Explore the Best Casino_night_zone Art | DeviantArt

Hello friends. Per a request, here is a running list of those who have gone missing in East Texas. As a journalist in this area, these are the individuals I have noticed as part of the missing groups I frequent. Please feel free to direct me to more. As it is my line of work, I care deeply. Some of these individuals I know about, some I do not know much about. There are many more, but this first post is just the time range of 2000-2020. I will do other time periods if there is interest, although older cases are harder to track.
They are organized alphabetically.
Albright, Alwin- last seen 7/6/19 walking away from his home on Scott Street in Gilmer in Upshur County. He is 74 years old with grey hair and blue eyes. He’s 5’10” and 250 pounds. He was last seen wearing a red shirt and blue jeans. Mr. Albright has medical issues and is without the medications he needs. There is a $1000 reward for information regarding his whereabouts. Anyone with information should contact the Upshur County Sheriff.
Alvarado, Eric “Slow”- Last seen 11/20/18. Disappeared from Atlanta, Texas, he is 6’5” and 180 pounds. He was 32 years old, and now would be 34. He was last seen wearing camouflage pajama pants, a white t-shirt, and a gray zip-up jacket. He also may have the glasses he was wearing. He has tattoos on his arms, chest and neck. There is a $10,000 reward for information on his whereabouts. Anyone with information should contact the Atlanta, TX police.
Birdwell, Jerrod- Last seen 1/6/14. Missing from Tyler, Jerrod was 17 at the time he disappeared. His height is listed as 5’5” and weight as 170 pounds, but he may have grown. He is white, with short black hair and brown eyes. There are no more details available about him. Anyone with information should contact the Smith County Sheriff.
Boehm, Frederick “Lil Joe” Joseph- Last seen 1/25/01. 6’0”, 130 pounds, white male with hazel eyes and brown hair missing from Marshall. He has a rebel flag tattoo on his upper arm. His sister Jolene is searching for answers and offering a $5000 reward. Anyone with information should contact the Harrison County Sheriff.
Cannon, Heather Danielle- Last seen 8/27/09. The 15-year-old disappeared from Athens, Texas. Authorities believe she left of her own accord, and she was last seen in the company of her biological father, Jerral Allen Whitley. Whitley refused to take a polygraph test after Heather's disappearance and was later incarcerated in Florida for drug offenses and grand theft. He was imprisoned for 18 months before being released in October 2014. Police have since completed excavations of a property on County Road 4837, near Larue. Anyone with information should contact the Henderson County Sheriff.
Childress, Antoinette Renee- Last seen 10/13/15. Missing from Henderson at her trailer home. About a month before Childress went missing, her sister, Patricia Nichols, began receiving strange Facebook messages from her. The first message said there was an emergency and Childress needed her phone number. Three weeks later Nichols got another message that just said "Sister where are I, what's going on." On October 6, Nichols got a voice message from Childress's Facebook account. The message said something about guardian angels, but the voice wasn't Childress's. Nichols left home after that and didn't return until November 6, by which time Childress was missing.
Two women contacted Nichols after Childress's disappearance and said they knew what had happened to her. The women stated Childress had been involved in using and selling drugs, and gotten some bad people angry, and was tortured and killed as a result. This information has not been verified.
Childress was seeing Felipe Villanueva at the time of his disappearance. He is considered a person of interest in her case and has multiple warrants for his arrest on drug-related charges and driving without a license. His current whereabouts are unknown and it's unclear whether he's still in the area.
A few days after Childress was reported missing, police found her car being driven by a man in Henderson. He was arrested on an unrelated charge, and stated Childress had sold him the vehicle, something her family finds difficult to believe.
Childress has a warrant out for her arrest, but she's considered a missing person rather than a fugitive. Childress had just gotten off probation at the time and was trying to clean up her life. Her case remains unsolved and foul play is suspected. Anyone with information should call the Henderson County Sheriff
Combs, Donnie “Bon Jovi” and Cynthia Arnold (went missing together)- The pair was last seen 9/26/18 in Linden, near Atlanta, Texas in Cass County. Combs called Arnold and asked her to come pick him up in Cass Countyand she left home to do so. A little while later she contacted her mother and said Combs hadn't arrived and she was still waiting at the meeting spot. Neither of them has ever been heard from again. A few days after they were last seen, Arnold's truck was found abandoned and burned in Marion County, Texas. While Kevin Dewayne Shepard Jr. and his uncle, Gary Edward Shepard were charged in Oct. 2020 with capital murder of the pair, their bodies have never been found. They face the death penalty if convicted. Anyone with information should contact the Cass County Sheriff.
Culberson, Larry- Last seen 9/4/13. Larry went missing from his home on County Road 4320 in Emory. Larry had been having some medical issues shortly before his disappearance. Larry was last known to be wearing camouflage-style gray pants, a white T-shirt and he might be wearing high-top tennis shoes. He was 56 at the time of his disappearance. An extensive search was conducted in the area without any result. His medical condition causes him to walk with a limp. Anyone with information should contact the Rains County Sheriff.
Dunn, Hartford Hunter- Last seen 8/5/04. Vanished from his home in the 200 block of Private Road 4002 in Marshall in the early morning hours, his daughter said she woke up at 7:30 a.m. and found the door open and her father gone. At 76 years old, he was in the beginning years of dementia. He has not been seen since. Anyone with information should contact the Marshall Police.
Flint, Kimberly Carter- Last seen 9/29/18. Kim’s car was found partially crashed and abandoned in the roadway of State Highway 154 near the rural community of Rekaw, in Rusk County. Her purse ID, as well as other possessions, were at her home, according to Kim’s son James. Picture evidence of the wreck shows damage to the front and side panel of the grey four-door sedan. "The vehicle it was found still in the roadway partially crashed," her son said. "She just wasn't there." Two searches, both immediately after the crash and 170 days later, turned up nothing. A witness believes he saw her speaking with someone in a white pickup truck, but as any local knows… there are a lot of white pickup trucks in East Texas. Kim was featured on “The Vanished Podcast.” Anyone with information should contact the Rusk County Sheriff.
Farrell, Justin Kyle- Last seen 05/11/04. Farrell disappeared from Nacogdoches, Texas. In March 2015, his skeletal remains were found near Cushing in Nacogdoches County, Texas. They were identified in April 2015. Farrell's death remains under investigation and has not yet been ruled a homicide. Anyone with information should contact the Nacogdoches County Sheriff.
Fleisher, Steven Miller- Last seen 9/14/16. Missing from Troup, he was last seen around 6:15 a.m. in the 1200 block of Noble Street. Police say Fleisher did not take any of his belongings with him and his family has been unable to contact him. He was 53 years old at the time of his disappearance. Anyone with information should contact the Smith County Sheriff.
Flores, Lydia- Last seen 10/11/20. Reported missing on Oct. 19 by her Shreveport, LA boyfriend, who said he had not heard from her since Oct. 11. She is a 40-year-old Hispanic female, and has two tattoos: a barbed wire on her bicep and a playboy bunny on her lower back. She is 5’1” and 115 pounds. She has brown eyes and auburn hair. She is from Longview, but anyone with information should contact the Shreveport Police Department.
Franklin, Johnny William- Last seen 10/21/08. The black male, 5'9" tall and 150 pounds was last seen in Tyler. His vehicle was located in a church parking lot at 3009 N. Grand Ave. on October 21, but police said they saw no signs of foul play. He was 53 at the time of his disappearance. Anyone with information should contact the Smith County Sheriff.
Gallegos, Veronica- Last seen 01/11/05. Missing from Gun Barrel City at the age of 19, Her live-in boyfriend said she packed a suitcase and left; he speculated she'd returned to her native Mexico. She has never been heard from again. Gallegos left behind her purse, her Mexican identification and her six-month-old child. Her boyfriend is considered a person of interest in her case and has stopped cooperating with investigators. Foul play is possible in her disappearance, but few details are available in her case. Anyone with information should contact the Henderson County Sheriff.
Gipson, Tyress- last seen 8/22/20. Missing from Jacksonville, Texas in Cherokee County, Tyress had just turned 18 and graduated. He is 6’0” and weighs 180 pounds. He has tattoos of the name “Lavance,” “BG$” and prayer hands. He is an African American man, wears his hair in dreads, and has braces. Anyone with information should contact the Jacksonville Police Department.
Gutierrez, Marquita Leanna- Last seen 11/11/19. Some report her as missing out of Canton, while others report her as missing out of Wood County. Marquita Gutierrez was reported missing after borrowing her mom's pickup that morning to go to a doctor's appointment, but the doctor's office said she never showed up. Her husband told police she was last seen in the Dallas area and was possibly heading toward Laredo. Her husband has been named a person of interest in her case. Anyone with information should contact the Wood County Sheriff
Hunt, Shirley Mae- last seen 6/17/07. Missing from Henderson, Shirley was last seen walking on County Road 454 near her home in rural Rusk County. She had alzheimers at the time of her disappearance. She is 5’4”, 140 pounds with hazel eyes, white hair and a partial denture plate. She wears eyeglasses with a gold wire frame, and was 72 at the time of her disappearance. Sheriff’s deputies believe she got in someone’s car, due to scent dog tracking. Anyone with information should contact the Rusk County Sheriff.
Jackson, Cole Duane- last seen 07/13/06. Missing from Timpson, Jackson was last seen near FM 1645 and CR 4230. The truck he was driving came out of a private pasture and rammed into a fence. He stopped and spoke to the elderly man who owned the land. Jackson apologized and said he would pay $120 for the damage, but said he had to run to get away from the "bad people" who were chasing him. He abandoned his Dodge half-ton pickup with minor damage and left his two inhalers, which he needed, in the vehicle. The driver’s side door was open and the truck was still in four-wheel drive. Jackson's wife was three months pregnant with their first child at the time he went missing. Anyone with information should contact the Shelby County Sheriff.
Lee, Anthony Tyrone- last seen 6/25/11. Anthony was planning to go to the rodeo with his mother on the evening of June 25. When his mother came to pick him up for the rodeo, she found his home deserted. The ironing board was set up with the clothes Lee had planned to wear to the rodeo. His pants were on the ironing board with one leg dangling, as if he'd been interrupted while ironing and left in a hurry. His mother said he would not leave the house in his “house shoes” (a very East Texas thing lol) and he had $600 untouched in his bank account. About three weeks after Lee was reported missing, his mother got strange phone calls. A "death song" played on the line, then someone said, "that's what he gets for snitching." His mother noted that he had been associated with a known drug dealer and this person had wrecked Lee's car about a week before Lee disappeared. Anyone with information should contact the Texas Department of Public Safety (State Troopers).
Marshall, Kimberly Ann- last seen 3/17/17 after she spent one night in the Salvation Army womens’ shelter in Tyler, Texas. She was never seen again. Thirty-one years old at the time, Kimberly had cuts and scars on her arms, wrists and back. She also has upper dentures. She is 5’5” and approximately 105 pounds, although she fluctuates in weight. She has brown hair and brown eyes. Few details are available about her. Anyone with information should contact the Tyler Police Department.
Martin, David Michael- last seen 1/14/10. He was a truck driver based in Sand Springs, Oklahoma, and came home to Louisiana most weekends to visit his family. On January 14, Martin called to say he wouldn't make it home that weekend because his truck had broken down. He never contacted his loved ones again. The last person known to have seen him was the mechanic in Longview, Texas whom Martin took his truck to for repairs. They had dinner together, then Martin said he was going to wait on a friend to get truck parts. The mechanic left to do more work on the truck. Martin has never been heard from again. Anyone with information should contact the Sand Springs Police.
Martinez, Gregoria Jacobo- last seen 8/13/09. Martinez was last seen in Nacogdoches. She was born in Mexico and was living in the United States without documents at the time of her disappearance. Her two young children, both of whom are U.S. citizens, and they were visiting their grandmother in Mexico when Martinez disappeared. She had asked the father of one of her children for money to help bring her children home from Mexico. He agreed to meet her and lend her money shortly before she disappeared.Martinez planned to go to the Nacogdoches County courthouse on July 13 to pick up copies of her children's birth certificates, but she never arrived there. She has never been heard from again. She was reported missing on July 16. That same day, her vehicle was found abandoned on the side of County Road 525, near the intersection of U. S. Highway 59 south. There were no obvious indications of a struggle at the scene. Martinez may have gotten a ride south with a truck driver in order to find her children; however, her family never saw her. Both the fathers of her children have been questioned and neither of them have been named as suspects. Authorities believe Martinez was taken against her will. Anyone with information should contact the Texas Department of Public Safety (State Troopers).
Marquez, Erin Raquel- last seen 8/30/14. The 17-year-old disappeared as she was leaving the Longview Baptist Church in Hallsville, near Longview. She has long dark hair that was dyed red, and 5’6”, 130 pounds, and has brown eyes. Anyone with information should contact the Harrison County Sheriff.
McKay, Melissa Darling- last seen 6/10/11. At 1:35 a.m., Melissa walked out of the Choctaw Casino in Grant, Oklahoma with a white male companion, Jeremy Upchurch, of Lamar TX and was never seen again. Upchurch continues to be a person of interest due to his criminal background. Properties in Oklahoma, Delta and Lamar counties were searched, but came up empty. I can’t find an independent source to corroborate, but a personal conversation I had with law enforcement indicates they have found her vehicle in Oklahoma and presume she is dead, possibly due to drug involvement. Anyone with information should contact the Hopkins County Sheriff or Sulphur Springs Police.
Meadows, Beverly Lofton- Last seen 12/26/08. Beverly walked away from the Community Cares Nursing Home in the 200 block of west Merritt Street in Marshall, Texas and has never been seen again. Meadows had lived in the nursing home for about six years prior to her disappearance. She was supposed to wear an identification bracelet that would have activated the nursing home's door alarms, but she took it off before she left. She left without taking any personal belongings. Her mother, who lives 15 miles from the nursing home, believes Meadows was trying to walk to her residence. She was 48 years old at the time of her disappearance, 5’3”, and 240 pounds with short brown hair. She requires daily medication, and she doesn't have her medicine with her. Anyone with information should contact the Marshall Police.
Morton, Sheila- last seen 6/2/14. Missing from Center, Texas, Sheila’s behavior and personality changed drastically in the weeks leading up to her disappearance, according to her mother Joan. She had recently quit a restaurant job she had for seven years, moved out of her residence, and began hanging out with an old group of friends. Additionally, the last purchase Sheila was known to make was for a 9mm handgun, which was left behind when she disappeared. She was last seen at her ex-boyfriend’s house. Her phone was turned off the same day she vanished, and she has never been seen or heard from again. Sheila’s family members do not believe she would voluntarily leave her son behind. Anyone with information should contact the Angelina County Sheriff.
Pierce, Ashley- last seen 3/10/20. Disappeared from the Longview area, she is 5’3” and has a Hello Kitty tattoo on her thigh and a scorpion on her shoulder. She has long brown hair. Anyone with information should contact the Gregg County Sheriff.
Salazar, Rosemary “Rose” Rodriguez- Last seen 10/6/19. Attended a family birthday party at the Golden Corral in Kilgore, and was supposed to report to work the next morning at the Kilgore Walmart, but no-show, no-called. She has several distinctive tattoos, including a heart with a fishing hook, a deathly hallow, and the inscription “my person” next to a rose. She is a 5’4”, 185 pound Hispanic woman with brown eyes and brown hair, and it is not known what she was wearing when she disappeared. Her lime green 2014 Chevrolet Sonic is also missing. Anyone with information should contact the Gregg County Sheriff.
Stewart, Harry Edward- Last seen 11/30/11. Harry was traveling from Springtown, Texas to Alabama and was last seen in Hallsville, Texas. His age was 65 and he is white, 5’10”, and weighs about 170 pounds. Sheriff’s deputies determined he was driving when he hit something and had to leave his vehicle after his radiator overheated. Harry told the responding officer he would wait at the Dairy Queen on Farm-to-Market Road 450 near mile marker 604 for a ride. He was never seen again.
Thompson, Lauren Colvin- Last seen 1/10/19. At 1:53 p.m., Lauren made a frantic but coherent call to her mother. At 2:01 p.m., Lauren called 911 and told Panola County dispatch she was being followed. The call lasted for 21 minutes before disconnecting. Lauren’s family says it “abruptly ended,” police say the “cell phone died.” Lauren’s phone and shoe were found in the Rock Hill community, a rural area with less than 200 residents and more than 2000 acres of woods. A search by multiple law enforcement agencies turned up nothing. A $10,000 reward is offered for information on Lauren’s whereabouts. Anyone with information should contact the Panola County Sheriff.
Tidwell, James “Jimmy” Lamar- Last seen 2/15/12. Family members found his rural cabin in Rusk County abandoned, and later found his vehicle abandoned on Farm Road 95, approximately five miles from his home, without a battery. "I do not believe for one minute that he left this property of his own free will," his sister Lynn Akin said. The road was a route he took frequently. He was 58 at the time of his disappearance. The truck showed no signs of foul play, according to Sheriff’s deputies. Anyone with information should contact the Rusk County Sheriff.
Valdovinos, Gustavo Baldovi- Last seen 7/11/12. Missing from his maternal aunt's home on Houston Street in Tyler. He told his family he was an alcoholic and had decided to go into treatment, and he left with a group of people who promised to get him some help. The group he left with is described as a Caucasian male and two Caucasian females driving a white Chevrolet Z71 or Silverado pickup truck. Anyone with information should contact the Smith County Sheriff.
Wells, Brandi- Last seen 8/3/06. Was leaving the Graham Central Station nightclub in Longview at around 12:30 a.m. Her damaged car was found on Interstate 20 near the Brownsboro exit with her personal belongings inside. She was wearing rust-colored gaucho pants and a floral tube top, and is 4’11, 130 pounds with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was 23 in 2006, she would be 36 now. She was featured on Investigation Discovery’s “Disappeared.” Anyone with information should contact the Henderson County Sheriff.
Witt, Jana Mann- last seen 8/17/05. Missing from Glen Rose in Somervell County, Ms. Witt displayed personality changes several weeks prior to her disappearance. She has also gone by the names Jana Holstin, Jana Howard and Jana Branch. She was 44 years of age at the time of her disappearance, and 5’3”, 160 pounds with blue eyes and dyed red hair. The missing persons database notes that foul play is possible. Anyone with information should contact the Somervell County Sheriff.
Sources: News reports, Charley Project, Missing Eight East Texas and more
https://www.news-journal.com/news/local/police-searching-for-husband-of-missing-wc-woman/article_7c5144ee-8434-5e12-9829-360d060c510a.html
https://www.ketk.com/news/vanished-hartford-hunter-dunn/
https://www.panolawatchman.com/news/still-no-answers-in-lauren-thompson-case-a-year-after-she-went-missing-from-panola/article_07d707bc-4d15-11ea-8c84-af4fb2d30b79.html

