One of the most impressive things about
David Lynch
's artistry is his commitment to working with longtime collaborators. With artists like the late
Angelo Badalamenti
and
Julee Cruise
, he forged a creative trust that fostered some of the most brilliant music of any of their careers. If
Cellophane Memories
is any indication, his partnership with
Chrystabell
will be just as profound. On their previous releases, it was easy to hear why they were drawn to work together:
's throaty voice rivals the presence of an old Hollywood siren, a quality
Lynch
is an expert at magnifying and subverting. However,
This Train
's gritty roadhouse stomp and
We Dissolve
's electronic excursions burnished the Lynchian sound instead of bringing anything fresh to it. This time, they revitalize the surreally sensual pop the director has explored for the better part of 40 years. Simply put,
sounds like the way
's films and TV shows move. Instead of appearing in neat harmonies or clearly defined lead and backing parts,
's vocals circle, chase, and converse with each other. On songs like "She Knew," her layered voices are like multiple exposures in a photograph, capturing the slightest change in mood. Frequently, the album doesn't just challenge traditional song forms, but the flow of time itself. The entwining ecstasy of "Two Lovers Kiss" feels like it could go on forever; on "You Know the Rest,"
's voice flits backwards and forwards over dusty guitars, implying that the beginning, middle, and end of love are happening at the same time.
may be such a dynamic collaboration because it's a truly equal partnership.
produced the sessions and
engineered them, and though he wrote the songs' stream-of-consciousness words, she's the one who brings them to life. The richness of her voice is the only thing grounding "The Sky Falls"' ambient drift, while the entire range of her airy highs and sumptuous lows is on display on "With Small Animals." Her growth as a vocalist makes itself known on "The Answers to the Questions," a torch song where her singing flickers between pain and desire like it's in a strong wind, and on "Reflections in a Blade," which slices her voice into breathless fragments that don't lose any of their haunting impact.
's use of the studio as a device to erase the boundaries between then and now comes full circle on songs such as "Sublime Eternal Love," where her voice floats on
Badalamenti
's signature synth string drones pulled from the director's archive. Like the third season of Twin Peaks,
doesn't merely meet fans' expectations. While there's plenty of dreamy heartache, it's the often bewildering beauty
achieve on this album that makes it an artistic milestone for both of them. ~ Heather Phares