The 1982 film Tron was a technical marvel in its heyday — a concept piece, one utilizing then-innovative strides in computer animation that had been shopped around but never taken seriously up until Disney’s involvement. This is the beginning of a story that everyone knows pretty well, assuming you haven’t lived under a rock the past 40 years. On a more presently relevant note, Tron is a tech-geek and animator’s whetstone movie that later electronic duo Daft Punk has incorporated within multiple facets of the act’s very elusive persona. In fact, in case you haven’t heard, Daft Punk is currently credited for the score to Tron‘s long-overdue sequel, Tron: Legacy. Daft Punk is relatively easy to pinpoint in terms of direction here, so what tale does the original 1982 score tell about its own creation? Answer: Conflict, radical mediums, state-of-the-art inventions, and a name whose correct pronunciation tends to taunt electronic music noobs.

The late Dr. Robert Moog was a pioneer in many respects, a man behind elements of electronic music that changed the entire playing field drastically. Before Dr. Moog’s hand entered the fledgling game of electronic tools in music, the idea of modular decks and keyboard interfaces were not heavily researched let alone commonplace as is the case today. The early ’60s presented an entirely new array of means in producing music, including the figurehead of Moog’s burgeoning empire, the Moog synthesizer. Moog’s synthesizer design introduced experimental music that surpassed ideas set forth by devices like the Mellotron, allowing for more advanced manipulation of electronic sound; unfortunately, during its birth, the Moog synth was thought of as a bit of a novelty.

Over time, the Moog synthesizer and its future began moving past strictly ideological curiosity and into the mainstream. Bands such as The Beatles, Emerson Lake & Palmer, Pink Floyd, and even country singer Buck Owens bought into the wave. This is where Wendy (then Walter) Carlos comes in. Walter Carlos was a close friend and partner of Dr. Moog during the development process of his original synthesizer, offering input that would help the tool to thrive. As the first to directly purchase one of the commercially available synthesizers, Walter Carlos began his journey into electronic music arenas, including his landmark album, the classical-meets-synth production, Switched-On Bach.

Now known as Wendy Carlos, the artist behind Moog’s revolutionary equipment was commissioned to craft the score to Disney’s upcoming theatrical release, Tron. As a movie set almost entirely in a world within a computer network, the effects and scenery had to correlate with the music and vice versa.

As anyone will tell you, Disney’s films during this era focused primarily on classical compositions performed by an orchestra; to this end, it is no surprise that Disney had little confidence in the idea of electronic music scoring an entire movie, a movie that was very avant-garde for its time. Put yourself in their shoes: The ’70s had burst with disco, electronic music was something of a pop culture thing, and you would not want to sacrifice the reputation of your film studio’s live instrumentation to what could just be a fad.

Disney’s pushing the London Philharmonic into associating with the Tron score left Wendy Carlos with less creative control, and keep in mind, this was not Carlos’ first movie project (A Clockwork Orange ring a bell?), and she was a well-respected individual in the world of music and invention at large. Sounding a bit like the stereotypical “Artistic License vs. Label Influence” scenarios we know and loathe today? Welcome to the big picture.

The plot of Tron is a series of juxtaposed notions: a family-friendly exploration of what people perceived as the inner workings of computers but also a tale of corporate takeovers and conspiracy theories; modern technology of the late ’70s and early ’80s and gaming arcades joining forces but also the destructive and tyrannical nature of the Master Control entity. With a platform like this — not to mention the stunning visuals produced (see: Light Cycles) — is it any wonder that a joint effort of orchestrated instruments and electronic-based sound that was not originally intended somehow winds up being the sonic weave within Tron?

The fact that Tron‘s score has such bouts of whimsical futuristic moments comes as no surprise for the most part. After all, this is for a Disney movie. On the flip side, while elements of the film, like the disc battles or the light cycle races, can steal the show with lights and fury, the music reflects a hyper mood while also catering to the then-burgeoning demographic of early electronic music aficionados with classical flourishes and bipolar tricks of alternating sound waves.

Tron‘s music can be a bit jarring and whimsical, particularly on tracks like “We’ve Got Company”, wherein the overall ominous vibe intended comes across as Wile E. Coyote catching up to the Roadrunner with a UFO; in alternate cases, “Theme From Tron” and “Wormhole” might be more like something from Close Encounters of the Third Kind or the cyclone scene from The Wizard of Oz. “Tron Scherzo” is a short, sweet taste of full-on synth that nods right to one underlying theme in Tron of video game popularity, while also constructing a dark turn toward Jeff Bridges’ transportation into the computer dimension.

Journey’s instrumental piece “1990′s Theme” feels like a Satriani-induced b-side to the Turtles in Time score; “The Light Sailer” and the extremely foreboding “Sea Of Simulation” use some of the best and most prominent synth momentum across the board, constantly dotting the audio landscape with sounds from Close Encounters yet again or old sci-fi flicks from the ’60s. Mainstream Journey track “Only Solutions” sticks out like a sore thumb compared to the work of Carlos and the Philharmonic; rock with piano and electric fringes does appear to be a logical selection, but its overall energy is less that of a score and more of a hit single strapped in for record sales. The good news? Tracks like “Ending Titles” and “Anthem” could rival anything, even the grip of Terminator 2‘s theme music or “The Lonely Man” from The Incredible Hulk, and could do it without twisting a transistor.

How does all of the chaos work coherently? I am inclined to believe it does not, and that is the beauty of it. Tron‘s score is strictly that — a score, a subtext highlighting the film of its namesake. Carlos and the Philharmonic played their roles to a “T” by bringing an expansive palette of sound to the table, and this occasionally inordinate, yet thoroughly streamlined, futuristic bombast works. “A New Tron And The MCP” is the ultimate example: It moves and jumps and crescendos like a pure classical piece, with surprise jolts reminiscent of Beethoven, while the electronic hums and pulses radiate inside it, the glowing bionic heart in an organic display of fiery life.

With a bit more perspective, the Tron score of 1982 initially begins to seem less like a soundtrack and more like one of those obscure, unfinished projects we might have never gotten to see because of album leaks, copyright issues, or the like. (Seriously, how does Chasing Amy not have a soundtrack?)  All in all, Wendy Carlos wound up rearranging and complementing the Philharmonic, building and tweaking until the final result became a score that, by all standards, seems perfectly compatible to the film it coexisted with. You could almost rave to this soundtrack in a neon-decorated ballroom, if one were so inclined.

Tron as a film is something to behold, but without the eventual cooperation of all parties listed above, without the epic Philharmonic or the genius of Moog and Carlos, Tron would simply have been a lot of pretty colors with a plot that appeases all demographics — on mute. I have no clue which of two paths Daft Punk will carry Tron: Legacy down; they could easily create a large techno awesomeness with glazes of homages to the original, or they could make it entirely their own and design a piece so great that it trumps Discovery. What I do know? This crossbreed of video game synths and classical music has the best advantage of anything during its own time and today’s.

It is the world’s first true emotionally capable bionic creature, ever evolving in our imaginations and hearts.

Dedicated to the late Robert Moog, Wendy Carlos, and the Moog Foundation. Moogfest 2011, here we come!

Yes kids, you too can own one of the big Halloween three. That’s right, THREE horrific masks to chose from. They’re fun, they’re frightening, and they glow in the dark.”

There are good movies, and there are bad movies. However, there are those movies that fall into that rare category of indeterminable. Halloween III: Season of the Witch is one such film. It’s a pretty boring film with a pretty ridiculous plot (madman plans to kill children via magic Halloween masks), and it lights a fire under Halloween fans who remain furious over it having nothing to do with Michael Myers. The movie has five things going for it, though, the first being the presence of cult icon Tom Atkins. The second is a great score by John Carpenter and Alan Howarth. Three, four, and five refer to specific scenes that stay with the viewer, no matter what they thought of the film as a whole. So that’s it; there are five things this movie has going-

Eight more days ’til Halloween, Halloween, Halloween. Eight more days ‘til Halloween. Silver Shamrock!”

Oh, I guess there are six things going for Halloween III. That damned Silver Shamrock song! Before we get to the running commercial in the film, we must address the Carpenter score. One of Carpenter’s calling cards is that he likes to run his opening credits over limited action. Sometimes that means a black background with a white-letter crawl. In the case of Halloween III, it’s of a television reception kicking in and out, ultimately revealing a jack-o-lantern.

The score is closer to Halloween II than Halloween, with its reliance on synthesizers instead of piano. The atmosphere is not affected in any way. The opening scene shows us a man on the run for his life, with more memorable musical accompaniment. There is a repeated synth-line, emphasizing the position this man finds himself in. With little-to-no-dialogue, the mood is contingent on the music and the direction of Tommy Lee Wallace (Fright Night Part 2, It). It was one of the last great Carpenter scores before falling back on the dreaded guitar-based scores of They Live and Big Trouble in Little China.

The old man on the run in the early stages of the film turns out to know something devastating about a Halloween mask manufacturer. The company is…I can’t remember-

Six more days ‘til Halloween, Halloween, Halloween. Six more days ‘til Halloween. Silver Shamrock!”

Right. “Silver Shamrock”. He gets killed before revealing too much of the secret, but his daughter and the doctor attending him (Mr. Atkins) are determined to find out. So they head to Silver Shamrock to get down to the bottom of it. The rest of the movie deals with their obstacles and so on. Exciting!

However, there are those three scenes. The first deals with a woman who buys a mask for one of her kids, but it turns out to be somewhat defective. The silver tag falls of the mask, and she picks it up to investigate. She becomes curious due to the strange software that seems to be on the tag, so she starts picking at it. Keep in mind we haven’t heard a film score for a few minutes when suddenly-ZAP!

During the reveal of the woman’s face, there is a score playing in the background. It’s very low in the mix, but it’s certainly there. The decision calls back to a time where music could be subtle and not too in-your-face, the treatment we get from many of today’s horror/thriller films. The next great scene is an example of how repetition can drive a viewer insane (in a glorious way). A family is brought into a test room at the Silver Shamrock facility. The husband and wife watch a company commercial, unaware of the horrors that lie ahead as their child puts on his Silver Shamrock pumpkin mask.

The repeated notes of “London Bridge is Falling Down” (where the Silver Shamrock song comes from) add to a already disturbing scene. It’s not only what we the audience hears, but its what this family (and Tom Atkins) is hearing, as well.

The same effect of repetition is used in the film’s final scene. Atkins’ character has escaped, discovering that any kids wearing a Silver Shamrock mask and watching the company’s commercial will die! Our hero Atkins has managed to stop most of the networks from airing the spot. Unfortunately, one channel has not removed the spot, and as the music blares on in the background, we are left with our own chilling conclusions.

The Carpenter score returns as the end credits roll, and we are left with a feeling of uncertainty. “Wow. What a boring movie.” “Yeah, but those three scenes, and that song is in my head!” “Yeah, but seriously, what a boring movie.” Regardless of how you feel about Halloween III: Season of the Witch, the score is terrific, those scenes are very memorable, and, of course…

ATKINS

From the very first scene of this film, you can tell that hip-hop and gangster rap is going to play a huge part in this film. Cut to the nerdiest looking white guy you can imagine, named Michael Bolton (portrayed by David Herman) mind you, blasting “No Tears” from Scarface while sitting in traffic on the way to work. A morning jam session is always necessary.

Even at a young age, I could appreciate the humor of Mike Judge’s film. Peter Gibbons, played brilliantly by Ron Livingston, a regular guy like all of us, hates his job. I mean, he really hates it. He hates getting up in the morning to go there, he hates the traffic, and he loathes his boss. It really takes a toll on his personal life. Because of this, he goes to see a occupational hypnotherapist, which I still don’t know if these even really exist, and he basically gets brainwashed enough to shed off every ounce of stress in his life. Him and his buddies, Michael Bolton and Samir Naga…Naga…not-gonna-work-here-anymore, attempt to rip off their company for a large sum of money. This doesn’t end well.

Some of the movie’s most memorable scenes are sold by its soundtrack. When Peter arrives to work after a long, relaxing hiatus, the Geto Boys’ “Damn It Feels Good to Be a Gangsta” sets the perfect tone for the moment. Without it, we’d be left with just another movie montage. Well, not just any montage. When was the last time you saw a film where its main character guts a fish in an office cubicle? Exactly. Later on, the Geto Boys return, this time with the much heavier and more threatening “Still”, which plays over the now infamous printer-bashing scene. There’s a reason this scene is so iconic. The music fuels the over-the-top aggression, furthering the parody and taking it to higher levels of perversion. To see these mundane characters interact with such a hardcore anthem behind them is just, well, classic.

Speaking of classic, who could forget Ice Cube’s “Down for Whatever” when the nerds-turned-bad boys do “the deed”, making the necessary trade-offs and completing the otherwise underwhelming actions of their Superman 3 gameplan to rip off the company. Stepping aside from the gangsta rap, there’s also the colorful sounds of Perez Prado, whose tracks “Mambo #8″ and “The Peanut Vendor” juxtapose this tropical vibe with the setting’s awful bland tones. Again, it’s an awkward pairing, but it works wonders. In fact, without these sonic inclusions, the scenes probably wouldn’t work. At all. So, a huge nod goes out to Judge for creating not one, not two, not even three, but several matches made in editing heaven.

Without a doubt, the movie and the soundtrack go hand in hand. On paper, it would seem like such an odd pairing – and it is – but yet that’s why it’s so good. Everything about the soundtrack is contradictory to the corporate world this movie parodies. Prior to 1999, you would never think of Ice Cube or Scarface and think of an office, a suit, a fax machine, etc. But now, you almost can’t imagine one without the other. Ah, the subliminal powers of filmmaking.

After watching this movie, whether you work in an office or not, you’ll have a deeper appreciation for those who do. And to those who do, you can sit there with me today, take a 15-second break, and put your feet up on your desk and say, “Damn it feels good to be a gangsta.” It certainly does.

That is, unless you subscribe to the entire catalog of Michael Bolton.

Ah, 1996. A time where you couldn’t walk into a mall or a movie theater without hearing a gaggle of girls screaming out, “Leo!” You don’t remember? Try and recall all those teen zines with DiCaprio’s face staring back at you? If you’re too young to remember (which makes me feel a bit better), then here’s a good barometer to work with: Think of Justin Bieber on some of the same magazines now and multiply that by 10. That was the fame of Leonardo DiCaprio around this time in Hollywood, especially after this movie released. This would only heighten the following year, when Leo-enthusiasts across the world saw him freeze his ass off in the Atlantic Ocean in James Cameron’s multi-billion dollar blockbuster smash, Titanic. But that was then.

Watching this modern twist on Shakespeare’s Romeo + Juliet nowadays, DiCaprio doesn’t steal the spotlight too much, rather a different component does – the film’s music. It’s hard to decide which is more admirable – DiCaprio or the music – but given the article, I’ll have to lean towards the soundtrack. Besides, there’s plenty of articles out there that drool all over him. Anyways, pushing DiCaprio out of the limelight, and focusing on the film’s music, credit must be given where credit’s due. That goes to music producer Nellee Hooper (Madonna, Bjork).

Pervasively heard in the trendiest megaclubs of Bristol, England and New York to top radio in America, Hooper remixed and produced material by the most revered names in music at the time, solidifying her one of the most in-demand producers at the time. She was advancing the popularity of a less organic sound that further solidified the death of grunge from the early 1990s and art-makers of all kind were taking note. One in particular was the film’s creator and co-screenplay writer, Baz Luhrmann. This eventually landed her the challenging job of putting music to his new film. This wasn’t her first commission to piece music together for film (e.g. GoldenEye, Black Rain), but her partnership with Luhrmann was her most crucial project in her fairly new career at the time. The task of producing music for your average film is one thing, but any fan of Luhrmann’s films (Moulin Rouge!) knows how crucial the score is to his overall works. Not only was this project one of her greatest achievements, it was also one of her most honoring because music is the lifeblood of a Luhrmann film. If she were to have failed to match the music to Luhrmann’s directorial vision, the missing grandeur would have been utterly disappointing

Okay, so the idea of this film was to use the script from the most famous Shakespearean play ever written, but give it an edge that works with a present day setting. It’s still set in Verona (technically Verona Beach), but it looks more like Venice Beach, CA judging from its hints of palm trees and grimy boardwalks. As for the feuding families of the play, the Capulet and Montague, they are updated as big business rivals, but still as hating of each other as they are in the original. To go along with this new facelift on a classic piece of literature, the music had to be fresh, but not too incredibly artsy for the teenage moviegoers that were its intended audience. It also needed to be familiar, but epic to match its tale. With a soundtrack that features golden bands of the nineties like Garbage and Radiohead to gospel choir renditions of Prince’s ‘When Doves Cry’ to remixed seventies dance hits, the variety allows for robust experiences of different sounds and styles. Its well-boding mixture of different genres is one of the clearest reasons why it is appreciated enormously; so enormously that in 2007, Capitol Records thought it worthy enough for a celebration of its 10 year anniversary with a second release of the soundtrack that features a handful of added bonus songs not on the original soundtrack.

What makes this film work cohesively with music is its fast paced, intensity-filled scenes of motion and a great first example of this in the opening scene credits. As the camera swiftly zooms in and out, up and down onto fair Verona, fearing percussion booms in tandem with a heady choir of female sopranos serve as a precursor to the drama to come. With this version of Romeo + Juliet that replaces swords with guns (Sword 9mms as they are called) and is flourished with other advancements not in existence before the 16th century, antiquity is intentionally played down from the get-go during the scene where the Montague boys are driving down the interstate in an ugly yellow Jeep-looking convertible. As the three of them are flying down the highway looking nineties as ever (Jamie Kennedy has pink hair!), abrasive, fuzzy rock-rap blares as the boys shout out at the cars they pass along the way. They want to portray an image of being raw and fearless of any Capulet who even thinks of putting up a fight with their kind. However, the boys are petrified.

The film shifts its hot-tempered mood after an intense action scene where Tybalt (Juliet’s cousin, portrayed by the wonderful John Leguizamo) shows the Montague boys who’s in charge as they are frightened by their guns in a gas station parking lot. After pissing off the Chief of Police and putting Verona Beach into a frenzy of absolute fantastical absurdity from the “civil war”, both families eventually drop their arms and tensions simmer for the time being. While the Montague boys ride home with their parents after the shootout, there is a moment of solidarity among the Montagues for the story’s not-yet star crossed lover, Romeo, who’s been depressed from the heartbreak Rosaline has caused him and also in isolation from the action between the two families. As the orange sun sets behind a landscape of an abandoned theatre near the coastline that Romeo is hanging around near, he sits all alone, sorrow filled as he writes in his journal and smokes his cigarette. During a short soliloquy, Thom Yorke aids his sulk with ‘Talk Show Host”, a song that capsulate Romeo’s misfit persona and his self-deprecation as a young Montague. The visuals pander to the downtempo musical patterns of the track as the director captures a salacious scene of a gentleman pulling out money for a woman, a street performer treated as a stripper in her tight gold sequence party dress who dances seductively on a quiet boardwalk somewhere in the vicinity of Romeo.

Anyone that’s familiar with Luhrmann’s work knows that he is unabashedly campy and Romeo + Juliet is no exception. A Luhrmann film wouldn’t be the same if it weren’t loud, colorful, or impossibly fantastical like they are known to be. During the Sycamore Grove scene outside the Capulet mansion, the extraordinary is taken to the next level. When the Nurse, Juliet’s closest confidant, advises her to “go seek happy nights” following her mother’s boasting of the governor’s son (Juliet’s arranged husband to be), Juliet (Claire Danes) stands outside her bedroom on her balcony and watches the fireworks burst into the air, as family celebrates in the Sycamore Grove below. As the light from the fireworks brightens up her face, Irish singer Gavin Friday, who’s had his work in film scores prior, breathily croons: “Angel, hold onto me. Love is all around me” on top of ethereal chimes that quickly become layered with delicate piano, shakers, and a dampened beat for a dreamy sensation. It doesn’t hurt that she’s wearing an Angel costume, either.

