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.

After gaining recognition for their single “Selling Jesus”, off of 1995′s Paranoid and Sunburnt, and their appearance in the movie Strange Days, people were intrigued not only by the eclectic singer but the band’s unique blend of hard rock, metal and electronica. Guitarist Ace, bassist Cass Lewis and drummer Mark Richardson provided just the right backdrop for the tumultuous sound, and together the four managed to make it last for awhile, at least until 1999, when they released their third and final album, Post Orgasmic Chill.

The final offering was a noticeable departure from both their fiery debut and equally aggressive sophomore effort, 1996′s Stoosh, as it was more somber, introspective and mirrored both the internal struggles within the band and the external problems that plagued them as they rose to stardom. The first single released, “Charlie Big Potato”, reached #17 on the UK music charts. Both beautiful and haunting, the song narrated the struggle between an abuser and his/her victim, in a sense providing the thematic skeleton for the album.

One does not know whether Skin, who softly (but eerily) croons, “I awake/from blood thick dreams/washing blame/from my knees,” was telling a story about incest — perhaps her own, or someone she knows –, spousal abuse, or alleged victimization by leaders of the British Government. Like many of her previous tracks, there’s an inferences in what she’s saying, but it begs for a clear interpretation, which makes for an interesting and provocative listen. As the song continues, harsh and sharp orchestral strings mark the urgency of her message, swelling alongside her cries of “Tell it like it is/tell them!”

Probably the most recognizable single off of Post Orgasmic Chill is “Secretly”, a ballad about unrequited love, which at the time was interesting as Skin (whose sexual orientation was always questioned in the media) left her songs about love and love loss open for interpretation. From the shrill screams and growls in “On My Hotel TV” and “The Skank Heads (Get Off Me)” to the sad, passionate purrs on ”You’ll Follow Me Down”, no one could ignore her remarkable vocal range. That explains why she would go on to contribute vocals for other projects, most notably Tony Iommi’s solo project, 2000′s Iommi. Even after Skunk Anansie disbanded, Skin abandoned her rock roots and released two solo albums, 2003′s Fleshwounds and 2006′s Fake Chemical State, opting to dabble in pop/urban music — though she’s hardly left the rock scene.

No, she’s back with the band again. This past spring, Skunk Anansie regrouped and played a couple of secret gigs in London. Bolstered by the enthusiastic fan response, the band plans to press forward and embark on a European reunion tour later this year, in support of a greatest hits album. The compilation should prove interesting, given they only have three albums to choose from, and hardly enough singles to make up a wide enough collection. Instead, they’ll have to dig around the brief discography, which is actually quite a task.

Even 10 years later, it’s still difficult to decide which album reigns supreme. Few would argue that Post Orgasmic Chill is Skunk Anansie’s most musically diverse effort to date, but nobody can truly hold one album above the other. Really, it all comes down to mood. If you’re pissed off (angry even), check out Paranoid and Sunburnt. If you’re suffering from a mood disorder, you might be better off with Stoosh. When it comes to Post Orgasmic Chill, it might be a little bit of both. Looking back, however, all three are highly recommended and definitely worth a listen.

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