Kill Bill Vol 1 Soundtrack List
Najla Ondik
And sure it's almost pointless to be writing news about soundtracks for every movie, but I had to make an effort to write about the soundtrack for Quentin Tarantino's half of Grindhouse called Death Proof. With the Kill Bill's, it's obvious Tarantino has an ear for damn good music, and I expect the same here. As you hopefully know by now, the movie is about a stuntman named Stuntman Mike who kills girls in his car because he's the only one who doesn't die in the driver seat when he pulls crazy stunts. Now just imagine how many badass songs you could fit to that kind of action...
The music perfectly captures the feel of the exploitation films that became popular in American cinema in the late '60s and '70s. The soundtrack includes classic songs from the '60s and '70s, such as "Jeepster" from British glam rock band T Rex, "Staggolee" from San Francisco blues band Pacific Gas & Electric, "Down In Mexico" from doo-wop legends The Coasters, and "Good Love, Bad Love" by Stax R&B legend Eddie Floyd. It also features a haunting composition, entitled "Paranoia Prima," from legendary Italian film score composer Ennio Morricone - who just won the Honorary Oscar last weekend for his hundreds of fantastic scores (including some tracks in Kill Bill). The songs are interspersed with dialogue voiced by the actors including Russell, Rose McGowan, Eli Roth, and Michael Bacall.
You can get both the Death Proof and Planet Terror albums on Amazon.com now - check it out if you're interested, it's a great CD worthy of any other Tarantino soundtrack!
With The Oscars celebrating the biggest night for film this past Sunday night I wanted to include a post that listed some movies with exceptional soundtracks. I focused today more on compilations rather than original music so listed below, in no particular order, are 10 movies whose soundtracks are great and memorable.
This may not be first on the list, but there is no cooler soundtrack in the Tarantino oeuvre than Kill Bill: Vol. 1. This is partially the result of it being the first one that QT collaborated on, with RZA of the Wu-Tang Clan producing the actual soundtrack released as a record, as well as scoring a handful of scenes in the actual movie in addition to remixing some of the old standards and less famous works Tarantino exhumed. Beyond that though, the needle drops Tarantino selected for his first movie after a six-year hiatus from the screen are just slick.
Known in music circles as much for his racy soundtracks as for his even racier films, director Quentin Tarantino extends that reputation with the second instalment in the Kill Bill saga, compiling yet another set of oddball tracks that imbue his story of vengeance with a cinematic flourish.
As he did on the prior volume, Tarantino leans on his longtime love of rockabilly, once again dipping into the Charlie Feathers canon for the echo-soaked "Can't Hardly Stand It." The director also taps renowned spaghetti western composer Ennio Morricone for inspiration by way of three pieces: "Il Tramonto," shaded by lightly plucked acoustic guitar; "L'Arena," with its rich mix of mariachi horns and an unobtrusive military cadence; and the foreboding "A Silhouette of Doom," which juxtaposes rumbling timpani and a gradually building string arrangement.
I've discussed the nuances of this soundtrack with many people over the last two weeks, from freckled Sbarro employees to former Diamondback Efrain Valdez. The verdict is unanimous, transcending race, creed, and musical preference: Kill Bill, Vol. 2 is no match for Vol. 1. Curiously, though, this seems to be through no fault of Vol. 2's. People just seem to feel that comparing the two is as ludicrous as comparing a typhoon to the Sistine Chapel. In fact, most of my queries concluded with condescension or confusion. As one city clerk put it, "You want me to do what now?"
It's no wonder people prefer the exhilarating thrust and groove of Vol. 1. Tarantino's world is one that thrives on thrashing swiftness and attention deficit disorders. And he works in a culture where entire residential areas are paved in neon lights, and anyone that goes the speed limit is labeled an effete bore or a terrorist. But the actual reason for this universal preference is more ambiguous. For every claim that "the Vol. 1 soundtrack is faster, sort of catchier," you'll catch a brief, addled grimace, a mark of uncertainty.
