Here's a wild stab at populational psychoanalysis: all electronic artists secretly harbor the desire to score films. It's a charge that could be levied at any purveyor of instrumental music, the choice to leave out lyrical imagery feeding the assumption that the composer might be willing to rent out his child as sonic wallpaper for celluloid. Given the many extravagantly budgeted promotional spots computer tweakers churn out for the odd 3:30am showings on MTV4, the electronic genus seems particularly disposed to marrying the visual and the auditory.
King of Woolworths, the professional handle of Englander Jon Brooks, tips its hand right on the back cover by including both a "main titles" and "end credits" version of a song called "Bakerloo." The ten tracks of Ming Star support this thesis, residing somewhere between the hazy, lazy Tomorrowland of Air and the always-referred-to-as-'pastoral' densely textured vibe of Boards of Canada. Like the former context-establishing band (whose sublime Virgin Suicides soundtrack reigns as gold standard for electronic scores), Brooks has a taste for organic foundations and analog synths, but with a darker edge that keeps King of Woolworths from becoming Zero 8.
In fact, I wouldn't be too surprised if Hollywood's music directors aren't spinning Ming Star on their $70,000 office stereos as we speak, pondering which upcoming release could best utilize Mr. Brooks' talents. But before you dial up Mantra Recordings on your headset telephone, Movie Guy, here's a helpful guide to how the better songs of the album could be used:
"Colcannon": With its splashy distorted drums, throbbing club beat and synthesizer flatulence, consider this track for that Matrix rip-off you've got in the pipeline. It might not be the freshest sound, but that slow-motion 360-degree camera trick is getting pretty stale, too.
"Kite Hill": Anchored by a delicate string arrangement and some perky bass-and-drumming, "Kite Hill" is that brand of glacial atmospherics that would anchor a nice travel-across-America montage scene. You know, characters staring pensively out bus windows at expanses of corn, sun setting behind mountain ranges, metaphorical shots of The Open Road, that sort of thing. Pencil it in for the feature film version of the Nick Drake Volkswagen ad.
"Bakerloo": The most Air-ish composition here (due to its picked acoustic guitar and oscillating synth melody), it's hard to imagine cinematic uses for either of the two versions here that don't blatantly bite from The Virgin Suicides. Hire Sofia Coppola, and use it as dressing for a soft-focus, sun-drenched flashback.
My cynicism about Hollywood's use of electronic music notwithstanding, Ming Star is a pretty impressive and affable full-length debut, even if it does lack that one unique element necessary to separate the album from its genre peers. Other than slightly bothersome familiarity, the only misstep comes from Brooks' clunky use of film dialogue-- the respective moods of "Stalker's Song" and "To the Devil a Donut" are creepy enough without superfluous soundbytes from low-rent Sleeping with the Enemy and Rosemary's Baby knock-offs. But in the class of Space Age-y instrumen-tronica, King of Woolworths still a earns a solid B, certified for pre-clubbing gin-and-tonics or the newest indie buzz-kicker from a Coppola spawn.
