A key part of David Lynch’s appeal as a filmmaker is the constant lack of understanding; his darkly surreal world evades concrete meaning, pulling the viewer along a disjointed path that nonetheless remains fascinating. Unfortunately Crazy Clown Time, his first album as a solo musician, does not. His delight in the disturbing is taken even further on this project, but repetitive song structures and perplexing vocals too often expend any atmosphere that has been created.

The disappointing aspects of this record are compounded by the fact that Lynch has had a hand in much of the delightfully creepy and inimitable music of some of his greatest films. These high expectations do seem justified on the opener ‘Pinky’s Dream’: guest Karen O’s exhilarating vocal narrates an intense and dark tale, with the swirling echo of guitar and insistent, almost tribal drums propelling the song to its disastrous climax. The feverish car crash narrative is intrinsically cinematic, which is why it is engaging; Lynch’s principal skill remains the creation of visual atmospherics.

However, the next track indicates the more perplexing content of the album; the electro-pop of ‘Good Day Today’ comes off like a watered-down, mechanical version of New Order, more than outstaying its welcome through relentless repetition. The vocals, here and elsewhere, are a large part of the record’s failure to connect with the listener. Lynch’s voice is always either filtered through a vocoder or sounds like the delirious and aged croak of the clown from the album’s title. This approach can prove unsettlingly effective, as on the misanthropic, obsessive ‘Speed Roadster’,  but its prominence over often subtle and brooding backing makes for uncomfortable listening that becomes what Lynch’s films, even at their worst, never do: boring.