Sir Charles Spencer Chaplin was an English comic actor, filmmaker and composer who rose to fame during the silent film era. His life was a true rags to riches story as his childhood in London was quite impoverished. His best known character is “the Tramp”. He directed and produced his own films, also wrote them, edited them, starred in them, and wrote the music. On this album you’ll find music from: his silent films: The Kid (1921), A woman of Paris (1923), The Gold Rush (1925), The Circus (1928), City Lights (1931) and Modern Times (1936), his first sound film The Great Dictator (1940) which satirized Adolf Hitler, and his later films: Limelight (1952), A King in New York (1957) and A Countess from Hong Kong (1967). AArbor
Looking at the album cover you would think that this record is a bit on the dark side, but not very dark. The film is from 1966 and that explains the sound which is very enjoyable but not too challenging: mostly jazz, with some surf, a bit latin and rock. The composer is Jaime Delgado-Aparicio of Lima, Peru – a graduate of the Berklee School in Boston. Just enjoy this – it’s a guilty pleasure. AArbor
Foreboding dreamscapes of cinematic majesty.Gorgeous sweeps of strings and synthesizer. Tension, terror, and psychological torpor.It’s a good series with an excellent soundtrack by Australian/Icelandic composer, Ben Frost who is both well represented in our library and an absolutely stunning example of masculine beauty. Every element of this album works perfectly to instill a disturbing aural environment to accompany the imagery and performances. The cadence is impressively somber. Themes to a nightmarish journey through mysterious other-worldly confusion. A masterpiece in my esteem.
Dark is a beautiful science-fiction series from Deutschland that on paper should tick all my boxes but sadly due to its pace, plot, and perspective has a tendency to put this miserable volunteer to sleep. I will not relent however, though I have attempted to watch the sixth episode six times now, I will tenaciously repeat until satisfied… perhaps another six attempts will suffice. I have come to believe that this soundtrack and its visual accompaniment is, in fact, a diabolical spell devised for deep sleep with disturbing dreams. Whose opening stanzas weave a nearly narcoleptic incantation propelling the listener/viewer into a fathomless cavernous repose.
This is the soundtrack to a 1966 Eurospy comedy film. It was shot in Italy and released in an English version and an Italian version which are notably different plot-wise. Vincent Price is the mad scientist (Dr. Goldfoot) who is working with the Chinese government to use exploding female robots to disrupt a scheduled NATO war-game by blowing up the various generals involved in the exercise (one of whom looks exactly like Goldfoot, and whom Goldfoot later impersonates). Fabian is the hero who works to thwart the plot, that is, when he is not busy chasing women. The film ends with an extended frantic chase through the streets of Rome, and Goldfoot attempting to start World War III between Russia and the United States by dropping a nuclear bomb on Moscow. The music is 1960s pop music by a variety of artists you’ve probably never heard of, but it’s fun. AArbor
doomy gloomy soundtrack atmospheric, a journey into madness
This is the soundtrack to Sally Potter’s 1997 semi-autobiographical film The Tango Lesson. Sally, a filmmaker and screenwriter suffering from writer’s block, is dissatisfied with her film project, a murder mystery called Rage, which features the fashion industry. Taking a break, she travels to Paris, where she sees the dancer Pablo (Pablo Verón) performing tango. She becomes obsessed with the dance and offers Pablo a part in her film in exchange for dance lessons. The music is both traditional Argentinian tangos [tracks 5 and 17 are iconic] alongside tracks by Fred Frith which are stylistically very different. AArbor
Abbott, Luke – “Music For a Flat Landscape: Original Soundtrack to The Goob” – [Buffalo Temple Music Recordings]
Music for a Flat Landscape collects ten tracks that were originally scored for the 2014 film The Goob by electronic composer Luke Abbott. The film tells the story of a teenager growing up in Abbott’s hometown of Norfolk in rural England, and its soundtrack of softly shifting twilight tones and nighttime field recordings is meditative but in motion, flowing the way time passes when you’re young. Released on Abbott’s label Buffalo Temple.
