Harold Budd - Abandoned Cities

Cantil/All Saints: 1984/2018

We're not done with the Buddster just yet. The Budd Box contains six of his albums, and I've only covered four of them now. As is clear, he's titled his works all over the alphabet, from the dizzying highs of the 'A's and 'B's, to the decrepit lows of the 'W's and 'V's. Okay, not 'V's, but it don't rhyme otherwise, and like Hell I'm gonna' betray my Canadian heritage in saying anything other than 'zed', eh.

Abandoned Cities was the follow-up to The Serpent (In Quicksilver), and couldn't be more different from that record if ol' Harold tried. In fact, this is almost nothing like anything he'd released prior. And though I've hardly taken in much of his post-'80s work, I can't imagine many pieces in his archives quite like this either. For you see, my friends, Mr. Budd took it upon himself to do something nearly all ambient musicians do: the twenty-minute long composition!

True ultra-lengthy ambient compositions were hardly a new thing by the mid-'80s. Brain Eno's 1/1, the very first ambient track was sixteen and a half minutes long, not to mention- What? Of course 1/1 was the first ambient track. How is that even a debate? It's literally the first track on the first album with the title of Ambient in it! *does a soft-shoe off to Stage Right*

Anyhow, while ambient producers and minimalist Berlin-Schoolers were all about the long-form dronescapes, Budd typically kept his pieces short and to the point, seldom breaching the double-digit domain. Not with Abandoned Cities though, a mere two tracks long, the titular cut a whopping twenty-three in total. And moody, oh my is it ever a moody piece. Like, I get that calling a composition of music Abandoned Cities creates a sense of emptiness and desolation, forlorn thoughts of what once was and is now lost. That omnipresent synth drone though, sounding like a suffocating blanket of darkness and depression, such that Budd's usual gentle piano tones have difficulty piercing the murk. Even those, so often tranquil and introspective in his other works, can't help but ooze melancholy in their surroundings. This is about as 'dark ambient' as I'm sure Budd's ever gone, though still feels more at home in the 'modern classical' domain, befitting an art gallery of derelict husks slowly eroding in vacant urban settings.

If that seems just a tad on the “Hey, you okay, bro'?” side of things, then get a load of the first track on here, Dark Star. As depressive as Abandoned Cities is, at least it still had a thread of humanity in it, Budd's piano a comforting, familiar companion. There's no such instrument in play here though, Harold's trademark gentle touches on the keys replaced with stark synth stabs, stripping out all traces of human soul in the process. Oh, what a tantalizing 'what if' this piece proposes, Harold Budd doing dark ambient for the remain of his career. Might still have worked in that Cocteau Twins collaboration too.

James Horner - Star Trek III: The Search For Spock

Capitol/GNP Crescendo: 1984/1990

Now we’re getting into real geeky territory.

The first two Star Trek movie soundtracks, one can make the argument they surpass the source material, making them essential additions to any gatherer of classic film scores. Jerry Goldsmith, already no slouch in Hollywood, made some of Trek’s most iconic pieces for The Motion Picture, such that he’d recycle many of those themes in the later films he scored. James Horner, a total newcomer in Hollywood, made some of Trek’s most thrilling music for The Wrath Of Khan, such that he’d recycle some of those themes in other films he scored. Either way, both are standouts of the sci-fi soundtrack genre, such that you don’t need to be a Trekkie to appreciate them.

Beyond that, however, we’re getting deep into the realm of fans-only releases. There’s a couple more Trek soundtracks after this one I wouldn’t mind having should I find them on the cheap. Cliff Eidelman’s work for Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country recaptured many aspects of Horner’s compositions without stepping on James’ toes much, and Goldsmith turned in another winner with his work on Star Trek: First Contact. Maybe if I were to indulge my inner Trekkie to the utmost, some gathered works from The Next Generation and Deep Space Nine would be nice, but that’s an extreme case.

Instead, I’ve only gone as far as Star Trek III: The Search For Spock, because another LP of James Horner Trek music can’t go wrong. It’s also remarkably different compared to The Wrath Of Khan, if anything because the movie itself is a departure from the previous one. A somber mood permeates much of the film, as can be expected when our hero James T. Kirk is dealing with so much tragedy throughout. Not just the loss of Spock in Khan, but his subsequent rebellion against Starfleet, the death of his son David, the forced destruction of the Enterprise, and the total annihilation of the Genesis Planet, putting a damper on all those ‘life from death’ themes. Oh, um, spoilers, I guess?

Horner’s score reflects many of these moments, seldom going for the thrilling, bombastic orchestrations in Khan. Stealing The Enterprise is the lone exception, giving us a taste of exciting adventure despite the action on screen being rather mundane – it’s a perfect example of a score completely selling a scene, which Horner excelled at even at this early stage of his career.

