david lynch: catching the big fish (with donovan)

“in todays world of fear and uncertainty, every child should have one class period a day to dive within himself and experience the field of silence – bliss – the enormous reservoir of energy and intelligence that is deep within us all.”

three things to know about david lynch:

one, he has the most incredible head of hair. like its been sculpted, carefully yet with a mad flourish, from long gray wood shavings.

two, he has a firm handshake which neither retracts offensively early or clings on a bit too long.

three, he confides in me ‘hey, i play guitar, man.’  that cheeky drawled ‘man’.  that sly look of a guy who knows something.

anyway this is one of the all-time odd friday nights.  and no matter how well i write this i cannot humanly describe just how other it was and how goddam amusing the conversation was after it.

david lynch lecturing on transcendental meditation and his art;  talking about his new book catching the big fish.  which is an interesting read if only to get a handle on the thought processes of a mad fucking genius.

to quote:

“i dont necessarily love rotting bodies, but there’s a texture to a rotting body that is unbelievable.  have you ever seen little rotting animal?  i love looking at these things, just as much as i like to look at a close-up of tree bark, or a small bug, or a cup of coffee, or a piece of pie.  you get in close and the textures are wonderful.”

after an introduction from one of the many men in beige david lynch, thee david lynch, strolls onto the stage, stands at his lectern and starts fielding questions.  which being an edinburgh audience takes a bit of prompting.

does he envision returning to twin peaks?  only in his head apparently.  a place which he occasionally visits.

lots of ramblings from fellow transcendental meditators who hog the mic with earnestly detailed questions.  all of which he answers with the same hand waving motions and the same story about diving down deep within, unified field theory and grasping ideas.

a few questions about metaphors in mullholland drive from a guy who sounds like a film student who doesn’t really understand mullholland drive.

filming in DV and the freedoms it offers.

he actually uses the phrase peachy keen.  peachy keen!

being true to yourself as an artist and not selling out for money i.e. dune.

he talks about ideas and where they come from and how he puts them together.

one of our party gets up and asks him about the whole laura dern, oscar, cow, without cheese there would be no inland empire shenanigans.

and off he goes to rapturous applause.

check this shit out . . . .

anyway all this is followed by a set from sixties folk troubadour donovan.

and bizarrely, this is where it gets really bizarre.

we see a short film of him through the ages hanging with the beatles and dylan, singing his happy clappy hippy songs.  all very sixties.  all very blah.

then he comes onstage and acts like the past forty years just hasn’t happened.

you know when austin powers gets unfrozen.  that’s how donovan is.

you know when daniel o’donnell claims his voice has holy healing powers.  that’s the mood.

you know j. peterman from seinfeld . . . “i’m afraid it’s your urine, elaine.  you’ve tested positive for opium…that’s right.  white lotus.  yam-yam.  shanghai sally… the dark continent is no place for an addict, elaine.”

he talks in this creepy singsong voice while strumming his guitar.  introducing his songs,  he sounds like some weird mid-atlantic-accented dylan.  if dylan was some seedy, stained peeper, some creepy old pederast.  i probably should mention his massive cuffs.  massive massive fucking flowing wizardy cuffs.

‘when i was in the jungles of india with the maharishi ….’

‘here’s a song about a german actress who i loved and so i wrote this song ….’

‘when i played this song for the beatles, george harrison asked if he could write a verse and i said no george but he did but we never recorded it.  tell me queens hall do you want to hear george harrisons lost verse of hurdygurdyman? ….’

‘back in my flat in london, jamming with jimmy page yeeeoooowwwhh ….’

yes he actually made that ‘yeeeeooooowwwwhh’ noise.

anyway our childish sniggering, namecalling and general bemusement at how seriously this is being taken earns us a serious remonstration from the serious young woman in front who tells us in not so many words to shut the fuck up.

it all becomes patently ridiculous as he begins another tale from the mists of time.

‘years ago the maharishi said to me, donovan, you should go to edinburgh.  you should go there and start a university…’

a few nervous chuckles.  is he being serious?  yes apparently.

and so many many years later the Invincible Donovan University is born. he then proceeds to sing a song about it. with the chorus being yes . . . invincible donovan university.  it’s a remarkable moment in my life.  hearing arguably the worst lyric ever put to music.  and being in a room with a bunch of people taking it deadly deadly serious.

and so it came to pass that we could standeth this shite no longer and had to retire to the bar.  where much guffawing commenced.  probably to the disgruntlement of the many donovan fans in the room.  honestly if you had no idea who donovan was you’d assume it was a bad comedy sketch.  he appeared later at the bar wearing an ankle length black petticoat.  nuff said.

here’s where donovan and the butthole surfers meet . . .

 

and we met mr lynch, shook some hands, made a few not-terribly-interesting comments and left.

p.s.

the dream of the bovine: david lynch and robert engels wrote the screenplay for this film after twin peaks: fire walk with me.  the film is about three guys, who used to be cows, living in van nuys and trying to assimilate their lives.