The soundtrack to a documentary movie directed by Miguel Kohan featuring interviews with musicians and singers from Argentina’s Golden Age of Tango ( 1940’s and ‘50’s – before Astor Piazzolla). Uruguay’s Lagrima Rios appears here on the 2nd track on both CDs. Two CDs worth of lovely antique tango music, the grandmother musically speaking of what you hear from Gotan Project, Bajofondo and others these days.
A horrible Italian flick provides the vehicle for an excellent soundtrack for its time, providing a groovy, funked out background for nibbling on necks or shaking your polyester clad ass at your next retro-themed spooky dance party (DM me for deets). Walking bass lines build tension, wistful flute takes it away. Piano, smokey saxophone, classical guitar, funk guitar, viola, synth, drums, all in line with other Italian scores of the period. But this isn’t a zombie movie or an art movie. It’s not scary, sexy, or understandable. It’s an absolute mess is what it is: A band of deranged flesh chompers and deviants lead by the sometimes hero and reluctant cannibal Norman Hopper (John Saxon) who contracts some sort of affliction while serving in the Vietnam War along with a few other members of his unit where upon returning stateside they are compelled fuck shit up and take a few bites of passerby along the way. So, this is far from cinema. More of a drive-in make-out movie for October 1980 and the sounds on this LP reflect that. Part horror/suspense and part European skin-flick score, the film isn’t sure what it is either. However it was one of the 39 films successfully prosecuted and banned in the UK during Britain’s Video Recording Act of 1984. Apparently the version I was able to track down was the American version which was heavily edited to receive an R rating down from an X which explains a lot for me. This is just a bad movie (bad to the bone). It is spitting in the face of convention just for the sake of doing it. Shaking the cages of the dominant paradigm, rebellious and misguided, it attempts to forge new ground by melding two naughty genres to create something that no one would be proud of… excepting one A. Blonksteiner (Alexander/Alessandro). It’s weird, it’s funky, and it is unacceptable to take bites out of your neighbor’s pervy under-age daughter but if you jus’ wanna shake yo’ thang to these killer grooves Honey, that is just fine.
When you’re freezing kaiju you may want to employ a giant flying submarine/drill manned by a stoic crew of fearless Japanese men and when you want aural accompaniment to the saving of the world from a subterranean race of scantily clad aristocracy you may as well select a composer profoundly familiar with colossi of every imaginable breadth, heft, and height, Akira Ifukube (Ah-key-rah Ee-fhoo-coo-bay). The man behind the scores to Godzilla(1954), Rodan(1956), Mothra vs. Godzilla(1962), Daimajin(1964), and 175 other titles that he wrote before his death in 2006 along with myriad other compositions that were part of video games connected with the films and many other projects that would borrow his works posthumously.
You know the score, orchestral marches, tense viola, timid xylophone, over-blown trumpet, vintage spooky operatic wails, huge resonate cello, sultry oboe, querulous piano, thunderous timpani, worrying organ, shimmering cymbals, terror inducing tuba… all standard fare for the Japanese mega-monster flick by the man whose compositions would become synonymous with the genre.
A powerful and sometimes beautiful soundtrack to a less than amazing film. One worth watching despite it’s dismissable plot and mediocre performances, primarily for the laboriously complex period special effects and a glimpse into yesteryear’s swelling appetite for “blockbusting” science-fiction cinema.
There is nothing wrong with your television set… This is the soundtrack to the Outer Limits TV show: main and end titles and a special series of sound effects. The sound tracks are well worth checking out.
Two beautiful (and to my ear, cloying) tracks composed by George Frideric Handel and 6 brooding, malevolent horror-scapes by department head of the sound design department at the National Film School of Denmark in collaboration with film writer/director Lars Von Trier that could be just about anything, heavily modified cello, an empty room, bowed sheet metal, a tea kettle with reverb, singing bowls submerged in tears, human breath through a saxophone sans reed, a blue whale on ergot of rye dreaming of the crypts below Paris.