Casino levels have kind of become a staple of the Sonic series ever since the days of Casino Night in Sonic 2, and the majority of them have a consistent set of elements because of that. There's always a background filled with neon lights and Vegas-esque casino imagery, there's always a slot machine or some equivalent of it, and at some point or another you're going to be flinging Sonic and company around with pinball flippers like it's going out of fashion.
But is there any one casino level in Sonic history that stands out above the others? Or at least one that does the theme in such a unique way that you'd really call it the best? Please, discuss.

from Duke, 1980
Listen to it here!
It’s common knowledge by now among Genesis fans (and certainly among Hindsight readers), but Duke was intended at the outset to be an album where one side consisted of two solo songs from each member of the band. A kind of musical appetizer of sorts. Or I suppose the after-dinner mints, if the solo stuff ended up being the albums’s Side 2 instead. Either way, the real meat of the album was this side-long, group-composed behemoth with the working title of “Duke”, from which the album itself eventually took its name.

Phil: At one point I think we thought that we could revisit the idea of doing a long side...like “Supper’s Ready”. You know, something that was like a body of work. And I think we kind of...I mean, that’s why there’s “Duke’s Travels”, “Duke’s End”, because we still liked those titles...that’s what’s left of that idea, really. ¹
Tony: They would’ve gone “Behind the Lines”, “Duchess”, “Guide Vocal”, “Turn It On Again”, “Duke’s Travels”, “Duke’s End”. Which is actually how it was performed live; we tried it. One reason we didn’t do it [on the album] is we didn’t want the comparison with “Supper’s Ready”, and felt maybe it wasn’t the moment to do a totally combined thing like that. As it is, there is quite a lot of linkage between those tracks anyhow; the first three are linked. ¹

Tony may not have wanted the comparisons to “Supper’s Ready”, but now that he’s come out and said that, how could I do anything else? I’ll have more to say about “Supper’s Ready” later on, but for now let’s just take an overly-simplified look at its structure. At a very high level it looks like this: Intro, Powerful Section, Gentle Section, Rock Section, Epic Instrumental Section, Reprise of Intro, Reprise of Strong Section.
Now let’s look at the big “Duke” piece as originally conceptualized, through that same lens. It goes something like this: Intro, Powerful Section, Gentle Section, Rock Section, Epic Instrumental Section, Reprise of Gentle Section, Reprise of Intro.
Again, that’s heavily oversimplified and doesn’t account for the wide range of nuances, like how wildly different “Lover’s Leap” and “Behind the Lines” are as intro sections, or how the Gentle Section of “Supper’s Ready” comprises multiple movements and a lot of time while “Guide Vocal” is pretty brief by comparison. But in a very loose way, the skeleton of each of these things is the same. It’s not because Genesis sat there attempting to rewrite “Supper’s Ready”; it’s just that their songwriting sensibilities led them down a similar path of how to flow from quiet to loud, what and when to reprise something to tie the whole package together, and so forth.
So within that framework you have “Duke’s Travels” acting as a kind of analogue of “Apocalypse in 9/8” from “Supper’s Ready”, a segment that interestingly enough was written primarily by the combination of Tony, Mike, and Phil. That “Duke’s Travels” would carry a similar amount of water for its own musical suite therefore shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. If anything, Phil was even more involved this time around.

Phil: My commitment to Genesis is much greater than it ever was before. I would fight for it more now than I would have done before because it’s more me. That’s what it comes down to. There’s more of me in it. I’ve come a long way since And Then There Were Three, I really have...Duke for me isn’t just another Genesis album. It’s a whole period of growing up. A musical maturity if you like. ²

It’s fitting for the song to be called “Travels”, because this one’s a ride. It opens with these warm cymbal waves, echoing guitar chords, and an almost tentative keyboard line. This all fades into nothing as Phil’s drums take over with heavy intensity, followed by a more melodic and driving keyboard bit on top. Switch from the rapid hollow drums to some cymbals and back again. Then you get this big bit that sounds like an alternate soundtrack to Casino Night Zone; it’s Sonic the Hedgehog eleven years in advance. There are melodies, countermelodies, textures, with a masterclass in drumming underpinning the whole shebang.

Phil: There’s definitely a side to us coming out which wasn’t on the last album: the playing side. ³

Uhhh, yeah. Yeah, I’d say so. And now a pounding straight rhythm with some guitakeyboard interplay, creating a whole lot of tension. Again, this is like the build in “Apocalypse in 9/8” all over again, just with a somewhat different flavor. It’s bigger, and bigger, and bigger, and then oh my goodness what IS that heavenly sound on top of these goosebump-laden chords?

Tony: The Arpeggiator was one of the things which I used on “Duke’s Travels”, and what a marvelous effect that was! And it had a bass pedal on it and you had the polyphonic synthesizer on it so I could do all those other things as well. I have got two of them and there were only about a dozen of them [made], and I think the other ten only sold because I was using it! The company went bust after that or got taken over. It was a fun instrument. ⁴

The Arpeggiator sounds like the name of a supervillain, or at least a nickname a group of friends would bestow on one of their drinking buddies for reasons too wrapped up in a certain time and place for anyone outside the group to possibly understand. Here though? Here it’s the hero of “Duke’s Travels”, putting that sparkly shimmer in the sky above the song’s most triumphant moment, making the whole thing dazzle in radiance while Mike’s guitar finally soars out of the background and across the illuminated heavens. And to then have “Guide Vocal” come back in the midst of it all? My my my. That’s the “666 is no longer alone” shiver-down-the-spine moment of “Duke’s Travels”, no question about it.

Tony: There’s a strong emotional moment when it gets to the repeat of “Guide Vocal” done within “Duke’s Travels”, which is a very intense piece of singing. To me that’s one of the strongest...one of the very strong moments in Genesis music. ¹

And then the song gradually bleeds energy over the rest of the “Guide Vocal” repeat, the emotion spent and the travels making their way home. A brief respite, a striking synth flute bit reminiscent of “The Court of the Crimson King”, and then the whole thing careens back into the Intro Reprise known as “Duke’s End”. I see a lot of people say things like “If ‘Apocalypse in 9/8’ were its own song, it would still be one of my favorite Genesis tunes.” And I find that all those people also really love “Duke’s Travels” because it is, essentially, “Apocalypse in 9/8” carved out as its own track. The context of the larger piece makes it that much stronger, but it’s perfectly capable of standing up under its own power as well.
The 2007 Turn It On Again Tour really brought this to light, I think. Selecting it for inclusion in the set was a bold move, replacing “The Colony of Slippermen” and “In That Quiet Earth” as the middle leg of the big “In the Cage Afterglow Medley”. Those are big shoes to fill, and it wasn’t easy for anyone involved.

Tony: Before we did the last tour I spent quite a few months getting all the sounds together, whatever I thought I could, including some of the processes from the older ones like the Synclavier sounds and a few others, and tried to get everything as close as I could to being right. Even so, when we got out there I had to change quite a bit. I was pretty well prepared actually. Mike was well prepared. Daryl is ALWAYS well prepared! Phil was completely unprepared, so it took him about two weeks of just trying to get to play how he used to, which was tough. Especially on a piece like “Duke’s Travels”, which was always a tough one. ⁴

And what about the audience? How would they react?