Now that Juliet’s anticipation for the masquerade party is at a peak, Romeo stares at the fireworks above and his Montague crew are nearby recklessly shooting their “sword 9mms” around the town dressed ludicrously in kilts and Viking hats. While the boys are being their boisterous selves, in comes the gayest version of Mercutio (Romeo’s friend) adapted for film. If you’ve ever read into the too-close-to-be-friends relationship between Romeo and Mercutio, Mercutio is way too adamant in his opinion about Romeo’s affair for Juliet. His jealously of her hold on Romeo is far too potent and obvious to not be considered personal as he witnesses Romeo fall for Juliet later in the film. For all of those who are firm in their belief that Mercutio is gay, Luhrmann portrays him in a two piece silver sequins getup with pumps to match and smudged red lipstick for a final touch of femininity. The music that introduces him is nothing short of embracing as well. Disco has and will always be connoted to gay culture and with the remixed ’70s disco song “Young Hearts Run Free” (originally recorded by Candi Staton) that sounds at his arrival, the signal of his orientation is louder than words can speak. The song is extended by the slip of a white pill (Ecstasy, another gay indicative) to Romeo and this dance party continues for a performance that Mercutio puts on for the crowd at the party.

Once Romeo regains his sobriety after dunking his head into a bowl of water outside the dance floor, the story of Romeo and Juliet begins where they catch each other behind a fish tank. Rosaline who? While Romeo is engaged with his new love interest, the party has stopped for a performance from soul singer Des’ree on stage. When this film was being marketed, this sensual power ballad was used as the theme song of every trailer. Though its lyrics are “I’m kissing you,” no kissing has happened just yet, but it’s not like the viewers are in for a surprise anyway. Overall, the music becomes increasingly epic and church-oriented as the marriage ceremony becomes a planned event. A children’s choir carries many of the proceeding songs like “When Doves Cry” (Quindon Tarver) when Romeo is granted permission from Friar Lawrence to be wed to Juliet and with “Everybody’s Free to Feel Good”, which Baz Luhrmann sampled a year later for his song “Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen)”, the seven-minute spoken word song that preaches the importance of wearing sunscreen for the sake of physical beauty to where to live to “the class of 2007,” the generation Luhrmann is advising.

One major addition to the film’s soundtrack, separate from its influence to the overall film because it’s slipped in for only a few seconds, is the song “Lovefool” by the Cardigans. This song served the band a great deal of monetary success and international stardom, but the effect of the band’s extended success from a Hollywood blockbuster turned many of its cult followers off, calling the band names like “sell-out.” Before the Swedish band made the charts in the US, lead singer Nina Persson and her band had already been making albums for a few years back in Malmo, a town in the south of Sweden where most of the band gained its earlier recognition. I guess it doesn’t matter now because its been over a decade since The Cardigans have been around, but the song “Lovefool” serves as one of the most memorable songs of the nineties and is still heard on the radio all the time. So for next time you hear “Lovefool” on the radio, thank Romeo + Juliet for serving as its platform.

There are countless reasons to digress on why this soundtrack is so remarkable. For one, it works with the film, and we can thank Nelle Hooper for that. But also, these songs all just work well with one another, even as a separate entity, apart from the film. Listen to the music, focus on the instrumentation, even the angst-ridden lyrics. Every track carries this quasi-industrial, post-modern glaze that screams late-’90s. Well, maybe not Des’ree, but given that her top singles charted in the ’90s, she fits right in, as well. Now, some of you may be lost here, especially those who weren’t old enough to even remember the whole “Leo” movement, and for that, it’d be interesting to hear your take. In some respects, one can argue that this soundtrack’s a dusty relic, to a decade that’s becoming more and more distant than we’d like to believe. I mean…can you really believe it’s been close to 15 years now? Mind boggling. In sum, relevant or not, the music here speaks for itself — especially if you give the film the time of day. It’s beautiful, atmospheric music that soundtracks a film of equal nature. If you haven’t seen it, it’s never to late, even if you wanna hop on the DiCaprio bandwagon. You’ve seen Inception, right?

When I was 13-years-old, there was no band I liked more than Weezer. If you knew me at the time, this obsession made total sense… I was a huge dork who loved melodic indie rock and connected to anything remotely heartfelt. At the time, the band had made its triumphant return to the music scene, having just released Weezer (Green), which unleashed the crunchy, palm muted chords of “Hash Pipe” to own radio stations everywhere. Obsession aside, my love for Weezer led to one hell of a discovery, as its the only reason my best friend (and neighbor, but that’s irrelevant to you) brought up Kevin Smith at the bus stop one life-altering morning.

I had brought up the topic of Weezer, complaining that I wanted them to release more songs already. My friend, Michael Fredrick Cromwell I, had asked if I’d ever seen Mallrats. The thing is, I wasn’t necessarily confused. I recognized the title of the film, simply because every time I searched for Weezer on cdnow.com (How archaic, huh?), the movie’s soundtrack popped up. Cromwell I quickly informed me that the film featured a Weezer B-side called, “Susanne”. “It’s a good song,” he told me. As any curiously diligent teenagers would do, we came home from school that day, watched the movie, and I have pretty much never been the same since. I also have since then never looked at music on cdnow.com.

Mallrats came out in a very important time in film history, when the 90′s wave of independent films started crossing over into the mainstream. Almost over night, artists like Spike Lee, Kevin Smith, Richard Linklater, and Quentin Tarantino were all making these indie flicks that were breaking through to the popular world. As with any trend, they all came in different shapes and sizes. Some worked with A-list actors (Tarantino), a few made do with lesser knowns (e.g. Linklater), and others tried their luck absolute unknowns. Smith would fall into the last category. After selling his comic book collection for a hefty sum and maxing out credit card after credit card, Smith culled together enough talent (and gravitas) to release the 1994 comedy, Clerks. While not a commercial success, at least not then, the film became a critical smash, offering Smith a shot at a career in filmmaking. Then came Mallrats.

Although popular now, Mallrats hardly made a dent when it hit the silver screen. Well, that’s not true. It certainly made a mark on Smith’s resume, but in terms of popularity, it was a box office bomb. The sort of film that vanishes after opening weekend. In fact, Smith even says on the film’s DVD that when he went to see it opening night in his Jersey hometown, there was hardly anyone in the theater. Unlike Clerks, Mallrats received little to no acclaim, stumbling headfirst into the category of dirty comedies – the sort that parents everywhere scoffed at. Years later, however, Mallrats has become a comic staple, gracing many people’s DVD collections and becoming a ritually quotable movie in particular circles. For some, it’s also become a source of great music.

Looking back today, it’s hard to believe this was such a flop. First of all, how can you argue with a film that starts off with the line, “One time, my cousin Walter got a cat stuck in his ass…true story”? The then-slightly-unknown Jason Lee delivers a hilarious monologue about Walter, which became one of Smith’s trademarks (cousin Walter also broke his neck trying to suck his own penis, and jerked off in public on a plane). Jason Lee’s character, Brodie Bruce, delivers this story over a short, jazzy number from composer Ira Newborn that appears a few times throughout the film. Brodie completes his story, and the film launches into one of Smith’s most classic title credits. The credits display each character in the form of a comic book, as the track “Social” by the obscure Lookout! Records band Squirtgun plays. For being the only widely known song by Squirtgun (it’s the only one I ever found in my Napster days), it is actually a pretty decent tune, and was actually suggested to the film’s music supervisor by none other than Billie Joe Armstrong.

Then the film starts, and we meet the two protagonists, TS and Brodie. TS is played by the unlikeable Jeremy London, twin brother to the much better Jason London (Randall “Pink” Floyd of Dazed and Confused). TS has issues with his girlfriend going on a dating game show because it interferes with his blah blah blah… a typical boyfriend-girlfriend fight to kick off a movie. In the next (and better) scene, Brodie Bruce is passed out against a wall plastered with images of superheroes (again, one of Smith’s many fetishes). As he lies there with Shannon Doherty knocking on his skull, the then-unknown Silverchair has a song playing entitled “Stoned”. While the song’s intro is distorted, loud, and screams 1995, the song itself it a bit more mellow and fits the mood of Brodie’s spaced-out lifestyle, which involves Sega Genesis, comic books, and, naturally, malls. As the song ends, Doherty’s character Rene breaks up with Brodie.

As she says her harsh and mean good-bye, she tosses a letter to Brodie as the cue for the song “Seventeen” by Sponge kicks in. You all might remember Sponge’s more widely known track, “Plowed”, which appeared in Empire Records but did not show up on the album. While Sponge has always been historically documented for the one-grunge-hit wonder, I am always brought back to “Seventeen” when I read their name. The song itself is a good alt-rock number, with its dirty-sounding chords, monotone “la la la” chorus, and strung-out lyricism. It is also at this point that TS and Brodie combine forces and decide on the one solution to “ease their simultaneous-double loss.” Brodie, the mallrat that he is, convinces TS to join him at the mall with one simple persuasion (which in all honesty would be enough to convince me), “Oh come on man! They got these new cookies at the cookie stand, you gotta try them, they’re awesome!”

As Brodie and TS embark for the mall post-haste, the Bush B-side “Bubbles” plays, which always reminded me of some old Alkaline Trio tracks. The song captures the excitement, the motion, and the arrival of Brodie and TS at the mall perfectly. A shortened version of the song’s intro is played as they drive, and it then skips the verse and goes into the chorus as Brodie shouts, “I love the smell of commerce in the morning.” Clerks favorites Jay and Silent Bob return to the screen just a moment later to another original track from Newborn, while we get to see one of Jay’s hilarious dance routines.

At this point, the film is in full swing. Jay and Silent Bob are on a mission from Brodie to disrupt the game show that would otherwise inevitably doom TS’s reunion with his girlfriend (Claire Forlani), while TS mopes and Brodie tries to win back Rene. Pretty standard, right? Of course, but Smith’s movies (his old ones at least) are hilarious, and thus we keep watching. Plus, there’s already a kickass soundtrack. Throughout the rest of the movie, each character finds themselves in amusing, almost slightly believable and hilarious circumstances. Brodie ends up having sex with Rene in an elevator as a cover of “Build Me Up Buttercup” plays by the Goops. We are introduced to the character Trisha Jones (a 15-year-old girl writing a research book on male orgasms), whilst Elastica’s song “Line Up” plays. This song would later be seen in Not Another Teen Movie. And even more notable is the appearance of “Boogie Shoes” by KC and the Sunshine Band when TS and Brodie hide from police at a flea market. This one’s not on the CD, but it’s a song my best friend once stated “appears in every movie…ever.”

The film’s climax is pretty ridiculous, and for me to try and explain it to the average reader would be impossible unless you knew all the bizarre events that lead up to it. Basically, in terms of the soundtrack, this is what you need to know. A hilarious montage of Jay getting two complete dorks stoned takes place set to “Smoke Two Joints” by none other than Sublime. Mind you, this was before Sublime were the mega-icons they later became, so the inclusion of this song is kind of interesting. We watch Jay’s stoned prey as they hopelessly lie on the floor and feed themselves Cheetos. When each male cast member is confessing their love to the female leads upon the end of the film, the song “Broken” by the band Belly plays. I had never heard Belly prior to this film, but the song is well-fitting for the mood of the scene. It brings forth a sense of happiness, allowing you to feel what the characters are feeling; a happy fucking ending.

Before “Broken” even has a chance to fade away, the aforementioned “Susanne” cues up to kick off the “Where are they now…” sequence. The inclusion of “Susanne” always made me feel like it wrapped up the film nicely. It’s such a quality and heart-warming Weezer song, and even after I saw this film for the first time, I immediately went back home, turned on my computer and listened to it about 100 more times. Even the final shot of the film is perfect with that song, as Jay, Silent Bob and a monkey by the name of Susanne walk off into the sunset, while the bottom of the screen reads, “As for Jay and Silent Bob, that’s another story,” you feel a sense of joy knowing there will be four other movies with them and an animated series down the road. To close things out, though, the title track for the film plays by Wax, a band most notoriously known for a music video with a guy running on fire. Of course, it couldn’t be a ’90s movie without an obscure, alt-rock closer that nobody would ever remember.

All in all, Mallrats is still my favorite Kevin Smith film, which is sort of funny given the pain and tremor it caused the director. But really, it’s got everything. A hilarious cast (Jason Lee post-Blind Video Days is classic), great quotes from all of its characters (“Holy shit! Mother fucking Yoda and shit!”), and a kickass soundtrack, complete with 90′s odds and ends, make for one favorable cinematic ride. For me, it’s really about the music. But Smith has always done a top notch job putting music to his films – well, at least his first three. Even with Clerks‘ minimal budget, he was able to pull it off with great songs from the likes of Soul Asylum, Alice in Chains, and Bad Religion. With Mallrats, I felt his rhythm for musical inclusions improved. In the years that followed, Smith made some great films and some bad ones, but Mallrats will always hold a special place in my library, right next to my old Weezer posters, my Toy Machine shirt, and the start of my appreciation for underdog filmmakers.

I include myself in the alleged stereotype (takes one to know one), but incongruous with the rest of the prototypical indie kid attributes, I’ve always had a certain fascination with, and knack for, sports. I grew up playing little league, recreational soccer, and comp lacrosse. Basketball was my first love, however, and continues to be the only sport I play regularly. The only thing that surpassed my participation was my fandom. And I was certainly in the right place for that.

I grew up in a suburb of Phoenix, and as such I was and am an avid Suns fan. I moved to SLC when I was nine, and I was forced to put the Charles Barkley adoration on hold and adopt the Stockton to Malone mindset of the Utah Jazz, which was fine with me because this would be their year (almost). The Jazz saw repeat stints in the NBA Finals in ’97 and ’98, both times falling to the omnipotent Michael Jordan and his Chicago Bulls. I cried each time as they lost by inches to the unstoppable MJ. It was that important to me.

My reason in saying all this is to boost my ethos in the arena (no pun intended) of sports. You can like sports and music at the same time, contrary to popular belief. Some of the jocks like music, and some of the musicians like sports. If you really look at it, it’s a much less clear line than we often perceive it to be

Besides, Friday Night Lights isn’t just about about sports. H. G. Bissinger’s groundbreaking non-fiction piece chronicles the 1988 season of the Permian Panthers of Odessa, Texas, but more than that, it chronicles the culture of Odessa and the state of Texas with regards to the Panther’s season. Along with football, Bissinger tackles the subjects of a failing oil based economy, abhorrent racism, compromised morals within the integrity of Texas schooling, and how it feels and what it means to be a teen preparing for adulthood – the pressure, the urge to rebel, and the absurdity of the whole concept.

Bissinger’s angry expose tells the reader of way the town revolves around the team. From September to December, how the team is doing equals how the town is doing. In a failing economy (the town built upon a now-dry oil supply), it’s all many individuals have to look forward to, placing massive responsibility upon the shoulders of the 17 and 18-year-old Permian players. Some succumb to the stress, others thrive. No matter what the outcome – outright victor or complete bust – every player falls victim to the town’s expectation of the Friday night lights.

Sound like the hard-hitting tale you might like to soundtrack? Explosions in the Sky sure thought so. Maybe it was the tale itself that enticed them to do so, or maybe it was the fact that they themselves experienced a bit of that Texas nightmare firsthand, so it hit close to home. Straight from the horse’s mouth:

Every once in awhile someone asks us how we ended up working on a big studio movie about football. The simplest answer is that we got an email. This particular email was from Brian Reitzell who was the music supervisor for both The Virgin Suicides and Lost In Translation (two movies that we are quite fond of). He said he was working on a new movie and he was wondering if we would be interested in doing music for it. We told him we would. He got back in touch with us a few days later and told us that the movie he was working on was called Friday Night Lights. He didn’t really have to explain much as we were somewhat familiar with the book and even more familiar with the setting of the story. West Texas. Midland and Odessa. This is the part of Texas where three out of the four of us grew up. We all read the book and we loved it. It was sad and joyful and depressing and triumphant and funny and ugly and exciting. We said yes.”

Whatever the reason, Explosions in the Sky provide a chilling yet beautiful backdrop to match the emotionally charged story that is Friday Night Lights. The band stuck to their guns, using their signature ethereal sound (which is fairly cinematic anyway) to soundtrack the chapters of the Permian experience. Not their best work, but their most fitting undoubtedly. It sounds like an unreasonable combo, but the first time you hear the layered guitar and muted percussion while watching the football soar through the air, with the hopes and dreams of an entire community riding on it, it all begins to make sense. Explosions has the innate ability to take something simple, and bring out the epic in it, which makes them the perfect fit for scoring this film.

And the fun doesn’t stop there for the Texas quartet. Based on the success of both the novel and the film adaptation, the powers that be decided to keep the ball rolling by adapting the story for a TV series. And the Explosions didn’t stop either. Explosions in the Sky licensed much of their catalogue to the series, including one of their original compositions for the film version of FNL. Also, the theme for the song, and certain sequences of music are written specifically to sound like Explosions.

And though the TV series twists the story quite a bit and adds a pinch of teenage melodrama that was previously unseen in the film and novel versions. Don’t let this fool you, however, this show is no joke. Over four seasons it has won nine Emmys and continues to win the hearts of critics and viewers alike.

And the soundtrack ain’t bad either. Much like the film, the show circles around the stories of the town with regards to football, and does so with a stellar soundtrack to top it all off. Split up into two different volumes, the retail soundtracks includes songs from Explosions in the Sky,  of course, A.A. Bondy, Calexico, …And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead, Iron & Wine, Jakob Dylan, Jose Gonzalez, Outkast, Spoon, Sufjan Stevens, and The Avett Brothers. Artists used in the actual show include LCD Soundsystem, The Black Keys, Pearl Jam, Beck, Yeasayer, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, TV On The Radio, The Album Leaf, Broken Social Scene, Rogue Wave, Death Cab For Cutie, Wilco, UNKLE, Devendra Banhart, Rye Rye, and Little Joy, among countless others.

Using this list of artists, the producers of the show create a very believable musical atmosphere, and do so in a subtle fashion. No songs are used shamelessly nor does the show use its music as a crutch (here’s lookin’ at you, The OC). One of the characters is a big Liars fan, but you’d never know that unless you had a trained eye. Posters and buttons are the only things that indicate of any Liars affiliation. Later on, when messing around on guitar, one character plays a rendition of The Flaming Lips’ “She Don’t Use Jelly”. At one point in the show, perhaps a little less subtly, Heartless Bastards make an appearance as two of the main characters from the story go to one of their shows in Austin. At any rate, the songs are used less as a device to sell the show to indie kids, and more of a way to move along the story with a little more beauty. After all, you don’t like all the aforementioned bands for no reason; you love them because they create beautiful music that makes you feel. And somebody at Friday Night Lights realizes this and utilizes it in every show.

Friday Night Lights is truly a story for the ages in each of its three forms. Filled with raw emotion and hard-hitting topics, Friday Night Lights is a powerful story deftly told with the help of many of our most beloved musicians. I suggest you try it out.

On top of all of his filmmaking prowess, Anderson also develops some pretty fantastic soundtracks. Iconic moments such as Luke Wilson’s suicide scene in Royal Tenenbaums wouldn’t have held as much weight if it didn’t have Elliott Smith’s “Needle in the Hay” behind it, or the great closing dance sequence of Rushmore as Max Fischer dances with Miss Cross while The Faces’ “Ooh La La” starts up lightly. In Anderson’s Bottle Rocket, he employs, for the first time, Devo’s Mark Mothersbaugh— who has become a frequent collaborator with Anderson on his films— to create a jazz and Latin-tinged soundtrack that scores the movie wonderfully and adds the perfect amount of Devo quirkiness to the scenes.

