Ten Classic David Lynch Music Moments

The landmark Eraserhead gets much of its subconscious-plumbing unease from the hissing, droning, rumbling noisescapes of Lynch and Alan R. Splet. But the film’s most memorable brainworm happens when Henry Spencer’s radiator opens up to reveal a tiny stage, where the enigmatic Lady in the Radiator croons the simple, 98-second weeper “In Heaven.” The haunting, cartoonish tune — written by Lynch and Peter Ivers — would transfix the audiences that crowded midnight showings, and, as Eraserhead gained currency as a signpost of iconoclastic anti-mainstream expression, covers began to populate the set lists of irreverent bands like Devo, Tuxedomoon, Bauhaus, and the Pixies. —Christopher R. Weingarten

The emotional capstone of wide-eyed Jeffrey Beaumont sifting through the perverse underbelly of Lumberton, North Carolina, is being forced to watch mysterious Ben passionately lip-synch Roy Orbison’s 1963 hit “In Dreams” into an industrial work light. Orbison hated the use of the song after seeing the film, but pushed by his friends to rewatch it, ended up appreciating it. Orbison rerecorded the song, released a music video that incorporated Blue Velvet footage, and began a career Renaissance that lasted until his death in 1988. —C.W.

Years before Nicolas Cage married Lisa Marie Presley or skydived with Elvis impersonators in Honeymoon in Vegas, the actor first channeled the King in Wild at Heart, Lynch’s ultra-violent road movie about two star-crossed lovers. Elvis himself inspired Lynch’s interpretation of Cage’s character, Sailor, and Presley’s music features on a pair of occasions — both times sung by Cage — including a rock club rendition of “Love Me” delivered to Laura Dern’s Lula. (As evidenced by this list, an artist singing on stage was a reoccurring motif in Lynch’s work, from Blue Velvet to Mulholland Drive to the band-of-the-week format of Twin Peaks: The Return.) “David was a singular genius in cinema, one of the greatest artists of this or any time,” Cage said in a statement. “He was brave, brilliant, and a maverick with a joyful sense of humor. I never had more fun on a film set than working with David Lynch. He will always be solid gold.” —Daniel Kreps

Lynch was sitting with Angelo Badalamenti when he told the composer what he was envisioning for the score to his upcoming mystery drama. “David said, ‘Start it off foreboding, like you’re in a dark wood, and then segue into something beautiful to reflect the trouble of a beautiful teenage girl,’” Badalamenti recalled to us in 2014. “Then, once you’ve got that, go back and do something that’s sad and go back into that sad, foreboding darkness.” In one take, Badalamenti created the spectral “Laura Palmer’s Theme,” one of the many highlights on one of the most influential soundtracks of all time. Whether instrumental or with vocalist Julee Cruise, Badalamenti’s luring, ominous dream pop became just as iconic as the series itself. The theme song — a foggy trip of walking bass to match the imagery of the fictional Northwestern town — even won a Grammy in 1991, beating out Phil Collins, Quincy Jones, and Kenny G. —Angie Martoccio

Lynch heard that James Marshall — the actor behind earnest Peaks protagonist James Hurley — was bringing his guitar to the set to kill time between takes. Naturally, he asked if the actor wanted to perform a song on the show. Together with Badalamenti, the trio composed “Just You,” a song inspired by the Platters, layered with slapback and keening with Marshall’s falsetto, ultimately wringing anxiety from same innocent space he explored with Bobby Vinton and Roy Orbison songs in Blue Velvet. In an iconic scene from Episode Nine, Marshall performs it with Lara Flynn Boyle and Sheryl Lee, but he didn’t end up playing the guitar part: In a Q&A, he said they already recorded it with West Coast punk icon John Doe of X. —C.W.

While composing the score for Blue Velvet, Angelo Badalamenti pulled in the late singer Julee Cruise and introduced Lynch to her aerial vocals — and quickly, the three of them became permanent fixtures in one another’s creative work. Both Badalamenti and Lynch are all over the credits of Cruise’s debut album, Floating Into the Night, but perhaps the greatest testament to the strength of their collaboration is Cruise’s “Falling,” one of her many contributions to the Twin Peaks series soundtrack (she also appeared on several episodes and in the film follow-ups as a haunting roadhouse singer.) The instrumental version became the show’s theme, and the song won an unexpected Grammy in 1991. Cruise’s otherworldly delivery here captures so much of why her sound complemented Lynch’s bewildering universes: Gossamer and ghostly, she sang in a way that easily drifts between heavenly and hair-raising. —Julyssa Lopez

In the final episode of Twin Peaks‘ original Nineties run, Agent Cooper takes one of his more memorable trips to the red room where the sweet-voiced jazz legend Jimmy Scott was performing the Lynch/Badalamenti-penned “Sycamore Trees” amid the flickering strobe lights. The appearance marked a small career comeback for Scott, who would release a 1992 major-label standards album, All the Way, that would get him his first Grammy nomination. —C.W.

David Bowie had been part of Lynch’s world long before his song “I’m Deranged” appeared in the opening sequence of the director’s 1997 alt-horror film Lost Highway. Bowie had been a fan of his work, appearing in 1992’s Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me and basing elements of his album Outside on the show. That 1995 LP was a concept album about a murdered teenage girl and the detectives investigating the case. Lynch and soundtrack producer Trent Reznor (working in film for only the second time, after Natural Born Killers) chose to start Lost Highway with the Outside track “I’m Deranged.” The moody synths and moaning lyrics set the tone for what’s been described as Lynch’s most disturbing movie. Appearing on a soundtrack next to tracks from Smashing Pumpkins, Marilyn Manson, and new music from Reznor himself, the song helped introduce Bowie to a new generation ready to have their sense of reality twisted into oblivion. —Elisabeth Garber-Paul  

Lynch’s surreal neo-noir mystery from 2001 hinges on an extraordinarily strange performance at the venue known as Club Silencio. Betty (Naomi Watts) and Rita (Laura Harring), the two characters we’ve gotten to know in the first half of the film, go to the club together late at night. They watch from the audience as real-life SoCal singer-songwriter Rebekah Del Rio performs “Llorando,” her highly emotive Spanish-language cover of Roy Orbison’s “Crying.” Betty and Rita get more and more upset as the performance goes on — until Del Rio suddenly collapses midsong, her voice keeps going, and reality starts coming apart at the seams. —Simon Vozick-Levinson

Leave it to Lynch to take one of the peppiest pop classics of the Sixties and weave it into the story of an actress’ hellish ride through Hollywood horrors. Partway through Inland Empire, as Laura Dern’s character starts slipping into a nightmarish no-man’s land between reality and film-set delusions, a group of women appear in front of her and launch into an upbeat choreographed dance to Little Eva’s bright, belt-it-out anthem “Locomotion.” The tonal jump — paired with Lynch’s signature creepy lighting — is completely brilliant, making for one of the most WTF moments in the film’s long sequence of WTF moments. Then, in a blink, the dancers are gone, leaving nothing but dead eerie quiet and Dern’s terrified expression as we all try to figure out what just happened. —J.L.