Tony: I think the set is more demanding as it combines so many instrumental bits from various eras, like the…“Duke’s Travels” bits...It’s also demanding for the audience. Some of them you will lose during the instrumental bits as they don’t know them…The other thing is, we don’t have anything to prove; we’re just doing it. We’re playing to fans who know they like us. We’re not trying to convert them. Perhaps in the past we did that. ⁵

I love this attitude. “We’re going to play what moves us, and you’ll either check out or come with us.” That attitude, that music...it’s why in my opinion the 2007 version of the medley is the best one they did. Something about that epic moment in “Duke’s Travels” just resonates, even when the arrangement changes so that the big vocal entrance is just an extension of Daryl Stuermer’s guitar solo. You can totally see what Tony was talking about here: the crowd cheers wildly for the end of the “Cinema Show” segment and even more wildly for the start of “Afterglow” but generally stand around puzzled during “Duke’s Travels”. “Wait, what’s this one? I don’t recognize this one. Do you recognize this one?” And yet it’s still the song that guides them home.
I wish we could see it again on the upcoming tour, but I don’t think that’s likely:

Tony: It’ll be kind of different. Phil used to have some very dramatic moments on stage with Genesis. He’d never have the same kind of dramatic moments or intensity we used to have...sitting on a chair. Obviously, the effects can help things out a bit. So, you just say, “He’s not going to do those the same way.” We’d just do the songs. We’ve got plenty of good songs to do and it wouldn’t be a problem. But I don’t think we could have the extended keyboard solo we did on the last tour in 2007 which had a bit of everything in it. There wouldn’t be much point, because the point of it was Mike, Phil, and I playing together, like we did on things such as “Duke’s Travels”. There would be a different intensity and a different kind of set list. ⁶

That’s a real shame, because “Duke’s Travels” is a downright treat, especially in live form. I suppose we should be thankful we got what we did from it along the way.
But hey, speaking of live performances and context, what’s the deal with these pieces anyway? The lyrics to the various songs in the “Duke” piece don’t have any immediately apparent connection, even when they’re linked together like “Behind the Lines”, “Duchess”, and “Guide Vocal”. Is there some kind of meta-narrative happening here? Something where some duke of something or other is also a singer but betrayed and then something about a TV? I’m really confused.
Thankfully, we have Phil Collins in concert during the Duke Tour to sort it all out for us.

Phil: The story of a mate of ours whose name was Albert. Albert was a born loser. Nothing he did went right; he was one of life’s failures. Written off, just like that. I’ll give an example: Albert once fell in love with a lady. ⁷

Hmm, I guess “Behind the Lines” could be about falling in love with a character in print, couldn’t it? Reading the pages, feeling closer to someone, whether that be a fictional character or a celebrity in the news? Seems our old Albert was developing an infatuation!

Phil: Beautiful lady she was, beautiful lady...a duchess. And the duchess was a very domineering lady. She was into S&M. Ah, but poor old Albert didn’t speak Spanish or Mexican, so she kicked him out! And he went home that night, and was very disappointed and dejected. ⁷

Ah, duchess like the title of the second track! I’m following this now, I think. Albert falls in love with this celebrity singer, who he doesn’t really know except through print media. He encounters her in real life, but doesn’t speak her native language, and his advances are rebuffed on that basis (and also because he’s kind of a creep). So Albert gets upset and writes the whole thing off in a sulky bit called “Guide Vocal” - dual meaning there, since a guide vocal is what you call the rough vocal track to line up the instrumentation before the real vocal is laid down. Albert thinks he’s the reason the Duchess succeeded! This is getting good, now.

Phil: So he sat down on the chair, and he turned on the television, and suddenly his whole life changed because he was back in love again! He fell in love! He fell in love with his television set. It was a really beautiful looking television set, square with sort of a glass bit in the middle. And it was a good conversational piece for his friends, but it was a bit of a one-sided affair for Albert. And in two days he was in hospital having the glass removed from his private parts. ⁷

Ouch! But yes yes, we’re seeing it now. “All I need is a TV show...down on my luck again…” This is Albert coping with the loss by finding a new medium for his romantic fantasies! I just hope that bit with the hospital is merely a joke...

Phil: So he went on a convalescing holiday abroad over there, where tragedy struck again. Because Albert fell in love. Again. This time, with his walking stick. We’re not too sure about Albert; seems a bit of a weirdo. And I think you’ve guessed it: in two or three days time he was back in hospital having the walking stick removed from his private parts. So he came back from his convalescing holiday abroad over there, to England over here where we live, where he entered a home for unsuccessful young louts, called Duke's. But I can see you’re getting very upset, but I don’t want you to, because every cloud has a silver lining, and every silver lining has a cloud. Every bin has a liner. And it was in this bin that Albert wrote some fantastically boring books. He wrote such literary classics as Romeo & Albert and A Midsummer Night’s Albert. Albert: A Space Odyssey. Albert Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. A horror film called Albert: Prince of Darkness. The Return of Albert. The Return of the Brides of Evil of Albert. And so it goes on. And the big change for him came when he started writing sex books. We have a very, very big one called Danish Albert on the Job; a big hit for him! ⁷

Wow, so “Duke’s Travels” is something literal! After some journeying around the world he entered a home called Duke's, so they were literally the Travels to Duke's! And saaaaay! That “Guide Vocal” reprise with all its intensity is just Albert writing his books with an “I’ll show you!” kind of attitude! This also explains the reprise of “Behind the Lines”, come to think of it! He’s gone from “It’s written in the book” to writing books himself by “Duke’s End”. It’s a strange story, yes, but I think we’ve done it! I think we’ve cracked the code of this whole thing!

Phil: And now, to the music! Which has got nothing to do with Albert; I was deliberately wasting your time. This is some music from our album called Duke, and we call it - pretty cleverly - “Music From Our Album Called Duke”. OK! ⁷

Well s---.
Let’s hear it from the band!

Phil: The group compositions are the strongest. A lot of that is down to the rhythms...But the group compositions are definitely breaking new ground...I wanted to do a long song with some substance...So basically we put a lot of things together between us…“Duke’s Travels” and “Duke’s End” were riffs that we wrote as we went along. We intended it to be one 25 minute piece but when we came to the practicalities of the album, the solo songs on the second side wouldn’t have run so well, so we had to split it all up. ²
Tony: This album, I have to be honest...this is my favorite Genesis album really. It has such a sort of positive quality about it. I love the way it starts; I love “Duchess”, I think it works fantastically; and I love all the instrumental stuff towards the end, too, although I think [the album’s conclusion] starts a little weak. But it just gets really good. ¹

^1. 2007 Box Set
^2. Sounds, 1980
^3. Sounds, 1979
^4. The Waiting Room, 2015
^5. Genesis-News.com, 2007
^6. Innerviews, 2019
^7. Duke Tour footage, 1980

A reminder that the Duggars are already criminals
The past few days were a rollercoaster of emotions for most of us. Desperately hitting refresh refresh on our computers and checking news updates and Reddit posts at stoplights. Wasting work time and hitting pause on the Chiefs Monday Night football game just to check updates on reality stars most of us don’t even care for anymore. It brings about the question of why? Why do we care so much? I think I know the answer- deep down we all want to defend those who can’t defend themselves.
Some Redditors jumped to the Duggars defense, saying no crime has been committed yet. But I disagree. The Duggars are already criminals.
In 2002, Josh Duggar, then 15 at the time, snuck into his sister’s rooms and sexually molested an eight year old girl. Is this a crime? Yes. 100%. Was this reported? No. Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar both knew about this crime and did not report it, by their own admission. Is this a crime? Yes. They both allowed Josh to continue living in their home and then a five year old girl was sexually molested. More crimes? Of course. Allowing abuse of a minor to continue is punishable by 6 years in prison. Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar committed crimes, as did Josh. No one is questioning that, but seemingly, everyone has forgotten. If you commit a crime and the statute of limitations runs out, did you still commit a crime? Yes. Are you still a criminal? Yes, absolutely. The Duggars are criminals. Not by my admission, by their own.
So many fundamentalists deny what I am saying. They desperately want a hero. The Duggars or Kirk Cameron or Donald Trump or Ken Ham or whoever, they want someone to validate their beliefs. Their beliefs that the Bible can be used against people who aren’t just like them and that men are patriarchs and women are subverted and children don’t have a voice. But their beliefs are cruel. Where did their beliefs come from? Brainwashing has to start somewhere right? The Duggars brainwashing started with the Institute for Basic Life Principles started by the Gothard brothers, both of whom sexually assaulted women, but guess how they got off? You guessed it, statute of limitations. This is a direct quote from BLPI curriculum, the very curriculum used at the Duggars homeschool, aka, Our Lady of the Kitchen Table. “Did you do anything that might have caused the abuse." How fuckin terrible is that to ask an 8 year old girl that has just been sexually abused?
Source: https://gawker.com/the-creepy-fundamentalist-homeschool-cult-that-trained-1706969994
Their brainwashing started early. It was fortuitous that the Duggars had the manual for deflecting pedophilia from the Gothards because it came in handy to blame the victims (the young girls who had to grow up in the Duggar house knowing a pedophile shared a hallway with them). Just imagine that for a second. Imagine the most traumatic event in your life- you being sexually molested by your brother, was never addressed, or when it was, it was “no big deal.” And maybe it was your fault for wearing a denim shirt that was too short because you are the 5th one on the hand me down list. This is abusive to a young girl, to grow up like that, in that prison.
That’s why we all wanted something to happen this weekend. The Duggars are already criminals. They got off on a technicality, on the statute of limitations, just like they learned from Bill Gothard. We don't want to see that. We want to be a voice for the voiceless. We all want to stand up for the powerless. I was not sexually abused myself but it was close. As a boy my parents let me go to a fucked up religious group called Young Life, where our group leader Dave (Not actual name) was allowed to take four or five of us boys off on his own and do whatever he wanted. Were these leaders vetted? Did anyone run background checks on them? No. Dave was a pedophile, its just that none of us knew it. He was a criminal just like Jim Bob and Michelle and Josh. Did anyone question if Dave should be taking four boys camping? No. Dave was creating opportunity. He took me to Sonic by himself, played Radiohead’s Creep, and told me he was taking me to his house, just the two of us. I am so glad I had a voice. I said no. When Dave went to jail later we all talked about how he tried to get all of us alone. Some didn’t have a voice like I did. Some were abused. I think about that all the time. No one protected those kids.
Michelle Duggar has been lauded for her accomplishments, she was even crowned Mom of the Year at a Film Festival in Texas by a man named Doug Phillips. This one hits close to home for me, and maybe I am biased. But like Socrates said, we are all biased. Who’s bias do you seek. The homeschooling movement ripped my life apart. Much like a victim of domestic violence marries an abuser because that’s what they know, that’s what is comfortable, I married a fundamentalist after growing up in fundamentalism. The beginning was fun- concerts and bars and casinos but then after we had kids she started checking out homeschooling. The homeschooling conferences killed us. They were not about schooling, they were a contest on who can be the most religious. We don’t use any version but the King James version. We don’t watch any movie that doesn’t have Kirk Cameron in it. We don’t allow “secular music” in our house. My wife took a hard right turn- blaring Fox News and talking about how much she hated gay people and showing DVDs by Michael and Debbi Pearl (Who advocate beating your kids with a pipe btw) and Ken Ham. One time I noticed she was teaching the kids that dinosaurs lived with humans and I said that’s not true kids, not of it is true. She cried for days about how we were “unequally yoked.” Im not blaming the downfall of my marriage on homeschooling, it probably would have failed anyway. I don’t hate gay people at all. In fact I love them. And black people and muslims and God damnit if we are talking about a world where you can’t come home and listen to some Justin Timberlake that’s not a world I want to live in anyway.
It was at one of those very conferences that Doug Phillips was speaking that my wife maxed out our card on patriarch CDs and DVDs, at least $300 worth of material from him on being “The Man God wants You to Be.” My wife said at that time something that was very hurtful, she said, “I wish you were more like him.” Wives don’t say that to your husbands, ever, even if it is Patrick Fucking Mahomes, we don’t want to hear that. I think its also important to point out that while this was happening Doug Phillips, the very Doug Phillips that Michelle drove to Texas to be honored by as Mom of the Year that Doug Phillips had a 15 year old nanny named Lourdes that he was raping. He said it was consensual but lets be honest, a 37 year old and a 15 year old? That is rape.
Fundamentalism has a culture of rape, a culture of victim shaming, a culture of pedophilia. This week in churches where I grew up, in Missouri, at least two young kids will get raped by someone at church for the first time. And that is just the ones that report it. That’s just the averages. There are victims in homes too and especially with homeschooling. The victims are told, maybe it is you. I hope you enjoy living in this house with a child molestor, maybe it was your fault, put on a longer denim skirt. That is happening all over America. Think about how many people the Duggars have influenced with their fake façade reality show.
So what happened at the Duggar's Cult Compound with the Department of Homeland Security on Monday? We don’t know. There is conjecture but we don’t know what happened. But something did happen, something big enough for dozens of federal vehicles to be parked at the cult compound. People are saying don’t rush to judgment, let due process play out. That’s bullshit. Jim Bob and Michelle hid their crimes so long the bullshit statute of limitations expired and they were not arrested for allowing the sexual molestation of minors to continue. And don’t even get me started on the friend they talked to in the police department who is, coincidentally serving 56 years in prison for child porn. Does no one see the pattern here? Am I the only one who notices the Duggars are inundated with sexual abuse? What are Jim Bob and Michelle hiding this time? More molesting? Child porn? Trafficking minors? Why is a young girl living in the house of Josh and Anna that is not their kid? It’s a culture of hiding the truth and a culture of enabling.
Why do we all care? Deep down inside we want to have a voice for the voiceless. Who will speak up for the 34 young women that Bill Gothard sexually abused? Who will speak up for the Lourdes of the world that just wanted to be a nanny but got raped by a religious patriarch? Who will speak up for the lost daughters of the Duggars, the ones who have no voice, the ones who never got to grieve for their lost innocence. Who will speak up for my friends, the ones that couldn’t say no to the Young Life leader, the ones that lost their childhood? An 8 year old girl was sexually abused in the Duggar house and they did nothing. And then a 5 year old, a tiny little girl who was so innocent it almost makes me cry, she was molested because they did nothing. Will no one stand up for her? Should we all sit around and wait for Michelle and Jim Bob and Josh to play charades and pretend everything is fine again so the statute of limitations can run out and due process can be served? Fuck that shit, they are already criminals.