For the opening segments of the movie, Mothersbaugh uses some great jazz instrumentation as well as an upbeat track from Oliver Onions (“Zorro’s Back”) to give the opening robbery sequences and planning scenes a quirky backdrop for Owen and Luke Wilson’s characters (Dignan and Anthony, respectively). The muzak-sounding score for Dignan’s “rescue” of Anthony from the voluntary hospital sets the mood nicely as Anthony climbs down the side of the building with the aid of his doctor. The next big song is the Gene Krupa-esque drums playing during the bookstore robbery scene. It gives the scene a great urgency and drive while Anthony and Dignan flounder on screen, which is followed by a short jazz piano solo for the celebratory scene after the big heist.

Mothersbaugh then quickly switches things to a more Latin feel once Anthony meets his love interest Inez at the hotel the guys are hiding out in. For the next long section of the film, the soundtrack’s incidental score keeps its Latin touch to give you the feel of the border town they are holed up in with Inez and her fellow Hispanic friends/workers. The touching scene where Anthony asks Inez if he can have the picture of her sister from her locket has a great electric piano and percussion backdrop that keeps a bit of the quirkiness, but also adds a cute samba rhythm. The soundtrack uses a couple more actual songs for the Latin section, this time from Rene Touzet (“Pachanga Diferente” and “Mambo Guajiro”).

Mothersbaugh then creates a fantastic coupling of music and tracks to signal the transition from the hotel back to the characters’ hometown by using elements from an earlier score before they left town and from his Latin theme to underscore Anthony’s departing scene. He then uses the fantastic upbeat track from The Proclaimers called “Over and Done With”, from their This is the Story album, to underscore Dignan’s big exit. The Proclaimers track, in my mind, shows that they are more than just a one hit wonder after their “500 Miles” track from Benny and Joon. And actually, This is the Story is still one of my favorite albums.

After the transition, Mothersbaugh returns to his great jazz score for the planning and subsequent execution of the gang’s big heist of the cold storage facility. He uses another Oliver Onions track (“Seven and Seven Is”) to kick us back into the peculiar and hilarious mood just before we meet Dignan’s guru (and former boss at his landscaping job), Mr. Henry. Mr. Henry’s theme is a swinging flute and drums track that is perfectly befitting James Caan’s character. Mothersbaugh continues using the jazz flute to its full capacity in the following scenes while Mr. Henry is around and trying to convince the rest of Dignan and Anthony’s gang to join in the heist. There is then an up-tempo score for the debacle that becomes of the cold storage heist that ends with just the right twinge of sadness for the scene.

The last few tracks of the soundtrack are hopeful in nature, as Anthony and the gang’s getaway driver Bob visit Dignan in jail, and they talk about their respected futures. Mothersbaugh is able, as he is throughout the score, to give the scene the necessary levity and hope to befit Owen Wilson’s amazing Dignan character. It never gets too serious or too silly. He is able to stride the line very well throughout the movie. The movie then ends perfectly with The Rolling Stones’ “2000 Man”, which doesn’t end up on the CD version of the soundtrack (due to licensing rights, no doubt).

Overall, the soundtrack includes most of the incidental music used in the score, so there is a lot of mere instrumentals on the album, but Mothersbaugh has created such solid songs that even if you don’t know the movie as well, it’s still an entertaining album. With the addition of the Latin tracks from Rene Touzet, the Oliver Onions tracks, and The Proclaimers track, it makes for a solid listen. It would have been nice to have the Love and Rolling Stones songs on there, but without them, the album still holds up well. Mothersbaugh created a great score that fits the shifts in scene and mood in the movie very well, and gives Wes Anderson’s first film just the right push from indie cult movie to the kind of film that even Scorsese could love. And that’s a recommendation that any filmmaker can cherish.

Debuting in the States as Pirate Radio, the United Kingdom-based film centers around an illegal radio station positioned in the North Sea. Displeased with a traditionalist British government that prefers to broadcast jazz, Radio Rock plays rock and pop all day and all night. Fittingly, The Kinks’ “All Day and All of the Night”‘s simple, sliding power-chord riff introduces and concludes the film, sending the undisputed message that the only time any of the shipmates feel all right is when music is by their side.

Speaking of the shipmates, the crew’s sense of humor is best conveyed in The Turtles’ “Elenore” and John Fred and His Playboy Band’s “Judy in Disguise (With Glasses)”. Both songs run under the three-minute mark and are accompanied by amusing tales. “Elenore” was written as a satire of one of The Turtles’ earlier pop hits, “Happy Together”. After many requests from label executives to create another chart topper, the band recorded “Elenore” as a parody of the type of happy-go-lucky pop songs they themselves had been performing. However, they deliberately used cliched and nonsensical lyrics such as “Your looks intoxicate me/Even though your folks hate me/There’s no one like you, Elenore, really”; and “Gee, I think you’re swell/And you really do me well/You’re my pride and joy, et cetera …” Ironically, the 1968 single charted at number six on the Billboard Hot 100.

In the same vein, “Judy in Disguise (With Glasses)” was inspired by Fred mistakenly believing that the lyrics to The Beatles’ “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” were “Lucy in disguise with diamonds.” Coincidentally, the single went on to trump “Hello, Goodbye”, another Beatles’ tune, for two weeks in January 1968 as the Billboard Hot 100′s number 1.

Beefing up the first disc of the double-disc soundtrack are the longer tracks from the equally as lengthily named Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass and Tommy James and The Shondells. Alpert’s “This Guy’s in Love with You” and James’ “Crimson and Clover” both use simple lyrics to convey their unrequited lust. Their all-encompassing adoration is mirrored in the feelings Radio Rock’s DJs have toward rock and pop music. These songs set the tune to the crew’s dedication in providing music fans with their hearts’ desire.

Disc two weighs in with prestige as The Who, Cream, and Jimi Hendrix grace the soundtrack. “My Generation” aptly describes Radio Rock’s aesthetic. Inspired by the Queen Mother, who allegedly had The Who’s Pete Townshend’s 1935 Packard hearse towed because she was offended by the sight of it, the song is used to address the government’s distaste with Radio Rock’s generation. The psychedelic facets of Cream’s “I’m Free” and Hendrix’s “The Wind Cries Mary” provide the soundtrack with an accurate glimpse into the late 1960s’ more experimental music, which has a heavy blues influence paired with the innovative guitar work of Hendrix and Cream’s Eric Clapton and an undeniably groovy feel.

Rounding out the heavy hitters, David Bowie provides one of the few tracks recorded after the ’60s. The 1983 single “Let’s Dance” is one of Bowie’s most well-known tracks. The radio-touting (“Let’s dance to the song/They’re playin’ on the radio”) dance anthem introduced Bowie to a new younger audience oblivious to his former career in the ’70s with its commercial appeal. Emulating this idea, Radio Rock devotedly introduces teenagers to the wonderment of rock ‘n’ roll and the British government to the quintessential “damn-the-man” attitude.

Although the film, which is loosely based on Radio Caroline, concludes with an actual shipwreck and a horrible “Free Willy” impersonation by Hoffman, it also leaves the viewer with a compilation of chart toppers and this resonating quote:

By the summer of 1967, The Golden Age of Pirate Radio was over, but their big dream never died; with 299 music stations across the UK, they play rock and pop all day and all of the night. And as for Rock and Roll, well, it’s had a pretty good 40 years.”

The first time I ever saw 24 Hour Party People, I had no idea what to expect. Some kids at school just told me it was about ecstasy and raves, so I figured it would make for a good rent during one dull summer vacation. The movie proved to be more than that. Aside from its post-modernist and impressionistic filmmaking style, what shocked me more was that it had old Sex Pistols footage, told me the true story of Joy Division, taught me the history of rave music, and introduced me to the Happy Mondays. 24 Hour Party People documents the high times of Tony Wilson – played to perfection by the always wonderful Steve Coogan – a British television reporter who was so blown away by punk rock, he formed his own record label, club, and scene, only to become the biggest (mis)manager in all of Manchester. Wilson truly was a pretty punk rock guy, because he didn’t give a fuck about trends, press, drawing a crowd, or meeting anybody’s demands but his own. The events depicted in this movie are what Tony Wilson himself would describe as “history.”

Of course, a movie about the Madchester music movement would have to be told with a fantastic soundtrack. There’s no question about it. Director Michael Winterbottom knew he would have to do the music selection justice if to make a film about this crowd of wild and drugged up Brits, not to mention to cast the film impeccably. What is uncanny about this movie though is how much the actors look like the people they are playing. The dude playing Sean Ryder looks pretty damn close to the real Sean Ryder, and this makes the movie bizarrely authentic.

The film starts off with the Happy Mondays classic of the same title as the film. While the song plays, one of the most-difficult-to-read and trippiest title sequences I have ever seen races across the screen. This would be any graphic designer’s day in Hell, but the song and fucked up imagery allow you to brace yourself for what is about to come from this beautiful mess of a film.

One of the best scenes here is when the Sex Pistols arrive in Manchester to play. While the band tears through Iggy Pop’s “No Fun”, Tony Wilson describes the event as history to his boss, who replies, “How can it be history if only 42 people were there?” He makes a good point, but the 42 people there all went on to do great things. Wilson explains in the scene (while a mock-Pistols play in the background, which is crosscut with footage from the actual show) that members of the Buzzcocks, Joy Division/New Order, and various other Manchester musicians are present. Also present is Martin Hannett, the genius who recorded a majority of the bands. All of these people see the Pistols and their lives are changed. Immediately, Pink Floyd and David Bowie become obsolete in the eyes of everyone in the room.

A film about Joy Division could not be complete without multiple performances by Joy Division. Staged performances of songs like “Love Will Tear Us Apart”, “Digital”, and “Transmission” play, while “Transmission” is intercut with remade broadcasts from Wilson’s show on Granada TV. The “Transmission” bit is quite powerful, as one bares witness to how fast things in the UK were changing in the late ’70s. The best scene with Joy Division, however, is not a performance, but a glimpse of them cutting “She’s Lost Control” in the studio. Hannett says some of the best lines of the whole film in this scene. You might question his genius, and his sanity, but you can’t help but marvel at his decision to move Stephen Morris’ drum set to the roof (“We got a rattle in the kid”).

It’s a truly sad scene when Ian Curtis hangs himself. Especially since the scene happens only moments after the band finds out they are going to tour America. Following his death though, begins what Tony Wilson claims to be “the second half.” The second half of the story, film, and Factory saga deals with New Order and the Happy Mondays. The characters of Paul and Sean Ryder are introduced, but the glory is when New Order shows up for the first time with that name, and you get to hear a mellow, bare bones rendition of “Blue Monday”, which will never make you listen to the original the same way again.

The second half though is primarily dominated by the Happy Mondays. We meet Bez, the band’s unofficial mascot who is introduced as a chemist with a love for ecstasy. Throughout this portion of the film, the band is constantly portrayed as a group of fuck-ups, who are somehow geniuses. What else would one expect from a band who Wilson signed, simply because they came in last at the Hacienda’s Battle of the Bands? Well, he was convinced Ryder was the best poet since Yeats. However, to everyone’s dismay, the Mondays were all about partying… and it shows. The tour montage is set to “Kinky Afro” and “Wrote for Luck” (both songs are not on the actual soundtrack, however), which depicts how fucked up things really became, between the girls, the cocaine, and the parties – all while the music got lost. Tony even warns them that, “cocaine is a destroyer of talent.”

The film ends when everybody goes broke. The club doesn’t make any money due to an ecstasy ring, and the Happy Mondays don’t make any money because they cut a record while getting hooked on smoking crack. You are brought closure though with one of the most nostalgic and fantastic montages ever. On the final night of the Hacienda, Wilson throws the biggest party of the year. The Happy Mondays’ “Hallelujah (Club Mix)” blasts over the speakers as Wilson and his cohorts congratulate one another on a good and successful run. It’s then that Wilson gives an emotional monologue revolving around his excessive civic pride.

When the party ends, Wilson retreats to the roof for a spliff of “top gear” where he sees God. God tells him that he did the right thing with music (“It’s a pity you didn’t sign the Smiths”), all while appearing to look just like Wilson himself. He returns to his friends on the roof and tells them he sees God, and they sort of laugh it off with a remark about the quality of their weed. The film ends, Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart” plays, and everything ends exactly like it should with a group like Factory… in shambles.

24 Hour Party People is by far one of the most bizarre impressionistic works within modern film. It’s a sort of hyper-reality, pseudo-documentary that’s retrospective, while breaking the fourth wall constantly. It’s raw, it’s gritty, and it’s Factory to a tee. People from the actual story even act within the film to get across how down-to-Earth Factory really was, and how accurate the movie is. The music these people made, at the time they made it, helped spawn a movement that changed music forever. And even though only a few people were involved during the time it was all going on, that movement is still mimicked and played in stereos today. The soundtrack proves that by putting on loads of Madchester classics, some punk classics from the Clash and Sex Pistols, as well as some of the earliest techno bliss. That’s what makes this movie so historically fantastic; you get a first and up-close glimpse of a movement that was about as exclusive as the parties at the Hacienda, complete with the music that made it all possible.

Questionable quality aside, I’ll always have a soft spot for Cruel Intentions. For starters, it was one of the first R-rated movies for which I was able to proudly flash my driver’s license at the movie theater and not have to have an upperclassman purchase my ticket for me. (And this, after my mother had told me, “You’re not seeing that! It has lots of bad S-E-X.”) Then there was my freshman year of college, when a number of equally lame floor-mates and I watched the movie on VHS at least once a week. One friend once said that every time she ascended an escalator, she hoped she’d see a blue-shirted Ryan Phillippe waiting at the top.

But let’s forget about all of the movie’s campy-ness and its by-default level of quality for a moment. The soundtrack is pretty stellar, and it’s even managed to avoid sounding entirely dated. Sure, there are a couple tracks that place the movie firmly within the late ’90s – Fatboy Slim’s “Praise You” and The Verve’s “Bittersweet Symphony”, for example – but the nostalgia is more sweet than bitter in both cases.

The soundtrack leads off with Placebo’s excellent “Every You Every Me”, as do the film’s opening credits. With its fast-building tempo and heavily paired drum beats and guitar strokes, the song signifies the film’s wonderful tension that is present from the beginning.

Blur’s cheerful “Coffee & TV” features a high-pitched, breezy refrain that pairs well with its scene (the kissing scene, which I myself am getting tired of mentioning here already). But still, you can’t picture that line of saliva stretching between Gellar’s and Blair’s lips without recalling that distinctive up-tempo beat in the background.

Blair’s appearances on screen are usually accompanied by some track that suggests her naiveté. Day One’s “Bedroom Dancing”, with its playful sexiness, can be heard when Phillippe has just seduced the virginal Blair, and she’s basically acting as manic as ever. Abra Moore’s “Trip On Love” appears during a scene in which she’s pulling a red hoodie over her head, and, fittingly, the lead singer has the voice of a little girl.

Counting Crow’s piano-heavy but otherwise spare “Colorblind” contains lyrics that match the on-screen situation in some very literal ways. Phillippe’s Sebastian has chased after Reese Witherspoon’s Annette and is attempting to cross her path at the train station. It’s the first shot in which he’s wearing an actual color (the blue shirt), which signifies his emotional transition. The lyrics “I am colorblind/coffee black and egg white/pull me out from inside/I am ready/I am ready” allow for transition into the next scene, in which he of course takes her virginity.

Marcy Playground’s “Comin’ Up From Behind” begins with a strange game-show-esque ping and is probably the heaviest-rocking selection on the album; it plays in the movie when Phillippe is traipsing through the night en route to blackmail a gay classmate.

Then there’s Aimee Mann’s “You Could Make a Killing”, and I will posit that this song is borderline impossible to dislike. If you’ve ever enjoyed the folksy stylings of Aimee Mann, you’ll like this one. It appears later in the film in accompaniment to Sebastian’s realization of his remorse.

Bare Jr.’s “You Blew Me Off” is more dated; it sounds like the type of song that would play during a film sequence in which a group of high school football players runs onto the field. Who knows, maybe it was used during Varsity Blues. As for some of the other album throw-aways, Skunk Anansie’s “Secretly” isn’t a bad track, but it seems out of place with the other mostly pop-heavy selections. Craig Armstrong’s and Elizabeth Fraser’s “This Love” will make you fall asleep, and Faithless’ “Addictive” is a creepy track – the mostly spoken verses contrast with a wailing refrain in which the singer’s gender isn’t identifiable. Also, like “Bittersweet Symphony”, its inclusion is a bit too literal. The track, which contains lyrics such as “change around the words that you say to suit me fine,” plays during a scene in which Gellar attempts to manipulate Blair’s mother.

The soundtrack closes out with “Bittersweet Symphony”, as does Cruel Intentions. The final third of the movie ventures into a sort of a moralistic territory, which seems an odd shift in tone from the rest of the film; either way, “Symphony”’s pairing with the final scene seems a bit too on the nose. Still, the film’s denouement is memorable in its own right, and the sweeping shots of Phillippe’s car being driven into and out of the city serve as bookends to the story. The closing sequence wouldn’t be the same without the haunting “Symphony”. Also, Blair is as haughtily hilarious as always.

Would this movie be nearly so appreciated if it were released today? Not likely. Gellar is well past her Buffy the Vampire Slayer era, and she, along with the rest of the cast save Witherspoon, has ridden out the wave of the late-’90s teen flick. (I haven’t even mentioned that the movie also features Joshua Jackson of Dawson’s Creek and future rehab-queen Tara Reid.) Much of the soundtrack, though, still sounds pretty fresh, and that’s an accomplishment for something that’s been around for 11 years.

Lost in Translation opens to “Girls” by Death in Vegas as Bob arrives in Tokyo via taxi. With an ethereal loveliness reminiscent of My Bloody Valentine, “Girls” sets the tone for the rest of the film. The atmospherics of shoegaze dream pop and the feelings of longing they evoke, coupled with the beauty of sadness, reflect the emotions and moods throughout the film and these emotions are preserved in the soundtrack. “Sometimes” by legendary shoegazers My Bloody Valentine is featured prominently in the film as Charlotte and Bob cross Tokyo’s Rainbow Bridge after a long night of partying and karaoke, and the song’s dreamy textures flawlessly capture the reflective nostalgia of the moment.

Kevin Shields, elusive frontman of My Bloody Valentine, contributes the most intriguing original compositions to Lost in Translation. Anyone expecting something that resembles a followup to Loveless will be disappointed, and Shields’ vocals only surface on “City Girl”, which could actually pass for a pre-Loveless obscurity. The other three Shields originals are atmospheric accompaniments to specific film sequences. “Are You Awake?” is the most captivating of the bunch, and a short one that leaves the listener craving more, especially since it gives hope that Shields will further explore electronic music someday, or release any previous attempts that might exist in the vault of unheard post-Loveless demos. “Awake” shares its title with a note that Charlotte receives from Bob under her door and is as emotionally comforting as a friend correctly surmising your own restless night. “Ikebana” is another short electronic number and “Goodbye” is more akin to Brian Eno than My Bloody Valentine, but affecting nonetheless.

Having previously scored The Virgin Suicides, the French electronic space pop duo Air once again collaborate with Coppola for Lost in Translation. Their contribution “Alone in Kyoto”, which would later appear in their 2004 album Talkie Walkie, is a soothing, Asian-influenced number that fits the scene of Charlotte’s visit to Kyoto so perfectly that visualizing the beauty of Nanzen-ji is unavoidable. “Too Young” by French indie rockers Phoenix is  an awkward fit on the Translation soundtrack, as it is an obvious contrast to the dreamy, largely instrumental tracks on the album. Although out of place, “Too Young” is a welcome cheerful break.

Several songs featured in the film do not appear on the soundtrack such as “The State We’re In” by The Chemical Brothers, Patti Smith’s cover of “When Doves Cry”, and most notably Peaches’ “Fuck The Pain Away”.  While “Fuck the Pain Away” is Peaches at her best, it is understandably not on the soundtrack as its inclusion would have interrupted the flow of the album even more severely than “Too Young” — despite being highly appropriate for the strip club scene.

