On a Lost Highway

Remembering David Lynch 1946 - 2025

Roses for David; Blue Velvet

Hi Everyone,

First of all, I want to send love to my friends and followers in the Los Angeles area affected by the fires. Los Angeles has always been good to me and the band(s), so when you are hurting, we feel it too. Anything I could write to console you seems insufficient, so I just wanted to let you know I’m thinking of you and wishing for the safety and wellbeing of your family, friends, and animals.

It is bright and sunny here today, a rare blessing for a winter’s day in Vancouver, and I can feel my bones waking from hibernation. It is my Dad’s 77th birthday, so I will call him soon to say hi and send birthday wishes. I am taking a moment to appreciate the coffee in front of me, the sunlight warming my face, my dog Mary snoozing against my back. I noticed for the first time since maybe… October?, that the sun rose earlier this morning. The days are finally getting longer and I am thankful for that too. From another room, Jay calls out to me to say that David Lynch passed away.

Rest in Transcendental Peace

It would be difficult to name another artist who has had a greater impact on me than David Lynch. Too young to get into Twin Peaks when it originally aired, my first encounter with Lynch’s work was 1997’s surrealist neo-noir, Lost Highway and I was forever a fan. In it, I discovered that Lynch’s imagination was a magical, and sinister place; equal parts beauty and horror—somewhere between a soft-focus daydream and the cruel, blinding light of reality. And that soundtrack! Bowie, NIN, Manson; basically pure catnip for teenage Shannon. The film even made a cameo appearance in my lyrics for Runaway, some 20 years later: let’s runaway / on a lost highway…

Lynch’s oeuvre continues to touch my life in unexpected ways. Many years after viewing Lost Highway, bedridden with fever and flu, I finally watched Blue Velvet—which by the way, is ideal viewing conditions for such a strange and beguiling film. His book Catching the Big Fish has pulled me out of spiritual and artistic dread more times than I can count. I learned to meditate. I learned to paint. One of my favourite memories on tour with ACTORS is driving after dark in North Bend, WA, one of the locations on Twin Peaks. Just like the show, we travelled a narrow winding road through deep forest, our headlights barely penetrating the darkness, the yellow centre line blurring out on the black concrete. We could feel something supernatural in the air. Once we arrived at our Air B&B for the night, I laid in bed, and listened to the owls murmuring in the trees. I can tell you, Twin Peaks is a real place. In the morning we had coffee and cherry pie at the Double R. I’ll see if I can find the pictures. Or maybe it was all a dream.

Although Lynch shared a lot with us about his creative process through books and interviews, he preferred to let the films and their meaning speak for themselves. Making things make sense can be its own kind of cleverness, but he never seemed too concerned with providing answers. As a developing artist, Lynch inspired me to follow my artistic curiosities without knowing exactly where it would lead or what it might mean. That’s a later problem, or maybe you don’t ever need to know.

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In two weeks ACTORS will be arriving in Bucharest for the first time, probably quite jet-lagged, but very excited to play music for new people in faraway places. We will be in Europe for 5 weeks. Will I see you out there?

As for this journal, my plan for Daydream Trash in 2025 is to update frequently with shorter entries so you can be a fly on the wall during our adventures on the road this year. Let me know below if there’s anything in particular you’d like to me to cover and I’ll do my best to make it happen.

Until then, take care of each other, and stay wild at heart.

XO

Shannon