Purveyor of Iniquities

“In heaven, everything is fine.”

The “Lady in the Radiator Song” makes an appearance on Mdoest Mouse’s 2000 EP Building Nothing Out of Something. Track 5, “Working on Leavin’ the Livin’” incorporates the lyrics of David Lynch’s semi-famous composition, building a bleak and ridiculously repetitious song that makes Lynch’s 15-minute adaptation–mostly radiator hiss and static–from the Eraserhead soundtrack seem downright jaunty in comparison:

In heaven everything is fine

In heaven everything’s alright

In heaven everything is fine

In heaven everything is fine

In heaven

Working on livin’
I’m working on leaving
I’m working on leaving the living
Love you more than everything
Loved it more than anything
Loved everything more than anything
Working on drinking
I’m working on driving
I’m working on driving my dreams so
Working on living I’m working on leaving
I’m working on leaving the living

In heaven everything is fine [x4]
In heaven everything’s alright [both lines alternating x22]
In heaven everything is fine
In heaven.

(David Lynch and Isaac Brock, 1977 and 2000, respectively. Lines that diverge from Lynch’s original in italics.)

What a throwaway, on an otherwise pleasant and listenable album. Obviously, it pales in comparison to the Pixies’ version, with Kim Deal’s disinterested delivery and the evident power lurking behind the band’s simple chords.

“The Lady in the Radiator Song” is, so far as I know, Lynch’s most covered composition. In its simplicity, it is reminiscent of the recently deceased Ivor Cutler’s “Women of the World,” which is majestic in Cutler’s stern faux-brogue and then delicate and plaintive in Jim O’Rourke’s long-form guitar interpretation, the opening track of his “Eureka.” For either song, what’s the draw? Is it the simplicity, the repetition, the unquestioned declaratives? Each phrases offers a certain cadence that almosts rolls through to the end. But that can’t be it. Cynically, I should say that there is a hipster quotient to each: Cutler was an eccentric, almost dadaist hero to many a John Peel listener; and the radiator lady segment caps the incomprehensible memorability of Lynch’s cult classic first feature film.

So: yeah.