Cinematic Orchestra Ma Fleur

Based on what I heard about Cinematic Orchestra's new album, that the songs were soundtracks to films that didn't exist, I was perfectly prepared to hate it. Not because I dislike pretentiousness and indulgence - on the contrary, I'm a big fan of the Faustian bargain and the flight plan of Icarus, not to mention Yes, Pink Floyd and Apocalypse Now, so I often revel in what results from an artist shooting too high and going down in brilliant, white-hot flames. But there was something about this particular concept that smelled fishy. After all, you and I both know that soundtrack music is usually boring and pointless outside of the context of a film, and I for one could rarely see the artistic purpose in releasing 95% of it. At its best, maybe you could justify it as a kind of acid flashback, allowing you to replay the cool bits from the movie in your head. Well I'm too old for that crap. And it's one thing for classical composers to be dickin' around with this stuff - after Schoenberg, Berg and Webern they clearly have nothing better to do and maybe it pays the bills. But when indie bands get into the act you just KNOW you're in for trouble. So no, I was not predisposed to like this album - and I was not disappointed.

It didn't have to be this way. The first song is actually not bad, and actually a song. Sure, it sounds like a Sufjan Stevens outtake from his forthcoming album about Alaska, but it's got a nice tune and a little passion behind it. But from there the album quickly degenerates into 45 minutes of noodling and maddeningly moody mellowness. And why wouldn't it? Remember, this is the background music for a non-existent film, so really it's the visuals that count. Cinema. Except that, at least on my digitized version of the album, there are no visuals, just loads of background. For that matter, there is precious little drama as well. At least when I listen to the theme from The Natural on record I know something significant is happening somewhere. Here we have sounds and rhythms of Starbucksian import, and I'm not talkin' Moby Dick or even Battlestar Galactica. Sure the music's pretty, but give me a break, is this what artistic expression has come down to?

So my advice, if you happen to find yourself in possession of this album, is to treat it like the background music of your life. Put it on and go about your usual business; walking the dog, making dinner, or reading a goddamn book for a change. Listening is not required.