Our Choons Electric

Bebe & Louis Barron - Forbidden Planet: Main Titles Overture

(Forbidden Planet soundtrack, 1956)

 

Somewhat kicking myself at my blatant omission of Bebe & Louis Barron's soundtrack for Fred M. Wilcox's science fiction classic Forbidden Planet (1956) for the Year by Ear challenge. Not sure I would have still made it as far back to Bernard Herrmann's eerily spectacular theremin infused sounds in Robert Wise's The Day the Earth Stood Still like I had originally hoped, but it would have been one more year off the list, regardless.
 

In any case, now is a good time as any to compile a list of some of my favourite electronic soundtrack compositions to compliment my favourite Blaxploitation and Euro-Funk soundtrack jams. The beauty of those lists was I didn't feel so remorseful about the non-inclusion of many tracks in the challenge since they were already respectively covered in dedicated posts.

Whether it's the otherworldly theremin, oscillating pulse modulation sound waves from an antiquated sound lab or the convenience of the popular synthesizer, they are part and parcel to the films that I adore. Crazy to think that extraterrestial life-forms, killer robots and flesh-eating zombies have their own trademark electronic sounds to accompany them. Thus, a list of my favourites below: 

 

 Favourite Electronic Soundtrack Compositions:

Bernard Herrmann - GORT / The Visor / The Telescope (The Day the Earth Stood Still, 1951)

Spencer Moore - Theme (Teenagers from Outer Space, 1959)

Pierre Raph - Crotch Batterie (Requiem for a Vampire, 1971)

Wendy Carlos - Theme from A Clockwork Orange (A Clockwork Orange, 1972)

Will Malone - Main Theme (Death Line aka Raw Meat, 1972)

John Carpenter - Main Title (Assault on Precinct 13, 1976)

Ivor Slaney - Easy Prey (Prey, 1977)

Goblin - Suspiria (Suspiria, 1977)

Tangerine Dream - Betrayal (Sorcerer, 1977)

John Carpenter - Halloween Theme (Halloween, 1978)

Giorgio Moroder - The Chase (Midnight Express, 1978)

Riz Ortolani - Il Corpo di Linda (The Pyjama Girl Case, 1978)

Goblin - L'Alba Dei Morti Viventi (Dawn of the Dead, 1978)

Goblin - Main Titles (Buio Omega / Beyond the Darkness, 1979)

Fred Myrow & Malcom Seagrave - Intro & Main Theme (Phantasm , 1979)

Fabio Frizzi - Main Title (Zombie / Zombi 2 / Zombie Flesh Eaters, 1979)

Barry DeVarzon - Wonder Wheel (Main Title) (The Warriors, 1979)

Stelvio Cipriani - Deathwatch (Ring of Darkness, 1979)

Francis Monkman - Taken (The Long Good Friday, 1980)

Riz Ortolani - Adulteress' Punishment (Cannibal Holocaust, 1980)

Queen - Ming's Theme (Flash Gordon, 1980)

Wendy Carlos & Rachel Elkind - The Shining (Main Title) (The Shining, 1980)

Simonett, Pignatelli & Morante - Tenebre (Tenebre, 1980)

The Wonderland Philharmonic - Lone Wolf's Theme (Shogun Assassin, 1980)

Tim Krog - The Boogey Man (Version 3) (The Boogey Man, 1980)

Keith Emerson - Mater Tenebrarum (Inferno, 1980)

Marcello Giombini - La bestia nello spazio 16 (Beast in Space, 1980)

Jay Chattaway - Subway Chase (Maniac, 1980)

Nico Fidenco - Zombie Parade (Zombie Holocaust / Dr. Butcher M.D, 1980)

John Carpenter & Alan Howarth - The Shape Stalks Again (Halloween II, 1981)

John Carpenter & Alan Howarth - The Duke Arrives / Barricade (Escape from New York, 1981)

Tangerine Dream - Beach Scene (Thief, 1981)

Rick Wakeman - Theme from The Burning (The Burning, 1981)

Fabio Frizzi - Sequenza Ritmica E Tema (The Beyond, 1981)

Howard Shore - 801 A-B (Videodrome, 1982)

