Goodbye Horses: The Many Lives of Q Lazzarus

Artwork of the documentary Goodbye Horses: The Many Lives of Q Lazzarus 

Goodbye Horses: The Many Lives of Q Lazzarus

There are songs that linger in the cultural consciousness, weaving themselves into the fabric of pop history, but their creators remain shadows. Goodbye Horses by Q Lazzarus is one of those songs. It’s hypnotic, haunting, and instantly recognizable, largely thanks to The Silence of the Lambs. But who was Q Lazzarus? That question has haunted listeners for decades—until now.

A Voice That Wouldn’t Disappear

The first time I heard Goodbye Horses, I was in Mexico City, riding in my cousin’s car. The song played on WFM 96.9, a station known for introducing alternative sounds to Mexican audiences (Alejandro Gonzalez Iñarritú and MArtín Hérnandez were a few of the many talents by the way). It was 1988, and this ethereal voice filled the air—an androgynous, mesmerizing tone that didn’t quite fit into any category.

Over the years, Goodbye Horses popped up again and again, notably in Married to the Mob and, of course, The Silence of the Lambs, where it soundtracked one of the most chilling scenes in cinema history. But despite the song’s cult status, its singer seemed to vanish. Rumors spread—she had died, she was in the mafia, she was homeless, she was a taxi driver in New York. No one knew for sure. And for decades, the mystery remained.

This topic resonated so much with me that we reviewed Goodbye Horses in Discos Completos, a podcast in which my partner Paola Villa and I explored full albums and deep cuts from legendary artists in a light way. In that episode, we discussed the myths surrounding Q Lazzarus and the importance of giving overlooked artists their due.

So many questions, but then, a strange and serendipitous twist changed everything.

Q Lazzarus Documentary Poster at Village East Angelika

An Accidental Encounter That Changed Everything

Director Eva Aridjis Fuentes wasn’t looking for Q Lazzarus—Q Lazzarus found her. In a moment straight out of a film, the reclusive singer happened to be driving an Uber when Aridjis got into her car. One conversation led to another, and for the first time in years, Diane Luckey, better known as Q Lazzarus, admitted who she was.

This encounter led to Goodbye Horses: The Many Lives of Q Lazzarus, a documentary that finally tells her story—not the myths, but the truth. It reveals a multi-genre artist, a woman who experimented with rock, new wave, dance, and even heavy metal, yet never had the platform to fully share her music. It exposes the brutal reality of an industry that didn’t know what to do with a Black woman whose sound didn’t fit into a predefined box.

Filmmaker Eva Aridjis and documentary panelists engage in a discussion with the audience about Q Lazzarus’ legacy and the making of Goodbye Horses: The Many Lives of Q Lazzarus at the Village East Angelika Theater.

The Industry’s Blind Spots

Luckey’s story reminds me of Sixto Rodriguez, the Detroit musician who unknowingly became a legend in South Africa while living in obscurity at home. Both artists had a loyal audience that refused to let them be forgotten. Both were dismissed by an industry that struggled to market them because they didn’t fit the mold.

Major record labels openly admitted they didn’t know what to do with a Black artist making synth-driven, avant-garde music. In their view, she didn’t belong in the spaces they had carved out for Black musicians. It was easier to look the other way.

These blind spots are not just industry problems; they are societal ones. Talent is often overlooked when it doesn’t fit neatly into expectations. The question we should ask ourselves is: How many voices have been lost simply because gatekeepers couldn’t see beyond their own biases?

A Legacy That Refuses to Die

I won’t spoil the film for you—you should watch it. But what I will say is that Goodbye Horses: The Many Lives of Q Lazzarus is about much more than a lost musician. It’s a story of race, resilience, and what it means to be an artist in a world that often fails to recognize genius when it doesn’t come in the expected package.

As a musician myself, I understand what it feels like to wrestle with the idea of quitting, to wonder if the world is listening. But true artists never really stop. The music is always there, waiting.

In the end, Q Lazzarus didn’t disappear—she was waiting to be found. And thanks to Aridjis, her story is finally being told, not as a mystery, but as a testament to perseverance. Her voice was never lost. It was just waiting for someone to turn up the volume.

Now, Q Lazzarus’ music is finally getting the recognition it deserves. You can listen to our episode of Discos Completos (In Spanish) here, purchase the album featuring unreleased tracks here, and explore screenings of the documentary here.

Share this story to keep Q Lazzarus story alive, talk about it, and ensure that artists like her are never forgotten again.