Continuing...
“I say that you’re way the fuck out of line, Chuckles. Are you an educated, experienced, fully licensed and internationally renowned master blaster?” I asked.
“No, but…” he tried to continue.
“But nothing, Scooter.” I said, “What, other than your insane xenophobia and nationalism, causes you to come to such unfounded, not to say stupid, conclusions?”
He looked down at the deck. Evidently, he was not used to being challenged in such a manner. He realized he walked face-first into a metaphorical wood chipper.
“I’m waiting for your answer, pally.” I continued.
Still nothing. He was either deep in thought or ill at ease from newly soggy undergarments.
“Want to know why I chose what I did? Fine, meet back here in 15 damn minutes.”
He looks at me with a most perplexed, and ignorant, look on his face.
“Dax, Cliff? I need you.” I say.
We go back to the weapons locker and I explain my idea.
“Let’s load a case of typical, TYPICAL Chinese-made dynamite. Then let’s load a case of American C-4. Be very careful with that leaky Chinese shit. Wait one. I’ll do it if you want and you can handle the C-4.” I say.
“Ah, Rock; yeah. We’d appreciate it. You being the Pro from Dover, after all.” Cliff agrees.
“No worries”, I say, “I got this. You make me up a nice, tightly packed case of C-4. For demonstration purposes.”
I find a near-empty case of dynamite and begin to judiciously fill the thing with random samples of shitty and leaky Chinese manufactured and Korean not-too-well-cared-for dynamite.
This stuff was so incredibly shitty and poorly manufactured that even when leaking and nasty, it was nowhere near as dangerous as its Western counterpart. It was loaded with so much and many interstitials, like sawdust, diatomaceous earth, literal horseshit, and shredded newspaper, the nitro denatured itself to some degree as it oozed out.
Plus, in the non-climate controlled weapons locker; the high humidity, salt air, and poor circulation from the small open grate facing the sea, the nitro had desensitized somewhat and evaporated. It left only sticky, thin, fly-ridden films rather than the usual ‘waiting for a good reason to explode’ puddles.
It was in no way as twitchy as that locker back in Nevada. Oh, but be assured, it was still a shit show.
If I really wanted to, I could blow myself, this boat and all occupants into the next dimension rather easily, but it was nothing like that old locker back in that disused Nevada mine. I still needed to be scrupulously careful as there could potentially be puddles of the pale yellow, viscous liquid explody stuff, instead of the thin films I was mostly finding.
Either way, it required caution and judiciousness.
Nitro’s twitchy as fuck and the last thing I need is a dropped nail, blasting cap, or hunk of the rotten box falling into an errant nitro wet patch…
Extra attention was exercised.
Dax and Cliff are halfway through, and I’m still picking through the leaky, smelly bundles.
“Next time”, I mused to myself, “I‘m writing in a ‘Handling fucked-up explosives”-clause in my contract. No matter how much I’m being paid for this, it ain’t enough…”
We find a couple of expendable, dry-rotted ‘life preserver’ floaty-rings, upon which we secure both cases of explosives. They’re tethered with a rope and primed with a number of blasting caps.
I let the head local Korean crank examine both to ensure that I’m not trying to pull a fast one.
He did not notice the 3-pound bag of Tannerite (an impact-actuated explosive) I snuck in the middle of the box of Chinese TNT.
“Now. Satisfied that they’re equal?” I asked. “Nothing fishy here. Just dynamite in bundles, with caps. Then, over here, C-4 blocks with cap. OK?”
He was satisfied; but only after letting a couple of the shiny suit squad check as well.
“Well”, I smirked,” So much for your ‘covert observation’, asshole.” This guy was DPRK secret service or equivalent.
“Holy cold-pack cheese-food product fuck”, I cogitate, “They are so goddamned suspicious”.
I ask Dax to go over to the pilothouse and borrow the mauled AK-47 I saw hanging on the bulkhead there. They keep it for run-ins with cranky sharks, walruses, and lovesick blue-footed boobies evidently.
“OK, here’s what we’ll do. We’ll float each out, and I‘ll trail with demolition wire. Once we’re a few hundred meters out, you can press the big, shiny, green button and detonate your dynamite. I even used 6 blasting caps, to give each bundle its own. You saw that. We green?” I ask.
He was, although suspicious of what I had in mind. He agreed although he refused to use my terminology, the stodgy prick.
So float away the dynamite case we did.
The case of Chinese dynamite floated out and away from the boat, leaving an oily slick in its wake. As it got to around 200-225 meters or so, I requested a rendition of the Korean version of the Safety Dance, as it was just too fucking hilarious to watch.
Once completed, I handed Doubting Korean Thomas the detonator.
“Your turn, Tweedles”, I said, “Hit the button to spark off your “much-better-than-the-West’s” Oriental dynamite.”
He grabbed the detonator, gnashed a tooth in my direction, and mashed down on the big, shiny, green button with a vengeance.
PFftt! PAH-foof! fuff
There was a cheery little pop, a puff of acrid smoke, and not much else.
Let it be said from the onset that I just selected examples of the Oriental manufactured dynamite at random. I didn’t look for the worst or leakiest. Though truthfully I really didn’t have much too choice in the matter.
“You! You swindled me! You knew the dynamite wouldn’t explode! Somehow you knew it!!” he swore in my general direction.
“Try it again”, I said after retrieving the detonator and doing a quick re-wire to another bank of blasting caps.
“Gumeong-e bul!” [“Fire in the hole!”].
MASH goes the big, shiny, green button anew.
Pfffft!” *Pop. Poooof! Piffle. Blerp.
Nothing but a cute little pop, a poof, and a few acrid puffs of smoke.
He was crestfallen.
He had taken on the Motherfucking Pro from Dover in a necessarily explosive subject, with inevitably disastrous results.
I asked if anyone here was weapons trained. A couple of Coasties raised their hands.
“And you are? “ I asked the closest one.
“Lt. P'an Tae-Hyun, Sir”, as he snaps a snappy salute.
“Groovy.”, I reply and retrieve the AK from Dax.
“Can you squeeze off a couple of shots and hit that floating box of dynamite?” I asked.
“Yes, sir!” he replied, smiling.
“OK then”, I replied and turned to the crowd.
“Dynamite is usually pretty stable stuff and won’t detonate without a blasting cap or impulse source. A bullet will most certainly not detonate it. However, I’ve stuck in 3 pounds, imperial, of Tannerite, which is a type of binary explosive used for targeting. Tannerite will most definitely and energetically explode when impacted by a high-velocity bullet. I think we can agree that an AK-47 round is high-velocity?” I asked.
There were nods and a buzz of general agreement.
“Now, there’s the better part of a case of unexploded dynamite out there. That’s what we in the business call very, very fucking dangerous. Now those three pounds of Tannerite should vaporize everything within a 10-meter radius if it detonates as designed. Agreed?” I asked.
Again, there were nods and a buzz of general agreement.
“Lieutenant P'an?” I asked, “At your discretion. Fire at will. Or the dynamite case, as it were.”
He nodded. He walked over to the furthest point on the stern, checked to see everyone was back and out of harm’s way, as he was a consummate professional. He futzed around with the old AK for a bit and took a shot.
It was low and outside.
“Ball one”, I snickered.
“Sights are off. Not any problems.” He remarked.
The next round found its mark. The Tannerite exploded adeptly.
It threw sticks of unexploded Chinese dynamite over a 20-meter radius. They each sank into the briny deep leaving only an oily spot to mark their entry and eventual watery grave.
The top of the case of dynamite was blown off, but the floaty ring remained. We reeled it back in to find a few more scorched, but unexploded, sticks of fine Oriental manufacture explosive on the bottom of the case.
These were motherfuckingly dangerous. Cantankerous dynamite has no place on a ship.
I remarked, however, that this would be no problem. Dax and Cliff brought up the case of C-4, which I had wired with one single blasting cap and booster.
We had Korean Doubting Thomas and his shiny suit buddies give it the once over to ensure I wasn’t trying to pull a fast one.
He agreed, it was nothing but C-4 as advertised.
One of the more expendable Coasties jumped down on the stern transom-rack which is just above the waterline on the back of the boat. He wired the two rings together and set them adrift, tethered by a good nylon rope with my nasty, silky demolition wires trailing.
Dax was working the rope and I was handling the spool of demolition wire. I had a good 350 meters of the stuff on the spool and wasn’t about to return a single centimeter.
Old habits and all.
As they floated away, Mr. Kwan asked if we’d like a bit of refreshment, as, gosh, it sure was dusty out here today.
Of course, we agreed in unison.
Good old Mr. Kwan.
So, we’re unspooling our lines slowly, drinking our end of the day refreshers, smoking cigars, and watching our Oriental colleagues getting antsier every minute.
I knew what a case of C-4 was going to do when detonated. It would be one hell of a show.
I was so confident with my design I had Lt. P’ay return the AK to the pilothouse. Wouldn’t work here anyways if the C-4 failed to detonate.
But that’s not going to happen.
Dr. Pro from Dover Rocknocker has spoken.
Finally, I’m almost out of demolition wire, and Dax has tied off the tether.
I motion over to Herr Doubting Thomas and hand him the detonator.
“For ye of little faith”, I smiled, recalling the entreaty that even Satan quotes the Bible for his own nefarious uses.
But first, an encore of the Korean Safety Dance. They're guaranteed to raise a smile.
I look to the character fumbling with the detonator.
“At your convenience, good sir”, I say, dripping insincerity.
“Gumeong-e bul!” [“Fire in the hole!”]. Mash goes the big, shiny, green button.
KA-MOTHERING-FUCKINGLY-HUGE-BOOM!
Even over 300 meters away, every one of us not only saw but felt that shock wave. It was like a solid Savate kick to the chest. The boat even rocked a bit in appreciation.
I smile, retrieved the detonator, safe it, and reply: “And that is the singular reason why I used good old American manufacture C-4 as a sonic seismic source rather than shitty, leaky Oriental dynamite. Any further questions?”
He shook his head in agreement, bowed slightly in my direction, slunk away, and that was the very last we ever saw of Mr. Korean Doubting Thomas.
The Captain saw and felt the detonation. He put the boat in park, actually, he handed it over to the sub-pilot for station keeping and came back to the fantail.
He wanted to know if we were now officially finished with our project.
We maintained that we were and it had come off very, very successfully; in no small degree because of his boat handling abilities.
He came over to me and shanghaied one of the translators.
“Doctor Stone?” he asked.
“Hrmph. Close enough.” I smiled.
“May I be first to congratulate your team. In eight sorties, you and your teams are the first to fulfill mission parameters. I am pleased to say that this will go on all our permanent records. It will mean bonuses for all present. I salute you.” And does with a naval flourish.
“No shit? Well, thanks, Cap”, I reply, “But I’m just the den mother for this special education class. Without them, and all their hard work, it’d never have happened.”
“I knew you would say this”, he smiled, “You are leader of men. We see that. You are teacher, but also not afraid to work. You should do this more often. Use your education and experience to train and teach others.” He says, shaking my hand.
Now it’s time for me to wonder. Did he hear of my offer back home? I don’t think he did, I’ve been playing those cards very close to the vest, as it were. I am now officially confused and bebothered.
But, since I don’t believe in anything, much less coincidence, I’m going to chalk it up to happenstance and just gratefully consider the source.
He asks that we wait here and he’ll return forthwith.
“On a boat this size, there are not too many places we can sneak off to…” I chuckle.
He returns with a very, very old bottle of something quite unidentifiable since it appears to be lacking a label. He yells something in official Korean and suddenly, a tray with little, itty-bitty demitasse-style glasses appear along with some smoked fish, I think, nibbles of some kind.
He pours a dram for all present. No one dares take as much as a preemptory sniff until he’s finished with the ceremony.
Everyone thusly charged, he begins a toast.
“Shoo-buddy”, I think, “I’ve been down this road before.”
It was quick, succinct, brief, and laudatory.
According to him, we had ‘hung the moon’.
I liked this style of toasting. Left more time to drink and for camaraderie.
The project thus finished, as we were running out of potables, especially freshwater, victuals, and toilet paper; we were headed back to base. That is, back to the hotel to see what our comrades who chose to stay onshore had developed.
But, that was going to be for another day. First, we needed to chug our way back to port, both literally and figuratively.
Ahem.
Before which, though, there were some housekeeping and paperwork chores. Dax, Cliff, and I did a quick reconnaissance of the explosives locker and created a ‘used’ manifest; which all three of us signed.
They may be officious, they may be obtrusive, but damn, they certainly love their goddamned paperwork over here.
We gave copies to the head shiny suit, one for the Captain, and we retained copies for our records. Along with notes that we expended two rounds from the pilothouse AK, as we were trying to out-officious these officious paper-pushers.
We made certain the keys were returned and logged in the proper logbooks and the explosives locker was locked securely, solidly, and soundly. Before which, we policed up the weapons locker and actually offered to the gods of the briny deep, quite the quantity of unsafe, leaky dynamite, and other ordinance that was more a disaster waiting to happen rather than inventory.
Seawater would neutralize the nasties and in the case of anything metallic, it’d be gone within a fortnight. and the phosphates might provide some nice fertilizer for some lucky passing Cnidarians. We were in water of near 45 fathoms. This stuff would never hurt another living thing.
The Captain was very pleased that we had taken that task upon ourselves. He wasn’t allowed to do anything about what was in the locker, but he was responsible for it and keeping the wrong people out of it. I commented that was a fairly stupid way of handling things, and he mentioned that he’d appreciate it if I made an official note of it to the powers that be once we go feet-dry, i.e., get back to shore.
I assured him we most certainly would.
From then on, all we had to do was putt-putt our way back to port.
It was going to take some hours and we’d end up berthing during the wee hours. This would not be a problem as our bus and driver would be waiting for us no matter what the time. He would briskly and without fanfare, return us to our hotel.
That we were actually looking forward to bunking back in the old hotel sort of gave one an idea of the Spartan arrangements we had endured for the last three days.
Most of the Westerners groused and complained in a humorous manner. Hell, it was only three bloody days. Some of our Oriental friends were so totally aghast they vowed to lodge formal complaints once they returned to dry land.
Landlubbers.
Odd that once we hit the beach, they all scattered to the four winds and not a single letter nor either a peep of protest was ever forthcoming.
Yes, this is an intensely weird place.
We wandered down the gangplank, cigars a-fume, and drinks recently and for one last time, refreshed by Mr. Kwan. The shiny suit squad was supervising the offloaded of the seismic data we had collected and had seen it soundly sealed and concealed in the very living bowels of the bus. It was to return with us to the hotel, where we’d demand a receipt. Then it would be off to the ‘Technological Center” on Scientific Street for processing.
They assured us that they’d handle that themselves. Evidently we were good enough to acquire the data, but not good enough to see the finished product.
Ack, Volna, and Ivan chuckled.
“OK, you pirates. What did you do?” I asked
“They can try with all their might. But without the decryption key, they’ll spend years processing encoded compressed nonsense.” They snickered. “We did offer to come and help set up the decryption for the decompression of the raw data, but they said they could handle it themselves. Oh, well. We tried. Seriously, we did.” Ack and Volna snickered.
“Well, keep it handy in case they come to their senses before we get out of here,” I said.
“Always our intention, Herr Denmother”, Volna chuckles.
“Oh, you heard that?” I snickered quietly.
Back at the hotel, the majority of us sent our sea-gear to our rooms via the on-site laundry. That being settled, the majority of us retired to the catacombs of the basement.
We needed strong drink, decent, non-tinned food, and seats that didn’t slop around every time you sat down.
Well, with the acquisition of our sea legs, two out of three wasn’t bad.
Since the hour was much too late, I decide that tomorrow, well, later today, would be a day of R&R for everyone.
Moreover, I was informed that tomorrow would be the “Day of the Sun” celebration, the insanely earnest celebration birth anniversary of Kim Il-sung, founder and Eternal President of North Korea. It’s supposed to be some sort of big, hairy nationwide deal. But aside from a couple of small posters, we heard little and knew less about the holiday and its celebration.
Everyone’s being even more uncharacteristically low key. It’s odd like there’s something weird going on here.
“What? Something weird and covert and sneaky going on in Best Korea? Pshaw, you old fart. You’re letting the paranoids get to you!”, I mused to myself.
This place will do that to you after a while.
I asked the front desk to place a note that made the rest of today a day of R&R in everyone’s mailbox. After another cigar, some decent prawn stir-fry, and a couple-twelve really stiff drinks, we were all ready to invade the land of Nod for a few hours.
I went downstairs for a drink, a nosh, and a smoke. I ran out of NK won as we tend to use them in Western Expat high-stakes poker games, so I needed to trade some of my weird Middle Eastern currency for weird Best Korea currency.
I was used to the 900:1 won:US dollar (equivalent) trade-off, but after cashing in the equivalent of US$500 in Middle Eastern dinero, I walked off with 650,000 won, not 450,000.
