The Graveyard in Matrix - August 2007

The Graveyard - by Scott W. Gray
August 2007

Music and filmmaking have enjoyed a symbiotic relationship for many years. When I think about the scenes I most remember from films, often the music in the scene figures as prominently in my memory. I don’t think Apocalypse Now would be the same film without the inclusion of the Doors “The End” or Wagner’s “Charge of the Light Brigade”. Chas Tenenbaum’s attempted suicide in The Royal Tenenbaums is now absolutely tied to Elliott Smith’s “Needle in the Hay”, and it is very hard to think of Simon & Garfunkle’s “The Sound of Silence” without remembering the final scene in The Graduate (incidentally, I have read that The Graduate was the first film to utilize music to specifically connect scenes).

Obviously there have been official soundtracks to movies released commercially since the 1950s, and in the 1990s we saw many mainstream releases of music “inspired by” a film’s soundtrack (essentially releasing several albums of material for one movie), taking soundtracks to a ridiculous, self-aware and self-serving level.

Cinematic music, however, can be thought of as different from an official soundtrack simply because it is unconnected to a specific film. It merely suggests filmic scenes in the mind of the listener. In a sense, when coupled with headphones and portable players, cinematic music is the soundtrack or score to your life in real time.

The evolution of abstract electronic and post-rock music over the years, as well as the growing appeal of instrumental hip hop (credited in some circles to the popularity DJ Shadow’s 1996 Endtroducing album) has brought the concept of cinematic music to another level. Artists of all stripes have begun forging albums that play with combinations of disparate genres, rely more heavily on tone and texture than melody and harmony, and seek to convey a larger vision in their albums. The evolution of sample-culture has perhaps made the relationship between film and music slightly more parasitic than perfectly symbiotic, as many artists make cinematic tracks that sample directly from cinema; however, even these releases are meant to be non-specific soundtracks, intended to create a new work from existing works.

In celebration of this issue’s theme of filmmaking, I decided to write about some of the more cinematic releases I’ve heard in the last few months. All three are excellent, Canadian releases, and to varying degrees present a cinematic form of songwriting.

Handsome Furs – Plague Park (Sub Pop, 2007): Dan Boeckner is best known as one half of Wolf Parade’s vocal tandem. In Handsome Furs, his work with wife Alexei Perry, we are treated to a more direct expression of his unique songwriting skills. The songs on Plague Park speak of alienation, regret and the darker sides of human personality and are all delivered in Boeckner’s trademark tenor – a voice that makes up for its lack of range by conveying the full-spectrum of emotion. Plague Park is cinematic in how it evolves; consistently hinting at a deeper, non-revealed storyline (apparently Plague Park is a mass grave-cum city park in Finland), and the album remains restrained just-inside a complete emotional collapse. It is tense and tender, bristling and sophisticated, without being heavy-handed or histrionic. Despite the darkness, Plague Park comes highly recommended.

Sixtoo – Jackals and Vipers in the Envy of Man (Ninja Tune, 2007): Sixtoo’s Jackals and Vipers in the Envy of Man is a rugged, cut-up album of instrumental hip hop, released on the venerable Ninja Tune label. Best known for his tough, downtempo beats and crunchy production, Sixtoo (born Vaughn Robert Squire) has crafted an album that evokes a dark, moody aesthetic from the opening notes that continues throughout. Jackals is a film-noir type of release, featuring thirteen unnamed tracks compiled from various live performances, stitched together to present dark shadows and melancholy. At his best, Sixtoo shifts between warmth and frigidity, displaying a head-nodding muscularity and obsession with texture, evoking images in the mind of the listener. Jackals builds on Sixtoo’s reputation as a top-flight producer, and offers the listener an excursion into the dirty urbane – back alleys and fire escapes, rainy streets and neon signs. It is an album very much worth investigating.

A Northern Chorus – The Millions Too Many (Sonic Unyon, 2007): Seemingly one of Canada’s least-recognized aural juggernauts returns with The Millions Too Many. While not a post-rock album specifically, A Northern Chorus have crafted an intricate, multi-layered album of strings and rolling syncopation that certainly pushes at rock’s ragged edge. In this album there are wide landscapes and rugged train yards, lakes and lightening storms. Surprisingly, The Millions Too Many is A Northern Chorus’ most-accessible album to date, yet still relies on severe dynamic change-ups, extended violin and cello passages, reverberating slide guitar, and intimate male-female vocal harmonies. Like instrumental groups such as Explosions in the Sky, and (Toronto’s) Do Make Say Think, A Northern Chorus crafts a cinematic music that is mostly consonant, replete with crashing cymbals over major chord passages; however, it is in the quieter moments that the group build their substance, best display their artistry and provide the soundtrack to any listener’s concealed sense of optimism. This is a uniquely Canadian album reminding me at times of Lenny Breau, the Rheostatics and the Wooden Stars, without sounding derivative of anyone else. The energy that A Northern Chorus conveys in their live performances has finally been captured on The Millions Too Many by Holy Fuck member Graham Walsh, and it is an album you deserve to hear.

For those of you interested in reading more about how music and film interrelate, I suggest you read my Graveyard column in the last issue of Matrix (issue 77), exploring the best in music documentaries.

Or, to read more about music of this sort, you can always visit the Urban Camouflage blog (http://urbancamouflage.blogspot.com/). See you next time in the Graveyard.