Because Lost in Translation is such an emotional film with a likewise soundtrack, a powerful goodbye is mandatory, and luckily “Just Like Honey”, a classic from shoegaze pioneers The Jesus and Mary Chain, is more than up to the task. “Honey” actually provides the most potent musical moment and it’s impossible to imagine the film ending any other way. Now that it has been over six and a half years since the release of Lost in Translation, one has to wonder how much of a role the film and its soundtrack had in the rebirth of shoegaze in the mid ’00s. After all, My Bloody Valentine eventually reformed, as did The Jesus and Mary Chain, with the latter performing with none other than Scarlett Johansson at their Coachella reunion.

With an exquisite collection of music the soundtrack to Lost in Translation proves once again that the substantial talents of Coppola extend beyond screenwriting and the director’s chair. Specifically, what she has is an extraordinary ear for music and how it can work together with film. For Sofia Coppola pictures, the merging of film and music proves more powerful and effective than either is on its own.

But, no Coen film could possibly top The Big Lebowski in that regard, possibly due to the sheer volume of music used. The film’s opening sequence unveils so many important themes, all hinged on the music. The mysterious Stranger describes Los Angeles and The Dude, his deep, Western voice and folksy manner of speech echoed by the strains of Bob Nolan’s “Tumbling Tumbleweeds”. This is contrasted by images of flashing neon and Jeff Bridges wandering through the fluorescent hell that is a late-night, small-town supermarket. But, the song’s not just there to provide an extra shot of nostalgia for the good ol’ west; instead it (and the tumbleweed) echo the aimlessness, the out-of-place nature that The Dude inhabits, rolling around where the wind takes him.

The good-times loll of Bob Dylan’s “The Man In Me” backs a montage of average Joes and Janes bowling. Dylan’s lyrics about a woman being all a man needs to do all of his hard work are appropriated to the Dude’s zen-need for the sport of kings. I’ll admit that I used to be in a bowling league, but, regardless, there seems to be some real joy. The diversity of people involved (fat, thin, black, white, male, female) and the unity and sequence of images is peaceful, smile-inducing. Later, in the bowling alley, the Latin strings of the Gipsy Kings’ version of “Hotel California” kick in just as the vaguely Latin Jesus (hilariously portrayed by John Turturro) celebrates a strike.

I haven’t even gotten to Creedence! The Dude loves his CCR, so their tapes make prominent appearances in the film. The serious, growling of “Run Through the Jungle” backs Duder and Walter’s riotous failure of a switcheroo. All of the down-home fun of “Lookin’ Out My Back Door” runs through the tape deck as His Dudeness smokes, drinks and crashes his car. But, one can’t have CCR without what, as the film seems to suggest, is the anti-CCR: The Eagles. Sure, the Spanish-language cover of “Hotel California” has a nice Latin flair to back Jesus, but he’s the villain. And, in their own way, the Eagles are villains here too. After getting released from a jail, El Duderino takes a cab ride with an Eagles fan. When he complains about the music, the Dude finds himself out on the street. What are the Eagles, then, compared to CCR: Certainly they’re lighter, easier listening. Take a listen to “Peaceful, Easy Feeling” and you’ll see what I mean.

Yma Sumac’s epic, eerie “Ataypura” sets the scene as the wild, depraved party at evil Jackie Treehorn’s beach house unravels. The most noted music moment may be the use of Kenny Rogers & The First Edition’s “Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)”. The Dude’s been drugged, and he goes into a loopy, wacky dream, dancing and bowling and looking up women’s skirts. The funky twangs of guitar and slinky bass are perfectly matched to the intricately choreographed dream sequence. The nihilists have their own electronica theme as they goofily prance around, threatening violence while shouting about how they believe in nothing.

Every piece of music in this film (and there are a ton) is meant to advance a character, a theme, or a message. Nothing is incidental, no matter how backgrounded. Yet, it doesn’t hit you over the head and it doesn’t detract from the humor or joy inherent in the experience.

Reservoir Dogs represents an important moment in film history. One of Quentin Tarantino’s iconic classics, it was his first cinematic foray, and one that brought an early glimpse into everything we love about his movies today: dark tough-guy humor, unflinching brutality, and spot-on writing. It also carried with it another one of Tarantino’s trademarks, a stylish soundtrack full of some rare and some not so rare oldies that are a deep part of our musical lexicon. Thanks to him, now everyone knows what to do when you “put the lime in the coconut.”

The movie itself is a patchwork of bloody shouting matches and filler flash back scenes to give you the rest of the story. For those who haven’t seen it, here you go. Seven guys all codenamed different colors (“Why do I have to be Mr. Pink?”…“Because you’re a pussy, that’s why”) are pulled together by Joe, the crime boss, to steal rare jewels. When things go wrong, they have to wait for the fallout in an abandon warehouse where the movie mostly takes place. The rest is Tarantino at his best and most vulgar, full of dark one-liners like Mr. Blonde’s fighting words, “You gonna bark all day little doggy, or are you gonna bite?”

Truth is though, when it comes to the music, the movie is mostly quiet. Tarantino has always been great at letting the intensity build by the stinging silence, like during a four-way stand off with guns. It works well for the film, but separates the movie from the soundtrack, magnifying the latter as a different experience. On disc, it’s full of ’70s pop classics that add an element of dark humor to the scenes. Only when KBILLY’s Super Sounds of the 70’s, hosted by comedian Steven Wright, is playing on the radio do you hear anything besides dialogue. It’s just a radio show to the characters, one they talk about and listen to during transitional scenes. On a couple occasions though, it works to create some of the movie’s most memorable and horrific moments.

One of those moments is as simple as they come. In the opening scene, it’s just the cast in black suits and skinny black ties, walking in slow motion towards the camera while George Baker’s “Little Green Bag” brings the attitude. Simple. Yet it’s one of the most iconic and recognizable opening credit sequences we have. Shot in black and white, the camera follows them as they walk down the gritty Los Angeles alley toward you. Sunglasses on, with that slick bass line behind them, they are the epitome of cool as their mugs are shown off one by one. You may have no idea what they are up to, but you’re definitely in for it.

The other, one of the more gruesome scenes, uses the catchy pop-rock of “Stuck in the Middle With You” to soften the moment of a man getting tortured and his ear cut off with an old-fashioned shaver. When Mr. Blonde (Michael Madsen) surfaces at the warehouse, he brings with him a surprise in the trunk. After a brutal beating ensues on the captured officer, the rather excited and maniacal Blonde turns on the nearby radio to KBILLY, which starts up Stealers Wheel. Slowly, we watch Blonde dance, show off his blade, and giggle, all before he pounces on what’s one of the film’s most cringe-worthy moments. It’s a bit like a lost scene from Casino, come to think of it, especially when the gasoline gets involved, but the entire sequence wouldn’t be as memorable without “Stuck in the Middle” as the sadistically ironic relief.

The soundtrack provides more than what was in the movie. It’s not just a collection of hip ’70s tracks that go with the feel of the film, it’s a fictional radio show hosted by the original stoner comedian Steven Wright. As the guy who made monotone funny, he adds in local plugs and DJ banter with his trademark deadpan enthusiasm between the tunes. In addition to this, you get some of the film’s best monologues, including Mr. Brown’s (Tarantino) digression on the true meaning behind Madonna’s “Like A Virgin”, and on to more serious flare like Mr. White’s (Harvey Keitel) explanation on how to do a mid-day jewelry store heist. It’s the version of the movie without the blood, but oh how the memories remain.

Like most of Tarantino’s movie soundtracks, this is a set of songs that are meant to be cooler than cool, fitting perfectly with the film and its tough guy characters. Carefully crafted, what you have is the perfect 70’s mix-tape, fake radio host and all. You don’t need the movie to enjoy it, which makes it a classic album in its own right.

Too bad Ally McBeal had to go and ruin “Hooked on a Feeling”…

Not only is the film itself immaculately made, but the soundtrack is also one of the greatest and most iconic of all time. From the great use of surf rock standards as background and mood to Al Green and Kool & the Gang as perfect commentary to one of the best Neil Diamond covers/dance sequences ever, the soundtrack supplements the film to a T and also stands alone as one of the greatest mix tapes I’ve ever heard.

The final track on the collector’s edition of the soundtrack is an interview with Tarantino about the music he chose, and why he chose those particular songs. If you can get passed the stammering and randomness glory that is a Tarantino interview, he says some great things about the soundtrack. Right from the start, he discusses how he picks songs for soundtracks. Tarantino states that picking songs is one of the first things he does when he is making a movie. During his writing process he goes to his record collection and starts finding songs that would be the “spirit of the movie” to help him further his writing. He tries to find the songs that will tell the story almost on their own. He views soundtracks as stand-alone pieces of work and “mini offshoots of the movie”, almost supplements to the film or DVD extras, as it were.

One of the greatest things Tarantino does with Pulp Fiction’s soundtrack is create a mix tape for the film. An actual mix tape. Like one he would give his friends for their own enjoyment. He says of the Pulp Fiction soundtrack, “This could very easily be a Quentin tape!” He wants to make it more than just a collection of songs. He wants it to be fun and have a personality. This explains his choice to include some memorable dialogue from the film on the album. The soundtrack includes tracks for John Travolta’s character Vincent Vega and Samuel L. Jackson’s character Jules Winnfield talking about the hash bars in Amsterdam and “royals with cheese”, their conversation about why Julius doesn’t eat pork, and also Jackson’s epic quotation of the Bible verse Ezekiel 25:17. He also includes short snippets of dialogue that come from scenes where the song is played. Tim Roth and Amanda Plummer’s dialogue about robbing the restaurant before the epic opening track “Misirlou” by Dick Dale and his Del-Tones, and the introduction for the twist competition before “You Never Can Tell” by Chuck Berry are among others. The inclusion of the dialogue completes that mix tape feeling. Hell, I know I used to make mix tapes with lines from famous movies in them when I was in middle school and high school. It makes perfect sense to me.

The songs go hand in hand with the corresponding scenes. It’s seamless, really. The moods that Tarantino is able to create with music, and that includes silence too, are spot-on. The surf music sets the time and mood without being too overwhelming. Tarantino mentions in the interview that he picked surf music because to him it sounds “more like a spaghetti western than surf music,” and that he doesn’t understand what surf rock “has to do with surfing in the first place.” The surf rock combined with songs like “Let’s Stay Together” by Al Green, “Jungle Boogie” by Kool & the Gang, and “Lonesome Town” by Ricky Nelson tell you that it’s the ’70s without cramming it down your throat. You know… like the Forrest Gump soundtrack. The songs also give you insight to the scenes and characters, as well: Bruce Willis’ character Butch Coolidge singing “Flowers on the Wall” by The Satler Brothers, or “Let’s Stay Together” playing while Marsellus Wallace (Ving Rhames) and Coolidge are discussing fixing the fight, for example.

Most, if not all, all of the songs have been cemented into the social conscious and tied to this movie. “Misirlou” will always ring back to the opening sequence of this film. The excitement built from the discussion of the diner robbery explodes into the opening guitar riff of the song and the opening credits perfectly. Tarantino describes the feeling by saying, “You’re watching an epic. You’re watching this big old movie…just sit back.” Urge Overkill’s cover of Neil Diamond’s “Girl, You’ll be a Woman Soon” is tied in with Uma Thurman’s fantastic dance sequence/overdose scene. And no one can ever think of “Comanche” by The Revels without thinking of sodomy. It’s an unfortunate thing to be remembered for, but Tarantino places it in the movie beautifully. The song gives me chills every time. Not in a good way at all, either. Tarantino claims that if you put the right song in the right scene, it’s “about as cinematic a thing as you can do…you can’t hear the song again without thinking about that scene in the movie.” He is exactly right.

The soundtrack itself, separated from the film, is in fact a stand-alone piece. The songs flow into the other easily and comfortably. Even if you have never seen the movie (in that case…why?!), you can still feel its spirit throughout. The soundtrack has a vibe and movement all its own. When you take the film into account, it is the quintessential soundtrack. No song feels out of place, or even forced. What’s more, there isn’t a tune that takes away something from the scenes. It adds, supports, and enhances every detail. Like the movie, the soundtrack is a diamond. Now, to more important matters, who here hasn’t seen it?

And why is that? Well, for one thing, it’s one of the most quotable movies of all time. Many lines are funny independent of their context.

“If it’s a severed head, I’m going to be very upset.”

“If he were an ice-cream flavor, he’d be Pralines and Dick.”

“I’ll have the cream of sum yung gi.” (I’ll confess I have no idea how to spell that one.)

I could go on. And I think I will.

“Yeah, and monkeys might fly out of my butt.”

“Garth, marriage is punishment for shoplifting in some countries.”

“If you’re gonna spew, spew into this.” (Okay, maybe we need the visual for that one.)

Couple the dialogue with the in-their-prime versions of Dana Carvey and Mike Myers (in the latter’s case, before atrocities such as Austin Powers in Goldmember and The Love Guru, that is), and you have the formula for comic gold. Could anyone deliver the lines “I don’t even own a gun, let alone many guns that would necessitate an entire rack” or “Ribbed, for her pleasure … ewww” and make them quite so hilarious?

Though not all of the lines had quite the same staying power – who remembers “Not!”? – there’s something about this movie that appeals to a universal consciousness. Even non-suburbanites – non-Midwestern suburbanites, to be clear – could wax nostalgic about some good old Midwestern suburban living. We’ve all been there: lame Friday nights with nothing to do but hang out on the couch in our parents’ basement, until a viable alternative presents itself in the form of driving around between donut shops, guitar stores, and … well, just some more time spent driving around. Astro Minivans. Street hockey. Discmans being an extravagance. Oh, it was a simpler time, and that’s not just because so many years have passed. I miss 1992. You could take a flight and invite your family to sit with you at the gate, and you wouldn’t even have to get naked before boarding.

In the same vein, the music of Wayne’s World seems to represent this same brand of ’90s optimism. These guys weren’t interested in grunge; they weren’t even interested in death metal so much. They just wanted something that rocked, from people who could wail. In her DVD commentary, director Penelope Spheeris described the characters’ brand of musical tastes as “party-animal music,” and I think she’s right. It’s like Poison once said, they “don’t need nothin’ but a good time.”

The soundtrack is a mixture of classic rock, early-’90s rock, and some Tia Carrere thrown in. Oh, and “Dream Weaver”.

For many of us, this movie really served as an introduction to Queen. And what an intro. “Going with a little ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, gentlemen” was the right move. Another factoid I learned as a result of listening to the director’s commentary: Mike Myers didn’t want to do the head-banging scene because he thought it just wouldn’t be that funny. He was wrong. Can anyone out there ever listen to “Bohemian Rhapsody” without picturing the head-banging scene?

In the same way, it’s really difficult to mentally divorce any of these songs from their scenes in the movie, which means the soundtrack is doing its job. The Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “Sikamikanico” (the B-side to “Under the Bridge”, and what the hell does that even mean?) accompanies Wayne’s sassy declaration that they were able to get the CD player when they got the money.

Picture Garth pulling off a hunk of licorice from the Mirth Mobile’s … licorice dispenser, saying they shouldn’t be too far from Milwaukee now. Are you hearing the words, “take a long long ride … with yourself?” Thanks, Rhino Bucket.

How about “Time Machine” by Black Sabbath? Wayne, en route to get Cassandra back, is pulled over by Terminator 2’s T-1000. The music fits the mania of the moment.

The opening notes of “Feed My Frankenstein” evoke the image of a giant glowing skeleton and a whip-wielding Alice Cooper. (If I could throw in one more line here, it should be said that Milwaukee has certainly seen its share of visitors, and its name is Algonquin for “the good land.”)

Tia Carrere turns out a more-than-decent version of “Ballroom Blitz”. It’s too bad there wasn’t room on the soundtrack for her rendition of Jimi Hendrix’s “Fire”, too.

A couple other songs were left off the soundtrack, perhaps because they’re certainly the more dated ones (well, “Dream Weaver” aside, maybe). Still, for a movie that calls to mind the early ’90s, some quintessential early-’90s music would have been a welcome addition. Listen for the background music that’s playing during the first visit to Stan Mikita’s donut shop. Yes, that’s Ugly Kid Joe’s “Everything About You”. (Does anyone know what happened to Ugly Kid Joe? Does anyone care enough to find out? I, for one, am still pissed about being subjected to approximately three billion listens of their crappy “Cat’s in the Cradle” cover.) A couple of Chris Cornell-penned tunes didn’t make the cut, either: Soundgarden’s “Loud Love” and Temple of the Dog’s “All Night Thing” (the latter plays during the scene at Rob Lowe’s condo, providing backing music to lines such as “From this height, you could really hock a loogie on someone.”)

It’s clear I can hardly discuss the music without morphing into quote-mode, so I’ll finish up here. Just one more song: Hendrix’s “Foxy Lady”. Garth and his fantasy donut girl. Little devil’s horns. And a pelvis that seems to move independent of his body. Or, as Spheeris said, he was seriously humping some air there.

Spheeris said that another song had originally been chosen for that scene. I can’t picture it any other way, just as I can’t picture the opening drive through “Aurora, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago” without seeing Mike Myers fold his arms across his chest and lip-sync, “Mama mia, mama mia, let me go …”

“Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me …”

Years later, I have yet to find out what “Bohemian Rhapsody” is even about. But do the lyrics even matter so much? Or is it just about having music that rocks a little hard? I’ll go with the second.

Wayne’s World tracklist:
01. “Bohemian Rhapsody” – Queen
02. “Hot And Bothered” – Cinderella
03. “Rock Candy” – Bulletboys
04. “Dream Weaver” – Gary Wright
05. “Sikamikanico” – Red Hot Chili Peppers
06. “Time Machine” – Black Sabbath
07. “Wayne’s World Theme” – Mike Myers/Dana Carvey (Extended Version)
08. “Ballroom Blitz” – Tia Carrere
09. “Foxy Lady” – Jimi Hendrix
10. “Feed My Frankenstein” – Alice Cooper
11. “Ride With Yourself” – Rhino Bucket
12. “Loving Your Lovin’” – Eric Clapton
13. “Why You Wanna Break My Heart” – Tia Carrere

The writer has been quoted as saying that “this film is nothing without the music,” and unless you’re in the camp that thinks the film is nothing even with the music, he’s pretty spot on. Once you’ve seen the movie, it is hard not to think of Hugh Grant dancing every time you hear “Jump”. It’s The Pointer Sisters’ song covered by Girls Aloud on the soundtrack but confusingly the original Grant dances to, not the Van Halen tune. With Van Halen, of course, it’s hard to think of anything other than hair conditioner. Grant is cast as a bachelor British Prime Minister who has an implausible crush on his young cockney sparrow of a tea lady, while Billy Bob Thornton’s cameo as his US counterpart blends the worst sides of Bill and George.

The film is a true ensemble piece, which pulls together a whole lotta love stories via mildly interconnecting characters and events. The soundtrack plays a fairly straight bat too, with a raft of songs you’ll know, and mostly love, peppered with a few imaginative choices, like the late Lynden David Hall’s version of the Beatles’ “All You Need Is Love”, Otis Redding’s take on “White Christmas”, and UK soul sister Gabrielle’s “Sometimes”.

Movie and music come together in Love Actually as aging rocker Billy Mack, played by the excellent Bill Nighy, is at the centre of everything. Mack is on the comeback trail via a Christmas take on The Troggs’ classic hit, “Love Is All Around”. The singer may call it “a festering turd of a record” but at the same time is aiming to be Christmas Number One. Fans of Rage against the Machine might get that one too. Famously, Mack vows to perform the song naked on TV should it hit the top spot, which he goes on to achieve with the aid of a strategically placed axe. Though he may get the girls in a Robert Palmer-style video, Mack’s love interest is really a platonic one, as he leaves Elton John’s Christmas Party early to spend Christmas Eve with his hapless manager, suggesting the two of them celebrate by getting pissed and watching porn.