John Carpenter & Alan Howarth - Main Theme / Chariots of Pumpkins (Halloween III: Season of the Witch, 1982)

Jimmy Page - A Shadow in the City (Death Wish II, 1982)

John Harrison - Something to Tide You Over (Creepshow, 1982)

Vangelis - End Titles (Blade Runner, 1982)

Henry Manfredini - Main Theme (Friday the 13th Part III, 1982)

Ennio Morricone - Main Theme (The Thing, 1982)

Jonathan Newton - Nancy Tries to Leave (Unhinged, 1982)

Charles Bernstein - Bath Attack (The Entity, 1982)

Giorgio Moroder - Tony's Theme (Scarface, 1983)

Tangerine Dream - Love on a Real Train (Risky Business, 1983)

John Carpenter & Alan Howarth - Moochie's Death (Christine, 1983)

Harold Faltermeyer - Axel F (Beverly Hills Cop, 1984)

Charles Bernstein - Main Title (A Nightmare on Elm Street, 1984)

Brad Fiedel - Main Theme (The Terminator, 1985)

Vince DiCola - Training Montage (Rocky IV, 1985)

Brad Fiedel - Come to Me (Instrumental) (1985)

Claudio Simonetti - Demon (Demons, 1985)

Claudio Simonetti - Phenomena (Phenomena, 1985)

Simon Boswell - Sharp Groove (Stagefright, 1987)

Sinoia Caves - Run Program: Sentionauts (Beyond the Black Rainbow, 2010)

Power Glove - Hunters (Hobo With a Shotgun, 2011)

Rob - Doll (Maniac, 2012)

Paul Leonard-Morgan - The Rise of Ma-Ma (Dredd, 2012)

Mica Levi - Love (Under the Skin, 2013)

Disasterpeace - Old Maid (It Follows, 2014)

Julian Winding - The Demon Dance (Neon Demon, 2016)

Oneohtrix Point Never - Leaving the Park (Good Time, 2017)

Jóhan Jóhannsson - Death and Ashes (Mandy, 2018)

Motherf@@king right John Carpenter is all over this list, and it would have been even more of his music if I included more than just one track from each of his films (with the exception of Halloween III: Season of the Witch, since those first two tracks blend together so seamlessly).

Intentionally left out Dominique Ney & Claude Germain's Générique from Don't Deliver Us From Evil (1971), since I honestly can't distinquish if it's an electric organ being heard, or not. Love it, regardless. Also omitted Mike Oldfield's Tubular Bells since it doesn't really qualify as it wasn't produced for The Exorcist, but I do concede it's great hearing it in the film.

The interesting thing about this list is the obvious eighties throwback renaissance which became part of the noughties culural zeitgeist eventually made its presence evident before it handed things over to the 2010s. Also, I can't immediatley recall any memorable electronic style soundtrack compositions from the nineties, other than Brad Fiedel's Terminator 2 Theme, but the original trumps it unequivocally, imo. 

It's also cool hearing elements of these soundtracks making their way into tracks I adore either via sampling or from obvious inspiration.

Dada Debaser Bonus:

Can't really sign off on this post without including two joints that don't really qualify since they are from television rather than cinema, but they're both personal classics and I have nothing but love for them:

Ron Grainer & Delia Derbyshire - Doctor Who (Original Theme)

(Doctor Who soundtrack, 1963)

 

Barry DeVorzon - V The Final Battle (Version 2 Theme)

(V soundtrack, 1984)

 

Unapologetic nostalgia based on the pair of them, however, both of these tunes have endured the test of time, imo; randomly getting spins in my mind's jukebox ever since first hearing them.

