Wax on Wax #11: Wax On Film
Oof - not off to a consistent start back are we? Hey folks, I'm trying! As some of you may be aware by now, I'm in the process of quitting my 9-5 so I can focus on the important work of listening to more records, writing more blogs, and making more music! Soon this blog will become a regular thing again. This week we are looking at four records you may or may not have discovered through film.
An architypal Outrun hero returns from the dead to cruise the neon highways is his Ferarri, a gang of witches conjurs up a frightening ballet, Nick Cave finally lets love in, and a dead mans party takes us home. It's a great set of albums that you will not want to miss! Despite this blog maybe needing a bit more fiber to keep it regular, I've always got something in the works. Stay tuned for more soon, and while you're here lets listen to some WAX!
The 2011 film Drive by Nicolas Winding Refn was a cult classic almost before it even left the theatre. The film reintroduced a whole new generation to Synthwave and Outrun and anticipated the surge in those genres we still see today. Arguably the most iconic scene happens at the beginning of the film, with Gosling's character cruising the streets of contemporary LA, all set to the tune of "Nightcall." This film, more specifically this album, and even more this song is unbelievably iconic at this point. The film was an instant midnight classic, and the "Nightcall" feature made Kavinsky into an overnight sensation in the electronic/EDM world. It's evocative of the idea of the 80s, but not the 80s themselves. It's nostalgia for something that never really ever existed, and it's magical.
Outrun has an album cover ripped right out of 1985. Miami-Esque font splashes across the image of a dark tropic background, along with a classic red Ferrari Testarossa backlighting our hero Kavinsky, adorned in his red letterman jacket. The album cover speaks directly to the themes and concepts in the music. Not just the font and the car but also by way of the black bars on the top and bottom of the image. It's supposed to look like a frame cut out of a film. As soon as you kick off this album you're made to understand that all of this imagery is intentional. The opening track tells the story of a young racer driving too fast, who ultimately meets his end in a fiery crash - only to return once again. Kavinsky is telling his legend, his tall tale, his myth. The classic Ferrari Testarossa on the cover? That's his real car. He's owned it for years. The guy walks the walk, and it is so damn cool.
The music itself is big, bombastic, and fantastical. The beats are driving, all at very similar tempos, and are perfectly crafted. Kavinsky is an artist who puts out quality music; very seldomly. To this day, this was the last album released commercially by Kavinsky. He lit the entire electronic music scene on fire, and that blaze is still burning today. Look up "Outrun Playlist" on YouTube, and you'll find hours worth of playlists completely aping his style, sound, and look. Only recently has it been hinted at on Kavinsky's Instagram page that he is due to release more music soon. Can lightning strike twice for this guy? Has the 80s revival fad run its course? Is he overdue for a reinvention? Only time will tell. Personally I'll take another round of the same thing. In the meantime, I'll be listening to "Nightcall."
You simply can't name your band Goblin and not make screeching, horrifying, baroque-folk by way of 70s prog-funk. I'm sorry, but you just can't. Good thing no one had to tell these guys that! The first thing you notice while watching Dario Argento's masterpiece Suspiria (the 1977 one, not the weird Thom York one...) is the music. The film tells of a young American girl looking to become a professional ballet dancer in Berlin. She arrives at a world-famous ballet academy and promptly enrolls before realizing that something about this school is not what it seems. A front for a coven of witches, perhaps? This is a spoiler-free blog - so I'd never tell. The moment she arrives at the school, the overwhelming, foreboding, technicolor-horror of this place is fully realized by the magnificent score by Goblin. I dare you - tonight, put on your headphones and listen to the title track while you get up in the middle of the night for a glass of water. I'd be willing to bet you can't because never has a more creepy-crawly film score been laid to tape.
A lot of the music on this album is exactly what it says it is: film score. Film scores can be a challenge to listen to, as one of my astute record club members pointed out during our discussions: Listening to film score without the film is like looking at a photo of a painting. Yes, you can still enjoy it, but there is a massive amount of context missing from the experience. You can't see the brush strokes with a photo, just as you can't feel the tension in the music quite as well without the film. The notion of a "Silent Film" was always funny to me because there is absolutely nothing "silent" about them! Watch a Charlie Chaplin film on mute and tell me that the music doesn't add everything that makes it funny, heartfelt, sad - what have you. In this same way, experiencing a score without picture is giving you a flawed experience.
