The Assassination of Jesse James
1 吉他谱
0 求谱
0 拨片
The Assassination of Jesse James专辑介绍
在靠Brad Pitt拿下了64届威尼斯电影节最佳男主角后，EMI趁热打铁推出了此部拥有超长剧名的电影“The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford ”(《刺杀神枪侠》)的电影原声。其实对另一群的人来说，最让其感到价值的地方恰恰就是这部由Nick Cave及其长期合作伙伴Warren Ellis共同创作的原声音乐。作为商业价值与其创作水准最为平衡的“非主流歌手”而言，Nick Cave和Warren Ellis由The Bad Seeds、The Dirty Three和Grinderman一路走来，又由后朋、哥特、器乐小品到车库的轮回，所有适合不适合的Nick Cave都一一尝试过了。而这也是继2005年的西部片“The Proposition”后，两位搭档的又一次原声合作。对待这部由Andrew Dominik导演的另一部西部片，Nick Cave和Warren Ellis手到擒来(有过底子就是不一样)，用最原始的方式来描述荒凉、野蛮、血性及刚强。乾燥、悲业的小提琴加上阴郁的钢琴，无一不突出原始的氛围来，却又在Nick的演绎下透露出一丝男人不易察觉的温情，其实从The Bad Seeds开始，不用歌词和演唱，Nick的悲情形象就从他那标准“哥特”的脸型树立起来了，直至今天在听完这张专辑后，会相信那个曾经“唱衰全世界”的家伙会进一步的用冷漠和伤感来摧残人们宝贵的希望，当然这也是众多粉丝们所希望领略到的，更重要的是，这张专辑的确是维系住了听众对08年初Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds新专辑的信心。
Very few people actually got to see The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, directed by Australian director Andrew Dominik and based on Ron Hansen's brilliant novel. It's an interesting thing, really: it starred Brad Pitt and Casey Affleck (and the latter got all kinds of accolades from critics, some of whom predicting an Oscar for him in the role of Robert Ford). American audiences are weird that way: they'll spend three or four hours to see a film not supported by a strong narrative, but pass on something that involves the story at every turn and in every shot, whether it's the landscape, the weather, or the actual characters moving through it.
Nick Cave is no stranger to writing cinematic scores; this is his fourth, and his second with Bad Seed and Grinderman bandmate Warren Ellis. Their last effort was the soundtrack to an actual Australian western, the brutal yet wonderful Proposition; the screenplay was actually written by Cave. It was a wide-ranging soundtrack, going from strange, eerie, spacious moments to those of great drama and tension. It featured some fearsome musical excess as well as skeletal contemplative ones. The music here is drenched in as much dread, shadow, and darkness as its predecessor, but it's a much more narrative and sophisticated undertaking. The theme, "Rather Lovely Thing," circles its way through the film and enters and exits with regularity, anchoring the viewer, and here, of course, the listener, though it's less apparent. Other cues are beautifully and simply named: "Movin' On," "What Must Be Done," "Last Ride Back to KC," "Destined for Great Things," and the rest.
The use of violin, electric guitars, piano, a second violin, viola, bass, some drums and percussion, celeste, cello, and other sundry items are employed very specifically — check the use of all the strings (though not a string orchestra or string section; this isn't a Danny Elfman score) in "The Money Train," where foreboding, loss, drama, and tension all vie for attention, and the notion of a climactic consequence is firmly in the mind of the listener. It is answered by a lone piano, miked very closely, almost from the inside, as strings answer underscoring the conclusion of what must be done to get rid of James. The determinate nature of the music is not in any way steely; it's almost sad, as if these men know that a genuine archetype, a folk hero, needs to go die in order for America itself to become a tamer, more ordered place, a place where emotions have no place in structure, and something like steely determination is a more calculated and cold undertaking. The way Ellis and Gerard McCain order their stringed instruments is almost painterly. The sense of history is at play in the emotional content of the music rather than around it. Just before the score ends, there is one of the most evocative tracks, simple and effective, called "Counting the Stars." Miked so closely the listener can hear the pianist's feet on the pedals, it lasts only a minute-and-twenty seconds, but in it one can feel what has transpired, what cannot be undone, and how it was done. The music doesn't serve to do anything but look out at a new sonic terrain that reflects the character of the land itself; it is at once more alien and more ghostly and more suspect in spite of its tenderness, because it makes room for and tolerates just such a melody. This is Cave's most extraordinary achievement as a composer of film music thus far. It's all come together here between him and Ellis, two very natural collaborators. This music is certainly cinematic, but despite its vast reach, it is constructed with relative simplicity and an almost taut sparseness that makes it stand as a work on its own.
Very few people actually got to see The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, directed by Australian director Andrew Dominik and based on Ron Hansen's brilliant novel. It's an interesting thing, really: it starred Brad Pitt and Casey Affleck (and the latter got all kinds of accolades from critics, some of whom predicting an Oscar for him in the role of Robert Ford). American audiences are weird that way: they'll spend three or four hours to see a film not supported by a strong narrative, but pass on something that involves the story at every turn and in every shot, whether it's the landscape, the weather, or the actual characters moving through it.
Nick Cave is no stranger to writing cinematic scores; this is his fourth, and his second with Bad Seed and Grinderman bandmate Warren Ellis. Their last effort was the soundtrack to an actual Australian western, the brutal yet wonderful Proposition; the screenplay was actually written by Cave. It was a wide-ranging soundtrack, going from strange, eerie, spacious moments to those of great drama and tension. It featured some fearsome musical excess as well as skeletal contemplative ones. The music here is drenched in as much dread, shadow, and darkness as its predecessor, but it's a much more narrative and sophisticated undertaking. The theme, "Rather Lovely Thing," circles its way through the film and enters and exits with regularity, anchoring the viewer, and here, of course, the listener, though it's less apparent. Other cues are beautifully and simply named: "Movin' On," "What Must Be Done," "Last Ride Back to KC," "Destined for Great Things," and the rest.
The use of violin, electric guitars, piano, a second violin, viola, bass, some drums and percussion, celeste, cello, and other sundry items are employed very specifically — check the use of all the strings (though not a string orchestra or string section; this isn't a Danny Elfman score) in "The Money Train," where foreboding, loss, drama, and tension all vie for attention, and the notion of a climactic consequence is firmly in the mind of the listener. It is answered by a lone piano, miked very closely, almost from the inside, as strings answer underscoring the conclusion of what must be done to get rid of James. The determinate nature of the music is not in any way steely; it's almost sad, as if these men know that a genuine archetype, a folk hero, needs to go die in order for America itself to become a tamer, more ordered place, a place where emotions have no place in structure, and something like steely determination is a more calculated and cold undertaking. The way Ellis and Gerard McCain order their stringed instruments is almost painterly. The sense of history is at play in the emotional content of the music rather than around it. Just before the score ends, there is one of the most evocative tracks, simple and effective, called "Counting the Stars." Miked so closely the listener can hear the pianist's feet on the pedals, it lasts only a minute-and-twenty seconds, but in it one can feel what has transpired, what cannot be undone, and how it was done. The music doesn't serve to do anything but look out at a new sonic terrain that reflects the character of the land itself; it is at once more alien and more ghostly and more suspect in spite of its tenderness, because it makes room for and tolerates just such a melody. This is Cave's most extraordinary achievement as a composer of film music thus far. It's all come together here between him and Ellis, two very natural collaborators. This music is certainly cinematic, but despite its vast reach, it is constructed with relative simplicity and an almost taut sparseness that makes it stand as a work on its own.