28 September 2004


I've known about James Lileks' website for a while: it's full of all kinds of American cultural ephemera and twisty little thoughts and so forth (as well as very disconcerting politics). Now I'm seriously hooked, thanks to a rumination about musical scores I found through Amygdala.

They were records I never saw at Ben Franklin or the drug store; they were odd, peculiar, off-brand, and they all had a hole punched in the upper left-hand corner. You inferred quickly that this was a badge of failure, of shame. That Herb Alpert cover with the girl covered in whipped cream? You'd never find that on in this bin. More likely you'd find Artie Johnson covered in whipped cream, some ha-ha parody they unloaded on the chains for pennies. Woolworth sold the cut-outs for 88 cents.

I found this one.

I bought it; what 12 year old boy wouldn't? Nazis and cable cars and castles blowing up — can't miss. I memorized the score before I ever saw the movie, and when I finally saw the film I was annoyed that they talked over the music, put explosions over the music, added sound effects. The score was the movie for me.

Plus, there's a lot about the score for the Star Trek episode “The Doomsday Machine,” and what could be better than that?

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