How important is a film's soundtrack?

Matching songs to a film shouldn‘t merely be a matter of plundering the latest indie pop tracks, says David Jenkins. Successful soundtracks are eclectic and avoid clichés

Christopher Petit’s sublime, meditative 1979 film ‘Radio On’ – released on DVD this week – opens with a breathtaking tracking shot that floats through the empty rooms of a musty flat in Bristol and ends on a shot of a dead body in a bathtub. David Bowie’s ‘Heroes’ is playing on the radio. Much of the film’s music emanates from the radios or jukeboxes that we see on screen (as opposed to having been added in post-production).

Many reviews or essays on Petit’s movie either mention its tonal connection to the early work of Wim Wenders, or the fact that it’s an enquiry into the shifting social and political climate of the Britain in the 1980s. All these things stand, but the film’s simplest pleasure is its perfectly chosen soundtrack, which includes Kraftwerk, Devo, Robert Fripp, Lene Lovich and Ian Dury. ‘I had thrashed about with lots of music that I later rejected,’ explains Petit, ‘either because it would be too expensive and would mean dealing with major record companies or because I thought it was wrong for the film. Punk would have been an obvious choice, but having started to scout the locations, I wanted something more timeless.’

In the case of ‘Radio On’, the soundtrack was not simply an aural blanket for montage sequences; it was the entire point of the film. ‘I thought Kraftwerk were a huge leap forward in terms of where music was going: it was the first really cinematic music, so for me it was an obvious choice. With the English music, we cherry-picked the Stiff Records catalogue, with whom we had a deal. They had a lot of good stuff, particularly Devo’s version of “Satisfaction”.’

Such assiduous music selection gives ‘Radio On’ a kind of hard-fought filmic personality, something which, looking at some more recent cinema, is not easily attainable. Cliché, it seems, is often lurking just around the corner – how many times have we seen Jefferson Airplane’s ‘White Rabbit’ hastily slathered over an acid trip sequence, or Steppenwolf’s ‘Born to be Wild’ over a desert driving scene?

Another approach – a director using a film as a showcase for the latest bands he or she is currently listening to – can be hit or miss. Zach Braff’s ‘Garden State’ – with its twee, zeitgeist-plundering indie pop – comes to mind as an example of a director who seems to have one eye squarely on soundtrack album sales. Quentin Tarantino’s eclectic taste is a case where a director’s personal preference works well, as is Wes Anderson’s fondness for ’70s rock and folk. And who can forget the use of Lou Reed’s ‘Perfect Day’ to accompany shooting up smack in ‘Trainspotting’? Or Wong Kar-Wai’s textbook deployment of ‘California Dreamin’’ in ‘Chungking Express’ – arguably the greatest use of a pop song in modern cinema? But how does one actually connect song with image?

Nick Laird-Clowes was the lead singer and guitarist of venerable ’80s folk rock doyens ‘The Dream Academy’ and now works as a composer and music consultant for film. He’s just lent his redoubtable skills to the forthcoming Working Title comedy ‘Hippie Hippie Shake’, having worked closely with Bernardo Bertolucci on his 2003 film ‘The Dreamers’. He explains the process behind selecting music for film: ‘Bertolucci didn’t want any written music at all. He wanted it all found, all ’68 and all things that they would be listening to at the time. He didn’t want anything clichéd. So, that’s how it started. What I would do is wake up in the morning, think about the scene and then ransack my brain for all the different songs from the period. When something came to mind I’d have to go out and if it wasn’t in my personal collection, find it on CD, vinyl or from iTunes. Having sourced it, I’d go to the studio, play it against the clip, and cut-and-paste it over the top. If I thought I’d found something that matched, I’d bomb over to Soho and play it to Bertolucci. If he liked it, we’d go straight to a proper cinema and watch it on the big screen. It was great. A bit like jamming with movies.’

However, there were times when songs fitted too well. ‘On one occasion I selected the song ‘Oh Well’ by Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac for a scene that starts with the characters running out into the rain. They get into a lift while one of them runs up the stairs, then the lift door swings open and they all run into an apartment and the lights flick on. The song hit every single cue, and I just knew it was going to be a fantastic day. Wrong. “I don’t want it to look like MTV,” said Bertolucci. So I had to start all over again.’

Though there is a lot of personal preference and gut feeling when it comes to selecting a ‘found’ soundtrack, it does seem that a song can end up being used for some of the most beautifully strange reasons: In ‘Radio On’, Wreckless Eric’s rousing post-punk ballad ‘Whole Wide World’ (recently used as credo ballast in tepid Will Ferrell vehicle ‘Stranger Than Fiction’) plays from a pub jukebox. ‘I liked the way he pronounces the word “Tahiti” says Petit, ‘and the impossibility of the song, ie that he would never find her. It suited the movie’s mood.’

‘Radio On’ is out now, priced £19.99

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