Since he didn’t have to come up with as many original themes either, Horner experimented a little, mostly in his instrumentations. Klingons may not have been as iconic as Goldsmith’s theme for the classic alien species, but the clanking percussion Horner uses works wonderfully for a culture with a military industrial complex. Alternatively, the soft, meditative exotic drums in The Katra Ritual serves as a strong contrast for the logical Vulcans. And in keeping things human and ‘80s, there’s a bonus synth-pop rendition of the movie’s main theme. Yeah, that was common on soundtracks back then. Don’t ask.

Bryan Adams - Reckless

A&M Records: 1984

Yeah, yeah, go on. Rib, mock, jest, and jeer all you want, I can take it. I'm puffin' my chest out at you though, getting all “Come at me, bro!” in your faces with this. Throw your best shots. Bryan Adams sucks, you say? More like rocks, says I! You claim he writes obvious rock-schlock and has a crap singing voice? I claim he writes perfectly enjoyable rock anthems, with a hoarse bellow befitting arenas. He's a has-been, way past his prime? Well, Reckless is his prime! Heaven is a wretched piece of sap, not only spawning countless rock-ballads from bands who should know better, but inspiring hideous euro-dance cover bilge decades later? Yeah, okay, you got me there.

And what the heck, I'll join ya'll; or rather, my pre-teen self will. See, Bryan Adams is the first musician I recall hating, specifically for that one ubiquitous song of 1991, (Everything I Do) I Do It For You. I couldn't escape the bloody thing. Pop radio, rock radio, MuchMusic, weddings, awkward school dances, Kevin Costner movies - no matter where I went, the ballad was there, and I loathed it. Of course, matters weren't helped that I was living in Vancouver at the time, every local media outlet thus promoting the ever loving shit out of their home-grown star export. Time passes though, and as I learned more of Mr. Adams' back-catalogue, I realized that the chap was responsible for some of my favourite rock hits of the '80s too, many of which came from this here album.

He and song-writing partner Jim Vallance had already developed a respectable reputation within the industry with Adams’ third album Cuts Like A Knife. Reckless finds the duo in full stride, spoiling the listener with the ear-wormiest rock to ever grace radio land. Run To You, Summer Of ‘69, Somebody, Kids Wanna Rock, the Tina Turner featuring It’s Only Love, and, *sigh*, Heaven, are all on here. Hell, they make up the whole middle portion of Reckless. That’s six classic staples of ‘80s rock, all in a row, mang! What a ridiculous run of music there, the likes of which few musicians ever accomplish in their career, much less in the span of a single LP. Rounding things out are agreeable rockers like One Night Love Affair, She’s Only Happy When She’s Dancin’, a honky-tonk offering with Long Gone, and an arena loud, uptempo finale in Ain’t Gonna Cry, ending full-stop and leaving the listener hungry for more. International stardom certified from there on out.

I can’t deny Reckless is super-slick and studio polished – it doesn’t ‘rawk’. Compared to many other rock efforts of the era though, it at least has more fire and heart than most. Obviously punk and metal heads weren’t going to give Adams much love (erm, aside surprisingly placing forty-ninth in a 100 Greatest Heavy Metal Albums 1989 article from UK metal magazine Kerrang!), but for everyone else, this is a fun LP, and Adams’ best overall effort.

Harold Budd & Brian Eno - The Pearl

Editions EG: 1984/1987

Most everyone is familiar with Harold Budd and Brian Eno’s first collaboration, if nothing else because it served as the second in Eno’s seminal Ambient series. Less familiar is The Pearl, released during that period of the ‘80s when Eno and Daniel Lanois were hanging out a bunch, making soundtracks for Apollo missions and awakening sleepers (but before elevating U2’s musical presence to the godly realms).

For that reason, I keep thinking this is the score to an obscure art film that aired on BBC or PBS. I picture a haggard galleon captain, writing in his log book as twilight has settled. His only light is a single candle at his desk, and a pale glow of a near-half moon filtering through his window. An inner monolog intones bleak loneliness, uncertain of his futile mission of travelling incognito along the Spanish Main hunting for dwindling supplies of precious pearls. Why are they pillaging wondrous tropical islands for an Empire having difficulty sustaining these expeditions? What news of his wife and family back home, what with war brewing on mainland Europe? Half his crew remains discontent, hushed whispers of mutiny leaking through the ship’s wet, wooden floors. Existential historical drama at its finest, 8pm this Friday on your local public station.

