Sync Diary: Music, Movies, Madness!

By John Lane

Dark Side of the Rainbow (also known as Dark Side of Oz or The Wizard of Floyd) refers to the pairing of the 1973 Pink Floyd music album The Dark Side of the Moon with the visual portion of the 1939 film The Wizard of Oz. This produces moments where the film and the album appear to correspond with each other.
—“Dark Side of the Rainbow,” Wikipedia

8:45 a.m.

It is time to break the film/record barrier. To this end, I have fortified myself with food rations so that I can complete this mission without loss of nutrition. Prior to taking inventory, I consume one banana and a cup of coffee; no sane man should undertake such a quest on an empty stomach. Let it be done, or ever thus. Shades are drawn, doors are double-locked, and the volume on the phone ringer is turned to mute.

9:00 a.m. – 9:34 a.m.

Sneakin’ Sally Through the Alley (Robert Palmer) meets The Third Man (starring Orson Welles)

You question the method of my madness here, and I can tell you quite simply that, well, there are a lot of alleys in The Third Man. . . so I reckon something should sync up.

OK, yes, Joseph Cotten’s world-weary look makes for a nice counterpart to the cover of “Sailin’ Shoes.” But after that, it’s all downhill. I confess to fast-forwarding a bit, and the odd sexiness of some of the songs combined with Orson popping in & out of shadows makes for an interesting conceptual porno—if one has a fetish for sewers, smirking war profiteers, and shadows in lieu of any actual naked flesh.

9:48 a.m.

Nerves slightly shot as I contemplate that “Sally” of that album cover fame is probably about 57 years of age now. And why is Robert Palmer running her through an alley?

10:00 a.m. – 10:09 a.m.

The Beatles’ “Revolution 9” and a Chuck Jones’ cartoon “Dog Gone South.”

Most everyone is familiar with the mish-mash sound collage by John Lennon (and some help from another Beatle or two), but allow me to refresh memories for the cartoon: it concerns a mutt of a dog who attempts to ingratiate himself into the Southern home of a Confederate Colonel. Alas, the Colonel already owns a bulldog named “Belvedere,” which the mutt works overtime to dominate. I know! Knee-slapper, right?

The pay-off here is to see the Confederate Colonel announce (albeit via Yoko Ono), “You become naked!” and then see a bulldog tear around the corner.

10:10 – 10:14 a.m.

Grappling with a brief crisis of spirit. Why has this exercise suddenly blackened my mood so?

10:27 – 11:40 a.m.

Tommy (The Who) with Clambake (starring Elvis Presley)

Why are all these insensitive, good-looking people—led by Elvis, no less—dancing on a beach and clapping and telling Tommy to “Go to the mirror”?

I feel myself becoming unhinged. Breathing into a paper bag to prevent hyperventilation.

11:58 a.m.

A bite from a Little Debbie “Star Crunch.” The trip commences. I stare at the logo, until fear—cold, palpable, reaching to my very core—overtakes me as I wonder if Little Debbie is packing two six-shooters. I imagine she’s a dead eye, able to hit any target from 20 feet away, particularly sugar-addled, liberal prey.

11:59 a.m.

GET A GRIP, MAN!

12:00 p.m. – 12-something or maybe longer

What’s Going On (Marvin Gaye) and a random episode of Spongebob

I am struck by the realization that Marvin left out the question mark in the title; I am equally struck by the fact that for, hang on, five or ten seconds, Mister Krabs really seems to be in-sync with “What’s Happening Brother.” And as Patrick Starfish gambols across Jellyfish Acres, it really is appropriate to hear “Save the Children.”

Renewed, invigorated by this experiment.

1:38 p.m. – (undetermined)

The Soft Bulletin (The Flaming Lips) and The Odd Couple (starring Matthau and Lemmon)

“The softest bullet ever shot!” as Jack picks up a can of Lysol and sprays over the card game.

This was meant to be. I am convinced.

And at the moment Walter Matthau heaves a plate of spaghetti against a wall, it aligns neatly with the line “Putting all the vegetables away. . . ”

Don’t you get it? “Two scientists are racing”—that would be Matthau and Lemmon!

5 p.m. (-ish) to approximately midnight

I am in a quest to sync an album with Silence of the Lambs.

I begin with Sinatra’s Watertown, and then find myself lost in a miasma of records that just simply won’t sync up—for instance, Roger Daltrey’s lion-like roar juxtaposed against a pensive Jodi Foster is just too jarring, too butch. Old embarrassing 45s are called upon for this endeavor (I didn’t know I owned a Duran Duran single, huh), until critical mass is reached and just as I watch the “It rubs the lotion on its skin” scene for the thirtieth time, there is blessed, sweet syncopation to Devo’s “Whip It,” specifically when the bucket is being slowly lifted up from the well. Oh, rapture!

The first wave of a SWAT team breaks through my windows, and I am subdued—cuffed, vulnerable, and helpless. As I am escorted out the door by a phalanx of police officers, one of them notices the copy of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of The Moon amidst the clutter and chuckles, saying, “Man, when I was a kid, we used to sync that up to. . . ” and I shoot him the meanest look possible.