Wednesday, April 8, 2015

"Fight Club" By The Dust Brothers



The Dust Brother's soundtrack to David Fincher's "Fight Club" is full of the big beat sound popularized by the Chemical Brothers, Prodigy and the Crystal Method that was threatening to unseat hard rock as the preferred choice for arenas in the late 90's. Industrial bass synths complement piercing sirens and stiff, busy breakbeats. A lot of Fight Club's sonic elements and visual imagery might give you ecstasy flashbacks, if those exist, particularly Brad Pitt's rave-wear. The Dust Brothers inject energy and adrenaline to much of the film's action while keeping the instrumentation sparse enough so the music is loud without being overly intrusive. Distorted beats, wah guitar, metallic riffing, syncopated bass lines and at one point a drum kit with a three dimensional echo effect all augment the visual aesthetic the film keeps hammering home. The defining musical moment is not part of the score but the Pixies classic "Where is My Mind", which plays under the final scene. Much of the Dust Brother's work here is old enough to sound dated but not quite old enough to sound classic. We'll have to listen back in five years and see how it holds up.

The film itself of course is already a cult classic, there's very little that's dated about it save for a couple scenes where the CGI is pretty easy to spot; luckily there's not much of it. It's definitely a timepiece like Go, or Trainspotting; films that slickly reflected the fast paced stylistic aesthetic of the late 90's. This film may leave you with the feeling that it's fun to get punched in the face. Try to resist the urge to act on that notion. The quick cutting and breathless storytelling in David Fincher's direction are executed so well it makes you wonder what happened to him; not that there's anything with directing a solid thriller like Gone Girl or an engrossing docudrama like the Social Network, but Fight Club was ahead of its time. I'm sure Fincher goes to bed every night with the knowledge of that crying into his pillows made of million dollar bills, yearning for his lost youth.

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