So that may or may not have been what Budd and Eno were envisioning when crafting The Pearl (I’ll wager ‘not bloody likely’), but the beauty of this album is it can represent whatever you wish. That said, there’s definitely a lonely tone throughout, Budd’s delicate piano work enhanced by wispy synth echoes and ghostly reverb. At times, it feels as though notes linger in the air forever, your ears wandering the vast stretches of seeming emptiness before another gentle bit of piano plays out. There’s never any urgency in this music, though sometimes a looming feeling of disquieting unease permeates the atmosphere. Screw the historical drama, this is a perfect soundtrack for writing modern-epic Russian literature in the dead of Siberian winter.

The Pearl is a lovely collection of music, but unfortunately has little else to detail. Budd’s on the piano, Eno’s on the subtle synths, and Lanois’ on the treatments. Each track only lasts a few minutes, none breaching the five-minute mark, which is nice in keeping the music thematically tight within each composition – no meandering dithering on this album, my friends. A couple tracks make use of natural sound effects, like dripping water in A Stream With Bright Fish, distant calls of the wild in Dark-Eyed Sister, or night-time critters in An Echo Of Night. Also, Budd doesn’t always lead with piano, Against The Sky sounding like he uses a soft organ.

Given how much minimalist ambient material Eno’s put out over the years, it’s all too daunting diving into his extended works and collaborations, especially albums that aren’t at the peak of recommendation lists. As The Pearl comes from his golden ambient period though, definitely check this one out if you’ve started past the essentials.

Toto - Dune (Original Soundtrack)

Polydor: 1984

Even as a kid, I had a handle on most sci-fi movies of the '80s. Star Wars and Star Trek, ain't no th'ang. Higher concept movies like 2010 and The Terminator? Perfectly fine. Dune? Uh... what's going on? A bunch of talky-talk by faux-European space-cultures, plus a slug in a giant, gassy tube. And hey, Captain Picard's in this too! That's awesome! Then people go to Dune, some more stuff happens, a cool sequence with a giant worm goes down, a battle against guys with weird outfits and Sting happens, and oh man I haven't a clue anymore.

Turns out my confuddlement over Dune wasn't just youthful naivety. When I sat down to watch the flick beginning to end as an adult, it still didn't make much sense, though I could at least appreciate the visual design. Costumes, sights, sets, and more from the movie became fixtures in not only geek culture, but even the rave scene, dialog samplers frequently raiding Dune for quotables. Whatever faults the movie had on a narrative level, you couldn’t deny its enduring style.

Same can be said for Toto’s soundtrack. Bringing on the prog-rock conglomerate to score a sci-fi epic sounds utterly daft, but that’s par for the course for director David Lynch. The group didn’t let him down either, the Main Title theme’s epic, soaring sombre strings one of sci-fi’s most recognizable leitmotifs. Elsewhere, the mysterious Trip To Arrakis perfectly captures the eerie surreal setting of spice-based ‘folding space’ travel, while the gentle Paul Meets Chani’s a lovely romantic theme that’s sadly squandered on a barely existent plot thread. And speaking of squandered music, I can’t be the only one that’s disappointed in the shortened Big Battle piece, an exhilarating and triumphant marching reiteration of the Main Title that classically camps out at the climax with operatic choirs and squalling guitars.

Toto being a rock group though, they had to worm in some standards too. Take My Hand sounds way fucking ‘80s, but not so bad as Dune (Desert Theme), where I picture the likes of Yanni in the studio rather than Toto. I suppose Take My Hand is fine for a credit roll (where even characters that barely had two scenes and served no purpose got their mug shot in over rolling sea waves ...wait, why’s there an ocean at the end of a movie called Dune? I’m confuddled again), but Desert Theme doesn’t fit anywhere in the context of this CD. Yes, including one where the clanking Robot Fight mixes in from the Main Title.

Whatever. We all know the true highlight of Dune doesn’t even involve Toto; rather, it’s the Eno-Lanois-Eno piece Prophecy Theme. Rumour has it Brian Eno had done an unofficial score too, this haunting bit of lush ambience the only remaining evidence of such. One can only imagine how that would have turned out, though I suspect Eno being Eno, we wouldn’t have quite as many classic musical cues as Toto provided. Grace in subtlety, right?

Eurythmics - 1984 (For The Love Of Big Brother)

Virgin: 1984

It's a shoe-in, I tell ya', a shoe-in! Making a movie based on a book set upon a specific year, who could resist a chance at producing such a sure thing? What does it matter if the über-fascist society George Orwell created in 1984 never came to pass in 1984 – you can get away with an 'alternate reality' movie! Better make sure it hits theatres on time though, otherwise you'll look silly releasing a movie titled 1984 in the year 1985, or heaven forbid even later (suck it, 1956). Yep, only one chance at it. Don't let Big Brother down.

While the movie turned out a success, it didn't come without its share of controversy. Little to do with the actual content, mind you, although I'm sure more than a few folks found the Room 101 scenes squeamish. Nay, the main kerfuffle involved the soundtrack, specifically how two different scores were commissioned without either composer knowing about it.