The dichotomic nature of this album is alarming, especially within the context of the film. The lush aural filigree of Handel juxtaposed with the dark, abstract, and otherworldly landscapes built by K.E.A.and L.V.T. adds to the tension. The profound contrast is as jarring as any of the film’s three major climaxes. A film I enjoyed but was also slightly alarmed by. When it first came out I watched it alone and was perplexed. I needed others to see it as well, though I had a hard time recommending it, which might be easily understood by anyone who has seen the film. Let’s just say that it isn’t entirely clear who the target audience is or the message there in. So that I could perhaps gain some perspective, especially a woman’s perspective I asked the girl that I was flirting with at the time to come over for dinner and a movie (which would turn out to be my first ever Netflix and chill) but with the caveat that this movie might not be the best date movie (much less a first date movie). I was pleased when she suggested we watch it after we finished dinner. I was also pleased, though I fell asleep about half way through my second viewing, that the beautiful and slightly touched object of my desire chose to invite me into her libidinous clutches for a passionate and satisfying tête-à-tête after the credits began to roll. However, I thought this could be a very serious red-flag as well. Happily that turned out not to be the case and even if our courtship was relatively short lasting, I have only fond memories of this quizzically complex and stunning belle, and as of this writing, we remain friends. I’m sorry that it ended but it was painless and simple, very unlike the film, Antichrist.
The soundtrack to Dennis Villeneuve’s time-bending science-fiction suspense film is strange and otherworldly with unusual voicing and heavily modified instrumentation that is as mellifluous and soothing as it is abstract and unfamiliar. Deep drone, alien vocal arrangements, strings from The City of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra and beautiful if bizarre vocalizations from the Theatre of Voices, sparse percussion and an overarching minimalism convey distance, introspection, and liminal phantasmic qualities. Arrival was composed by the late Icelandic composer Jóhann Jóhannsson (Blade Runner 2049, Sicario, Mandy), and was scored during the apex of his relatively short but voluminous and perhaps influential cinematic career (the third of four films films with Villeneuve). He died like a rock star, at the peak of his game, his system flooded with alcohol and cocaine which, in my mind, makes him a legend and and also kind of an asshole. However, that is of little consequence, the sound(s) that he generated were brilliant, often employing near sub-sonic drones that would utilize the incredible range and volume of modern theater sound systems to mesmerizing and visceral effect. Rivaling both Motörhead and Holy Mountain era Sleep in obscenely over-the-top volume, I saw Blade Runner 2049 (another example of a [less than amazing] film that just happened to be an exceptional vehicle for Jóhannsson’s sound design) in a nearly empty theater and was thrilled at the way my rib-cage would shudder at the unearthly sound. It became tactile. I was immersed in a compressible fluid that was both turbulent and resonate. When the medium of air becomes that warped and disturbed we can be transported to a place that is foreign and dire. Not unlike outer space or the chambers that house the hyper-evolved “Heptapods”, the extraterrestrial demagogues in the film. Our atmosphere is as untenable to them as theirs is to ours so the linguistic protagonists must meet with these beings separated by a transparent barrier in an attempt to learn, with some great difficulty, to communicate with them and the consequences that come with first contact with a species that is technologically and militarily superior. This separation from the familiar is important to the sound and ultimately the feeling of the film. Jóhannsson was aware that “people are hungry for new sounds, and for the experience of listening to unfamiliar music…” and this awareness was what compelled him to make an extraordinary film score for a striking film, with one gnarly twist, about love, determination, and communion with our extrasolar squid overlords.
