Kate Bush hysteria is taking over obsessed pre-teens binge-watching Stranger Things, but we've been here before

The global popularity of the show sends her music, unexpectedly, to the top of the charts.

She's classy and unique, a little mysterious.

No, it's not Kate Bush, it's Julee Cruise.

She died six days ago.

Cruise was the siren of Twin Peaks; she, and composer Angelo Badalamenti, provided the soundtrack to David Lynch's dark, conflicted American dream. She was, for some of us, for a couple years, at least, a superstar.

Australians displayed an inapposite fondness for Cruise. We sent her (and Lynch and Badalamenti's) song, Falling, to No.1 in April 1991 (it went to No.2 in Sweden and Finland which, for some reason, makes more sense). It was only No.1 on the ARIA charts for a single week but its ephemerality was fitting for something so fragile.

The sadness many fans have felt this past week over Cruise's death at 65 - a cruelly ambiguous age - was perhaps countered by the pure joy in watching a bunch of air-budded, TikToking kids send Kate Bush (63) back to where she belongs - on the air, in the charts; anywhere we can hear her; anywhere anyone can be reminded just how fabulous she is.

If we're talking talent or influence - Cruise, a singer from Iowa, is not in the same league as Bush, a genius from Kent - but Cruise's dream-pop undoubtedly shares DNA with Bush's prog-pop.

And on top of this, the spectacular renaissance of Catherine the Great thanks to her song, Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God), appearing in the fourth season of Netflix series Stranger Things is a perfect example of how, sometimes, the planets align and pop music and TV can be a match made in heaven (where, as David Lynch told us, "everything is fine").

So many notable series are inseparable from their theme songs.

Sometimes, the show elevates the song to a place far beyond where it would, and should, have ended up under its own steam (Friends and I'll Be There For You by The Rembrandts - seriously, The Rembrandts?).

Sometimes, the series owes much of its success to the song (The Greatest American Hero and Believe It or Not by Joey Scarbury).

Sometimes, a great TV show and a great song simply deserve to be together, even if their marriage is completely illogical (The Sopranos and Woke Up This Morning by Alabama, The Office and Handbags and Gladrags by Big George).

In some instances, the song was written for the show itself (M*A*S*H and Suicide Is Painless by Johnny Mandel (it's better without Mike Altman's lyrics).

Stranger Things trades on nostalgia. It's The Famous Five and Scooby-Doo and The Hardy Boys and The Goonies and The X-Files all reconstituted for a target audience of pre-teens too young to realise what they're watching has been done before.

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Any sensible person over the age of 14 would have become bored with Stranger Things by about the time the first monster was found in the walls of the house stuffed between the pink bats but it continues to be remarkably popular with kids (our 12-year-old is counting down the days until the series resumes next month).

That's why it's been so fascinating to watch them lose their tiny little minds over Kate Bush.

The hysteria pretty much proves there's no use-by date on quality but the challenge now is to convince them there's a lot more where that came from.

Over the years, I've literally sat my children down and made them listen to Bush's Cloudbusting and Wuthering Heights and This Woman's Work, determined for them to just understand how spectacularly good she is. I've subjected them to the bonkers/hilarious film clip to Babooshka, certain this crazy ode (to, what, Vikings and matrimonial paranoia?) would make them go Bush, and, soon enough, the entire family would be teasing our hair out, draping ourselves in red chiffon and heading to our nearest windy moors on The Most Wuthering Heights Day Ever (back this year, July 30) to prance about with other like-minded fans of interpretive dance and shrieking.

But no, nothing. Just bored, unreceptive children screwing up their noses as if their idiot father is trying to push brussel sprouts on them as opposed to one of the most singularly gifted performers in history.

But give them a nugget of Kate Bush in a middling sci-fi series on Netflix and they're overnight converts.

I suppose I should be happy the kids have finally come around and the Bush 2.0 phenomenon does embolden me to keep trying to introduce them to more wonderful old stuff.

Except, maybe, Julee Cruise.

I think I'll keep her to myself.