There are 20 songs on the soundtrack album if you buy the UK version. For some reason, Americans are not deemed worthy of hearing two of the three Love Themes by Craig Armstong, nor Gabrielle’s “Sometimes”, so the US copy has just 17. For some other reason, the tracks are in a different order on each version and, frustratingly for people who care about such things, neither is sequential to the film itself. As mentioned earlier, Curtis is mostly playing safe with his choice of songs, which range from pure background to providing some kind of commentary on the action. There’s a poignant moment, for instance, when Joni Mitchell’s remake of “Both Sides Now” provides the soundtrack to Emma Thompson’s character confirming that her husband is cheating on her.

Olivia Olson’s version of “All I Want For Christmas Is You” is pretty impressive, given that she was just 10 when she appeared in the film and sang this set piece number. She allegedly had singing lessons to make her pitch perfect vocal slightly more believable for a 10-year-old. If Olson’s Joanna seems precocious in the movie, then her would-be boyfriend, Sam, is immediately up against it as he looks about six. Still, Sam gets to play drums for Joanna’s scratch band, inspired by Billy Mack, no less. After all, musicians always seem to get the girls, no matter how they look.

One guy who doesn’t get the gal but provides probably the most touching moment in the movie is Andrew Lincoln’s Mark, whose real-life Juliet, played by Keira Knightley, is serenaded by “Silent Night” on a portable CD player and a set of storyboards. A great scene, but no trace found on the soundtrack.

More highlights are provided by the storyline concerning two of the most unlikeliest porn star stand-ins, played by Martin Freeman and Joanna Page. The couple spend most of their time nude and in all manner of positions, yet maintain a sweet innocence throughout. These are genuinely funny and touching (sic) scenes that don’t require a musical commentary! Back to the soundtrack; female vocals dominate proceedings with turns by Norah Jones, Dido, Eva Cassidy, Kelly Clarkson, Sugababes, Texas, and Sharissa featured more than Wyclef Jean on “Take Me As I Am”. Maroon 5 and The Calling hardly equal things up for the boys. That’s left to The Beach Boys, whose glorious “God Only Knows” plays over the final scene at Heathrow Airport Arrivals, which pulls together a number of loose ends from the preceding love stories.

The film then closes with a montage of people greeting their loved ones at the terminal, which echoes the sentiments made in the opening voice-over by Hugh Grant’s character. Call it schmaltzy if you like, but we can all do with a little more love in our lives, not least at Christmas.

Luckily for movie fans and for the creative forces behind Adventureland (notably writer/director Greg Mottola), the film seems to be finding its audience on DVD and could grab a significant cult following in the years to come. In one of the most memorable scenes, protagonist James Brennan reflects on what his friend Joel has told him about Herman Melville being called by the wrong name after he died and notes: “he wrote a seven-hundred page allegorical novel about the whaling industry. I think he was a pretty passionate guy, Joel. I hope they call me Henry when I die, too.” “One can only hope,” replies Joel.

As with any nostalgia film, music plays a major role in setting the mood of the time. For movies set in the 1980′s, this can be both a blessing and a curse. When done well (think Donnie Darko), it can not only create an interesting interpretation of the past, but can also turn a new generation of listeners on to music that may have slipped under their radar. Especially now, music of the 80′s is something that will not really be appreciated until the music listener reaches the college-age. For me, until I was about 20, 80′s music was all hair metal and new wave. Madonna, Michael Jackson, The Police: this was pretty much it. Bands like The Replacements and Hüsker Dü were just names I heard that didn’t really sound that interesting. Black Flag and The Misfits I imagined to be pretty intense. Crowded House and the Pixies sounded like easy listening. Then, when you’re ready to hear all this music, it finds you and changes your world. Adventureland shows that it wasn’t that much different for people of the time it portrays. James Brennan leaves college with an appreciation for Lou Reed, an appreciation he admires in others. There is a reason “indie” used to be known as “college rock.”

Regardless, it should be clear within the first five minutes of Adventureland that music is going to play a major role in the film. The Replacements’ “Bastards of Young” (one of the best songs ever, period) plays over the intro credits. Then, after a brief opening party sequence, we get The Velvet Underground’s “Here She Comes Now”. Add to this a credit that states that original music will be provided by Yo La Tengo, and you get a big “what the fuck kind of teen comedy am I watching” reaction. Well, strangely, it’s more of a comedic drama. And it’s not about teens. Oh, they look like teens. But these people are all in their early 20′s (Note to casting directors: I commend actually casting young actors for young characters).

From there, you get about three songs a minute for the next hour. In fact, 41 songs were licensed for use in the film. And while this covers everything from a Foreigner cover band to Judas Priest’s “Breaking the Law” in a chase sequence, for the most part, the music of Adventureland would be a great jumping off point for someone wanting to delve deeper into the music of the 80′s. Some highlights include “Just Like Heaven” from The Cure as a few of the young people eat pot cookies and enjoy the rides of the park, “Don’t Dream It’s Over” by Crowded House during a fireworks scene, and David Bowie’s “Modern Love” in the introduction to the theme park. These are songs that I take for granted at this point in my life, but have to acknowledge that many people have never heard them and really wouldn’t have access to them without movie soundtracks and internet blogs.

I really appreciated the use of music in the film’s car scenes. When James begins working at Adventureland, he instantly gravitates towards Em, in part because she wears Lou Reed and Hüsker Dü shirts. The interest is sealed though, in their first car ride together, her tape deck playing Hüsker Dü’s “Don’t Want To Know If You Are Lonely”. The two share a glance and both reach toward the stereo at the same time. She presumably was going to turn it down, but he gets there first and turns her radio up, showing approval of her music taste, and, because she obviously places such a high premium on the music she likes, this also shows approval and interest in her. The reciprocal of this scene would be the car scene shared by James and Connell, where the awkwardness of talking about a girl the two share in common and a lie Connell repeatedly tells is alleviated by the turning up of the radio, in this case playing “Satellite Of Love” by Lou Reed. These scenes show the power that music in a car can play. We are jammed in this tight space with people, sharing the same moment and same sounds. We can turn up the volume and drift into a shared emotion together. Or, we can merely turn up the volume to shut the other person up.

But the best use of car music comes from James’ “Bummer Songs” mix tape he makes Em, which they listen to on the way back from a bar. The featured song is The Velvet Underground’s “Pale Blue Eyes”, and James stares at Em as she drives and listens to the song. When he asks her “if they can go somewhere,” she obliges, and they share a kiss that is unexpected, passionate, and romantic. The song is equally beautiful and used perfectly.

The rest of the music doesn’t disappoint. When James rides into New York, we get “Unsatisfied” by The Replacements. Big Star plays in Em’s bedroom and The Jesus and Mary Chain when Connell visits. As for Yo La Tengo’s original score, it is a fitting homage to a movie obsessed with Lou Reed, as most of the songs could be mistaken for Reed originals. As the movie plays on and the comedy fades away, so do the tunes. There is a time and place for 80′s nostalgia music, but there is also a time for everything to get quiet and let the emotions of the characters speak for themselves. And though most of the stuff that happens in the movie seems like a bummer at the time, the end credits jam of “Don’t Change” by INXS serves as a reminder that even when you are young and things seem heavy, they will still be remembered fondly because of you were young. This is what nostalgia is. Just don’t market it as fuckin’ Superbad 2.

Martha Plimpton plays Monica, a six-month long single desperately trying to throw a killer New Year’s party. She’s tweaking because she’s afraid no one will show. (A girl named Monica? Single in a New York studio apartment?  Say it ain’t so!) You may remember her face as the tall butch chick from The Goonies who tags along with her hot friend and screams a lot, as opposed to this movie, where she shoots down her Irish-accented ex because he sucks in bed and paints vaginas. How is she still acting? To her credit, she knocked our American women’s fancies for foreign dudes a good one in the twig and berries department.

Besides Plimpton and Courtney Love’s only half-decent foray into “acting”, we have Ben and Casey Affleck playing a yuppie bartender and a punk rocker respectively; Dave Chappelle is the cabbie/narrator; Janeane Garofalo playing yet another cynical and brooding secondary nothing (a fine abuse of talent, I might add); Kate Hudson as a newly non-virgin thanks to douchebag Jay Mohr’s character Jack. Got that? Good, because it’s completely unimportant, like Christina Ricci’s annoyingly nasal New Yorker accent. Yes, Ricci is also present, and it’d be her worst performance had That Darn Cat not been made.

Our job here is the music, because after all, we cannot have a movie set in the ’80s without some good tunes, right? As stated before, another focus is on Elvis Costello, for whom Monica reduces herself to a rather disturbing fan girl. (She licks the crab dip from his glasses the next morning…) He does lend a cameo to the movie and his version of Nick Lowe’s “Peace, Love, and Understanding” toward the film’s soundtrack finale — before which we’re dealt less of a soundtrack and more of an 80′s mix tape. This is notable, because unlike Clerks, where each song had a definite origin or enhanced a particular scene, music in the movie 200 Cigarettes is more of a nuance, much like Ricci is more of a nuisance. (Wordplay is fun, kids.) You could probably sit at home and throw together this album yourself without great effort, but seeing as this soundtrack was released prior to the file-sharing boom, one could harbor the appeal of convenience.

In the grand scheme of things, that very nonchalant manner of creating a soundtrack works to an advantage because it caters to the retro hipsters in us all without even probably realizing it: Roxy Music donates “More Than This”; Dave Chappelle appears stuck in the ’70s so we get a casual nod that direction with Kool & The Gang’s “Ladies Night”; the punks get their due on The Ramones’ “I Don’t Care”; and Harvey Danger makes a rare appearance covering The English Beat’s “Save It For Later” as a promotional single/video for the movie.  Maybe I’m biased, but I prefer Harvey Danger’s version with its more jingle-jangle, whimsy circumnavigation of lyrical wit in lieu of a positive nature and mood. Surrounding all of this is Blondie’s “In The Flesh”, The Cars’ “Just What I Needed”, and Nick Lowe’s “Cruel To Be Kind” to name a few. All in all, there is a fair share of fare for any morning thoroughfare commute or a movie to watch for wayward travelers who can make fun of Sally Davies’ colorful artwork. This includes the vagina orchard in our Irish artist friend’s pad. Overcompensation, I suppose.

Why even write about 200 Cigarettes? For the same reason that, with irritating carelessness, we were given Bow Wow Wow’s “I Want Candy”, Dire Straits’ once-wonderful love tale “Romeo And Juliet” — and of course the fateful ending to 2009 faithfully complements the chaos that ensues during this film’s remarkably suited semi-plot line. There is no need to reiterate why you like the ’80s or why you’re pissed that we chose this and not The Wedding Singer. If we had gone that way, we’d be gushing about how cool Billy Idol and Adam Sandler used to be. If you’re an 80′s nostalgia junkie who likes ensemble comedies, I recommend both; if not, rent Can’t Hardly Wait instead. Oh wait, and if you have seen this movie and do not know why it is called 200 Cigarettes, you did like many others and lost interest in Courtney Love within the first ten minutes.

Unlike its fun and refreshing soundtrack — which is a lot more fun whilst inebriated and gunning to get laid — the film is an acquired taste so proceed with caution. Happy New Year!

The film takes place in Texas during the mid-seventies. School is ending for the summer, and we follow the mini-adventures of a group of students in one evening. Sound like American Graffiti? Sure. There are many similarities between the two. However, Linklater & Co. make the film its own beast, its own entity — and the music shows you the way.

The film begins on the morning of the last class of the school year. However, before a frame of this is seen, we hear the opening of Aerosmith’s “Sweet Emotion”. Characters that we will see throughout are introduced sans dialogue, and during this montage the music is actually the soundtrack of their lives. Linklater wanted to use Led Zeppelin’s “Dazed and Confused” for the opening, as well as other Zeppelin songs, but Plant declined permission. (Hey, I’m all for artistic integrity, but I guess the band only likes cars.) In retrospect, it’s hard to imagine the opening without the Aerosmith tune.

One of the recurring story arcs is the act of soon-to-be-seniors paddling the incoming freshmen. The songs played during some of the chase sequences don’t necessarily match what’s happening on the screen lyrically, but that boils down to “car music”. Usually when a song plays in a movie, only the audience can hear it. However, in Dazed and Confused you get the sense that when Dawson, Benny, and Pink are chasing Mitch they are actually listening to Deep Purple’s “Highway Star” in the car. O’Bannion and company have got to be listening to Black Oak Arkansas’ “Jim Dandy” in their pursuit of Mitch. Other times, driving scenes do correlate to the music.

Edgar Winter Group’s “Free Ride” and War’s “Low Rider” serve their respective montages well, as the assorted jocks and misfits drive the streets of Austin. Of course, during “Low Rider” is when we meet Wooderson, the guy that never really left high school. He is played by Matthew McConaughey, in one of his earliest roles. He is great here, though it’s funny that he has slowly become this character over the past 15 years.

We then meet the ladies of the film, along with their ringleader, Darla, played by Parker Posey. She relishes in torturing the incoming freshmen girls maybe more than she should. If Ben Affleck’s O’Bannion is the asshole of Dazed and Confused, then Darla has to be the bitch. War’s “Why Can’t We Be Friends?” is played as ketchup, flour, mustard, and other condiments that shouldn’t mix are poured upon the girls in the hot Austin sun. In other conflicting ideologies, note that Ted Nugent’s “Stranglehold” is played during a scene where kids are smoking pot in a friend’s room. Nugent and KISS’ Gene Simmons, whose music is also played throughout, are both anti-drug advocates.

Alice Cooper gets represented on the soundtracks, as well. His songs are on-the-nose when it comes to when they are played. “School’s Out” is played when school is out for the summer and “No More Mr. Nice Guy” during O’Bannion’s capturing and subsequent paddling of Mitch. Other artists that appear multiple times include Peter Frampton, Texas’s own ZZ Top, Black Oak Arkansas, and Foghat.

Matthew McConaughey at his finest hour.

There are subtle moments of connections between song and scene. Frampton’s “Do You Feel Like We Do” plays in the background as Pink relates his experience of being paddled by seniors with the newly-initiated Mitch. Dr. John’s “Right Place, Wrong Time” plays as Benny chats with Pink about signing a document that states he will remain sober and responsible during the summer, serving as a killjoy for the party.

Of course, there are also not-so-subtle moments on the soundtrack. Nazareth’s “Love Hurts” plays during an eighth-grade dance, one of the classic “school dance” songs from the era. Seals and Crofts’ “Summer Breeze” serves as background music for two characters making out. Like the aforementioned “car music”, these “make-out tunes” make plenty of sense for the movie they appear in.

There are roughly two billion other songs that appear in the film, as well as some that didn’t appear in the soundtrack (e.g. Bob Dylan’s “Hurricane”). Like Rushmore, however, the scenes that feature no music at all are made that much more potent. After the party at the moon tower (that only lasts about 15 minutes, by the way…could have sworn it was half the movie), a few of the main characters go to the high school football field to finish off their night of drinkin’ and smokin’. No music needed for the following monologues during this sequence, though:

Wooderson’s Monologue

Then Pink just stares off into the night sky. It’s a great moment in one of the decade’s finest films. When the dawn comes, the friends drive straight into the credits as Foghat’s “Slow Ride” plays. It’s a reminder to slow down and enjoy life. Nearly 20 years later, it’s still hard to ignore that mantra, or resist enjoying Dazed and Confused: the movie or its two classic soundtracks.

Dazed and Confused tracklist:
01. “Rock and Roll, Hoochie Koo” – Rick Derringer
02. “Slow Ride” – Foghat
03. “School’s Out” – Alice Cooper
04. “Jim Dandy” – Black Oak Arkansas
05. “Tush” – ZZ Top
06. “Love Hurts” – Nazareth
07. “Stranglehold” – Ted Nugent
08. “Cherry Bomb” – The Runaways
09. “Fox on the Run” – Sweet
10. “Low Rider” – War
11. “Tuesday’s Gone” – Lynyrd Skynyrd
12. “Highway Star” – Deep Purple
13. “Rock and Roll All Nite” – KISS
14. “Paranoid” – Black Sabbath

Even More Dazed and Confused tracklist:

01. “Free Ride” – Edgar Winter Group
02. “No More Mr. Nice Guy” – Alice Cooper
03. “Livin’ in the USA” – The Steve Miller Band
04. “Never Been Any Reason” – Head East
05. “Why Can’t We Be Friends?” – War
06. “Summer Breeze” – Seals and Crofts
07. “Right Place, Wrong Time” – Dr. John
08. “Balinese” – ZZ Top
09. “Lord Have Mercy On My Soul” – Black Oak Arkansas
10. “I Just Want to Make Love to You” – Foghat
11. “Show Me the Way” – Peter Frampton
12. “Do You Feel Like We Do” – Peter Frampton