Soundtrack to David Lynch’s film and accompaniment to the TV series, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me. Music composed by frequent Lynch collaborator, Angelo Badalamenti. Sexy, sultry, somber detective jazz. Smoky atmospheres, voices of Jimmy Scott, and damn fine cups of coffee…
Matti Bye composes “soundtracks” for silent movies.Â The Phantom Carriage is a Swedish film from 1921 that concerns a Salvation Army slum sister and is considered by many to be a masterpiece.Â The music is playful, lyrical, and reminds me of the cabaret works of Kurt Weill and the piano works of Erik Satie.Â Very nicely played on piano, strings, percussion, brass and harp.Â Really lovely, recommended!!
This is the original soundtrack to the 1973 italian western My Name is Nobody. Once the greatest gunslinger of the Old West, Jack Beauregard, only wants to move to Europe and retire in peace, but a young gunfighter, known as “Nobody,” idolizes him and wants to see him go out in a blaze of glory. He arranges for Jack to face the 150-man gang known as The Wild Bunch and earn his place in history.
This soundtrack starts off with a very heavy Room 222 seventies sitcom vibe with flute, etc. The next 2 tracks are more “westerney” with classic whistling and the regular tricks. Track 4, Side A is my fave, it starts off with a clock ticking and slowly the instrumentation and elements that create the perfect Morricone masterpiece. On side 2 the standout for me is the second track with a creepy sound (and that 70s bass!). Track 3 has a weird take on Ride of the Valkyries. The album closes with more 70s flutey sitcom stuff. Overall a nice addition to the library. Morricone is a true master. The liner notes are all in italian which was kinda lame unless you can read italian. This is a re-issue.
Gunslinger comes to town – Anti-Hero – Famous tunes, very evocative. Ennio Morricone wrote and Hugo Montenegro conducted. Spaghetti drama – one of the greatest scores of all time.
Nino Rota composed the music for all of Fellii’s great films as well as The Godfather. This record documents a concert that took place in Tokyo on March 22, 1976, featuring Rota conducting the New Japan Philharmonic. Side A features tunes from The Godfather, and B are from Fellini movies.
Like Bernard Herrmann was to Alfred Hitchcock and John Williams is to Steven Spielberg, Georges Delerue was the musical connection and interpreter to Francois Truffaut. Delerue scored music for over 200 films, composed operas, sound and light shows, ballets and chamber pieces, but his eleven collaborations with French New Wave film master Truffaut stand out in soundtrack history. Delerue was able to interpret Truffaut’s rich tales of romance and heartbreak, mystery and intrigue and the process of film making itself (Day For Night). From fully orchestrated pieces to the familiar solo upright piano solo, “Charlie” from Shoot the Piano Player, these performances by the London Sinfonietta showcase a rich understanding as to why Delerue is so important to film. Use as an auditory palette cleanser or entremets between your sonic onslaught.
Czech New Wave Cinema of the 1960’s had some pretty twisted, beautifully filmed and challenging films, many of which were not seen for decades due to the government banning them. Juraj Herz’s “The Cremator”, from 1969 is one of these. The tale of a cremator who is obsessed with the Tibetan Book of the Dead and the passing of the Dalai Lama, who is influenced by Nazi sympathizers (it takes place in the 1930’s) who talk to him about the importance of his partial German heritage, his half Jewish wife who is the mother of his two sons, his eventual spiral into madness as he realizes it is his purpose to send people back to the dust from which they came… let’s just say it won’t end well. It’s described as a horror comedy. Well, if anyone can make Nazi’s funny, the Czech’s can. A film with this overwhelming storyline needs a strong soundtrack and classic Czech experimental soundtrack composer Zdenek Liska does the trick. Moving away from his usual found sound and re- sampling type style, Liska goes orchestral for this endeavor. Rich, haunting orchestral pieces with soprano singer Vlasta Soumarova Mlejnkova chanting out vocalizations of sounds, not words, fill the spaces. Think echoes in large abandoned cathedrals where sounds bounce around, “celestial choral” sections accompanied by chimes and bells. Think giallo richness. Think old school haunted houses where strangeness lurks. Beautiful moody settings, perfect for a crematorium. Indulge. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
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