EVIDENTLY David Lynch did not finish scratching his musical itch when he put out his debut solo album a couple of years ago.

It was quite appealing to these ears, if content to rake over much the same musical ground as he has explored in his films down the years. This follow-up, however, offers even fewer departures, shifting through various gears of outback blues set to lurching beats, kerranging guitars and Lynch's detached, often unintelligible drawling.

It has its moments, such as Sun Can't Be Seen No More, an unsettling roadhouse groove where he comes on like what can only be described as an outlaw gargling syrup. Lynch's version of Dylan's Ballad Of Hollis Brown is also worth a listen.

Mostly, however, he steers away from the changing characterisations that helped make predecessor Crazy Clown Time interesting, leaving behind something too stylised and oddly conservative to justify its existence.

The Big Dream is like a kind of self-tribute album, carefully curated with Brand Lync in mind, like the soundtrack to the theme park that someone really should build in his name at some point.

In the meantime, it's probably about time he got back behind the camera.