All that is not to say this isn't an enjoyable listen, although I guess it depends on your definition of enjoyable. Some of the music on this album is funky, the players are shredding, and the grooves being laid down are so hip, so 70s, and so, so good. Other times, the film score beast rears its head, and you'll get a lot of screeching noises along with haunting chants, paper-thin cracks of snare out of nowhere, and a whole lot of nightmare fuel. By all means, you should definitely listen to this album. But even more than that - watch Suspiria as soon as possible. Dario Argento and Goblin had one of the strongest filmmaker/composer bonds I've ever encountered, and this being just one example of their many triumphs while working together. Beyond that, Suspiria is one of the greatest films (let alone horror films) ever put to picture. If you take film seriously in any way, shape, or form - it is an absolute must-watch. Wait for next Halloween if you must, but WATCH IT.
For me - "Red Right Hand" is the musical equivalent of what Satan listens to before he heads out for a night of sinning and bad influence. I've never heard evil sound so cool than on this song. Most of you probably know it as the theme song for Peaky Blinders (I've heard good things, never seen it), or maybe, like me, you first heard it in Dumb and Dumber. That movie was essentially my guiding light as a child, so I no doubt heard it hundreds of times that way. The scene in question happens when Jim Carry's character Lloyd, while carrying two cases of beer and streamers, and wearing a 10-gallon hat (lol), tries to purchase a copy of Rhode Island Slut (lol) from a vending machine with one hand - and promptly loses his wallet inside the machine. That's one hell of a red right hand, alright. In Lloyds case, sinning leads to more sinning - and punishment. For the most part, you can say the same about the album from whence "Red Right Hand" came. Let Love In is Nick Cave's rock n' roll self-flagellation. Cave becomes the didactic narrator of a trip through a very particular purgatory - that I for one could spend an eternity in.
The album weaves together themes of love, death, sex, religion, and murder - all under the same proud banner. I'm early in my newfound love for all things Nick Cave, but it's clear this guy has a dark side - maybe even his entire spectrum as an artist is just various shades of dark. This week I listened to three albums from various points in his career. Junkyard by his early band The Birthday Party, Let Love In, and Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!, all three of which I loved. Juxtaposing these albums against each other (each about 10 or so years apart) shows how Cave has slowly managed to tame the chaos that is itching to burst out of him over his entire career. Junkyard can only be judged against itself, and I've never heard anything like it save for a few PIL albums from around this same time. It's a sadistic, chaotic listen. Much like a rabid animal gnashing its teeth and scaring all of its prey away, Junkyard is almost too wild for its own good. Let Love In tames this beast into a finely tuned murder machine. It's a serial killer stalking its victim from the shadows. Only when you get caught does it reveal its true ferocious nature. By Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! Cave's devilish demeanor has gone pro. He's a traveling salesman that will charm you with a smile that could swindle the boots off your feet just as easily as it could pack you away in the trunk of a car. All three of these albums show the same side of Cage; each is honed by age, experience, wisdom, and yes - more chaos.
Nick Cave is entering full-on obsession territory for me. There are few artists I've come across that are as dark, vampiric, and maudlin, all while exuding the essence of rock n' roll with every breath. He is the darkness at the edge of town, the funeral dirge, the cult leader. He's The Grim Reaper - trading his scythe for a guitar. I know there are many more sides to Cave to discover, and I'm thrilled to be taking the first steps towards that journey. There are few artists like him - Bowie, Dylan, Prince, being others - who can shapeshift before your eyes, all while being a model of consistency and artfulness. Despite being Australian, there are so many themes in his music that feel very American. Maybe it's that Australians are no strangers to the snake oil salesman who walk among us every day here in the States. Their entire history is peppered with criminals, ne'er do wells, danger, intrigue, and mysterious open wilderness from which good and evil can emerge equally. Cave is a piece of turn of the century literature walking among us. A vampire waiting to feast on his next musical victim. Most of all, Cave is a man apart from time and devilishly unique.