How can you possibly compare the two halves of this film, regardless of whether you derided or adored them? The first is all blustering, epileptogenic havoc; the second explores the first volume's motivation, history, and identity. And if it's a bit slow-going, it's because the creases in the characters' faces took a while to form. So do the soundtracks mirror this relationship? Does the Vol. 2 soundtrack redress Vol. 1's pop euphoria, and try to instill a little culture and history through the same musicians and characters? Does this explain the recurrence of certain artists-- Charlie Feathers, Meiko Kaji, Luis Bacalov, and Ennio Morricone? Of fucking course not, you pompous shit. Let's axe this disc like it ain't got no kids:
Any fears are swiftly squelched with Shivaree's opening "Goodnight Moon", a skulking ooze that slinks down the stairs and leaps to the floor, part innocent, haunted-house shiver and part libidinous excess: "There's a blade by the bed/ And a phone in my hand/ A dog on the floor/ And some cash on the nightstand." It's as intoxicating and drenched in blood/sex/sweat as a three-minute Corona commercial. The broiling lust and loss is continued in Charlie Feathers' "Can't Hardly Stand It". Feathers basically made his entire career out of sounding like he was always endlessly and exquisitely enjoying a total mental and physical breakdown, and this song might be his climax: a limping, slashed voice punctuated by incredible, stinging gasps for air. It's as downtrodden and chilling as anything I've heard recently, with the possible exception of a full choir of Spanish children singing mass-- which happens to constitute the soundtrack's next torrid track.
But the absolute masterpiece is Morricone's "L'Arena", an ode to pernicious anticipation that surrounds itself in bizarre, contorted construction sounds, like dirt being thrown over a grave. Whistling and brass is torn between elegy and celebration, while an effervescent choir sings a rain dance of noxious beauty. It's the kind of piece you can't listen to very frequently because you'll never want to do anything else again. The only possible competition lies in another Morricone dervish, the indefatigable "A Silhouette of Doom". Every single instrument here is played to its full capacity-- pianos are stomped, trumpets are excoriated, and guitars are brandished in a strangulating combination of Indian warcry, Hitchcockian dread, dog whistle, and recycling plant.
There's really only one lonely misstep: Malcolm McLaren's preposterous "About Her", which is, literally, a trip-hop Zombies classic. The bigger issue, however, lies with the sequencing. For the most part, Tarantino seemed to have little idea of how to match his song choices with the film's scenes. Johnny Cash's slow death, "A Satisfied Mind", is given a few brief moments on Budd's stereo, while two of the best songs ever-- Morricone's Fistful of Dollars and Navajo Joe themes (neither of which are represented on either of the two soundtracks)-- are given hardly any coherent visual accompaniment.
Likewise, Tarantino doesn't seem to have put much thought into how to represent the songs on this release. Vol. 1 offered a much more cohesive listen, with all sorts of elaborate connections between its songs: Bacalov's scalding Santa Ana winds segued into the Twisted Nerve whistle; Issac Hayes's militaristic snare whirled into Al Hirt's "Green Hornet Theme", etc. But Kill Bill, Vol. 2 simply doesn't make any sense; despite the quality of these tracks, the disc plays like a blur of arbitrary inclusions, more like a Sunday afternoon college radio DJ than any of the soundtrack releases that have made Tarantino as respected a music archivist as he is a director.
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Earlier in 2017 we started a nominating process in which many members of our community suggested the best overall spaghetti westerns. It was a daunting challenge, as it is almost impossible to consider the music independently from the movies that made these tunes famous. It was a foregone conclusion therefore, that many soundtracks in the following list (the result of a further four week voting period) matches the Top 20 of films very closely. To get an even better picture of the music that defined the genre of the Spaghetti Western so well and to give credit to the great composers and musicians, it was agreed that there would be an alternative top 20 compiled from among those that did not make this cut below. We will post that shortly. There will also be a ranking of the best opening title theme songs. Both of these upcoming lists should contribute to a more holistic picture of the music of the spaghetti western. Stay tuned.
The quintessential example of the Spaghetti West, this 1966 film was the final part of Sergio Leone's Dollar's Trilogy. With it's coyote call motifs, loud indecipherable chants and powerful electric guitars, the film score is largely considered to be Ennio Morricone's magnum opus.
Sergio Leone's love letter to the American West, featuring grandiose Spanish and American locations, sprawling cities, and an all star cast, this was Leone's most ambitious film yet. To match the visuals, Ennio Morricone would step in to bring a score that weaved the traditional majesty of the American West with the harsh violence and raw emotion of the Spaghetti West. Morricone would utilize the haunting voice Edda Dell'Orso, the sharp and mournful cry of Franco De Gimini's harmonica, and the entire talents of Alessondroni's I Cantori Moderni.
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