The British Library

There's something profoundly satisfying when middle aged musicians produce a song or a musical composition that goes off in a totally different and entertaining trajectory in comparison to their much younger and more hip peers. In the case of television and film composers, you can't get any more magnolia than the library music makers from yesteryear. However, amongst all that elevator muzak, there are some remarkably dope cuts to be found. Here are three such tracks, by a bunch of British gents which I regard as personal highlights:

 

Syd Dale - The Hell Raisers

The Sounds of Syd Dale (1966)

 

Question: What does the former Who Want to Be a Millionaire, cutlery throwing, TV presenter Chris Tarrant have in common with legendary Compton gangsta rapper, Eazy-E? The answer is they have both used Syd Dale's stock music. Man Friday was the theme used for Chris Tarrant's television show Tarrant on TV, while Walk and Talk was sampled on Eazy-E's thoroughly sleazy Gimme That Nutt. Our Syd had a few other incidental muzak bangers; a personal favourite being the rowdy anthem, The Hell Raisers. It was featured in seasons two and three of ABC's classic animated show Spider-Man (1967-1970) along with a grip of other tracks by him. In more recent times, anyone familiar with the legendary film distribution label, Something Weird Video, will instantly recognise it as the theme from their promo trailer. SMV's trailer holds a special place in many a psychotronik fanatic's heart, as it was their first portal to the wild side of exploitation cinema and Syd Dale's The Hell Raisers became associated with it.

Derek Scott - Fugarock

Sounds Unusual (1975)

 

When you think of the sounds of George A. Romero's classic zombie film, Dawn of the Dead, you would be right to recollect Italian prog-rockers Goblin's awesome soundtrack. However, Romero went to town with licensing some of De Wolfe Music's stock material like Jack Trombey's Mask of Death and the hilariously upbeat and ringtone of choice for many a gorehound, The Gonk by English composer Herbert Chappell. Derek Scott, another English man, also had some of his incidental music featured in the film too; one particular gem is the insanely regal sounding slice of early electronica known as Fugarock. Dada Debaser has instant flashbacks of zombie bitten Roger melancholically eating pickled kumquats when bumpin' this oddball delight. It's one of those gems that doesn't get any love whenever Dawn of the Dead's soundtrack is discussed and this blog is here to change that.

Neil Richardson - Approaching Menace

KPM 1000 Series: Dramatic Background (1970)

Hard to believe that the wholly inept slasher meets conspiracy thriller Delirium (1979), a film inadvertedly rescued from limbo thanks to its inclusion in the Department of Public Prosecution's infamous "video nasties" list, shares its music with the theme to the BBC's prestigious quiz show Mastermind (1972 -2022). Thanks to that programme, Neil Richardson's Approaching Menace is so ingrained in the British public's subconsicous, that it's instantly associated with any subject matter that is remotely described as "brainy". However, when you hear it for the unpteenth time in Peter Maris' terribley farcical film you can't help but laugh out loud at its hilarious inclusion. 

If only customer services had these incidental tracks playing instead of Coldplay, or whatever other dreck whenever I'm placed in a queue or put on hold. Would have lessened the hassle of having to call them, to be honest.

The Hippy Hippy Fake

Danger: Diabolik (Valmont's GoGo Pad scene)

(Mario Bava, 1968)

 

Didn't need films like Donald Cammell and Nicolas Roeg's overrated Performance (1970), to always know that the flower children of the sixties were nothing more than a bunch of drugged-up dossers. A promising British gangster movie takes a turn for the worse once Mick Jagger and Anita Pallenburg start hoggin' up precious screen time and wasting it with pseudo-intellectual babble. Since half the writing credit goes to a glorified Rolling Stones' groupie, I'm guessing Anita is the one to blame for making a hash of this film.

Praise Mario Bava then for successfully bringing to life the Italian fumetti, Danger: Diabolik (1968) with technicolour confetti, in what's arguably one of the best comic book movies hardly anyone ever mentions. Our man Diabolik has it all: Cool whips? Check! A dope underground crib? Hell yes! A fly honey? You betcha! Greatest achievement for me though, is the scene from Valmont's gogo club. A dreamy stoner nirvana that looks awesome, accompanied by an underrated Morricone jam. I find that scene way more enticing than any of the Woodstock Festival shite. That rare instance where I wouldn't have minded being a hippie, other than that time Sid James and the gang went undercover and sabotaged that hippie rave over in the adjacent field in Carry On Camping (1969).

Viva Las Vargas

Touch of Evil (Orson Welles, 1958)

 

Like a rubberball, Dada Debaser likes to bounce from one film genre to the next. Restricting one's self to just one area feels somewhat crippling in this day and age, especially whenever movie heads' appreciation for film (except musicals and French New Wave - that lot can burn!) comes at the expense of tunnelvision. Cue Dada Debaser's first classic film-noir, Orson Welles' Touch of Evil; a film that appeals to your humble host and moronic film critics alike.

