David Torn,
if that is in fact his real name, is a genius. Listen to this
music in the dark. You will be transported into the film quicker
through his music than by watching the film with the sound turned
off. Tablas, ouds and guitar feedback. Synthesized Tibetan monks
and Bulgarian women. This is what David brought to the table.
He's not from around here. David was sent from the future to
drag the past into the present tense. I don't know how he drives
a car and lives. Maybe it's the only time he follows the rules.
David's presets on his car radio are set for the spaces between
the stations. Those scary electronic hinterlands the rest of
us try to avoid, try to skip over. They hold such fear, that
some punch a button to avoid them, to skip from pregram to pregram.
But David is missing the fear chromosome. He lives those spaces,
breathes them. And ultimately creates them. David Torn can play
Moby Dick on his guitar. He can literally conjure the exceedingly
pale leviathan into the room. Who else can do these things?
David may or may not be a god. At the very least, he was touched by one. Witness the evidence: he likes to say "dude" a lot and he can be very longwinded. It's hard to believe anyone who can express himself so thoroughly musically, could find anything else to say. But he does. He is a compulsive communicator.
If the United Nations or the League of Nations, or the more sinister Group of Dudes Who Decide Things had based their gatherings, their confluxes on a musical language, David would have been the main translator. The Russian ambassador would play his balalaika and David would translate it into Sitar for the Uttar Pradesh delegation, steel guitar for the ambassador from the Mississippi Delta. David could achieve musical world peace if we'd only let him. If we could only get out of our own stupid way.
Alas, he is bound, for now, to the confines of this CD. Listen to it in the dark and let it fill your space. Listen to it in the dark and see it. Listen to it in the dark and imagine what a world it would be if we would only put Mr. Torn in charge. I am certainly grateful that I did.
--Brian Helegeland
Los Angeles , 2003