When we use the term "dated" when speaking about music - it's usually meant as derogatory. There is no higher praise to be hoisted on an album than to be deemed "timeless," or that it sounds like it "could have been recorded yesterday!" In general, I tend to agree with these sentiments, but there are many, many exceptions to this. It is by no means a rule. There is nothing about Surrealistic Pillow that isn't dated, or Born In the USA even. There are classic albums that are great because of the era they belong to, not in spite of it. Case in point, Danny Elfman's goofy new wave project Oingo Boingo and their fantastic album Dead Man's Party from 1985. Smack in the heart of the 80s. Everything about this album is "dated," but by being so, it becomes a relic of everything we still love about the 80s as a decade. It's fun, it's carefree, you can jazzercise to it, and that's not even mentioning the production! The production is like a masterclass in 80s technique. Synth bass, synths, giant brass, and lest we forget - GATED SNARE! GATED SNARE EVERYWHERE! In years past 80s production used to drive me crazy, but I find it very fun and charming now that I've explored the depths of 60s and 70s pop until my ears bled.
Danny Elfman is probably much better known as Tim Burton's composer and right-hand man. The two are inextricably linked via their collaborations, and what makes a Burton film work oftentimes is Elfman's music. They are the dorky goth version of Speilberg and Williams. Dead Man's Party predates the regular and recurring collaborations between Elfman and Burton by a few years. Instead, Elfman conjures up 80s magic with another, equally brilliant auteur of the time: John Hughes. The story goes that around the time Oingo Boingo was working on Dead Man's Party Huges phoned up Danny Elfman and asked him to compose a theme song for his upcoming film Weird Science. Elfman wrote the song in his car on his way to the studio, and one of my personal favorite 80s pop tunes was born. Strangely enough, Elfman has said that he dislikes the song and feels like it doesn't fit the album or Oingo Boingo's larger repertoire. It's a funny complaint about such a big hit, and I personally feel like it is peak Oingo Boingo. It's the song I think of when I think of this band.
Weird Science is considered lesser-Hughes by many of his fans, and that's a critique I only slightly disagree with. Like Dead Man's Party, Weird Science is also very dated - but not in a good way. The film features a lot of dumb boner humor, casual sexism, racism, and homophobia. I'm sure many of you reading this are reeling in horror that something like this exists - but it was a different time folks! Attitudes change, and we have thankfully moved on from such callousness and stupidity. Unfortunately, and predictably, all of these elements make the film much less enjoyable, let alone funny when viewing through a modern lens. It is still 100% worth the watch though. It's occasionally funny, charming, and the way Hughes manages to morph into a 14-year-old boy whenever he needs to write a script is kind of incredible. It's very much still a relic all its own, and the kind of movie Hollywood just doesn't make anymore. Our culture doesn't cater to the whims of teens and what they want or don't want anymore like we did in the 80s. Teens develop that all themselves now on TikTok or wherever (I don't know, I'm an old).
It should be unsurprising, but any of the Dead Man's Party’ songs would feel just as at home in a Burton flick. The spooky skeleton dance of "No One Lives Forever" brings A Nightmare Before Christmas to mind in particular. Elfman can just as easily charm the spirit of rambunctious teenhood as he can classic, spooky Halloween. I haven't had the fortune of listening to a ton of Oingo Boingo, but I adore this album. I have a rule when buying vinyl: if I can't imagine a party where I'd put it on, I probably won't buy it. Hughes movies on a loop, Oingo Boingo, and an 80s costume party? Sign me up. This is probably the very first record I'd put on. Ultimately Elfman and Burton were destined for each other, but I would have loved to hear more Elfman/Hughes collaborations. These are two guys imbued with the spirit of the 80s more than most during that time. They were able to craft pieces of art that will forever remind us of the simpler times when just being in High School and talking to your crush was a worthy event for a movie. No superheroes leveling buildings or giant robots. Just simple, funny stories about humans and what they go through. Cinematically and musically, we are a million miles away from that now. All that's left of the 80s now is a Dead Man's Party.
Check in next time, we’ll be covering another set of weird and wonderful LPs.
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