 

Opted to go the same route as I did for Bob Clarke's Black Christmas (1974), since listing an assortment of what I like about the movie, rather than regurgitating the walls of sycophantic text of by the big wigs.

Touch of Evil (Opening Sequence)

(Orson Welles, 1958)

Crane Technique

Whenever Touch of Evil is ever brought up in any film discussion, without fail the long crane shot from the opening sequence will get an obligatory mention; deservedly so, I would add. Huge fan of this immersive opening sequence as it lets all the on screen action do the story telling. A logistical and technical headache made all the more difficult by the border guard actor's repeated bumbling of words. In the end he just silently moved his mouth while his dialogue was dubbed in post-production. Doesn't get mentioned as much, but I'm particularly fond of the infamous driving sequence from the film, too.

 

Shorty Wanna Be a Shutterbug

Other than the aformentioned infamous crane shot, there aren't that many actual overhead shots featured in the film. The majority of it is comprised of dutch angles, extreme close-ups and low shots; one could almost imagine that the film was shot by a crew of munchkins. Along with the highly contrasting black and white lighting, it gives the film a claustrophobic and slighly disorientating feel to it. It's perhaps the biggest reason why the film's somewhat convoluted plot feels completely secondary to me, in comparison to all the amazing visuals that unfold on the screen. An almost Faustian style bargain that would become evident in many of the Italian gialli a few years later down the line.

 

Big Bad Hank

Captain Hank Quinlan, a repugnantly obese, all-star lawman played by the larger than life, Orson Welles is the film's antagonist. As the film moves along, it becomes abundantly clear that the focus isn't really on Mike Vargas (Charlton Heston) and his wife, Sue Vargas (Janet Leigh) being caught up in a border town murder investigation, but about Quinlan's corruption and fall from grace. What's noteworthy about our antogonist, is his corrupt motive isn't financially driven, but his ignoble perversion in the pursuit of justice. This results in innocent individuals framed for crimes they did not commit and cold blooded murder. The line where he reveals his bitterness and ultimately gives his own prejudices away, can't be stressed enough how absolute power corrupts absolutely,"30 years of pounding beats and riding cars, 30 years of dirt and crummy pay. For 30 years, I gave my life to this department. And you allow this foreigner to accuse me! Answer, answer, why do I have to answer him? No sir! I won't take back that badge until the people of this county want me back!" Doubt Quinlan is the first bent lawman portrayed in film, but Welles' character certainly appears as an archetypal template in popular culture in depicting one, for sure. 

Chuck Calling Orson

While completely problematic by today's standards, white actors playing other cultures and races was the norm back then, believe it or not. A major tarnish purported against Touch of Evil in our present era is Charlton Heston playing the film's Mexican protagonist, Miguel/Mike Vargas. Perhaps the biggest criticism is Heston adopting an obvious dark skin complexion, which is hard to defend, but Quinlan's old flame, Tanya, played by Marlene Dietrich, seems remarkably exempt from criticism for pulling the same stunt in the very same picture. Adapted from Whit Masterson's (a pseudonym for the partnership duo of authors, Robert Allison Wade and H. Bill Miller) novel Badge of Evil (1956), Heston's character was originally white and swapped to latino by Welles' screenplay adaptation. Additionally, Susie Vargas was originally latina in Masterson's novel. Kind of opens a can of worms since Akim Tamiroff was Armenian, so where do we go from here? Despite the controversy, Heston, Leigh, Tamiroff and Dietrich delivered great performances, regardless.

 

 

Motel Hell

Goes without saying that Janet Leigh has a poor track record with motels. In this particular instance, being trapped in a remote motel room while being terrorised by a gang of juveniles might be a damn sight better than how she wound up in Hitchcock's Pyscho (1960). However, there's the constant threat of her possibly being drugged and gang raped by juvies, which makes her ordeal seem incredibly distressing. One of those rare moments where I find myself shouting at Janet to get the hell out of there. What I found notably shocking was the female gang leader (Mercedes McCambridge) uttering the chilling line, "I wanna watch". Might be completely alone here, but it's a quote that I believe might have been referenced by Patsy in Mark L. Lester's Class of 1984 (1982). However, the real star at the Miramar Hotel is its mentally impeded night manager, as played by Dennis Weaver. The scene where he freaks out finding a used roach is laugh out loud hilarious.

