I guess it shouldn't be a surprise that "The Big Dream" has the title that it does, coming from the Master of Dreams himself, Mr. David Lynch. So YES let's just put it out there right now that I am/was/will always be a big fan of Lynch, as pretentious and stupidly arty as he may seem to some. I don't really need things to make sense, and I appreciate things that don't. Given that, I have a high tolerance for watching mutated, sperm-like mutant babies float through outer space.
Thankfully for you, this isn't that. It isn't even about that. It's about music. It's true that the summer season is upon us, and everyone's bustin' out the happy-go-lucky jams and perhaps "The Big Dream" – with it’s release date of July 16th - will be far from giving us tracks that fall into that categorization... BUT, when the evening creeps in and the leaves begin to bitterly flutter to the ground and you're blowing fog-enhanced smoke-rings under a streetlamp - truly what could be more appropriate.
"The Big Dream" is Lynch's follow up to 2011's "Crazy Clown Time", an admittedly bizarro but well received album that lyrically weaved tales revolving around stalking women, Alan Watts-ish analyzing of destructive thought patterns, and of course, the titular Crazy Clown Time, which to be perfectly honest I'm not entirely sure how to explain. I'll just put it right here:
For those of you who are reluctant to listen to his admittedly off-putting voice, I understand. However, much like the people who have but one thing to say about Bob Dylan ("ugh, he's a HORRIBLE singer!"), it doesn't matter. It could hardly be denied that the most important works of art are often not aesthetically pleasing. You're not going to drive around with the windows rolled down, licking a popsicle and crankin' "Chimes of Freedom". In much the same way, Lynch's music requires something of you - but if you give it, you will be rewarded. You never know - on some long late-night walk home you might even NEED it. Appropriately enough, "The Big Dream" will feature a Bob Dylan cover, as well as a bonus track with Lykke Li.
Musically it's about as weird as white-guy-blues can get, and it all gives a sort of vague, temporary impression of what it might be like to listen in to someone else's head. Whether David Lynch's head is something you'd want to get into or not is another matter, but you can be rest assured that I can, will, and already do. As often as possible.