“Pardon me, Ms. Cashier”, I said to the nice little local woman behind the bird-cage security wires, “I do think you gave me too much.”
She took my stack, re-counted it, and proclaimed it correct.
“I thought the exchange rate was 900 to the dollar?” I asked.
“No”, she remarked, “Now 1,336.”
“Any idea what’s causing the fluctuations?” I asked.
She just smiled and shook her head ‘no’. I smiled back and tipped her 50 UAE dirhams for the information.
“Weird. Now what?” I mused.
Little did I know…
The next morning dawned dim and early as there some sort of something going on outside.
Oh, yes, it was ‘The Day of the Sun’ celebration. I discovered it was is an annual public holiday in North Korea celebrating the birth anniversary of Kim Il-sung, founder, and Eternal President and local Poobah-in-Charge of North Korea. It is the most important national holiday in the country, and is considered to be the North Korean pseudo-secular equivalent of Christmas.
“Well,” I thought to myself, “I picked a damn good day to call for an R&R break.”
Then I found out, why no one told us about any of this is still unknown, that the next two days after the holiday would also be considered a holiday.
Come to find out, there are all sorts of intrusive, inconvenient, and wholly unnecessary nonsense that accompany these high holy days here in Best Korea. There are exhibitions, fireworks, song and dance events, athletics competitions, idea seminars: “Think about it!”, and visits to places connected with Kim Il-sung's life, including his birthplace in Mangyongdae.
Shops close, the hotel televisions block any other ‘programming’ and show only ‘special’ movies. Either ridiculously fake documentaries on the life of the also ever so ronrey Kim Il-sung or movies he especially enjoyed. People parade to his statue on Mansu Hill to deposit flowers; later in the day, it resembled a pollinated glacier.
There’s general obviously forced elation, all of which is extraordinarily strained and appears fake. People are trucked by the groaning busload to the Kumsusan Palace of the Sun where the dead maniac lies in state.
“Fuck this”, I said in the exact spirit of international amity, “I’m going to the bar.”
I go downstairs to the basement bar, and even though it’s a high holy day, it’s open early. It didn’t used to be open until the afternoon, but since we’ve arrived, they have adjusted their hours for us.
They have also doubled their daily receipts. So they’ve got that going for them, which is nice.
One of my favorite barkeeps was station keeping that morning. I greeted him in the usual style and expressed to Mr. Ho Gun the best holiday wishes.
“Hi! Ho!”, I said, “Annyeonghaseyo”, which comes out ‘Annie young eez-yo!’ in my Baja Canuckian dialect.
Mr. Ho laughs at my attempt at Korean, but he does appreciate the effort.
“Doctor Rock”, he says, “Dawn greetings. You will drink what?”
Nice and direct, I like that.
“Ye’ ken Greenland Coffee, me ol’ mucker?” I asked in a swirl of different dizzying dialects.
Koran confounds me, so I thought I’d return the favor.
“No, but I’m sure it’s coffee with some of your usual high-proof liquors, correct?” he smiles as I hand him a nice, oily Oscuro cigar.
“For Best Most Happy Returns: Day of the Sun”, I said, waggling the stogie, as I hand it over.
“However, you are correct. Normally, ‘authentic’ Greenland Coffee is a paltry 1/3rd ounce each of Whiskey, Kahlua, and Grand Marnier with excess coffee. Well, I don’t cotton to those liquors or measures. So my Greenland Coffee recipe, really from Greenland, by the way, is Siku Vodka, or any other high-octane vodka, as long as it’s premium. Then Immiak, which is Greenland’s version of Jagermeister, so let’s just go with Jager. Then finish it off with a shot of Tia Maria or Kahlua, if available. Oh, yes, then hot coffee. Silly me, almost forgot…” I conclude.
“And measures?” Mr. Ho asked.
“Whatever fills the cup”, I replied, in a bastardization of an old Russian toast.
“OK, how about a 35 mils (~1 ounce) stiff shot each booze, then hot coffee to fill your mug? With a chilled vodka chaser, as per usual?” He asks.
“Make it so, Mr. Ho,” I say. “No whipped cream or crème liqueurs, please. I’m lactose intolerant, and, well, no one wants to hear that…”
He laughs and whips together a very nice morning sunriser.
It’s a real day off.
In a very, very weird land.
It’s Festival outside and I stayed up most of the night calling people back in the world, creating and updating dossiers, doing explosives-tracking paperwork, worrying over logistics, and how and when the fuck we’re going to eventually get out of here.
Fuck it, double front. I’m doing my ‘people watch’, perched high on Mahogany Ridge. I’m taking, for the first time since, hell, I left the Middle East, some real downtime.
I figured I deserved it.
I was the only one at the bar, but after a short time, there were festival-goers who infiltrated down into the hotel's subterranean catacombs. They didn’t know of the bar’s recently expanded hours and when they saw me sitting high up on Mahogany Ridge, smoking my ubiquitous cigar, they rejoiced.
Obligatory Festival and alcohol! Better than beer and power tools.
In the Baja Canada time-honored tradition, I have a pile of the local currency sitting on the bar. At the new exchange rate of 1,386 won to the dollar, I’m making out like a bandit.
Drinks here are cheap, really cheap, to begin with. With this fluctuation in exchange rates, which I figured reflected the holiday, I was flush. In the chips. Well-heeled. I've got a lot of what it takes to get along.
So, I was feeling magnanimous. I was tipping people very well.
“Paper?” one local asked.
“Sure. How much for a week-old English version of the Daily Worker’s Manifest and Pork Belly Futures Digest? 100 won? Here’s 1,000. Keep the change.”
Not wanting to become over-caffeinated, I switched from Greenland Coffees after a couple to my usual potato juice and citrus concoction. Each one came in a tall, frosted gimlet glass, a very nice touch, and was expertly made my Mr. Ho after I showed him once when we first arrived.
Each one, with the current exchange rate, was about 500 won; an exorbitant sum for any local. It was about US$0.40 for me. I bought several for people who bellied up to the bar and tried to engage me in conversation.
I was used to handing out business cards, hell, one never knew where contacts could lead; and not receiving one in return.
Today, I collected four new business cards; two from various European ex-pats, and two from locals.
I guess Festival! time brings out the best and least paranoid in people.
It’s only 1000 hours in the AM and people here are already seriously lubricated.
This will be a fun few days.
I decided to get a rather tall drink in one of my 100-ounce Kum-n-Go travel cups. With all the hoo-ha going on around here, I haven’t seen a handler, translator, or guide since we got off the boat. I decide with all the shenanigans and goings-on around the place on this festival day, no one would give me nor my wardrobe a second look if I were to venture outdoors for a walkabout.
Besides, we’re on a bloody island. It’s not like I can go too damned far.
So, quicker than a bunny fucks, I get my drink, fire up a cigar, and walk around the lobby of the hotel. There are the usual comings and goings of tourists, local workers, the security forces, and all that allied tat.
I wait until a tour bus pulls up and all eyes are somewhere besides me.
Pfft! And I’m standing outside the hotel, looking at all the sights.
Which, truth be told, weren’t much.
Yanggak Island is a slovenly-manicured island with shrubberies, tracks, trails, and assorted support buildings. The river is basically hidden behind stunted shrubs and nevergreens, and the remains of the defunct golf course. There’s a stadium on the island, which was thronging with festival-goers today. I don’t know what sport, if any, they play there, and didn’t care enough to ask anyone.
There was a cinema hall, which was currently empty and looking in need of some dire repair. There’s some sort of Chinese health complex in the process of being built or torn down, it was hard to tell which. Needless to say, the scenery paled almost immediately.
I did, after a concerted effort, find a small platform that overlooked the Taedong River. It was a very nice little observation platform with a couple of new-Tudor-esque electrical replica gas lights and two concrete benches where a weary traveler could sit and just watch the river.
So I did.
I was interested in the fish of the river, and wondered if any of the locals did any fishing; or if it was forbidden, as are so many ‘proletariat’ activities are in town.
I did see a few locals, huddled out of plain sight, down by the shores of the river fishing with long, 10 meter, reel-less poles. In Britain, they would call this type of fishing ‘noodling’.
I didn’t see them catch anything, but in the bar later, I spoke with a local who told me that they catch various species of fish here. These include Asian Aroana, Blue Guppy, Catfish, Crab, Eel, Halibut, Hucho Perryi, Octopus, Orange Guppy, Pacific Flying Squid, Rainbow Trout, Salmon, and Tuna.
I’m not saying my informant was lying or embroidering the tale, but from the nasty condition of the river, I think Coney Island Whitefish, Cotton River Horse, Dumpster Trout, and Bugle-Mouthed Salmon would be the more common species.
I had enough perambulation and even though I wasn’t given the least look, I felt a bit uncomfortable out here. That unfiltered sun and equally unfiltered air. After that, I wandered back to the hotel and went to enter to go to my room.
“HALT! Who goes there?” some door guard yelled at me.
“An American tourista who was out on a walk”, I replied.
“Impossible!”, he replied, “Tourists are not allowed out without their guides.”
“Look, Herr Mac”, I said, “I’m Dr. Rocknocker, and I am an invited Western Petroleum Scientist with the UN special-invited group here to evaluate the country’s oil and gas potential.”
“You are not allowed.” He replied loudly.
“My good man”, I replied, equally loudly, "Not allowed? Not allowed? I’m a geologist, I’m allowed everywhere.”
With that, I grab the handle of the ornate door, take a slurp out of my drink, and sally forth into the hotel.
Of course, he goes non-linear. He follows me and is making all sorts of bad noise. He is almost literally dancing around me, pointing, and exclaiming that I’m not allowed.
Then, he made a bit of a mistake.
He grabbed my arm.
Really, really poor career move.
I switched my drink to my left hand and executed a pretty spiffy opposite-side wrist grab on the noisy little nerf herder.
He was so shocked by this turn of events, he went slightly white and was rendered mute for a short time.
I frog marched the little irritant up to the front desk and asked the head clerk there to explain to my captive audience who I was and why I was here.
The clerk smiled and gave the character whom I was dragging around a quick background on the guy who was currently holding him captive. When I heard “닥터 락 노커” [dagteo lag nokeo, “Dr. Rocknocker”], I dropped this guy’s hand and just took a few steps back.
After a minute or two, he comes over, very, very abashed. He apologizes as he wasn’t told that any Americans were allowed outside the hotel.
I told him ‘No problem’, as I really didn’t have any special permission and didn’t want to get the guy into any trouble. I offered him a cigar, which he refused, but he readily accepted the half-pack of Sobranie pastel cigarettes I had in the pocket of my Hawaiian shirt.
I decided from that point to just stay inside the hotel to smoke, drink, and avoid any further Imperial entanglements.
I wandered on down to the casino because I was bored and it was unusually quiet. Too hepped-up to sleep, too tired to work, it was that odd interarea between “should I be giving a fuck” and “who the fuck cares?”
Leaving the basement, I wandered around the ground floor, just taking in the sights, and looking at the “Festival Specials” at the hotel shops.
I found an empty, unlocked conference room that looked inviting. About two dozen chairs, a large wooden table, TV monitors, and a southern view of the city from slightly above ground level.
I walked in like I owned the place, as it is always monumentally easier to get forgiveness than permission, sat down at the head of the table, propped my feet up, found an ashtray, and began playing with the remote to see what was available.
Evidently, these rooms were available for rent by various factions, cadres, and other sorts of like-minded individuals. However, whoever was here last forgot to re-set the filters on the satellite television.
There was real the BBC, real-time. There was German TV, Russian TV, Japanese TV, and even some American TV; all the best of the absolutely prohibited hit parade.
I shut it down and left immediately. I went to find my comrades. They simply had to see this.
I located Dax first, as he was losing won at a rapid rate down at the basement casino. He said he’d spread the word to any of the team members down in the tunnels and we’d meet at Conference Room #1.
I had taken the precaution before leaving to move the “Occupied/Unoccupied” placard to indicate it was in use and that if you hadn’t reserved the room, you’d do best to stay the fuck out.
I waited the obligatory 20 minutes for the elevator and went up to ‘our’ floor.
I knocked on all the doors where I knew they were occupied by our occupants. I found a few of our team and informed them that if they were so inclined, there would be an unannounced, impromptu, and wholly illicit meeting down in Conference room number 1; complete with refreshments and real, uncensored television. They all agreed and said they’d rouse the rest of our team on the floor.
I was feeling so brazen, that when I went down to the ground floor, I stopped at the front desk and ordered lunch and drinks for my team in Conference Room #1.
“Oh, sir”, the desk clerk responded, “We don’t have any reservations today for Conference Room #1.”
“Well”, I replied, “We are in there and if it wasn’t reserved, how would that have happened? The room would have been marked as unavailable, which it clearly was not; as it was open and available and we are now occupying it. Therefore, it wasn’t marked unavailable so it must have been available; not unavailable as you postulate. It’s almost a simple example of the single equation theory of universal containment. So we are meeting there now and requiring refreshments. It’s simply a logical progression of the facts of the matter.”
“You are, of course, correct”, she immediately responded, distracted by all the Festival goings-on in the hotel, “Now, you said you’d like to order 4 dozen assorted meat and cheese sandwiches, two cases of beer, and a mixed case of bottled liquor?”
“Yes”, I replied, “You see, it’s only going to be a brief meeting. I’ll also need ice, carbonated and non-carbonated mixers, sliced citrus fruit, and an on-call bartender if you have one available.”
“Oh, yes sir,”, she replied, “That will be immediately arranged. Anything else?”
“Yes”, I replied, “I’ll need about a dozen ashtrays, of the larger variety. Also, I am going to leave explicit instructions with you to disseminate to hotel staff that we are not to be disturbed. This is a very high-level meeting of the scientists of the IUPG. We will be discussing, umm, ‘sensitive information’”.
I used the international ‘don’t-even-think-of-bothering-us’ buzzword to let her know were being very serious indeed.
“Oh, yes sir”, she stiffened.
“Marvelous”, I said and slipped her 1000 won for her troubles. All sighs of nervousness instantly disappeared.
“Excellent. Excellent service.”, I said, rubbing both hands together most Mr. Burnsly.
I go over to the conference room and see that our order has begun to already arrive. Have to hand it to them, you call for room service and you get room service. Especially if you’re well known around the hotel to be free with imported cigars, pastel cigarettes, and lavish tips.
One by one, my teammates filtered in. There was everyone from out earlier pleasure cruise, and most of the force that remained back in the hotel to prepare the paperwork for our ground assault.
Cigars, cigarettes, and pipes were lit. Sandwiches consumed and drinks were downed. After everyone had a chance to see their home-town, or at least home-county, version of the news, I decided that it would indeed be a good time to have a bit of a meeting. It was going nuts outside with the Festival, and as long as we were in here, we were being left alone.
After the obligatory facilities break, I returned from a 40-minute round trip to my room to get a couple of my field notebooks. I wanted a record of the proceedings, no matter how spur-of-the-moment.
When I returned, I thought the room looked a bit spare. I did a quick headcount and I noted we were missing someone. I glanced through my notes and saw that our Bulgarian geomechanic, Dr. Iskren Dragomirov Dinev, or ‘Iskren’ was not present.
“Hey, guys”, I asked aloud, “Anyone seen Iskren lately?”
There was a brief conclave and the answer was a solid negative.
I called the front desk and got his room number. I asked them to ring his room for me. His room phone rang and rang and rang, but no answer.
“Who last saw Iskren?” I asked the assembled crew.
The Finnish PT, Joon, recalls drinking with him at the casino the night before last. He seemed normally jovial as was normal for him.
“Anyone else? Or since?” I asked.
Again, the answer was negative.
“Something’s not right”, I thought, my rock sense was tingling. “Dax, Cliff, you’re with me.”
We all left, stopped by the front desk, and asked for medical assistance. We explained where we were going and the sudden absence of our Bulgarian friend. We expressed deep concern.
25 minutes later, Dax, Cliff, me, the hotel security chief, and hotel doctor were standing outside Iskren’s room. We had pounded on the door for a good 3 minutes. He certainly wasn’t in the shower.
No answer.
“Fuck this. Open it”, I said.
“Under whose authority?” the chief of hotel security asked.
“Mine. Dr. Rocknocker. I’m the team leader of the IUPG crew. Do it.” I said.
The door was laboriously opened, as both door bolt locks had to be breached. The room was dark, silent, and entirely unnerving. In the gloom, it appeared that there was a human form, unmoving, on the bed.
“I’m a rock Doctor. I think we need a medical doctor here.” I said to the hotel sawbones.
The hotel doctor went in without switching on the lights nor touching anything. He examined the mound on the bed. Apparently, it wasn’t a pile of dirty laundry.
“Was the occupant of this room a large Caucasian male, approximately 60-65 years of age?” He asked.
“Yes”, we all answered together.
“I’m afraid he’s dead.” The doctor replied.
Dax looked at Cliff who looked at me. In unison, all that was heard was a tripartite:
“Oh…fuck.”
To be continued...