 

 

Bugeye Boo!

The hotel scene where Quinlan kills Uncle Joe Grandi (Akim Tamiroff) while Susie Vargas is lying drugged and unconscious is perhaps my favourite sequence from the film. The music sounds from the club below and the tight kinetic edited framework of Quinlan murdering Grandi while Mrs Vargas is lying in a bed, drugged and unconscious, is cinematic gold to me. All the better once Susie wakes from her slumber and is greeted by the sight of Joe Grandi's dead bulging eyes above her. Kind of commiting cinematic blasphemy since I'm bringing up The Devil with the ping pong eyeballs from Jesús Franco's ridiculously trashy Devil Hunter (1980), but that's what Grandi's corpse reminds me of from that scene.

 

Welcome to the Party, Pal!

Being an unapologetic genre movie fan, the border town location appeals to me greatly: the neon lights; the clubs and bars; loose women and general sleazy vibe, tug at my heart strings like a Jane Austen novel does to hopeless romantics. 

 

 

The Conversation

Finally, there's the tense finale where Vargas is following Quinlan's bugged accomplice into incriminating the dishonourable captain. All the more suspenseful seeing Vargas hauling a big archaic recorder receiver with him under a bridge and stumbling around oil fields to stay in range of the wire tap.

 

Signing off, amongst Welles' directorial pictures that I've seen, I find myself torn between this and the more celebrated Citizen Kane (1941). There's plenty that Touch of Evil has that appeals to me greatly that Citizen Kane does not, since it caters far more to my tastes and sensibilites than any of his other films. It's great to see this film treated far more kindly in retrospect than upon its initial release, although that's far more to do with Universal's meddling with the finished product than any of Welles' doing. Just glad that Welles' original vision for the picture was finally realised decades later.

Dada Debaser Bonus:

Although taking liberties with historical authenticity like the BBC's Peaky Blinders series, one of my favourite scenes from Tim Burton's Ed Wood (1994), is the chance meeting at a bar of Hollywood's "worst director" with its best. The scene where Ed Wood (Johnny Depp) while dressed in drag and Orson Welles (Vincent D’Onofrio) start talking about film making, the pitfalls of the studio system and the reluctance in casting Charlton Heston in Touch of Evil is pure comedy to me. In truth, it was Heston who advised Universal to have Welles direct the film. Nevertheless, no matter how fictitious this scene is, it's still a wonderful moment from one of Burton's better films:

 

Ed Wood (Ed Wood meets Orson Welles Scene)

(Tim Burton, 1994)

 

We'll Both Ride Home In My Automobile

Drive My Car (Ryûsuke Hamaguchi, 2021)

It's that time of the year when every blaggard sitting in front of a computer starts to compile their best of lists (including yours very soon), and sifting through Sight And Sound's Best Films of 2021 list of entries compiled by some of today's most pretentious film critics really does highlight the cultural barrier between the chin-strokers and the great unwashed.

Having endured a laborious three-hour sit through of Ryûsuke Hamaguchi's Drive My Car, I'm baffled how this film even made it on any critic's list, let alone a whole flock of them. Hamaguchi taps into themes pertaining to guilt and regret (something I definitely felt while watching this, might I add ) amidst the backdrop of a pre-production of Uncle Vanya, by the film's playwrite/actor protagonist. Performances are generally solid and the photography is capable enough, but it's the pacing that kills it for me; to the point where every pregnant pause takes the piss and every scene achingly outstays its welcome on the screen. If I were to hazard a guess, shaving off around forty-five to sixty minutes in the editing room, would have helped the film in a major way, as it stands, it annoyed the hell out of me.

Sure your typical, condescending pseudo-intellectuals are fawning all over it, but this is just another case of the emperor's new clothes to me. An agonising endurance test and the latest example of my disconnect with today's film critics. One for the Oscar chasers.

EDIT: Props to the dapper dressed gent, Kim Newman for at least keepin' it real.