From "Purple Rain" to "I Got The Hook-up!," it seems to be an industry rule that good soundtracks and good movies don't necessarily have to be on speaking terms. Björk is no stranger to questionable movie choices: Anyone remember what cinema classic "Army Of Me" went to? If you answered "Tank Girl," you're right. She seems a natural choice for soundtrack work, as the majority of her songs (as well as videos) have the panoramic feel of an unfinished script.
"Selmasongs," the new disc from Iceland's finest, accompanies the new film "Dancer In The Dark," which I boldly assume is about someone named Selma. From what I can suss out of Björk lyrics, I can figure only that it's probably about love and stuff, too.
Unfortunately, Kenny Loggins sounded a lot more excited about his soundtrack than Björk does here. What's missing from the majority of "Selmasongs" is the adventure and humanity that are the secret ingredients in even Björk's most techno-friendly work. While Björk's elfin voice may irritate at times, it's a lot more tolerable than the overbearing chill of the instrumentation that drowns her out on most of the seven tracks. A little pixie dust could have helped, as each song is composed of stuttering drum machines and other things that go clank in the night. Adding Disney-esque strings and harps only makes "Selmasongs" sound like a modern, more drugged up Fantasia soundtrack.
Of all people, Radiohead's Thom Yorke brings out the beating heart of Björk in "I've Seen It All." The two manage to revive the show-tune duet for a generation that has, well, seen it all. Amazingly cheese-free, it pulls all the right heartstrings and makes up for at least two weak songs here. I'm just glad Thom decided to kick it with actual people for a change.
"In The Musicals" is a less organic but still invigorating distant cousin of the big band extravaganza "It's Oh So Quiet." Björk's awestruck delivery over sweeping xylophones, horns and other studio toys more than makes up for the fact that it's a crapshoot to figure out the words.
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But without her trademark spunkiness, songs like "Scatterheart" turn into the sort of faceless soundscapes you would expect from trip-hop B-teamers like Mono. Too much of "Selmasongs" tends to be pretty but inconsequential. Better that, than "107 Steps," which I pray has something to do with the plot. I'm not kidding when I say it consists of someone counting upward to 107 over industrial noises. If Björk can't turn "99 Bottles of Beer" into interesting music, I'm convinced no one can.
Perhaps what hurts "Selmasongs" most of all are the expectations associated with a new Björk release. The album has the potential to grow on you, and it would be an impressive effort by someone not named Björk. A hair over half an hour long, the new release doesn't match 1996's "Post." But then again, Björk's biggest problem has been that she sometimes has too many ideas. It's disappointing, then, that "Selmasongs" is pretty much the same idea extended over the span of 30 minutes. Even though Björk reaches dizzying highs, batting .500 on a seven-song CD doesn't warrant forking over $18.99.