnipresent throughout, however this is not just mere imitation and hero worship. Among the many nods to pops former glory are moments of undeniable modernity that make Dreamcar very current and of their time.

Davey Havok takes centre stage and his unmistakable voice wraps itself around delicious melodies that twist and meander in that Morrissey-ish way that Havok does so well. For fans of AFI this heavily eighties inspired sound is not polarizing at all, it is where the band have sat for the best part of the last ten years and it is when Havok is expressing himself in this manner that he is most affecting. There is an authenticity to Davey’s delivery when he sings shimmering pop songs full of pomp, theatricality and drama that allows the singer to expose himself in ways that is intriguing, elusive and seductive. There are overt sexual themes that evoke themselves from certain lyrical phrases during Kill for Candy such as ‘what’s on our tongues is less discreet, before it dissolves its oh so sweet’. Moment’s like this embody the true essence of Davey Havok and the Dreamcar project itself.

This is a sexy, evocative, lustrous pop-rock project and its musicians are extremely experienced and competent at writing and performing slick radio pop hits so effortlessly. The rhythm section is tight and driving and the guitar lines dance over Havok’s lush and varied melodies. The band perform like they have been together for years, perhaps it is their respective experience that makes this all seem so effortless, or their seemingly kismet compatibility. Despite the origins of the group emerging from the drama surrounding No Doubt, it isn’t at all noticeable. Dreamcar feels like a real band, not a side-project or supergroup, whose members appear destined to be making music together. Kill for Candy is short, sweet and as enticing as it is catchy, with the LP just around the corner, Dreamcar could be something very special.

Ryan Adams: One of Rock n Rolls last true artists

Ryan Adams has for the better part of twenty years maintained an impressive, critically acclaimed solo career. He has had ups and downs and has taken many knocks from personal troubles, ill health, critical lashings and commercial failures. Yet despite his vast and eclectic musical output over the last seventeen years, Adams has remained an uncompromising unique voice, true to his own authentic vision and resolutely himself.

This year sees the release of the singer songwriter’s sixteenth studio album Prisoner. It is among his most accomplished and cohesive efforts to date. Adams is known for his prolific output of material and for a while there in the mid noughties, in the middle of his career, things got a bit rocky, there were great albums amongst the misfires, some undeservedly overlooked. Personal matters seemed to get in the way and for a couple of years it was evident that the undeniably brilliant songwriter was struggling to find his identity amongst the sheer volume of records that he kept producing. Like an inverse writer’s block, Adams wrote too much, perhaps released more material than he should have so early on in his career, but he is a songwriter and that’s what songwriters (should) do, write songs. During this period, Adams played with his band the Cardinals and together they released a string of records, among them the revered Cold Roses and Easy Tiger, but also overlooked gems like Jacksonville City Nights and III/IV. Despite the enigmatic songwriters burgeoning arsenal of material, his back catalogue remained scatter brain and incongruent, his work lacked the cohesion that his first two records had. After a three-year hiatus of self-inflicted exile, Adams finally returned re-energised and uncompromising.

Since 2011 Adams has released three critically acclaimed full length records and a plethora of seven inches. Ashes and Fire, Ryan Adams and this year’s Prisoner signify a new chapter in the songwriter’s career. Adams has finally found a way to make every aspect of his chaotic personality yield great cohesion and vision. He re-emerged as a self-actualised renaissance man, writing songs as deftly fragile and hauntingly beautiful as ever but with a new adrenalized strut and swagger of a hardcore punk turned nineties alt rock star. Adams carries himself like he’s the guitarist in Sonic Youth or Husker Du but sings from a much more tender place. His music overflows with the lovelorn melodies and cadences of The Smiths, Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan, Tom Petty and all the great iconoclasts of rocks decorated history but remains true to his punk rock roots and DIY ethic. Somehow in the last few years, since he retained full authorship of his work, releasing all his music via his own label Pax Americana, Adams has been free to curate and augment a career and world entirely of his own design. No longer does he have to repress any aspect of his personality, musical predilections or penchants for science fiction, eighties films, analogue recording equipment, pinball machines or fantasy inspired t-shirt designs. Adams is now free to be himself and represent his art exactly in line with his own tastes and artistic affinities. And a far more confident and interesting artist he is because of it.

Since his re-emergence in 2011, Ryan Adams has also refined the art of making a great album along the way. In the past, he tended to throw everything onto a record, his early albums were bursting at the seams, often running over sixty minutes and eighteen tracks. These days there is a less is more approach. His records now commonly run twelve songs and each new release seems poised with purpose, intent and cohesion. No song out stays its welcome and the albums benefit greatly from it. He has become a greater sculptor of his own art. It all starts with the songs, but the sequencing, editing, artwork, which is all produced in house, has become clearer more evocative, precise, concise and ultimately more powerful. However, Adams has not grown any less prolific. Since the release of 2014’s self-titled album, Adams has consistently released seven-inch EP’s, each one containing three tracks that explore a variety of different genres or styles. There is a spontaneity and urgency that can be heard in these releases. These records exist purely for the love of playing, recording and making records. These fringe releases add to the mystery of Adams eccentric personality and indefinable musical discography.

Adams latest, Prisoner is as focused as he has ever been. It is an intimate journey into the man during the collapse of his marriage. These songs are bleak yet beautiful, transparent in their lyrical delivery but lush and comforting. The intimacy of the record, the brightness of the recording and the soft eighties warmth of the production plays like a John Hughes film soundtracked by Bruce Springsteen over the musical canvas of Johnny Marr. Always one to wear his heart (and influences) on his sleeve, Ryan Adams defies any accusations of imitation, plagiarism and mere hero worship by the way he manages to use the influences he clearly loves so much to articulate a voice that is undeniably his own. A truly unique artist with an extraordinary mind and God given talent to write songs in the most pure and compelling way. Simple melodies, simple chords, undeniable. Ryan Adams is a master.