Both soundtracks available via Amazon.com

]]> Dazed and Confused is simply one of the finest, if not thee finest, film about high school ever made. It launched the career of several actors, as well as its writer/director. Richard Linklater not only painted statues to look like KISS, but painted a picture of high school that many have tried to duplicate, but have never replicated. The movie’s success is attributed to its great cast, quotable dialogue, and, of course, the music. In fact, the soundtrack was so good, they made two: Dazed and Confused and Even More Dazed and Confused. Both outstanding soundtracks, both worth investigating. The film takes place in Texas during the mid-seventies. School is ending for the summer, and we follow the mini-adventures of a group of students in one evening. Sound like American Graffiti? Sure. There are many similarities between the two. However, Linklater & Co. make the film its own beast, its own entity -- and the music shows you the way. The film begins on the morning of the last class of the school year. However, before a frame of this is seen, we hear the opening of Aerosmith’s “Sweet Emotion”. Characters that we will see throughout are introduced sans dialogue, and during this montage the music is actually the soundtrack of their lives. Linklater wanted to use Led Zeppelin’s “Dazed and Confused” for the opening, as well as other Zeppelin songs, but Plant declined permission. (Hey, I’m all for artistic integrity, but I guess the band only likes cars.) In retrospect, it’s hard to imagine the opening without the Aerosmith tune. One of the recurring story arcs is the act of soon-to-be-seniors paddling the incoming freshmen. The songs played during some of the chase sequences don’t necessarily match what’s happening on the screen lyrically, but that boils down to "car music". Usually when a song plays in a movie, only the audience can hear it. However, in Dazed and Confused you get the sense that when Dawson, Benny, and Pink are chasing Mitch they are actually listening to Deep Purple’s “Highway Star” in the car. O’Bannion and company have got to be listening to Black Oak Arkansas’ “Jim Dandy” in their pursuit of Mitch. Other times, driving scenes do correlate to the music. Edgar Winter Group’s “Free Ride” and War’s “Low Rider” serve their respective montages well, as the assorted jocks and misfits drive the streets of Austin. Of course, during “Low Rider” is when we meet Wooderson, the guy that never really left high school. He is played by Matthew McConaughey, in one of his earliest roles. He is great here, though it’s funny that he has slowly become this character over the past 15 years. [youtube E1x125YT3hk] We then meet the ladies of the film, along with their ringleader, Darla, played by Parker Posey. She relishes in torturing the incoming freshmen girls maybe more than she should. If Ben Affleck’s O’Bannion is the asshole of Dazed and Confused, then Darla has to be the bitch. War’s “Why Can’t We Be Friends?” is played as ketchup, flour, mustard, and other condiments that shouldn’t mix are poured upon the girls in the hot Austin sun. In other conflicting ideologies, note that Ted Nugent’s “Stranglehold” is played during a scene where kids are smoking pot in a friend’s room. Nugent and KISS’ Gene Simmons, whose music is also played throughout, are both anti-drug advocates. Alice Cooper gets represented on the soundtracks, as well. His songs are on-the-nose when it comes to when they are played. “School’s Out” is played when school is out for the summer and “No More Mr. Nice Guy” during O’Bannion’s capturing and subsequent paddling of Mitch. Other artists that appear multiple times include Peter Frampton, Texas’s own ZZ Top, Black Oak Arkansas, and Foghat. Matthew McConaughey at his finest hour. There are subtle moments of connections between song and scene. Frampton’s “Do You Feel Like We Do” plays in the background as Pink relates his experience of being paddled by seniors with the newly-initiated Mitch. Dr. John’s “Right Place, Wrong Time” plays as Benny chats with Pink about signing a document that states he will remain sober and responsible during the summer, serving as a killjoy for the party. Of course, there are also not-so-subtle moments on the soundtrack. Nazareth’s “Love Hurts” plays during an eighth-grade dance, one of the classic “school dance” songs from the era. Seals and Crofts’ “Summer Breeze” serves as background music for two characters making out. Like the aforementioned “car music”, these “make-out tunes” make plenty of sense for the movie they appear in. There are roughly two billion other songs that appear in the film, as well as some that didn’t appear in the soundtrack (e.g. Bob Dylan’s “Hurricane”). Like Rushmore, however, the scenes that feature no music at all are made that much more potent. After the party at the moon tower (that only lasts about 15 minutes, by the way…could have sworn it was half the movie), a few of the main characters go to the high school football field to finish off their night of drinkin’ and smokin’. No music needed for the following monologues during this sequence, though: Wooderson’s Monologue [youtube WtiH4RCdYTk] Then Pink just stares off into the night sky. It’s a great moment in one of the decade’s finest films. When the dawn comes, the friends drive straight into the credits as Foghat’s “Slow Ride” plays. It’s a reminder to slow down and enjoy life. Nearly 20 years later, it’s still hard to ignore that mantra, or resist enjoying Dazed and Confused: the movie or its two classic soundtracks. Dazed and Confused tracklist: 01. "Rock and Roll, Hoochie Koo" - Rick Derringer 02. "Slow Ride" - Foghat 03. "School's Out" - Alice Cooper 04. "Jim Dandy" - Black Oak Arkansas 05. "Tush" - ZZ Top 06. "Love Hurts" - Nazareth 07. "Stranglehold" - Ted Nugent 08. "Cherry Bomb" - The Runaways 09. "Fox on the Run" - Sweet 10. "Low Rider" - War 11. "Tuesday's Gone" - Lynyrd Skynyrd 12. "Highway Star" - Deep Purple 13. "Rock and Roll All Nite" - KISS 14. "Paranoid" - Black Sabbath Even More Dazed and Confused tracklist: 01. "Free Ride" - Edgar Winter Group 02. "No More Mr. Nice Guy" - Alice Cooper 03. "Livin' in the USA" - The Steve Miller Band 04. "Never Been Any Reason" - Head East 05. "Why Can't We Be Friends?" - War 06. "Summer Breeze" - Seals and Crofts 07. "Right Place, Wrong Time" - Dr. John 08. "Balinese" - ZZ Top 09. "Lord Have Mercy On My Soul" - Black Oak Arkansas 10. "I Just Want to Make Love to You" - Foghat 11. "Show Me the Way" - Peter Frampton 12. "Do You Feel Like We Do" - Peter Frampton Both soundtracks available via Amazon.com ]]> http://consequenceofsound.net/2010/02/cinema-sounds-dazed-and-confused/feed/ 6 http://consequenceofsound.net/2010/01/cinema-sounds-clueless/ http://consequenceofsound.net/2010/01/cinema-sounds-clueless/#comments Wed, 27 Jan 2010 20:15:15 +0000 Becca James http://consequenceofsound.net/?p=22088 -Cher Horowitz]]> Acting as the predecessor to movies such as Cruel Intentions, which is based on Laclos’ novel Les Liasions dangereuses, and 10 Thing I Hate About You, the adaptation of William Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew, the 1995 comedy, Clueless, which is based on Jane Austen’s novel Emma, champions the spirit of notable literature being adapted into a high school film that just so happens to offer a stunning and dynamic soundtrack, too.

Not only did Clueless take Alicia Silverstone from video vixen to silver screen starlet, it paired 80′s pop with 90′s ska punk and alternative rock. The musical trichotomy paired with a pinch of rap enables the soundtrack to be removed from the “whatever,” “as if” dialogue and remain completely, if not more, relevant than the film.

Opening with one of the numerous, but more popular, covers of Kim Wilde’s 1981 debut single “Kids in America” by The Muffs, Clueless is off to a good start. Assimilating to rock a bit more than the original, The Muffs’ cover sets the stage for a world of privileged California teens. In the style of fantasy film that is so often pushed on impressionable high school age girls longing to be popular, Cher Horowitz (Silverstone) and her friends are truly the “kids of America.” They party, they flirt, and they look good while doing it.

Further fulfilling the fantasy of style conscious American youth is the makeover movie montage. The late Brittany Murphy commands the role of ugly duckling Tai Fraiser making her first major mark in the film industry. The music supplied for the moment is fitting with lyrics (“I don’t care what my teachers say/I’m gonna be a supermodel/And everyone will wanna dress like me, wait and see”) from Jill Sobule’s “Supermodel”. Life imitated art, as Tai was transformed, with Murphy later undergoing her own transformation from a pudgy, brunette into a slender, blonde. Though looking back now, the dry, witty lyrics — more specifically, “I didn’t eat yesterday/I’m not gonna eat today/I’m not gonna eat tomorrow/Cuz I’m gonna be a supermodel” — come off as more depressing than tongue-in-cheek.

Keeping in tune with the youthful vibe, “Alright” by Supergrass, an alternative rock band from Oxford, chimes in. The song has an upbeat and merry sound with lyrics such as, “we are young, we run green/Keep our teeth nice and clean/See our friends, see the sights, feel alright.” The song is classic British pop, with an enthusiastic feeling that mirrors the protagonists’ jovial lifestyle.

Other songs are offered in short snippets, which makes it even more important for one to listen to the actual soundtrack. For example, Coolio’s “Rollin’ With My Homies” and the Beastie Boy’s “Mullet Head” act as mere fillers for the teens’ activities, such as partying, driving about (recklessly), and skateboarding. It’s a shame the songs aren’t used further, as the intensity of “Mullet Head” recalls some of the Boys’ best efforts, while “Rollin’ With My Homies” is typical Coolio. Although, neither of the songs mesh well with the cast of characters, they are enjoyable on their own.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, an acoustic version of Radiohead’s “Fake Plastic Trees” and Counting Crow’s “The Ghost In You” offer a tranquil atmosphere. Again, the songs aren’t completely relating to the snobbery of the Beverly Hills set. However, they speak to Paul Rudd’s portrayal of Josh Lucas, the token college student. As Josh acts as juxtaposition to Cher’s teenybopper world, the two songs act the same, with their emphasis on guitar and soft vocals, whereas the majority of the soundtrack is more upbeat and in your face.

Radiohead secures a second spot on the soundtrack with “My Iron Lung”. The song is strikingly similar to “Creep”, with Thom Yorke’s vocals taking a familiar pattern with a slightly higher octave. Oddly enough, “My Iron Lung” was recorded as Radiohead’s reaction to “Creep”. With lyrics such as, “This is our new song/Just like the last one/A total waste of time/My Iron Lung,” cementing the similarities.

The Mighty Mighty Bosstones make a cameo in the film, while playing a number of songs that span three albums: “Someday I Suppose”, “The Impression That I Get”, and “Where’d You Go?”. However, only one tune makes the cut. “Where’d You Go?” showcases the group’s appeal with simple lyrics and low-key ska. It’s also just fun to bob and dance to, but maybe that’s just the inner Cher acting out.

Peppered with other artists, such as David Lowery, Luscious Jackson, World Party, Lightning Seeds, Smoking Popes, and Velocity Girl, the soundtrack offers a rarely matched variety.

But something surprising happens, the film dusts off an “oldie” and closes with General Public’s 1984 “Tenderness”, which unfortunately doesn’t appear on the actual soundtrack. Shockingly enough though, the song fits right in with the film, leaving the audience to feel positive in a camp-like ‘80s way, which is the same feeling the song delivers on its own.

Overall, the Clueless soundtrack exists to appeal to a broad range of consumers, much like the film catered to a broad range of demographics (even if some hate to admit it). As Cher would say, it’s like Ren and Stimpy: “They’re way existential.”

The album and the film both start with “Diamond”, and you’d be hard-pressed to think of a song that more greatly evokes a scene from a movie. The slick, grooving instrumental is indelibly linked to the equally slick opening credits of Snatch, which would themselves become a major style trope in movie-making, not to mention Richie’s trademark. Fast-paced, cool, and energetic, the song makes me want to simultaneously dance and put in the DVD. That’s the greatest quality of this soundtrack: It’s super-cool on its own, and it makes you want to watch the film again and again.

Another example of this is “Golden Brown”, performed by The Stranglers. It brings you right back to the film, in this case the end of Gorgeous George’s boxing match with Mickey. The quirky, movement-oriented track circles perfectly above the heads of the quarreling crowd in that shot, and the very sound of the music evokes that moment even when heard out of context. This is particularly apparent when the song pops up other places, such as in a french fry commercial in the early 2000′s (and if there are things on TV more disturbing than flashing back to a gangster fight during a french fry commercial, I’d like to hear about them).

Slightly less clearly related, but nonetheless badass, is “Supermoves”, characterized by the grunts of men laid over a tough-kid techno beat. Campy and cool, “Hernando’s Hideaway” comes next, complete with romantic backing and a full chorus of castanets. “Dreadlock Holiday” is another one of the few tracks that doesn’t immediately remind the listener of the related scene, but it’s still wicked cool. “Sensual Woman”, primarily a spoken word track, is also momentarily confusing (not to mention risqué), until you catch a solid hint of the breathy background track, which fits the movie more clearly. Massive Attack’s dark, sensual “Angel” evokes the disturbing scene in which Mickey is held back from trying to save his mother from the flames engulfing her trailer home. This song is so perfectly selected that specific movements of rhythm bring to mind specific physical actions of the characters. Now that’s good sound-tracking, folks.

“Cross the Tracks (We Better Go Back)”, performed by Maceo and the Macks, is the song, the only one, to have played over your entrance if you’re trying to come off like a badass. As such, it’s the perfect song for  backing amateur baddies Vinny and Sol in the film’s tangled plot line. A few moments of song tell us in music what we need to know about these two: They’re trying desperately to look cool, and the over-the-top trumpet and high-pitched effects play that off to perfection. The full song is much cooler, thankfully, than Vinny and Sol themselves, with a suave female vocal laid over the horn parts: “I never cross the track, baby, and I know what it’s like!” the tough-sounding gal spits cleanly over a couple of guys singing back-up.

And what, you may be asking yourself, is the perfect track to play over a symbolic chase scene? In case you were wondering, it’s “Disco Science” by Mirwais, and its quick techno beat plays to lovely effect over a paired shot of dual storylines, with get-away driver Tyrone unsuccessfully running from hitmen in one scene, while in the other, a rabbit outruns a couple of dogs on the betting field, leaving Turkish and Tommy “proper fucked”. The speed and implicit emotion of the track nicely convey the drama of the moment it covers in the film.

“Hot Pants (I’m Coming, Coming, I’m Coming)”, performed by Bobby Byrd, will be instantly recognizable to film fans as the song playing in the background while Bullet Tooth Tony slams a hapless victim’s head in his car door, moments before answering his ringing car phone with a pleasant “Bon jour!” Similarly, Madonna’s “Lucky Star” will forever be associated with screaming topless dancers, as Tony’s nickname is explained via flashback in a strip club. I doubt I am the only person who can’t listen to this song without narrating in my head: “You go down, Tony! I shoot you!” (And for Madonna-haters: Yeah, it could have been any song. Yeah, Ritchie was married to Madonna. The song still fits the scene and its purpose, so who cares?)

Oasis’s contribution, “Fucking in the Bushes”, is another song that is perfectly paced to accompany the scene it overlays in the movie. The hectic pre-match scene at a boxing arena is conjured by the quick rhythm-falls of guitar repeating again and again the background on this track, which is the part featured in the film. On its own, the song is energetic and entertaining: an effective mood-lifter placed late in the setlist.

The Specials’ “Ghost Town” is one of those tracks whereupon hearing it, your friends will always ask, “Isn’t this from Snatch?” The pumping bass layered behind an eerie chorus of women and melodramatic organ effects is also overcut with warm, brassy horns. This gives it the dual effect of being both effortlessly, spookily cool, while also fitting into the soundtrack’s overall mood.

The music is interspersed with a few cuts of dialogue from the film (including Bricktop’s infamous speech beginning, “Do you know what ‘nemesis’ means?”), but they’re thankfully few and far between. The effect is then one of finding a hidden Easter egg, rather than long moments of film interrupting the music. A last musical treat is found in the album’s final track, the addictive “Don’t You Just Know It”, performed by Huey “Piano” Smith and The Clowns. In the film, the song plays over the end credits, with a charming incongruity that elevates the darkly humorous mood the movie ends on. It has the additional benefit of inspiring Pulp Fiction-style dancing, not to mention sticking around in your head for the rest of your natural life.

In terms of slick, screamingly funny, modern gangster movies, Ritchie set the mark with Snatch, and whether it was his original intention or not, he also set a mark with the Snatch soundtrack. Evoking mood, scenes, and killer-cool dialogue, the music on this soundtrack stands out of its own accord, while also truly embodying the spirit of the film itself, which is, after all, a soundtrack’s highest calling. Check this one out, and you’ll soon find yourself exclaiming, a la Tony, “I love this track!”

Snatch: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack tracklist:
01. Brad Pitt – “Kuasehfgaiurgh [Dialogue]”
02. Klint – “Diamond”
03. Overseer – “Supermoves”
04. The Johnston Brothers – “Hernando’s Hideaway”
05. The Stranglers – “Golden Brown”
06. 10cc – “Dreadlock Holiday”
07. John Murphy – “Hava Nagila”
08. Dennis Farina – “Avi Arrives [Dialogue]”
09. Maceo & The Macks – “Cross The Tracks (We Better Go Back)”
10. Mirwais – “Disco Science”
11. Alan Ford – “Nemesis [Dialogue]”
12. Bobby Byrd – “Hot Pants (I’m Coming, Coming, I’m Coming)”
13. Madonna – “Lucky Star”
14. The Specials – “Ghost Town”
15. Klint – “Are You There”
16. The Herbaliser – “Sensual Woman”
17. Massive Attack – “Angel”
18. Oasis – “F**kin’ In The Bushes”
19. Huey “Piano” Smith & The Clowns – “Don’t You Just Know It”
20. Dennis Farina – “Avi’s Declaration [Dialogue]“

Michel Gondry, the director of Eternal Sunshine, has always been very closely involved with music. He started out making music videos for his band Oui Oui, and eventually went on to make music videos for the likes of Björk, Radiohead, Daft Punk, Beck, the Chemical Brothers and the White Stripes. His unique vision and creativity helped make him one of the most acclaimed music video directors out there, and this led him to eventually start directing movies. Eternal Sunshine… was his first major motion picture, collaborating with writer Charlie Kaufman (Being John Malkovich, Adaptation). If you’re not familiar with the story, you should go to your nearest video rental place and watch this movie immediately. For the sake of this article, I’ll assume that if you’ve read this far you’ve seen the movie; it’s far too complicated to sum up in a short sentence or two.

Considering this is a Michel Gondry picture, it’s no wonder that music plays a large role in the film. Both the soundtrack and the film contain original songs by Jon Brion and non-original music by artists such as The Polyphonic Spree, Beck and The Willowz. Most of the songs on the soundtrack revolve around memories or the sun. There’s the Polyphonic Spree’s “Light & Day” and “It’s the Sun”, Beck’s “Everybody’s Gotta Learn Sometime” (“I need your lovin’/Like the sunshine”), and Jon Brion’s sole vocal track “Strings That Tie to You” (“Everything’s a memory/With strings that tie to you”). Beck’s cover of The Korgis‘ “Everybody’s Gotta Learn Sometime” is the highlight of the soundtrack, and integral to the film. It sets the tone in the opening credits (although they’re 15 minutes into the movie) and ends the movie on the same note. It’s a gloomy and beautiful rumination on love lost and longing for the person you need “like the sunshine” that is just downright heartbreaking.

Many of the other songs included in the soundtrack are just in the background of scenes in the film, but they still work great in the context of both the album and the movie. Lata Mangeshkar‘s “Wana Na Tod” is playing when we first see Joel in Clementine’s apartment, and establishes her as an “out there” personality. Don Nelson‘s old jazz songs “Nola’s Bounce” and “Some Kinda Shuffle” play as we see an old woman having her memories erased. The Willowz’ “Something” plays as two characters get high and dance around in their underwear. None of them are integral to the story, but they are all great selections for their individual scenes, and they each give the soundtrack a diverse sound.

The real foundation of the soundtrack and the film is Jon Brion’s original score. It follows all the different moods of the movie perfectly. It can be calm and relaxing at times, like the opening of the movie “Theme”. It can be sad and reflective (“Peer Pressure”). It can be pananoid and anxious (“Showtime”). It can reflect the confusion and nervousness of the film (“A Dream Upon Waking”). It can sound hopeless and dejected (“Down the Drain”). It can also be downright beautiful (“Row”). Keeping up with the up and down emotions and complex style of this movie would be a hard task for any composer, but Jon Brion meets the challenge and really excells. He has done some great soundtrack work, such as I Heart Huckabees and Punch-Drunk Love, but he has never been better than on this soundtrack.

All in all, it’s fitting that my favorite movie would also have one of my favorite soundtracks. I can’t imagine one without the other, and where many soundtracks are just a side thought, this one is absolutely essential to the film. Without it, it would still be a great story with great performances and would overall still be a very good film… but with the soundtrack included alongside everything else that makes the movie special, it really is the best.

“Ladies and gentlemen, put your working class hands together for the hardest working band in the land…The Commitments!” -Jimmy Rabbitte

Opening this cinematic masterpiece, Roy Head & The Traits’ “Treat Her Right” plays over the credits as well as the surrounding shots of inner city Dublin. The film centers around the main character Jimmy Rabbitte, a music lover with no end in sight. Brilliantly played by Irish actor/musician Robert Arkins, Rabbitte’s sheer confidence and shrewd businesslike demeanor play heavily into how the film unfolds. His best friends include guitarist Outspan Foster (played by Glen Hansard, guitarist of The Frames and The Swell Season) as well as bassist Derek “Meatman” Scully (played by guitarist Kenneth McCluskey). Jimmy has returned from a trip across the country and convinces his two friends to leave the band they’re currently in because their singer “doesn’t have any soul.”

“What do you call yourselves?” -Jimmy Rabbitte
“And, And, And.” -Scully
“And, And, fuckin’ And?!” -Rabbitte

After a performance at a friend’s wedding commences, Rabbite and the others discuss different types of music, as well as band names, that aspire to where they come from and what reflects on the working man; soul. Soul music, as described by Rabbitte, is the working man’s music, the gears and grunt of the overall lifestyle…”ridin’, screwin’, fuckin’.” He also explains that the best 60′s bands always were “The somethings…” and that they should follow suit. Soul begins to engross the characters and proves to be the foreshadowing of what the rest of the film aims to do; lift the spirits of the people and give something universal to the North Side Dubliners.

Backtracking a bit during “And, And, And’s” performance at a friend’s wedding, the three characters spot a wildly drunk patron grab the microphone and wail as loud as possible into it. Rabbitte immediately takes a liking to this and eventually meets up with him during his day job at a car wash. He turns out to become the band’s lead singer, Declan “Deco” Cuffe (played brilliantly by 16-year-old Andrew Strong). At first he seems to balk at the idea of performing live. Rabbitte assures him though that his voice is genuine and that he’s “got a great set of lungs.” Initially hesitant at first, he then accepts Rabbitte’s offer to join the yet-unnamed band.

