Anonymity

I generally don't read reviews, especially soundtrack reviews. I'm a professional, and a highly trained listener, so I don't need some blogger somewhere to tell me what to think. What's the point of reading a review? When I disagree with them, I just have to be frustrated with my absence of a voice; how to they get their opinions published while mine stay inside my head?

But I stumbled across this review for the soundtrack to The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and out of morbid curiosity, I had to read the review, bracing myself for the worst. To my pleasure and amusement, I found that I agree with every single syllable of this harsh review. I was expecting another glowing endorsement of what is essentially a phoned-in, overrated piece of shit that I'm sure every hipster in the country masturbates to. But this review was blunt, concise, and honest.

"If you hate your life and want to sit in your dark basement all alone then this would be some great background music for you while you sit in a pool of your dark thoughts."

That closing line made me grin, because that's exactly what I thought while I was watching the movie. I remember being distracted by the music's cheapness while watching the movie with my girlfriend, and I commented on just how frustratingly arbitrary some of the cues were. Yes, it captures the tone of Rooney Mara's character Lisbeth, but that's about the only thing it accomplishes, and that's not even hard to do. Dark, dissonant, punk-influenced, atmospheric, semi-industrial, minimalistic garbage. I pointed out how so many scenes "missed the mark," blowing their opportunities with perplexing choices, but then again it's a David Fincher film, so it wasn't altogether surprising.

By the end of the movie, I was thoroughly annoyed that Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross had been hired at all. Overrated, to say the least. I was annoyed and encouraged at the same time, because I could have scored it in my sleep. That's a good thing and a bad thing at once. But seriously, why them? This is what happens when you hire someone who doesn't understand film music to score a film. But, again, that's what David Fincher wanted, as he did with Fight Club.

Before the movie was even finished, though, I realized that I didn't quite despise the work. I was fascinated by its cheapness and its arbitrariness. I wanted to pick the score apart and mimic it, partly out of lazy snark, partly out of a professional inclination to do market research. So, on one hand, I had an urge to imitate it just to point out how easy it is to do, while on the other hand I needed to understand what it is about this music that so many people instantly and fervently adore it? Loyal fans of Trent Reznor who hate real film music, probably. Douchebags who venerate anything "independent"-sounding, probably. But why the fuck did The Social Network score even appear on the radar for an Oscar, much less win it? "Different" does not automatically mean "a fresh, inspired work of genius." If that's why you love Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, then maybe you should fucking pay closer attention to what you listen to. I digress.

Long before the end credits rolled, I was already thinking the same words I found in that online review: "If you hate your life and want to sit in your dark basement all alone then this would be some great background music for you while you sit in a pool of your dark thoughts." And that, precisely, is why I became so fascinated with it.

During the movie, I contemplated how the only the soundtrack would be good for is clinging to a foul mood while killing time on a particularly depressing, lonely, rainy day when you have nothing to do but feel gloomy and bitter. Navel-gazing, I suppose. I thought back to my senior year of college, when a certain few film scores would get a lot of play time when I was able to indulge in a static mood while wasting a whole day. Particularly Memento. I was endlessly captivated by that movie and its simplistic score. I started to envy my younger self, who was able to just putter around for a whole day doing nothing but wait for bedtime, wandering aimlessly around Kirksville, Missouri. So, while I'm sitting on my couch watching The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, I find myself actually considering buying the soundtrack for further exploration. I found myself wishing I could just take a day, wander around town, listen to music and navel-gaze. What an indulgence that would be, even if it's not a very cheerful one.

"What is the most resilient parasite? Bacteria? A virus? An intestinal worm? An idea. Resilient... highly contagious. Once an idea has taken hold of the brain it's almost impossible to eradicate. An idea that is fully formed - fully understood - that sticks; right in there somewhere."
--Inception

And so, eventually, I had to buy the album. I even paid full price for the 3-CD set on Amazon. I've listened to it many times. I still don't even really like it, but it has its uses.

I recently sat down and hammered out an outline for a mock film noir score in a spreadsheet of working titles, running times, and temp tracks--models to work with, mostly taken from Memento and The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, but also several cues from Heroes: Season One, Man on Fire, and a few individual cues from various other scores.

I have titled this mock film noir score Anonymity. Of course, like most of my big ideas, it will probably never actually be completed. If anything, the only reason to actually follow through with this project is to entertain myself, to feel good about the fact that I, too, can churn out mediocre drivel onto three whole CDs. It's essentially a "study," as composers sometimes call their works.

But the real purpose of this project is to capture the tone, the mindset, of that weekend in Kirksville, when I was bored and it was gloomy, and my roommate was out of town, and I had nothing to do but drive around and listen to Memento, hypnotizing myself into a static, emotionless state in which time had no meaning, and I was just another anonymous face in the crowd. If I can convey that to someone else, that would be an accomplishment.

A lot of my musician friends like to brag about how they are "audiophiles" simply for listening to lots of music, seeking it out with an insatiable thirst. I usually don't respond, ignoring the sometimes implied second half of the statement: "I am an audiophile (unlike you, who don't have as big a CD collection)." But if we're in the business of misusing words, then I'd say the true mark of such an "audiophile" is someone like me, who has the urge to imitate everything he hears, whether he likes the music or not. That is why much of my output the past few years has been avant-garde. Because everything inspires me to create, for better or worse.

What an indulgence.