Now not to knock the 1980s synthesizer heavy sounds that a lot of people are clamoring for CP2077, but hear me out. The year is 2077, almost 100 years into the future from when Synthwave would become popular. It just doesn't make sense to me that people in 2K77 would be listening to music from almost a century ago. Of course it would still exist in the time period, but why would it be the defining sound of the era? It's like if we all only listened to 1920s Jazz today and that was the only popular form of music. This is the FUTURE. I want sounds that emulate that. If they strictly relied on Synthwave for the game, it would feel more like a parody of a Cyberpunk world and not a living, breathing environment with a society that actually listens and plays it's own musical style.
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I'm now going to divide this post up into 4 sections going into detail of how I'd like the soundtrack to be like in concept, and some specific artists I would have liked to seen CDPR work with. These will be 1. POP 2. PUNK 3. AMBIENT 4. OTHER.
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1. POP

To me, Pop of the future would be fast, bubbly, and high-strung. Bubblegum Hyperpop, with blissful synths, ethereal singing, and a blistering BPM, each song will sound like you're manic on chems but you just don't care.
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Now Grimes was a great choice and 4AM is a perfect representation of what I'm talking about, but I would have loved to see some production or even an original song by Sophie herself. Just take a listen to her song Immaterial, It perfectly encapsulates the cyber-enhancement lifestyle.

"I could be anything I want,
Anyhow, anywhere, any place, anyone that I want."

She also is on the cutting edge of Pop production, being a leading figure on PC Music. If she just ups her tempo she'd fit in perfectly with the hyper-spastic sounds of Pop Music in 2077.
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Kelela, with her spiritual voice and futuristic-leaning style would also make a great fit for Cyberpunk with the right backing instrumental. While a little slow for what I'm envisioning, Kelela would sound great on a faster track if produced right.
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Presenting an interesting duality in their music, Dorian Electra would be an excellent Popstar in Night City. In the future, gender is totally fluid when cybernetics are involved, and Dorian would embody that with some fascinating songs. Dorian Electra could make a larger-than-life androgynous figure tearing up the charts circa 2K77.
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As far as producers go, Iglooghost has to be the most futuristic I've ever heard. Mixing tons of genres into one tumbling, bouncing, whirlwind of a song after the other, Iglooghost is already living in 2077 as far as I'm concerned. He could turn any song into a top charting hit in Night City.
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Learning that A.G. Cook is the founder of PC Music becomes evident when you hear his stylistic production rinse over you in every song he's put out so far. So sweet they could burst your heart, Cook's songs border some realm between fairies and androids.
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Finally, we have Sinjin Hawke and Zora Jones, who's interesting uses of drums and synths could really bring some flavor to the world of Cyberpunk 2077. This production duo would bring the best sonic experiments to the dance floors of your local run-down warehouse rave. These two could turn a gunfight in a nightclub into a sweetly maddening experience easily.
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some other examples of chrome Popstars in the making include: SHYGIRL, ROSALÍA, and Sarah Bonito.

1. PUNK

Punk in the futuristic world of Cyberpunk 2077 should be an amalgamation of everything before it. My controversial hot take is that Rap is the new Punk. More and more rappers these days are embracing the Punk look and ethos, so who better to represent the rockerboys of 2K77 than some of the most popular heavy rappers today? The punk jams of tomorrow need more than just guitars and drums though, maybe include harsh synths and churning bass to really contemporize the barberous sounds of the underground.
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Coming in fast and heavy is Denzel Curry, with a furious cadence and a rage brewing underneath every song, Curry would be perfect for a local punk frontman. Already having covered two classics, both rock and punk, Denzel can certainly hold his own in the punk world.
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While recording for Cyberpunk 2077 doesn't exactly seem like something Death Grips would be interested in, their sound would slot so flawlessly into the grimy world of Night City. Abrasive and unrelenting, their recent experimentation with gabber is cyberpunk incarnate. The game comes across as a little too commercial for them sadly, but if they did write some original songs for the game, it would be a headspin for sure.
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Two figures in the underground punk rap scene today are the cruel boys in City Morgue. With songs featuring biting lyrics about violence in the streets, City Morgue's fierce voices mirror the rejection of society by the rockerboys in Cyberpunk. ZillaKami and SosMula are as close to cyberpsychosis as it gets when it comes to their music. I can only imagine large pits of writhing kids as City Morgue's characters take the stage to belt out the thrashing the crowd so desperately wants.
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When it comes to creating the instrumentals of the future rock rebellion, look no further than Clams Casino. A veteran in the underground scene, Clams can add a gritty electronic edge to the guitar riffs of the fictional bands in Night City. Clams Casino would provide an ominous undertone to the already heavy-hitting songs of 2K77.
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Having already tried his hand at layering guitars into his deep void-like melodies, Shlohmo is practically a given for production on songs from the rockerboys. I can already envision the dark textures he would weave through the songs he would work on. Shlohmo can even compliment the rocketing pace of Punk with his own take on drum and bass.
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Machine Girl is a wild synthesis of sound and frenzy. Assaulting your ears with a high BPM, Machine Girl is an attack of mish-mashed rough ideas and broken harmonies. MG would certainly amp up the viciousness of a band in the production department.
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And lastly, we have the one and only Arca. Too dark for Pop, but almost too bouncy for Punk, Arca would bring an interesting dynamic to the music scene in the city. Their own sounds are organic and evil, almost being a commentary on the "metal vs. meat" debate so prominent during this time period. Arca imposes their own brand of neo-futurism that resides wholly in the Cyberpunk time period.
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As far as actual punk bands are concerned, there are a plethora of great acts to choose from active today. Ideally I would choose something similar to the chaos of S.H.I.T., School Jerks, or VOID.
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1. AMBIENT

Here is where my contentious opinion comes into play. I do not want Synthwave to be the ambient music in the game. I've already stated my argument for this above, so here I'd like to show you what I would prefer instead. The sonic world of the Cyberpunk genre as a whole to me, is that of the drone of industry, the hum of machines, the steady marching of technology, so steady in fact, that it marches right over humanity. The world of cyberpunk is an unkind one. It is cold, alien, mechanical. The music of the game should reflect that.
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I'm happy that Nina Kraviz has been brought on board to represent Techno, but I would have loved to see someone like Abdulla Rashim as well. AR is a master in the hypnotic sound of dimness. Rashim would make an excellent addition to the roster for his industrial trance-like feel.
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Vatican Shadow's techno is laser-focused on the political shortcomings behind war and imperialism, so I doubt he'd want to get involved with something as trivial as a video game, but he would make a damn good soundtrack if he did.
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Do androids dream of electric sheep? Acronym might have the answer. Their songs are dream-like, yet still feel like a huge machine on a factory floor.
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There is a massive stable of DJs CDPR could pick for this project, with a few examples being Luigi Tozzi, SHXCXCHCXSH, or UVB.
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I'm not too worried about actual ambient music in the game, I'm sure CD Projekt Red will whip something great up, but I'd love it if it could feel like these particular tracks: Diamondstein, Kuroi Ame, or Hvide Sejl
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I would however have liked to see one artist in particular make it onto the composer list. Oneohtrix Point Never has been killing it the last few years with his own brand of strange instrumental ambience. OPN has even worked on composing before, having just scored the latest Safdie brothers' film and working on their previous work Good Time. I'd be excited to hear his audio fingerprints all over the ambient side of the OST.
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1. OTHER

This section revolves around one small aspect of the soundtrack that I think would be an amusing detail. Say you enter a corpo office building and ever so faintly, you hear none other than an original Vaporwave song playing. I know I stated earlier that it would be nonsensical for people of the future to be listening to music from a century ago, but hear me out. Vaporwave is a caricature of corporate commodified music. The music it's re-structuring is designed to be the least offensive, most generic music man can design. Vaporwave actually demolishes said music, and remolds it into something new and interesting. This is what propels my logic to include it into the game. Capitalism is Capitalism. They wouldn't innovate their music if it costs them nothing to keep the same colorless music in the background, but with Vaporwave, it feels like something new at the same time. Some songs that echo that desired feeling are: 豊平区民Toyohirakumin, Cosmic Cycler, and luxury elite.
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In closing, This took way longer than I thought it would, but I'm passionate about the genre and the music, so I hope whoever reads this maybe sees it from a different perspective. I made a playlist on Spotify featuring the artists I mentioned and much more that I'm still adding songs to. I also made this video featuring a small mix of said playlist along with some visuals, with a part 2 I'm working on currently. If you made it this far, thanks for coming to my TED Talk. Cheers.

