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I fell in love with the saxophone thanks to these scenes, among two of my favorite directors. Damn me for never learning to play it. On one side, the solitary and paranoid Harry in his apartment playing the beautiful soundtrack by David Shire; on the other side, Detective Cooper witnessing, inside the lodge, the performance of Jimmy Scott in Sycamore Trees (written and arranged by Lynch and Badalamenti). A disturbing omen of misfortune.
Thank you Coppola, thank you Lynch.
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