Over the course of the film’s next crucial scenes, we witness Rabbitte’s hilarious auditions take place as he looks for the rest of the members for his band. His father chimes in from time to time and asks him to sing for the band (played by legendary Irish actor Colm Meaney) as well as share his complete love for Elvis Presley. Bagpipe players, acoustic troubadours who sing songs about the KKK and Slash-lookalike heavy metal guitarists dominate the Rabbitte family’s living room. All the while Jimmy feels the daunting pressures and hard work associated with getting a band going, while hilariously asking that “rednecks and South Siders need not apply.”

Eventually, saxophonist Dean Fay (played by Irish sax player Félim Gormley), drummer Billy Mooney (played by Dick Massey) and pianist Steven Clifford (played by Michael Aherne) join the ranks of the fledgling group. After a night of all out drinking (complete with heavy handed criticisms of art-school music), the men welcome the group’s ladies to the forefront, backup singers Imelda Quirke (played by Angeline Ball), Natalie Murphy (played by Hothouse Flowers singer/member Maria Doyle Kennedy) and Bernie McGloughlin (played by Bronagh Gallagher). It is here while on the train ride home, Rabbitte describes in full detail the possibilities of becoming a soul band. With the entire band singing along to The Marvelettes’ “Destination: Anywhere”, it looks for the first time the entire band is united in their personal cause to bring soul to the sufferers of Dublin’s hard working lifestyle.

While preparing the band for their foray into soul, Deco, Dean and the others witness a performance on television of James Brown back in the 60′s. Seemingly confused at first, Dean asks Rabbitte, “Do you think we’re a little white for this sort of thing?” Rabbitte responds with the most important message of the movie:

“Do you not get it, lads? The Irish are the blacks of Europe. And Dubliners are the blacks of Ireland. And the Northside Dubliners are the blacks of Dublin. So say it once, say it loud: I’m black and I’m proud.” ~ Rabbitte

Eventually after a humorous meeting with the group’s charismatic trumpet player and veteran musician, Joey “The Lips” Fagan (played by Irish stage actor Johnny Murphy), Rabbitte and the rest of the band come up with the band name, The Commitments. Soon afterward, the band finds a practice space and begins belting out the soul number, Wilson Pickett’s “Mustang Sally.” The rehearsals become rough and ragged, but Rabbitte’s confidence and Fagan’s leadership ultimately consume the band and they become a tightly-knit band.

During the band’s first gig at an anti-heroin campaign, the band show signs of nervousness and stage fright. However, they are able to win the crowd over with scorching versions of Otis Redding’s “Mr. Pitiful” and Mary Wells’ “Bye Bye Baby,” (Maria Doyle Kennedy absolutely kills it here.) It is also here however that Deco starts to show signs of severe egotism, going as far as to ask, “How d’yee like me band?” With that said, bassist Scully then is electrocuted onstage and ends the band’s first set prematurely.

For the next few scenes, The Commitments are shown rehearsing and showing the band’s progress from scrappy Irish kids to becoming an aspiring soul band. However, the cracks begin to show themselves within the band and become more and more prominent as the film continues. At the band’s next gig, Deco and drummer Billy Mooney get into an onstage argument which foreshadows much more damage to follow. Afterward, the band launches into an weeping version of James Carr’s version of “The Dark End Of The Street,” complete with epic Deco face changing grunts and moans. The crowds begin to pay more and more attention to the new “saviors of soul” and begin attracting larger crowds hungry for the music that defines them.

While the band’s popularity begins to rise, drummer Billy Mooney abruptly quits the band due to his intense dislike for Deco. Rabbitte is furious with Mooney’s decision but nonetheless lets him go. Facing a daunting task to venture forward, Rabbitte decides to break the band’s tough-as-nails roadie, Mickah “Don’t Fuck With Me” Wallace (played by Dave Finnegan) as their new drummer and the results are downright hilarious. After a few sessions with Wallace on the kit, The Commitments tear it up again at their next gig with dazzling performances of Otis Redding’s “Hard To Handle” (available on the Vol. 2 soundtrack) and Aretha Franklin’s “Chain Of Fools.” During the band’s gig, Rabbitte is roused up by some loan sharks who demand money from him in return for borrowing PA equipment for the band. While the loan sharks threaten to steal all the band’s fortunes, Wallace jumps offstage from his kit and pummels all three of the sharks while giving the money back to Rabbitte. Easily the best scene in the movie and proves to be the climax for this hard-working band.

Sadly all good things do come to an end and by the time Wallace’s heroics come into the fold, the band resemble nothing more than a pile of splinters. Dean explores jazz music (much to Rabbitte’s dismay), all three backup singers begin fighting over sleeping with Joey “The Lips” and Deco is offered an opportunity to sing with another band. With word that Wilson Pickett will join the band onstage at their last gig, The Commitments band together for one last outing with awesome performances of Otis Redding’s “Try A Little Tenderness,” Aretha Franklin’s “I Never Loved A Man (The Way I Love You)” and their closing number of Wilson Pickett’s “In The Midnight Hour.” While the group put on their finest hour of musicianship, as well as receive an offer to record through Eejit Records, the band break up amidst a sea of arguments, brawls and jealous egotism…all with Rabbitte watching in disgust saying “fuck the lotties, fuck ‘em.”

The film ends with a personal dialogue between Jimmy Rabbitte and Joey “The Lips” discussing the failing of the band as well as Rabbitte’s accusations of Fagen being a liar:

“Look, I know you’re hurtin’ now, but in time you’ll realize what you’ve achieved.” -Fagen
“I’ve achieved nothing!” -Rabbitte
“You’re missin’ the point. The success of the band was irrelevant — you raised their expectations of life, you lifted their horizons. Sure we could have been famous and made albums and stuff, but that would have been predictable. This way it’s poetry.” -Fagen

In the final scene, a montage shows the aftermath of the band’s members venturing into other musical territories as well as with a mock interview of Rabbitte with Rolling Stone over the bookend of Roy Head & The Traits’ “Treat Her Right” during the closing of the credits. With the journey of arguably one of the finest musical films ever made, Alan Parker’s The Commitments is a musical joyride through the beauty and the breakdown of Dublin life. Soul is used as an escape; a getaway for those afflicted with the crippling of the endless working class days. What Rabbitte fails to see at the time of the band’s demise comes to fruition throughout the film. With the film’s soundtrack in check, not just the North Side Dubliners earn a piece of soul, but the gift is shared by everyone who desires a getaway and a simpler, honest approach to the world. If only Rabbitte could see his work now, The Commitments over time seem more and more relevant with each passing year. Simply put, Roddy Doyle is a genius and The Commitments never gets old.

Helmed by video auteur Michel Gondry, Block Party was released shortly after Chappelle’s much publicized decision to abandon his $50 million Comedy Central contract for Chappelle’s Show. This timing meant that the film was one of the few glimpses Chappelle’s public would get of his quirky comedy at that time.

Most of the film’s fun derives from watching Chappelle organize the concert. He knocks on doors in the Brooklyn neighborhood where the concert will be held. He travels to Dayton to recruit the middle-aged white ladies who work at the corner store he frequents. He surprises the marching band at Central State University with a bus ride to the show (the band later accompanies West on a blistering version of “Jesus Walks”.)

But as fun as it is to watch Chappelle bring the show together, the actual performances sometimes get lost in the mix. That’s where this soundtrack comes in. It recalls the spirit of the film, while allowing listeners to experience the full breadth of the performances. Listening to the film’s accompanying live versions brings to mind scenes from the film, like Scott singing along backstage while Def and Kweli perform on stage.

The album opens with a hilarious concert planning conference call between some of the proposed participants. A hip-hop geek can thrill to hear Scott, Kweli, et al. greet one another on the phone like old high school chums. Dead Prez’ “Hip Hop” gets things going smartly before Def and Kweli launch into “Definition” from their critically acclaimed Black Star album. Separately, Def works his quicksilver flow on “Umi Says”, while Kweli’s stinging version of “The Blast” is enhanced even more by the presence of Badu.

Later, Scott brings it on a stirring performance of her single “Golden”. Common, Badu and Bilal reunite briefly for “The Light”. And not surprisingly, The Roots hold it all down with the kinetic “Boom”, featuring Big Daddy Kane & Kool G Rap.

Perhaps the best performance is The Roots’ rendition of their Grammy-winning hit “You Got Me.” Both Scott and Badu sing the hook that Scott wrote and Badu made famous.

Given the significance of The Fugees’ reunion in the film, the omission of their performance is jarring, as is the absence of West’s “Jesus Walks”. But even with these omissions, this soundtrack is still a stellar snapshot of a terrific film and one heck of a time capsule for hip-hop fans.

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Easy Rider is one of the best representations of the end of the ’60s as a cultural movement. The film follows two bikers nicknamed Captain America (Peter Fonda) and Billy (Dennis Hopper) as they ride across the nation hoping to make it to New Orleans in time for Mardi Gras. On the way, they run into a hippie commune trying to survive outside of society, a square ACLU lawyer, and two prostitutes with whom they experience a bad acid trip. The surprising end of the movie unintentionally sums up the way that 1969 has gone. It starts hopeful but ends in spiritual failure.

The soundtrack to Easy Rider by itself does a wonderful job in conveying this idea. It kicks off with Steppenwolf’s “The Pusher”, one of most blatant songs about drugs from the ’60s. Within the first minute,  John Kay’s declared that “the pusher don’t care/if you live or if you die.” “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds”, this isn’t. Rather than sticking with the whole idea of free drug use, the song works to distinguish between drugs like marijuana and hard drugs like heroin. In the movie, the song’s accompanied by Captain America stuffing the cash he got from a drug deal into his fuel tank, adding a visual layer to the track’s meaning.

While “The Pusher” tells a more cautious lesson, “Born To Be Wild” pushes in the opposite direction. The second Steppenwolf song on this record is all about going on a great adventure. What better images to support it, than shots of the two riders starting their adventure across the country. With Doors-style keyboards and one of the heavier guitar riffs to come out of the decade, “Born To Be Wild” shuns the responsibility of the soundtrack opener for the chance to “explode into space.”

Next up, “The Weight” by The Band plays over scenes of the two riders moving through the desert with a passenger they picked up. As the sun sets over the rocky territory, the track creates a feeling of community. It works for the hippie ideal of everyone living together in peace and sharing what they can. The next number, “Wasn’t Born To Follow”, by The Byrds, exemplifies one of the problems with this idea. Everyone has their own personal goals for what they want their life to be like. Living in a community that shares everything would leave nothing for the individual. In the song, the narrator wants to go everywhere from “the valley beneath the sacred mountain” to “beneath the white cascading waters” where he wants to die. Jimi Hendrix’s “If 6 was 9″ also shows this problem as Hendrix states that he’s got his “own world to live through.”

“If You Want to Be a Bird (Bird Song)” by The Holy Modal Rounders is a juxtaposition in its musical delivery. Where the lyrics are fairly uplifting (“Why be shackled to your feet/When you’ve got wings/You haven’t used yet/Don’t wait for heaven/Get out and fly”), the music sounds like a demented circus soundtrack. It’s psychedelic but in a bad acid trip way. The piano sounds out of key and the vocals sound like they’re drunkenly yelled from the bottom of a well. During the movie, George Hanson (Jack Nicholson) has joined the two riders as they continue moving across the country. The track fits here because where Hanson would like to have the freedom the two riders have, he can’t break out of his shell enough to really do so. He also experiences the problem of true freedom firsthand when he’s violently killed by a group of Louisiana men who are angered by the trio’s looks and behavior.

Though many of the tracks so far have had some sense of ’60s hope for the future, Bob Dylan’s “It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)” contains none. A cynical tale of the world’s problem follows over the next five minutes of the track. By now, the winter of 1969 has set in and the cultural changes of the decade have stalled. The death of Hanson and their bad trip in New Orleans cause Wyatt to say, “You know Billy, we blew it.” The journey was a failure, as they didn’t find the spiritual release they were looking for. The song is made even more tragic as their journey ends violently when the duo is gunned down on the road.

As a whole, Easy Rider highlights both the ups and downs of the final year of the ’60s. However, the focus is clearly on the downs. While great cultural strides had been made, the hippie movement couldn’t live up to its own ideals. Even though the movie wasn’t made with the specific problems of 1969 in mind, it really caught on to the subtle shift as the world moved into the next decade. The soundtrack that supports it only makes the changes all the more powerful.

Easy Rider Soundtrack
01. The Pusher – Steppenwolf
02. Born To Be Wild – Steppenwolf
03. I Wasn’t Born To Follow – The Byrds
04. The Weight – The Band
05. If You Want To Be A Bird – The Holy Modal Rounders
06. Dont’ Bogart Me – Fraternity of Man
07. If Six Was Nine – The Jimi Hendrix Experience
08. Kyrie Eleison Mardi Gras – The Electric Prunes
09. It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding) – Roger McGuinn
10. Ballad Of Easy Rider – Roger McGuinn

The film’s score is the most sincere in the first half. Despite all of the sleaze, Anderson shows us that the adult film industry truly did thrive in the ’70s, poised to be considered an art form by some, and he does this by using joyful tracks of the era to express… well, joy, something that is virtually absent from the latter half of the film. After a mournful pipe organ circus intro “The Big Top (Theme From Boogie Nights)” from the criminally underrated baroque pop mastermind Michael Penn over a black screen (a foreshadowing of things to come), the film assaults us with an opening shot of a neon pink movie theatre (cheekily displaying the title of the film) set to The Emotions’ “Best Of My Love”. How could that wall of horns and plucky disco guitar not make you feel good? In one swooping long shot (another nod to Scorsese), Anderson takes us across the street through Maurice “T.T.” Rodriguez’s (Luis Guzman) nightclub, introducing us to his desperately colorful cast of characters before the storm hits, including the surrogate erotica nuclear family of filmmaker Jack Horner (Burt Reynolds), and starlets Amber Waves and Roller Girl (Julianne Moore and Heather Graham).

Here we see the audiovisual dynamic at its most straightforward.  When the characters are happy, the songs are happy (think disco jewels like The Commodores’ “Machine Gun”, and K.C. And The Sunshine Band’s “Boogie Shoes”), cycling us through montages of the aforementioned characters enjoying drugs, sex, and indulgent consumerism.  At the film’s center is well endowed busboy Eddie Adams turned porn megastar Dirk Diggler (Mark Wahlberg), as we follow his ascent to fame.

On the flip side, when the characters are down, the songs are down — nothing’s more depressing than watching hangdog Assistant Stag Film Director Little Bill (William H. Macy at his loneliest) come home to see his porn star wife unabashedly banging a young stud.  And nothing accentuates this depression like Chico Hamilton’s haunting cello piece, “The Sage”.

The first dose of major audiovisual juxtaposition arrives at the film’s turning point, an ill fated New Year’s Eve party that takes us from 1979 to 1980, an era that saw erotic pictures plummet in their merit and their production value. Little Bill catches his wife screwing some other guy in the closet, calmly walks to his car, grabs a snub nosed revolver, shoots the cheating pair, and nonchalantly turns the barrel on himself, all to the rhythm of Charles Wright’s cool stomping blues improvisation “Do Your Thing”, and of course the countdown of the New Year’s ball. It’s chilling to see such a jazzy, charisma oozing tune be the score for an atrocious, yet sympathetic act of violence. A more subtle but just as sinister undertone takes place in the same scene where we see slimy producer Floyd Gondolli (Phillip Baker Hall) usher in the shift from film to video (a universally lamented change in the adult film industry) to the ghostly yearning of Sniff ‘n’ The Tears’ “Driver’s Seat”.

From then on, the movie revels in musical irony, providing the fluffiest of AM fluff with an unsettling menace by combining it with a scene of florescent violence. This most notably occurs in the climatic botched drug robbery at the house of coke mogul Rahad Jackson (Alfred Molina). At this point, we’ve seen the film’s two most lovable characters, Dirk and his best friend Reed Rothchild (John C. Reilly in his most hysterical role to date — listen to soundtrack opener “Feel The Heat” for proof) plunge into an inevitable cycle of drugs and debt, becoming estranged from their former careers. They’ve tagged along with their stripper pal Todd Parker (Thomas Jane) to supposedly rip off Rahad with some bogus coke, but things turn for the worst when Todd pulls a gun on the crazed dealer instead.

The scene is a lesson in tension, worthy of any Quentin Tarantino film. Building up the sweaty suspense is Rahad’s “Awesome Mixtape”, which transforms one hit wonders from the ’80s (Night Ranger’s “Sister Christian”, Rick Springfield’s “Jessie’s Girl”) into symphonies on glamorous, impending doom in the valley, combined with the whiplash crack of firecrackers being set off in the background by Rahad’s Chinese boy toy Cosmo (Joe G.M. Chan). The radio-friendly pop mixed with the pyrotechnics and Molina’s crazed, sweat veiled performance of Rahad (he plays a little Russian Roulette on himself just to get things cooking) makes for one of the most squeamish scenes in Anderson’s ever expanding repertoire. By the time Parker’s gun is drawn and Nina’s “99 Luft Balloons” kicks in just in time for Rahad to burst out of his bedroom blazing glory with a sawed off, viewers will reconsider listening to another ’80s station for quite some time. Let’s just say things get messy.

When Diggler (who barely makes it out alive) is finally reunited with his “family” at the end of the film, Anderson kicks things into bittersweet mode, showing us all of the still living characters’ happy (and not so happy) endings to the tune of The Beach Boys’ “God Only Knows”. Like the song, the montage shows us that while it’s not always ideal, life does indeed go on, even for veterans of the adult film industry. It’s also the only time you’ll see ever see Carl Wilson’s crystalline pipes played over a convicted pedophile getting slapped around by a large black man in prison (this is the fate of The Colonel James — played by the late, great Bob Ridgely in what has to be the most brilliant final onscreen appearance ever).

The film is bookended by Penn’s circus suite once more, before letting the credits roll over ELO’s “Living Thing”, but only after we’ve gotten a nice glimpse of Diggler’s “gift” in the mirror. This final 13 inch image keeps the song from being as life-affirming as it normally is (and that’s a good thing considering the film’s intent), once again changing the way we listen to some of the shiniest music ever recorded.

You can find pretty much everything on both volumes of the soundtrack with the exception of “The Sage”, “99 Luft Balloons”, and a couple of other background gems from earlier in the film (Andrew Gold’s “Lonely Boy” is sorely missed), but you can always take a lesson from Rahad Jackson and add these missing tunes to your playlist for your own “Awesome Mixtape”.

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Boogie Nights

On October 16th, that place appears once more in the mind’s eye of our generation. Spike Jonze, the cinematic genius that directed and produced countless music videos and others for giants like the Beastie Boys, Pavement, and Bjork, now brings us the live action adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s Where The Wild Things Are. Wielding a star studded cast and throngs of expectant spectators, this movie couldn’t be more complete if it had a solid soundtrack. And, what do you know? It just so does.

Yeah Yeah Yeahs unyielding frontwoman Karen O takes the score on her ex’s newest silver screen adventure, delivering a compilation of delicate and raucous sounds that enrapture the imagination and jump start the heart. The vision for this album, which turns out to be a story more than a collection of songs to go with the movie, was innocence. Over about two years of collaboration with the likes of Deerhunter’s Bradford Cox, Raconteurs like Dean Fertita and Jack Lawrence, and Nick Zinner and Brian Chase of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Karen O & The Kids managed to capture the child-like innocence and untamed emotion that characterizes Sendak’s classic story.

Oh, Karen O. With a voice that sweet, what are you doing playing rock star? It’s time you went back to the choir of mermaids that expelled you. Or maybe it was a pack of wolves herding you into an “Igloo”. The first track off the Wild Things soundtrack introduces Max’s extraordinary imagination land via O’s sugary hum, accompanied by some soft strums and twinkling childhood sounds. However, versatility is definitely Karen O’s bag, and this album’s no exception. On “All Is Love”, the flowery single released this August, O’s vocals could be mistaken for Max’s dialogue. It features O’s charmingly shrill shouts, whistles, and whoo’s that meet with an untrained children’s chorus to form the magnificently innocent and playful sound that characterizes the story itself.