Other Reviews
As some of you may know, I’m publishing a series of reviews covering modern Doctor Who, these are stories I’ve watched many times before and where I know every plot twist. Watching Spyfall is a totally different experience because I don’t have a clue what’s going to happen. So, this is my review based upon my first watch.
Sometimes a title tells you exactly what to expect from a story and Spyfall, obviously taken from the 23rd James Bond film, Skyfall, is a case in point. The espionage theme is played up with a globe-trotting opening featuring camouflaged creatures emerging from walls to attack some spies.
After the opening music, we arrive back home in Sheffield to catch up with the “Fam”. One of my favourite parts of series 11 was the domestic scenes at the start of Arachnids in the UK, and I thought the similar moments in Spyfall were cleverly done because it reminded more casual viewers of character background such as Yaz’s police career and Graham’s health problems. One thing that did annoy me is that Ryan’s dyspraxia seems to have been forgotten again, I know it wouldn’t stop him playing basketball but my reading of the scene is that he must be a talented player because his coach misses him enough to remember every reason he missed a game!
The Fam and the Doctor are kidnapped by ‘men in black’ and taken to MI6, I thought the scene in the car was awesome; I loved the Doctor’s ‘private’ conversation with her friends as their captor is in the driving seat next to her. Evil Sat Nav was very well done as a laser beam kills the driver, and the car is reversed into oncoming traffic, I was very pleased with myself that I thought of using the mirror at the same time as the Doctor! When they eventually reach London, the head of MI6 (‘C’) is only Stephen Fry!!!
Casting is an interesting thing, reading the comments on Gallifrey, most people liked his performance, but I think he’s reached that level of celebrity where he’s pretty much Stephen Fry in everything he appears in. There was a strange decision made in Resolution to close down UNIT and in Spyfall it’s mentioned that Torchwood no longer exists either, I know MI6 fits with the whole ‘spy’ theme, but it would have got a lot more fan love if it had been either of these other organisations. After giving the gang a bunch of secret agent hardware and details on the main suspect, C is assassinated and camouflaged creatures appear from the walls forcing the gang to flee in the TARDIS.
Nothing has changed my opinion that three companions are too many for the series structure, because giving them something to do means the Doctor takes the unlikely step of sending Ryan and Yaz to infiltrate the headquarters of Daniel Barton, the Jeff Bezos/Mark Zuckerberg/Elon Musk figure at the heart of the plot. While they do this, the Doctor and Graham go to visit an old friend in the Australian Outback, I don’t know if anyone else thought the secret agent was going to be an old friend, but when we saw the back of O’s head I thought it was Captain Jack for about 2 seconds!
I really liked Sacha Dhawan’s O, there was something of the likeable geek about him, but unfortunately, he also illustrates one of the problems with the presentation of the Doctor. In The Age of Steel, the Tenth Doctor is talking to the creator of the Cybermen and says “I’d call you a genius, except I’m in the room” and this illustrates my view of the Doctor; she should be the cleverest person in any scene, she won’t show off her knowledge like Hermione Granger, but if there’s a problem, she should invariably be the person who solves it. When O’s home comes under attack from creatures made of light, the Doctor seems to stand around helplessly when the agent activates a defensive shield, the Doctor’s main contribution is to use her sonic to drop a physical cage around the intruder.
I really like the concept of the creatures, they seem to possess the “perfect hiding” referred to in Listen, and the way they create themselves out of the surface they use to camouflage themselves makes them visually distinctive. In their light form, they did remind me of Cyber-ghosts from Army of Ghosts, but in terms of outline, I thought there was something of Omega from Arc of Infinity (please no!).
Yaz and Ryan manage to pass themselves off as journalists and get to interview Daniel Barton; there’s something about Yaz’s character that means she fades into the background when all the group are together and it was good to see her channelling Sarah Jane Smith when questioning Barton. If a career in the Police doesn’t pan out, journalism is definitely an option as she quizzes the head of VOR on some of his companies’ working practices. Like Stephen Fry, Sir Lenny Henry is incredibly famous in Britain, but I don’t think he has quite the same public persona. Also, his comedy and acting career has been built on playing a range of different characters – see series three of Broadchurch, which meant I was able to focus more on his performance.
Some of Ryan’s and Yaz’s spy gadgets enable them to scan Barton’s DNA and to copy his security pass and they use this to return to his office at night. They see Barton meeting the light creatures and one of these attacks Yaz, sending her into a strange realm, before she appears in Australia in the cage where O and the Doctor had trapped another light creature. I thought this was quite a dynamic way to link events between the two locations. Based upon the information Yaz and Ryan have gathered, the gang and O crash Daniel Barton’s birthday party.
The party sequence is pretty dreadful on a number of levels; let’s start with the music – a James Bond pastiche which is just too obvious, then all the characters attend the party in James Bond style tuxedos – it’s like they know they’re appearing in a Bond parody. Their mission is to find and question Barton but, because this is their one chance to get all the Bond clichés in, they have to play casino games. The moment where the Doctor is playing Blackjack and shouts out “snap” was on a par with the “I suppose we’ll have to have a conversation” line in Resolution. When the Doctor finally tracks down Barton, he dances rings around her in their conversation, leaving her staring after him as he leaves, driving away from the party in his car.
When Yaz was interviewing Barton earlier, she mentioned his collection of motorbikes – a collection that he’s so casual about that he leaves them right outside the front door of his house. The gang steal the bikes and chase after Barton. I liked the car stunt at the start, but the bike chase isn’t great, partly because the series hasn’t got the money a sequence like this would demand, but also because of the reactions of the characters. Barton pulls out a gun and starts shooting at his pursuers, many bullets hit the bikes but none of the characters react like they would in real life by pulling out of the chase, instead they all stay hot on Barton’s tale like they know they’re in a Bond film and won’t actually be shot.
The gang pursue Barton to an airport, where he boards a plane and the Doctor uses her sonic to open the baggage section and they chase the moving plane to smuggle themselves on board.
Yaz’s DNA scanner revealed that Barton was 93% human and they have a discussion about how Barton could not possibly be an alien because he’s got an established history, I bristled at this, thinking back to Harold Saxon in The Sound of Drums, but then O reveals that he is the “Spy-MASTER!” This is an OMG moment, but actually it’s done more for the cliffhanger than because it’s justified by what we’ve seen on screen. O struggles when running after the plane telling the Doctor that he’s a terrible runner, but she’s read his biography so she knows this isn’t true. Think back to Utopia, where all the plot threads come together at the same time to reveal that Professor Yana is the Master – this isn’t in the same league.
As soon as O unveils his true identity, he switches to full on villain mode, even going as far as to pull out a match box containing the real version of his persona that he shrunk with his Tissue Compression Eliminator. I thought the effect was dreadful, looking worse than the Auntie Vanessa doll in Logopolis. It’s strange, but the only convincing TCE corpse is in the first Master story 1971’s Terror of the Autons.
Events start to speed up, Barton is not on the plane and instead his seat is occupied by a “cockpit bomb.” The Doctor tries to use her sonic to diffuse this, but of course the Master has thought of this, so the Doctor pretty much stands there and stares at the bomb. I get that the Doctor can’t solve every problem but Chibnall needs to make her more proactive – she could be snipping wires or trying to detach the bomb to throw it out of the plane – instead all she does is shut the cabin doors. The Master tells the Doctor “Everything that you think you know is a lie” and teleports away. A light creature takes the Doctor to the realm visited by Yaz earlier, leaving her companions on the plane and the end music screams in – using the old-style sting effect.
I haven’t loved a TV Doctor Who episode since World Enough and Time, and I really wanted to love Spyfall; it looks fantastic, the monsters are cool, it’s got the shock return of the Master, but it’s somehow less than the sum of its parts and I think that’s because of the writing. I don’t remember laughing at any jokes and I can’t remember any quotable lines. As a series opener, it’s reasonably competent and the cliffhanger sets things up for a story where potentially anything can happen, but I still want more from my favourite show. (6/10)

