Themes for an Imaginary Film* *arrives following the release of Drive, the film which Italians Do It Better star and Italo-disco producer Johnny Jewel was originally tapped to soundtrack. But much of his work (created with assistance from longtime collaborator Nat Walker of Chromatics and Desire) went unused in lieu of Cliff Martinez's score. There's no point in pretending that the Imaginary Film of this collection's title isn't that movie. The cover depicts a steering wheel and dashboard. The intro track begins with vehicle sounds. And the lengthy 37-track score suits Drive's distinctive blend of grit, glamour, and abject loneliness. Befitting its standalone release, though, this project does stand alone, and Themes for an Imaginary Film makes for an engrossing listen in a way that many film scores don't.
Maybe it's because we can't hear the score over Drive itself, but Themes for an Imaginary Film makes up for its lack of a visual counterpart by telling a story of its own. Evocative, stirring, yet restrained, Jewel's mixture of eerie near-silences, ominously bubbling synths, and tearjerking melodies (rendered by real-life viola and cello players) is a formidable combination.
For anyone expecting a quasi-album full of orchestral overtures or ambient mood pieces, Themes for an Imaginary Film's opening run will set you right: "City of Dreams" and "Over the Edge" are driven by Jewel's usual assortment of grainy analog synths and brittle guitars, and there's even a slight beat underlaid, though it's more like a faint heartbeat than the disco-driven rhythms of Glass Candy or Chromatics. But by the time we get to track six ("Outside Looking In"), the beats disappear and are replaced by moody, glacial waves of sound, reminding us that this is, in fact, a film soundtrack.
Appropriately, Jewel's sonics are adjusted for their new setting. Though he uses his trademark sounds well, the claustrophobic, sweaty-club vibe that defines Chromatics and Glass Candy is completely absent. Compositions like the fantastic "Behind the Wheel" are either left completely dry, with their synth elements at the fore sounding bigger and clearer (the harshly distorted "Death Mask" is almost wince-inducing), or awash with reverb, like the woozy "The Maze" or the lonely electric piano lament "Hall of Mirrors". The spare, disconsolate atmosphere perfectly complements the film it was meant for, but it also makes for an immersive listen, with an unusual amount of space allowed for within Jewel's music.
At two hours and 37 tracks long, Themes for an Imaginary Film is not exactly easy to digest in one sitting. But just as it bypasses many of the caveats associated with film scores, so it does with overlong albums: Themes works as well as mood music as it does close listening, and the way it swims between rhythm-driven beatscapes and ambient swells provides enough tension for it to unobtrusively grab your attention every once in a while. There's never too much drama, and there's never too much silence. The record is immaculately paced.
For you impatient listeners out there, a number of highlights are worth taking out of their original context. In addition to the aforementioned, "Magic Gardens" features an overwhelming synth line that sounds like the "Streets of Philadelphia" refrain blotting out the sun, and with some fleshing out, the teasingly short "Nightshift" (appearing twice) could easily be a Chromatics stunner. The lack of any sort of human presence-- outside of the automated voice that begins the score and the ambulance sirens and police radio that appear chillingly halfway through-- is shattered with the album's closer "Streets of Fire". Performed almost entirely a cappella by Chromatics singer Ruth Radelet, the song is a stunningly naked, somber ending to the 2.5 hours that precede it. Combining plaintive lyrics with a nursery-rhyme melody, it trades the dangerous seductiveness or dirty street suavity of Jewel's other projects for pure sorrow.
Themes for an Imaginary Film isn't a decadent disco soundtrack like Goblin might have made, nor a noodly synth odyssey à la John Carpenter or Vangelis. Rather, it's something completely Jewel's own, blending his distinctively fragile synthetic textures with a suitably cinematic realism that he's rarely let show. Whether you treat it as background music, incidental listening, or a two-hour magnum opus, Themes for an Imaginary Film is a well-rounded portrait of a key figure in the American electronic music landscape.
