2008 Woodie Awards
Sound Check
Adam Kosan
Issue date: 2/4/05 Section: Arts & Features
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Of the millions moved by Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, a negligible percentage can articulate what actually provided them with that experience. Last year, droves walked away from theaters declaring the profound poignancy of the film and claimed its evocative quality to have a lasting impact. Days, even months, after viewing the film, people continued to be engrossed in its emotional implications.
Ask any of the enthralled to pinpoint the origins of their devotion. You will hear the following names uttered in descending frequency: Jim Carrey, Kate Winslet, Michael Gondry, Charlie Kaufman.
Jon Brion will not be mentioned.
I'll never forget my initial encounter with the film. Sitting mesmerized beneath the screen, eyes open, heart pounding, I remember noting, as the film progressed, the brilliant, sweeping power of the score. No film has ever fostered such a revelation in me. Brion has crafted a masterpiece. A vivid, gut-wrenching collage of minute-long vignettes that have more life-stopping, life-starting potency than anything I've heard in years. The pure delicacy of feeling and care and awareness that flows through the tracks is both astounding and humbling.
Indeed, duality is definition for Brion. His songs - mostly instrumental pop refrains with orchestral sensibilities - kick with quirkiness while glowing with accessibility. This dichotomous style puts him in a rare class of distinguished musicians - The Talking Heads, The Flaming Lips and Danzig, to name a few. In an approach he has tagged "controlled improvisation," Brion's mastery of a wide array of diverse instruments melds with his whimsical ingenuity to create breathless compositions.
The songs work so seamlessly with Michael Gondry's direction and Charlie Kaufman's writing, it is hard to imagine that such a cohesive project was spawned from three different minds. The main "Theme," a startlingly simple waltz, sounds like an old-style jazz or ragtime ballad filtered through a modern studio. Consisting of an antiquated stand-up bass pattern, tender piano speckling, and the subliminal fluttering of airy strings, the track clunks and sludges with an inescapable heaviness of heart.
Ask any of the enthralled to pinpoint the origins of their devotion. You will hear the following names uttered in descending frequency: Jim Carrey, Kate Winslet, Michael Gondry, Charlie Kaufman.
Jon Brion will not be mentioned.
I'll never forget my initial encounter with the film. Sitting mesmerized beneath the screen, eyes open, heart pounding, I remember noting, as the film progressed, the brilliant, sweeping power of the score. No film has ever fostered such a revelation in me. Brion has crafted a masterpiece. A vivid, gut-wrenching collage of minute-long vignettes that have more life-stopping, life-starting potency than anything I've heard in years. The pure delicacy of feeling and care and awareness that flows through the tracks is both astounding and humbling.
Indeed, duality is definition for Brion. His songs - mostly instrumental pop refrains with orchestral sensibilities - kick with quirkiness while glowing with accessibility. This dichotomous style puts him in a rare class of distinguished musicians - The Talking Heads, The Flaming Lips and Danzig, to name a few. In an approach he has tagged "controlled improvisation," Brion's mastery of a wide array of diverse instruments melds with his whimsical ingenuity to create breathless compositions.
The songs work so seamlessly with Michael Gondry's direction and Charlie Kaufman's writing, it is hard to imagine that such a cohesive project was spawned from three different minds. The main "Theme," a startlingly simple waltz, sounds like an old-style jazz or ragtime ballad filtered through a modern studio. Consisting of an antiquated stand-up bass pattern, tender piano speckling, and the subliminal fluttering of airy strings, the track clunks and sludges with an inescapable heaviness of heart.