A Meeting of the Strange Minds: Peter Ivers, David Lynch and Devo

History is made at midnight: Excerpt from Josh Frank's In Heaven Everything Is Fine: The Unsolved Life of Peter Ivers and the Lost History of New Wave Theatre

Comments (0) By Josh Frank Wednesday, Aug 6 2008

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“Eraserhead, Eraserhead, Eraserhead, Eraserhead, Eraserhead, Eraserhead...”

All Doug had to do was join in.

Ivers

Eraserhead

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L.A., Bob’s Big Boy, 1977, Noon

The meeting would be at Bob’s Big Boy — that was the only nonnegotiable term. Among the qualities that Peter Ivers and David Lynch shared, both were extreme creatures of habit. Peter had Duke’s, then Schwab’s; for Lynch,f there was only Bob’s Big Boy, his daily chocolate shake (a.k.a the “Silver Goblet”), and a cup of coffee. Devo had expressed interest in playing “In Heaven” in concert, so Steve Martin had set up a meeting between Lynch and the band.

The person who had answered “I am Devo” that night at the Nuart was Jerry Casale, who had formed the group with fellow Akronite and Kent State art student Mark Mothersbaugh in 1974.

A year before meeting Steve Martin, Devo had had its big break. Its short film, The Truth About De-Evolution, won a prize at the Ann Arbor Film Festival, bringing it to the attention of David Bowie and Iggy Pop. Their support led to a recording contract with Warner Bros. The band’s first album, produced by Brian Eno, was slated to come out the following year.

The nexus of Devo, the Martin brothers, David Lynch and Peter Ivers was nothing short of a match made — it had to be said — in heaven. The band worshiped Lynch and his film, which shared elements of associative visual collage they were using in their own video work. They felt a special kinship with Peter’s song, which struck them almost as a variation on the kind of eerie falsetto they were writing for Mothersbaugh’s Booji Boy character, a stunted overgrown boy in an orange nuclear suit. The Martins started hanging out with Casale and going to Devo shows. Someone had the idea for the band to play “In Heaven” in concert. Doug Martin seized on it as a potential marketing campaign. Steve said he would run the idea by Lynch and gave him a call.

“Hey, Devo wants to meet you,” he said.

Lynch, who was living reclusively on some property near AFI, responded, “Who’s that?”

Initially, the meeting was just going to involve the Martin brothers, Devo and Lynch. But Stuart Cornfeld showed up unexpectedly, announcing that this was a meeting he was not going to miss. Lynch arrived with a friend no one recognized, dressed unassumingly in a T-shirt, cargo pants and canvas army boots. From their easy rapport, they seemed to Steve like old college buddies. Lynch introduced his friend as Peter Ivers, and Steve lit up, telling Peter how much he loved Terminal Love. Peter seemed a little surprised. “Did you set this up?” he asked. Steve confirmed that he had. “Okay,” Peter said, letting it hang there awkwardly.

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Peter was feeling confident, maybe even a little cocky. Eraserhead was getting people’s attention, and he had just done a whole new score for cult mogul Roger Corman. Grand Theft Auto was an extended car chase, a love story, a light comedy and beloved child actor Ron Howard’s directorial debut. His bandmates described the Grand Theft sessions as “Classic Peter Ivers”: 15 to 20 musicians in the studio playing live, exotic instruments, Van Dyke Parks on keys, limited rehearsals and no cues, everything just being created spontaneously and hanging together almost miraculously by an intricate web of invisible threads. The editor, Joe Dante, had been impressed with how well it turned out, much better than the music that typically appeared in low-budget films. He was one of many who saw that Peter easily could have made a nice, lucrative career out of scoring films.

Devo arrived at Bob’s Big Boy, and with everyone assembled, synapses began to fire. Peter and Lynch were clearly excited (and more than a little surprised) at the groundswell of interest Eraserhead had begun to generate in L.A. In Devo they recognized fellow travelers and were flattered by the band’s request. The band, for their part, were thrilled to meet Lynch and Peter and giddy about the prospect of playing “In Heaven” on tour. The question of permission was a no-brainer, granted by the song’s writers without hesitation. There was little talk of business.

Like Devo, Peter was always testing people, always playing, performing his one-man guerrilla theatre for whomever happened to be there. Had they met in Akron, Peter undoubtedly would have been part of Devo. Lucky for Peter, Casale thought, he wasn’t in Akron. But he would be with them, at least, in spirit, from now on: Devo would bring Peter’s song with them on tour, making it a staple of their live act. Whenever possible, Peter would come to the shows and cheer them on.

As lunch wound down, Casale asked Peter to transcribe the song. Among his friends, Peter was known for his crisp, meticulous handwriting, especially when writing out music. He would crouch over the page, with the concentration of a second grader taking his first handwriting test. Peter grabbed a napkin from the booth at Bob’s Big Boy, and, temporarily shutting out everything else in the room, wrote out the chords and the words to “In Heaven.” He handed the napkin to Jerry as Lynch polished off his coffee and drew a last, long slurpy sip of his Silver Goblet.

Eraserhead screens Tuesday, Aug. 12, 7:30 p.m. at the Egyptian Theatre, 6712 Hollywood Blvd., Hlywd., (323) 466-3456. Discussion with author Josh Frank and special guests will follow the film.