Note: I'm writing this as someone who has watched the entire original series, Fire Walk With Me, The Missing Pieces, and The Return, as well as other features from Lynch's filmography (Lost Highway, Mulholland Drive, Elephant Man, Blue Velvet, Eraserhead); marked for spoilers now, do not proceed if you haven't seen them all. This is a longpost for Twin Peaks-obsessed nuts like me.
One of the things that remains a statement of the original incarnation (and thus, a statement by being substituted with HD digital cameras in The Return) is Twin Peaks's absolute mastery of the highly saturated 4:3 box TV aesthetic. I've heard Lynch was adamant the color palette not be corrected to a grittier, desaturated version when execs received the tapes. It's part of what's made so many iconic sequences and shots from the original run hallmarks of Tumblr and Instagram accounts aplenty. Twin Peaks came (and could be argued, ushered) on the precipice of a major shift in the television format. We would see the contemporary form of television media developed further with shows like The Sopranos in the HBO prime cable era, or The X-Files (no wonder Chris Carter plundered Twin Peaks's cast for his own attempt). As a marker for the end of the 80s and its preceding decades though, in many ways Twin Peaks to spoke to a form of TV largely since faded: soap operas and sitcoms and serials. It's part of why I loved the metatextual inclusion of the soap opera Invitation to Love, allowing the show to reference its own stylized dramaturgy.
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Jade & Emerald... Jade give two rides, hm?
Very specifically, I find the series loves to riddle blue and red, like one oni to another. Fire and water. Hot-cold (like the shivery feeling Audrey gets when she holds an ice cube on her bare skin for a long time). The red and blue on Mike's TP varsity letterman jacket could be the most striking and concise marriage of this dynamic pairing. Donna & Maddie dive into this in the season 2 opener, scheming at the Double R (docked points for the silly jailhouse seduction routine by Donna, though). Subtler in palette but more obvious in Americana, Major Briggs's omnipresent blue uniform incorporates red in his breast patch (and Don S. Davis's ruddy-warm complexion, imo) speaking to his inherent patriotism as part of the Air Force. On more than one occasion Big Ed is spotted with a red & blue flannel.
Much to be said about the pairing of Bobby & Mike, comparing to BOB & MIKE; MIKE saw the face of God, but Bobby is the one who saw the light in this duo.
The flashing lights of a cop car. Dr. Jacoby's iconic 3D glasses-flavored shades (note that Jacoby and Ben both hailed from the Robert Wise-directed 1961 film adaptation of West Side Story, the famous 50s musical depicting rival gangs experiencing a Romeo & Juliet plot amidst culture clash in NYC). Lil the Dancer, communicating through expressive dance a coded message in FWWM. A barbershop quartet in the background behind Coop & Albert in "Coma".
I believe it's The Secret History of Twin Peaks book that is paired with red and blue filter lenses, so you can view certain hidden information? Either way, Lynch likes his 50s/60s Americana; reminds me of Castle Horror gimmicks.
The blue flower was a central Romanticism symbol; as blue roses don't occur in nature, they hold an air of mystery and fantastic possibility. Tennessee Williams used the blue rose to symbolize the fragile & unique character Laura(!!) in The Glass Menagerie.
The sign outside One-Eye Jack's. Red pairs often with green or black in gambling/casino situations; from the card deck motif for the sex workers to the mix-match patches of a roulette wheel. The malfunctioning lift for Leo in "The Orchid's Curse." The stage behind Julee Cruise during Roadhouse performances, especially "Lonely Souls." Even though the Red Room is known for its red, we see eventually that the Lodge holds strobing blue lights and the milky cataracts of doppelgangers. In a more peaceful sense, blue light washes over Laura as she smiles in the Lodge at the end of FWWM, reunited finally with her angel.
You can practically hear the buzz of the neon zapping into life from here. Knowing how important electricity is to Twin Peaks, these little details really stand out.
Ben and Jerry, at various times, switch between the two to complement each other much like the Miser Brothers. We also see it in Ben's interactions with Catherine; their affair in "Traces to Nowhere" finds Catherine clad in a powdery blue blanket, Ben's fiery tie, Catherine's ruby toenails (sidenote: not a fan of the Tarantino interaction). We see more of this Ben-Catherine color scheme in "Cooper's Dreams" during the Iceland convention with Leland's impromptu dancefloor breakdown. Ben, as central locus for Twin Peaks's criminal element, seems to be a lightning pole for these color dynamics. Notable is his integral need as a character to keep his publicly clean image and seedy underworld dealings separate, the perfect human symbol for Lynch's sequence in Blue Velvet's intro depicting the rotting & squirming insects buried beneath the idyllic Levittown surface of Lumberton. And Ben, even beyond his perennial cigar, enjoys many scenes by the fire of a hearth.
Ben floats through the two by himself on a regular basis, which I think ties into his role as the uber 80s corporate & cold American businessman, espousing social niceties & charm but hiding his sinister and impulsive skeletons in the closet. It's almost like he should be Lodge, but he's only run parallel to it as a human being.
Likewise, when it comes to the Lodge, BOB and the Man from Another Place/The Arm make a perfect red-blue pair. I noticed this especially in FWWM during the chaotic convenience store sequence. Given that during the night the sky can range from black as a cup of Coop's coffee to a Prussian shade, by following a Goethe color theory mindset, we can admit "Blue is a darkness weakened by light." BOB never comes off weak, but as a possessing spirit, for the viewer, his sudden appearances/reveals herald a (at times literal) spotlight into the black oil that is his essence (follow this link for a Youtube vid that informed some of my own theories). Goethe characterizes blue as common (think of country folk and bikers and truckers), as well as cold and melancholy, powerful. Red is much easier for The Arm; in addition to evoking the Christian iconography of a devilish imp figure, he is pure fire, the kind that truly walks with you (Goethe considers red as beautiful, dignified, closer to the essence of light; perhaps this echoes the Neoclassical Venus statue found often with Red Room curtains, or the red lipstick of the various beautiful women commonly prey to Twin Peaks).
BOB's always clad in blue denim to match The Arm's impish red suit. Noticeable since they remain the two most active agents as Lodge creatures, continuing the BOB/MIKE dualism that existed pre-show.
Given the only color left to throw in is white (HMM,, White Lodge? Sarah's pale horse? Leland's hair? The stuffed arctic fox in Ben's office? That weird long-faced elk thing at the Packard-Martell house? Pete and Coop enjoying/trying to order a mug of milk? The Tremond/Chalfont boy's white mask?) and you have the Star-Spangled Banner itself (the mini-flag at Twin Peaks Sheriff's office that flanks Coop while he's sitting across the table from Dr. Jacoby, as well as Coop's fixation on the full-sized incarnation while he's in the Bros. Fusco's office during his Dougie stint in The Return, are just two instances). Notable as a tri-color national aesthetic, red white & blue sometimes finds its way back in altered forms: straightforward visual representation with the Icelandic investors, as well as more tonally & artistically-derived influence from Lynch's favorite country (we'll forget the agonizing French hookup leaving scene from The Return and think more of Monica Bellucci's dream sequence, or Ben & Jerry orgasming over fresh baguettes with brie).
Great shot from Tim Hunter here.
Part 9, \"This is the chair.\" I remember this sequence being a spark of sorts, tantalizing to see Coop stir somewhat from his Dougie stupor.
While it should come as no surprise an American show would have many American-specific themes, I'm often convinced that Lynch is using the visual shorthand to simultaneously sing, criticize, celebrate, and reflect on what it means to be America. It is not coincidence that Dale Bartholomew Cooper's name reflects the notorious Pacific Northwest hijacker D.B. Cooper, or Harry Truman with the 33rd President (who, mind you, ordered the atomic bombs dropped in WWII). Or Franklin "Frank" Truman with the 32nd, for that matter. Coop openly ponders the Kennedy assassination (itself rife for conspiracy theories and speculation, much like TP) in a log to Diane, as well as Marilyn Monroe's involvement with the family; who else is Laura Palmer but a hometown Monroe?
Much like D.B. Cooper, Coop took a historic leap.
I would love to dig down deep and really review all of his work to understand more about Lynch's fixation on Lincoln (a portrait is in the Donna/James classroom when Laura's death is announced; a dramatic shot in Blue Velvet fixates on Lincoln Street which divides the town's good/bad parts & has an antagonist by the name of Booth; the "Gotta light?" Woodsman in The Return).
Now if someone could explain this connection... Dick says this right before the fire alarms go off and swamp Leland with water while BOB rams Leland's head in to break his last vessel and escape from justice.
Why Lincoln? I refer to it as The House Divided. Lincoln is one of the most recognizable presidents, partially due to his assassination (Kennedy echo), partially due to his role in the Civil War and how America resolved its most divisive internal conflict. He's emblematic of the Old America and the New America, slavery and post-slavery, secession and preservation. Somewhat like Republicans & Democrats, red v. blue. We know the toy Lincoln Logs, we hear the term Lincoln Lawyer, he's even one of the faces on Mt. Rushmore (referenced explicitly in The Return - "There they are Albert, faces of stone"- as well as compositionally in "Cooper's Dreams"); given the existence of both a Black Lodge and White Lodge in mythos, I think it's safe to draw at least some broad comparison to black America and white America (as well as Windom Earle's fetish for chess). Even as a goofier entry during Season 2's decaying period, Ben's mental lapse into General Robert E. Lee and fixation on the Civil War (mirroring Johnny Horne's fixation with the indigenous headdress and colonist America) gives some meat to this motif. Although it's never quite outright verbalized in show, one gets the sense that America is inherently built on some original sins. The water in the well was poisoned before the Trinity test
Notable too for the context of having Hawk (Nez Perce) included in this recreation. Mt. Rushmore was originally a sacred place for the Lakota Sioux; its present condition is considered desecration to their culture. America in its current incarnation was founded on the genocide and forced relocation of its indigenous peoples; Twin Peaks is loaded with Native American patterns and imagery, i.e. The Great Northern.
Note as well that red, by itself, can easily be tied to Twin Peaks's lifeforce, and by extension Lynch's entire repertoire. Fire. Red velvet curtains. Lipstick and nail polish. Blood. Pete's fisherman flannel. Audrey's heels, and her cherry trick. Norma's cherry pie. Log Lady's frames. "Let's rock" on Agent Desmond's car in FWWM. The women at One-Eye Jack's. The blooming roses peaking through white picket fences in Blue Velvet. The vast majority of neon signage (The Roadhouse especially). The traffic light at Sparkwood & 21. Leo's ostentatious Corvette. The lifeline zigzags on the high school walls. MIKE, in Philip Gerard, is fond of red tops, connecting him directly with The Arm. Much is made of Twin Peaks's proximity to Canada in the original series; the corrupt Mountie during the internal investigation arc stands out. The balloons at Dougie's corporate plaza. The Scarlet Letter. Lancelot Court, red door. Laura Palmer's Secret Diary.
Night time, my time. Red can be a carnal color, igniting passion, but also a warning to stop, turn back. Often we find it in the company of characters who have experienced a lot in Lynch's world, and not too much good.
And blue too. Blue is much more sparing in Twin Peaks, to greater mystical effect. Blue Rose. Laura's cold lips in the Pilot. Blue Velvet. Isabella Rossellini's dramatic eyeshadow as Dorothy Vallens. The waitress outfits at the Double R Diner. Leo's button-down when Shelly shoots him. The light in the morgue as Hawk tails Philip Gerard. The lifeline zigzags on hospital monitors (how they spike with Ronette, how they fall flat when Leland strangles Jacques). Ronette is swaddled in soft blue blankets during the S2 opener, her tilted head recalls Marian imagery (interesting from a Madonna-Whore complex standpoint); two episodes later her IV drip is tainted with blue dye, a visit from BOB. Maddie Ferguson's nightgown during her carpet-stain vision. Coop's iconic jammies. Rita's blue key & Betty's blue box in Mulholland Drive. The woman's hair at Club Silencio. Whenever television sets or camera footage shows up onscreen in Twin Peaks, there's a noticeable cool blue tint: think of that first tape, Laura & Donna dancing in the woods; the static showcased in the opening credits to FWWM; the footage of Coop gambling, obsessed over by Jean Renault. Gordon & Albert speaking together after meeting with Mr. C and watching Tammy walk away. Flashes of lightning. The sign at the Luna Lounge, where Fred Madison plays his discordant sax solo in Lost Highway.
Two dead girls wash up in the water. Calhoun Memorial's morgue stays bathed in blue light. Louise Bourgeois claimed it as hallmark, stating blue left behind \"the drabness of day-to-day reality\" for \"a world of freedom\", inner truths. BOB is certainly free.
Beyond red and blue, the colors I tend to notice in Twin Peaks are pink and green (notable for following a warm/cool polarization as well), which do not concern themselves to the same extent with Americana, if at all. Pink is much more sparse in its application, typically feminine: Nadine's prom dress during her suicide attempt in the S1 finale; Naido/Diane's bathrobe in The Return; the drapes behind the new One-Eyed Jack's girl Ben sleeps with in "Zen" (purposefully designed to evoke a vagina, in my opinion); fudging into purple, but we can count the Mauve Zone and Coop's run-in with Naido to an extent; Gersten Hayward's princess outfit during her piano performance for the Palmers; the trio of Candie, Mandie & Sandie; the gut-churning Pink Room sequence from FWWM with Laura & Donna.
Candie was a surprising standout for The Return. I felt these girls were a commentary on One-Eyed Jack's in the way the Mitchum Bros. were commentary on Ben & Jerry; where Ben & Jerry enjoyed public acceptance but indulged in dark secrets and ran through vulnerable sex workers, Bradley & Rodney have a dark reputation/entrance but ultimately possess hearts of gold, rescuing at-risk women like these three.
Green is more expansively utilized, and supernatural in tone: the billowing leaves of those Douglas firs in an ominous breeze; the iconic Twin Peaks font's outline; the guiding light we see through Dougie's eyes (which I assume has always been a part of Coop's psyche and intuition); Dougie's iconic oversized jacket; the infamous Owl Cave ring; the vintage lampshade adorning Ben's desk; the childhood bike Ben fondly recalls in The Return; the framed picture of the tall pine in the Sheriff's Department lobby; the tiny fir stuffed by the partition in the Palmer household; Jade & Emerald, even. Ben says to Leo, conspiring to burn the mill in "The One-Armed Man" - "Three nights, Leo. Green light." Something about it reminds me of Jay Gatsby's over-analyzed yearning green light from the F. Scott Fitzgerald classic; the idea of the American Dream with wanton capitalism, and how it's impossible to achieve (am I crazy for thinking there's a connection between Big Ed's Gas Farm's neon egg sign and the West Egg/East Egg class divide?).
Of course, the owls are watching. Much like the eyes of Dr. T.J. Eckleburg.
Ed's business harkens to how convenience stores (early-to-mid-century modernist American consumerism) were both the pumping blood and desiccated bone of our culture, as well as the Woodsmen womb. It also reminds me of old-style egg timers, and what is Twin Peaks but a show obsessed with the manipulation and perception of time? Was it the chicken or the egg that came first? Is it future or is it past?
By the time of The Return, we have lost these overly saturated tones, but the direct symbolic use of color is still integral to a Peaks viewing. I find it even more interesting that The Return made extensive use of black & white footage. Eraserhead and The Elephant Man alike (I've found both hold the spores for concepts and aesthetics fully developed in Lynch's later filmography, like the chevron Lodge floor pattern we all dearly love) were filmed in this manner; I feel Lynch chose this as nod to this earlier work, as well as the old formats of pre-color TV and film, like WWII newsreels. I find it relevant as well that older generations dream in black & white, a vanishing phenomenon which is directly related to the media of their era. B&W film informed the visual rhetoric of their unconscious minds; we, as younger Americans, dream in Technicolor.
This is the first shot we see of The Elephant Man. Notice how this is specifically his left arm, hand floating over the flame. Later in the film during a particularly moving sequence, Merrick first proves he is capable of speech for the first time by reciting the 23rd Psalm in a louder and louder tone, mirroring Annie Blackburn's prayers while Windom Earle led her bound into the Lodge.
The black & white sequences occur within the Lodge, relate directly to the Lodge - may Part 8 live forever in its atomic power - or otherwise involve unexplained phenomena (Cole's Monica Bellucci dream). By the time of The Return, a disconnect with the past and nostalgia is a core theme. The colors have faded. Coop, a half-baked shadow of himself, only gets restored by the chance mention of Gordon Cole's name in Sunset Blvd. Note Billy Wilder's 1950 film revolves around an aging actress lost in the reverie of her long-gone prime. (Also note her insistence, when William Holden's character asks her about the Salome film script, she's not conducting a "comeback" but a *return*; this, I feel, ties in as well to Major Briggs's underappreciated vision scene, emphasizing the idea of a return.) Although not shot in black & white, Pete, assisting Catherine as she tears apart their library, pauses for a moment during "The Last Evening" to linger on his high school yearbook. He's lost in the old pre-color photos, in the memory of Midge Jones, a man we never know. He's returned to a place in his youth, much like Garland's return to the gleaming, radiant marble of the fantastic palazzo in his S2 vision.
These two live in a retro-futurist Art Deco fever dream, accompanied the very appropriate Slow 30s Room soundtrack piece. Everything about the Fireman & Senorita Dido tells me of an America past its prime. I'm also convinced this was what Lynch envisioned for Briggs's palazzo; if only Don S. Davis was alive for The Return.
There's a plethora more I could get into, definitely for another thread: the preoccupation with trinities, animals, rings, technology, fine art references, and sonic elements are on my mind as well. I need to rewatch The Return again soon so more connections and thoughts are present. Let me know if you guys enjoyed this rambling mess!