O commented on the band’s MySpace that she

“didn’t want to make music that was hammering you over the head or go for some kind of pushbutton emotion. What [she] initially wanted to do was close to Cat Stevens in Harold & Maude, really simple, but memorably and seamlessly woven into the movie.”

And woven into the movie it was.

“Rumpus” is a savage musicalization of main character Max’s (played Max by Records) rise to royalty among the wild things, and it so seamlessly blends the soundtrack quality with audio clips from the actual motion picture. It’s the motion picture soundtrack — to the max. It’s remarkable how, in tracks like this one and the rampant “Animal” and “Heads Up”, O sounds so much like one of the kids herself.

There is full sensitivity and ample range of feelings spread across Wild Things. Just like in any good story, there are changes in mood and tone. The transitions go from “Capsize”, the Death Proof Soundtrack’s April March sound-alike to the lament “Worried Shoes”. The latter features lyrics as such: “I made a mistake that I never forgot/Tying knots in the laces of my worried shoes,” pretty deep lyrics considering it’s a children’s story. Then again, it is a children’s book that touches on the consequences of misbehaving and the lengths to which punishment can take someone, so it’s extremely relevant, just so beautifully expressed.

After “Rumpus Reprise” comes the solitary “Hideaway”, where O’s chords thicken (a la Feist‘s Let It Die) and moan along a soft percussive background in a lonely, somewhat Asian feel. From sadness to hope, fear to celebration, nostalgia to desperation, The Kids have got it all.

For a movie that has not yet premiered, the soundtrack is the initial window to its magic. This work of patience, perseverance, and empathy is a breathtaking adaptation. It’s more than a group of songs that sounds nice along the scenes. It’s a robust, yet sensitive aural narrative of the story that for years was but visual.

Check Out:

Iggy Pop – “Lust for Life”

Trainspotting’s companion soundtracks, Trainspotting: Music from the Motion Picture and Trainspotting #2: Music from the Motion Picture, Vol. #2, represent a film that contains both great and essential music to complete the movie going experience. Too often in movies we get treated to songs playing over scenes because they hit number three on the Billboard charts that year. With the Trainspotting soundtracks, each song is carefully chosen by director Danny Boyle to enhance the action on the screen. In Boyle’s film, the music serves the film and not the other way around.

After the punk highs of “Lust for Life”, we are treated to the classical music of Georges Bizet’s “Carmen Suite No. 2” and an instructional montage of how to quit drugs. This contrasts nicely with the opening song, acting as a comedown from “Lust”’s high. Renton tries to stay down completely during this sequence, but the classical music does not befit his nature. Before we know it, Renton has entered “The Worst Toilet in Scotland”.

Thanks to Brian Eno’s instrumental, “Deep Blue Day”, we finally have our anthem for when we magically dive into filthy toilets to retrieve our drug suppositories. Once Renton dives in, the color changes to that of a deep blue, and quite beautiful. The tranquil music represents what clicks in Renton’s mind when he has his drug, no matter what disgusting methods it takes to get them. He is ready to go sober, so of course he goes to the number one place where no drugs would ever be found: a nightclub.

Two songs are played during the club sequence. The first is “Temptation” by Heaven 17, setting the mood for the evening. While his friends have partners ready and willing, Renton is looking for a tempting woman to bed down with for the night. As Sleeper’s cover of Blondie’s “Atomic” begins, Renton finds his girl. The song’s repeated lines of “Make me tonight” complete the picture, as Renton and his other friends are shown in various stages of sex.

The next morning, Boyle’s choice of New Order’s “Temptation” is interesting. It’s a completely different song from Heaven 17’s “Temptation”, but plays in the background as Renton finds out Diane is underage. In this scene, there is a different song of the same title for a different view of the same girl. Choosing this new wave song to play while Diane’s middle-aged parents eat breakfast in silence is bizarre. It makes an uncomfortable situation that much stranger, as things stop making sense for Renton.

The music of Iggy Pop returns as “Nightclubbing” appears, though there is not a nightclub to be seen throughout its appearance in the film. During this montage, the boys are back on heroin, their lives a jumbled mess:

Nightclubbing we’re nightclubbing
We’re walking through town
Nightclubbing we’re nightclubbing
We walk like a ghost

With the random lyrics and its repeated drum machine beat, “Nightclubbing” best suits the rinse-and-repeat troubles the characters of the film are constantly getting into. At long last, their mischief catches up to them.

There is no music playing as the group discovers the dead baby of a fellow junkie. After this incident, the boys continue to steal money for drugs, and eventually Renton and Spud are arrested. Blur’s “Sing” appears, its lyrics foreshadowing the eerie withdrawal nightmare to come:

If the child in your head
If the child is dead
Sing to me
Sing to me

Renton avoids jail, but quickly relapses and overdoses. As a song, Lou Reed’s “Perfect Day” is the exact opposite way to describe the situation, as Renton is unceremoniously dumped into a taxi cab by their drug dealer, to live or die on his own. Its final words transition perfectly into Renton’s cold turkey experience: “You’re going to reap just what you sow.”

Trainspotting’s extended dream sequence is a classic. Renton is confined to his room, unable to move from his bed, as the sins of his past catch up to him. He has nowhere to run as the soundtrack to his nightmare plays on, Underworld’s “Dark and Long (Dark Train)”. The pulsating beats batter Renton down as the dead baby crawls along the wall towards him, his parents fear he has AIDS, Begbie puts him down, and his friend Tommy, once clean, appears to him as a disease-raddled junkie.

Underworld – “Dark and Long (Dark Train)”

All of this seems to convince Renton to straighten his act, leave town, and “Think About the Way”, as the Frisco Vs. Ice MC song suggests. You know you’re dealing with a dark film when its conscience is through the suggestions of a promiscuous, under aged school girl in Diane.

But Renton can’t escape for too long. Begbie becomes an unwanted roommate, with Sick Boy moving in shortly thereafter. Pulp’s “Mile End” best describes the new roommates’ predicament, with cries of, “We didn’t have nowhere to live/We didn’t have nowhere to go.” Renton soon finds himself back home, and discovers Tommy has died.

Two songs dominate the funeral proceedings. “Hertzlich Tut Mich Verlangan”, which translates to “My Heart is Filled With Longing”, is played during the service, and Spud sings “Two Little Boys” at a pub afterwards to bring the translation home:

Did you think I would leave you crying
When there’s room on my horse for two
Climb up here [Tommy] and don’t be crying
I can go just as fast with two
When we grow up we’ll both be soldiers
And our horses will not be toys
And I wonder if we’ll remember
When we were two little boys

Tommy was the last to succumb to the temptations of heroin, yet the first to fall. Again, despite the tragedy, Renton falls once more to the drug. He says, of course, it’s to try out a drug before a drug deal, and Leftfield’s “A Final Hit” plays to support this claim. After the drug deal, Sleeper’s “Statuesque” appears to represent how the four surviving friends feel after the success of said deal.

The morning after the exchange, Renton betrays his friends and leaves with thousands of pounds. Underworld’s “Born Slippy” appears, the title representing who Renton is and always will be, the beat serving as the music in his head for his “triumphant” march down the sidewalk. He claims he will change, be just like you and me, but has anything we’ve seen in the film indicate he is telling the truth? I never read Porno.

Underworld – “Born Slippy .NUXX”

In addition to its music being placed at perfect points in a classic film, the soundtracks to Trainspotting also gave an opportunity for younger audiences to become familiar with many different bands. This was an age before iTunes and before the widespread use of the internet. Trainspotting gave us Iggy Pop, New Order, Blur, Lou Reed, Underworld, and other bands not found in heavy rotation on FM radio or MTV at the time.

Some of us were happily content with the soundtracks, while others wanted to hear more from these artists. It is with those results that both Trainspotting and Trainspotting #2 succeed. So choose life, choose a job, choose a career, choose Trainspotting.*

* The soundtracks. Not the act of, you know, spotting trains and what not.

Trainspotting: Music from the Motion Picture Tracklist:
01. “Lust for Life” – Iggy Pop
02. “Deep Blue Day” – Brian Eno
03. “Trainspotting” – Primal Scream
04. “Atomic” – Sleeper
05. “Temptation” – New Order
06. “Nightclubbing” – Iggy Pop
07. “Sing” – Blur
08. “Perfect Day” – Lou Reed
09. “Mile End” – Pulp
10. “For What You Dream Of” (Full-on Renaissance Mix) – Bedrock featuring KYO
11. “2:1″ – Elastica
12. “A Final Hit” – Leftfield
13. “Born Slippy .NUXX” – Underworld
14. “Closet Romantic” – Damon Albarn

Trainspotting #2: Music from the Motion Picture, Vol. #2 Tracklist:
01. “Choose Life” – PF Project
02. “The Passenger” – Iggy Pop
03. “Dark & Long (Dark Train)” – Underworld
04. “Carmen Suite No.2″ – Georges Bizet
05. “Statuesque” – Sleeper
06. “Golden Years” – David Bowie
07. “Think about the Way” – Ice MC
08. “A Final Hit” – Leftfield
09. “Temptation” – Heaven 17
10. “Nightclubbing (Baby Doc Remix)” – Iggy Pop
11. “Our Lips Are Sealed” – Fun Boy Three
12. “Come Together” – Primal Scream
13. “Atmosphere” – Joy Division
14. “Inner City Life” – Goldie
15. “Born Slippy .NUXX” (Darren Price Mix) – Underworld

Shot entirely in stunning, surveillance-aping monochrome, utilizing a stockpile of complete unknowns, director Kevin Smith and producer Scott Mosier broke credit card limits and filmed at Smith’s place of work — Quick Stop/RST Video @ Leonardo, NJ — to create this time capsule. Before the underrated break-up opus Mallrats, the star-studded religious satire of Dogma, or the household names of Jay & Silent Bob, many purists still hearken back to “lucky number 37″ Dante Hicks and his foul-mouthed counterpart, Randal Graves of RST Video.

While the film is loaded with clever retorts and obscene commentary on pop culture, most people seem to neglect Clerks as a musical entity. Chock full of staple acts like Alice In Chains, The Jesus Lizard, and Corrosion Of Conformity, tucking plenty of film quotes in between, it’s a known fact that Smith and Mosier spent $28,000 on acquiring the rights to use the music they picked (the film alone only cost them $27,575). After all was said and done, a music video got produced in tandem for Soul Asylum’s “Can’t Even Tell”; filmed on location at Quick Stop, wrapped around a roof hockey reference, good times are to be had by all.

The Clerks OST sums up everything about ’90s young adult derision and its impact on society, complementing attitude with amplitude and allowing room for both witty quotations and suitable background audio. There are obvious moments where a song makes the scene, such as the quintessential opening credits featuring “Clerks” by New Jersey alt-rock outfit Love Among Freaks. The movie became a vehicle for the band, in part, as they also performed the soundtrack inclusion “Berserker”, and reappeared on the non-existent soundtrack to Chasing Amy. Unfortunately, Love Among Freaks only released one full studio album before dissipating into nostalgic bliss.

Other pivotal moments include: the introduction of Jay & Silent Bob receiving the Girls Against Boys treatment, “Kill The Sex Player” — a stoner rock tune (how appropriate) with plenty of fuzz and bass along for the ride; Jay attempting a break dance routine to the sound of Stabbing Westward’s “Violent Mood Swings [Thread Mix]“; the entrance of Randal Graves is accented by Alice In Chains’ bluesy “Got Me Wrong”, gelling his ultimate slacker persona for decades to come.

The Jesus Lizard’s “Panic In Cicero” is played during the fight scene between our lead ‘actors’, after Dante finally grows balls and strikes back (yes, we quote Star Wars too) against Randal’s hilarious but chaos-inducing behavior. This song could not be more appropriate for the biggest action scene in the film. Between covering classic rock tunes (Seaweed’s “Go Your Own Way”, Golden Smog’s “Shooting Star”), and twenty-somethings’ disdain for monotony they cannot seem to give up, what you get is a soundtrack to rival archetypal examples like Empire Records, Singles, and Reality Bites. To quote Randal Graves, “People say crazy shit during sex…one time I called this girl ‘Mom’”.  It probably has nothing at all to do with concluding this article, but if you were finally given an excuse to use it, would you not?

I worked at a convenience store for three years, set off fireworks in the parking lot on July 4th while blasting Bad Religion out of my van’s factory speakers, so needless to say this soundtrack and film bring back memories. Draw your own conclusions, then go listen up, have a ‘free’ Gatorade, and remind yourself why harassing the customers is fun, no matter what you do for a living in your twenties. Even Nick Hornby and Cameron Crowe would approve.

Clerks Original Motion Picture Soundtrack playlist:

01. Dante’s Lament
02. “Clerks” – Love Among Freaks
03. “Kill the Sex Player” – Girls Against Boys
04. No Time For Love, Dr. Jones
05. “Got Me Wrong” – Alice In Chains
06. Randal & Dante on Sex
07. “Making Me Sick” – Bash & Pop
08. Bunch of Muppets, A
09. “Chewbacca” – Supernova
10. “Panic in Cicero” – The Jesus Lizard
11. “Shooting Star” – Golden Smog
12. “Leaders and Followers” – Bad Religion
13. I Like to Expand My Horizons
14. “Violent Mood Swings” – Stabbing Westward (Thread mix)
15. “Berserker” – Love Among Freaks
16. “Big Problems” – Corrosion of Conformity
17. “Go Your Own Way” – Seaweed
18. Social Event of the Season
19. “Can’t Even Tell” – Soul Asylum
20. Jay’s Chant

It happened before the train wrecks Stuck on You, Jersey Girl, and Bennifer. Elliott Smith was alive and making tremendously gorgeous music. The year was 1998, and Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, two newbies to Hollywood via Boston, held the red carpet and an entire post-modern generation captive with the quasi-autobiographical screenplay Good Will Hunting.

It’s not your fault.

Unless, of course, you happened to be a voting member of the 1997 Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences who bestowed the Oscar for Best Original Song to overly fizzy, Canadian pop songstress Celine Dion for “My Heart Will Go On”. On and on and on did that song go until Titanic finally sunk into its procrustean bed of SNL mockery. Those who were a part of the Academy that year passed over Elliott Smith’s original song “Miss Misery”, the linchpin of the Good Will Hunting soundtrack, and must harbor the guilt. To use the fuming, angry words of Damon’s character, Will Hunting, I bet every time that blasted Titanic song comes on they wish they had a take-back.

To everyone else, it’s not your fault.

After all, it’s easy to wax cynical about what grabs society by the neck, cuts off oxygen to the brain, and sends people into stupor-induced frenzies of idolatry. We are a fickle people who are quick to anoint something as the next big thing only to find ourselves mocking it shortly after (see also: Pogs, The Macarena, and the Rachel haircut). The truly golden stuff shines on. Guess what film, 12 years later, is still enjoying a spot in iTunes’ top 10 movie sales? Good Will Hunting. How about them apples?

Sure, we can nit-pick about Robin Williams’ on again/off again, Bostonian accent. Sure, GWH’s numerous memorable lines and man-emo made their share of SNL skits, but let’s get on to the music. Kevin Smith worked with Affleck on Chasing Amy and shopped his pal’s screenplay around Hollywood, passed over by several studios until landing at Miramax. Gus Van Sant directed and tapped Danny Elfman, whose CV includes Tim Burton’s Batman and The Simpsons, to compose the score. This is where it gets a bit interesting. Only two small bits of Elfman’s Oscar-nominated score appear on the official soundtrack. Elfman explains to Nuno Markl, “The albums are not about the movie: they are about marketing … It’s a little bit sad for the movie because, more and more the soundtrack album doesn’t necessarily represent the movie … Good Will Hunting didn’t represent the movie at all.” He speaks the truth.

“Fisherman’s Blues” is a fun, Irish-gypsy surprise, but misrepresentation rings true as tracks by Andru Donalds and Luscious Jackson seem particularly misplaced amidst chancy choices like “Baker Street” by Gerry Rafferty and “Boys Better” by The Dandy Warhols.  At least the latter earn their way as believable background noise in the life of the blue-collar, Bostonian twenty-somethings.

Elfman’s score also garnered an Academy Award nomination in the appropriate category (Best Original Score) and again lost to Titanic. Though, this is not as difficult to stomach because the score’s two true standout attributes are not Elfman’s original compositions. Instead, the best triumphs are his intricate weaving of the simple score into the modern cuts (as seen in the both the Harvard bar and fight scenes) and, secondly, Elliott Smith’s songs.

Taking Elfman’s thoughts about the album alone, he appears bitter about the compilation. However, the compilation and the film itself are a tremendous example of composer and contemporary musician weaving together their creativity, using the best of both talents. The decision to work with Elliott Smith appears to have been easy. Elfman said, “There were times when we [Van Sant, Smith] would sit together and play the guitar and play ideas. I was then able to make my score interface really well with Elliot’s music. I could make a piece of score end to the same key and flow into the introduction of Elliot’s songs, so you really couldn’t tell the difference! That was the best experience I had in terms of working with an artist on songs.”  This critical detail is a delicate one, which adorns without distracting from the true triumph of the film – the emerging of redemption from the broken lives of the characters.

At the time of the film, Elliott Smith was newly signed to a label and set to release his first non-independent albums. His confessional lyrics came from the dark, demonized caverns of his persona but were mournfully comforting; from this place, Smith helped pave the way for Emo’s mainstream surface in the early 2000s. Will Hunting is tough, bristled, and defensive. Smith’s music is gentle, effacing, and revealing. How does it work so well?  Playing into the dichotomy of the two was genius. Smith’s sound embodies the capable emotions running through Hunting, hidden and protected, buried somewhere under his combative amour. It shows the side of Will he cannot (or will not) show himself.

The film and soundtrack showcase Smith’s “Angeles”, “No Name #3″, and arguably his two most popular songs, “Say Yes” and “Between the Bars”. “Between the Bars” plays during a comfortably intimate scene between Will and his love interest, Skylar, played by Minnie Driver. Skylar playfully asks the defensive Will to be more open in their relationship. “People you’ve been before that you don’t want around anymore/That push and shove and won’t bend to your will/I’ll keep them still/Drink up, baby, look at the stars/I’ll kiss you again between the bars.” The song fits superbly with Will’s attempt to segment his life into nice, little, inaccessible pieces.

“Say Yes” is one of the most playful scenes of the film, where Will and Skylar have their first date. The lyrics encompass even more of the film’s theme of shards of happiness left in a mess when the dread of future loss paralyzes one from enjoying the moment.

Will’s journey culminates in “Miss Misery”, written specifically for the film. The self-deprecating tune somehow fills us with hope, as Will makes his first conscious decision to take off the armor, driving into the risk of loving and being loved. “It’s a comedy of errors, you see/It’s about taking a fall/To vanish into oblivion/Is easy to do/And I try to be but you know me/I come back when you want me to.” This is where Elliott Smith and Will Hunting part ways. Sadly, Smith never faced his demons and died tragically in 2003, most likely at the doing of his own hand. Thankfully, Smith’s music lives on in the story of a man whose life plays out differently, calling all out of shame and fear into a place of honesty and freedom.

Good Will Hunting Original Motion Picture Soundtrack tracklist

01. “Between the Bars [Orchestral]” – Elliott Smith
02. “As the Rain” – Jeb Loy Nichols
03. “Angeles” – Elliott Smith
04. “No Name #3″ – Elliott Smith
05. “Fisherman’s Blues” – The Waterboys
06. “Why Do I Lie?” – Luscious Jackson
07. “Will Hunting [Main Titles]”
08. “Between the Bars” – Elliott Smith
09. “Say Yes” – Elliott Smith
10. “Baker Street” – Gerry Rafferty
11. “Somebody’s Baby” – Andru Donalds
12. “Boys Better” – The Dandy Warhols
13. “How Can You Mend a Broken Heart?” – Al Green
14. “Miss Misery” – Elliott Smith
15. “Weepy Donuts” – Steve Bartek, Danny Elfman