The director, Michael Radford, had tapped orchestral writer Dominic Muldowney for music, while Almighty Virgin, which financed the film, wanted Eurythmics instead, pissing Radford off. Hey, can’t blame the director in feeling his vision was compromised by record suits, especially with Virgin editing the music cues with both scores as they saw fit. Stewart and Lennox, however, were apparently never made aware of the original score, and thus were caught off-guard by Radford’s ire. Compounding matters was Virgin toying with Eurythmics’ recordings for the LP release, making the soundtrack album as commercially viable as possible with nice, acceptable synth-pop versions of the score. Virgin probably figured they’d have their own Flashdance on their hands. No such luck, me buckos, 1984 (For The Love Of Big Brother) generating one single in Sexcrime, far from a memorable Eurythmics’ hit.

It’s best forgetting the politics involved with developing this album and regard 1984 as a concept LP Stewart and Lennox crafted on a lark, especially since little of their music as heard on this CD did end up in the film. All the icy-cool synth-pop awesome of Eurythmics’ glory years are present, with Lennox cooing on upbeat tracks Sexcrime (banned from Bible Belt airwaves!) and For The Love Of Big Brother, funkier jazz-scat in I Did It Just The Same, and charming ballad Julia. One thing that unfortunately dates these tunes is the use of a vocal sampler on Lennox’ voice, stiffly chopping it at various points (especially for Sexcrime), but it’s a quibble easily bypassed.

Besides, the true awesome of 1984 are the instrumentals, where Lennox’s non-lyrical singing becomes another tool instead of the centrepiece, and sure to surprise anyone only familiar with Eurythmics’ radio hits. Brief ambient interlude Winston’s Diary aside, the remaining tracks drive with mechanical, tribal rhythms and choking electronic soundscapes. Doubleplusgood’s incredibly ear-wormy, Ministry Of Love beautifully captures techno-futurism, and final track Room 101’s suitably menacing as it drags the album to its end with a final slam of iron doors. Chilling.

Bob Marley & The Wailers - Legend

Tuff Gong: 1984

Speaking of reggae...

This is where that Peter Tosh fella' below got his start, even penning some of The Wailers' most memorable hits (Get Up, Stand Up, One Foundation) - I'm sure he also influenced many other political songs from the group that became reggae staples for years to come. But yes, the main star of the enterprise was Robert Nesta Marley, or simply Bob to white stoners the world over.

I guess the importance of this collective of reggae musicians cannot be overstated. There were other names and bands that had a greater hand in developing the sound, true, but none came within an earshot of breaking into American radio. Then all of a sudden, folks picked up on these quirky, rugged roots rhythms emanating from Jamaica, almost exclusively from a practically all-star cast calling themselves The Wailers, fronted by an incredibly magnetic singer with crazy dreadlocks. Why is he even wearing his hair like that? Because he's a Rastafarian? What's that? Goodness, what else is going on in Jamaica? It all sounds so, like, laid-back and fun, man. They also like smokin' grass too. Oh man, I'm totally gonna be Jamaican now, it's kinda like being a hippie, right?

So I don't know if that's really what '60s burnouts thought of reggae music, but seeing how it's affected the hippie culture since, it wouldn't surprise me. Kind of a moot point though, as one doesn’t have to be of the crusty persuasion to enjoy Bob Marley; hence his broad appeal. The knack for a hook, the charming melodies and vocalizations, the poignant messages, and, perhaps key, the comprehensible lyrics (ain’t no thick Jamaican accents here, my friends), they were the total package for global domination. Sadly, after a brilliant decade of music, Marley died of cancer at the start of the ‘80s. And while The Wailers still tour performing all their classic jams (woot, I even saw them at a nearby folk festival), they ceased writing new tunes.

Obviously, a greatest hits package followed, arriving in ’84 as Legend. It’s been the definitive Bob Marley & The Wailers collection ever since, seeing countless re-issues, re-masterings, and remix supplements. Every tune you know of the group is here - Buffalo Soldier, Jamming, Stir It Up, I Shot The Sheriff, etc. – though depending on the version you find, not always in its best iteration. For instance, the first runs of Legend featured a live recording of No Woman No Cry, which for my money is the best way to hear the tune (obviously, since I paid for it). Its seven minutes long, so plenty of extended jams go down, but for some stupid reason, it’s been excised from newer copies of the CD in favour of an edited cut. Poor form, made even worse by the same thing happening to my all-time favourite Marley tune, Exodus. Dammit, I don’t care if it’s remastered, you don’t edit that dubby masterpiece! Be wary of such shenanigans if you get Legend for yourself.