By: Si Forster
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Released on December 4, 2015 via San Quentin
Stanley Kubrick was one of life’s great perfectionists, although as Full Metal Jacket actor Dorian Harewood once discovered, he got a bit uppity if anyone ever pointed that out. This same impeccable attention to detail is something that can be equally applied to the Soulsavers, whose time is spent marrying compositions to artists that best serve their craft. For their sixth album – and one that follows mere weeks after their last one – they have stepped out of the shadows of the vocalists they have previously employed and have put out a record of purely instrumental performances.
For Kubrick, Rich Machin and Ian Glover were afforded a grant from the PRS For Music Foundation to begin work on a collection of material to move their music forward in a very specific direction –that is, to court film-making producers and showcase their abilities as cinematic composers. This is not alien territory to the Soulsavers, as their previous recorded output has graced many a TV show and film trailer, so the leap from incidental to potentially integral was an obvious move to make. It has to be said that Kubrick succeeds in presenting this ambition, and in true Soulsavers fashion this is done with no small amount of style and a willingness to constantly surprise the listener.
Kubrick’s surprises are plentiful and incessant. Right from the off, ‘DeLarge’ begins at a funereal, sombre pace with an overall tone that would fit a Le Carré adaptation, an intimation that carries on through passages featuring isolated brass and piano fragments. But then the drums start – subtle cymbal at first, pulsing bass next and then leading the change in tack to lead a metamorphosis into a full-blooded John Barry swing with strings and brass rising to push all the right emotional buttons for an exciting introductory sequence. This feeling of introduction continues through the next two tracks ‘Clay’ and ‘Torrance’, each bringing their unique takes on filmic scene-setting; the latter which will be familiar to old hands as it’s ‘Point Sur Pt.1’ (with the addition of Pt.2 to further flesh it out) from The Light The Dead See.
The record takes a sudden turn with ‘Dax’. The orchestra’s still there, but here it is bolstered by an acoustic guitar over a sympathetic string section and vibraphone, and a latter drum section that forms the part where Kubrick ceases to become an interesting aside and becomes a fully-fledged wonder. This uplift continues into the “reverb everything!” joy of ‘Joker’ (even the most casual of Stanley Kubrick’s fans will be noticing a pattern with the album’s track titles by this point), cementing the overall feel of this record. With an electric guitar sound more reminiscent of Monty Norman than Morricone, this is a soundtrack to something altogether more British than the current trend of mining Italian Giallo soundtracks for inspiration. Thinking this further through, there is certainly a Bond-like vibe to the whole of Kubrick thanks to the general Barry-like feel and a late 1960s cinema use of the brass section throughout. This being the Soulsavers though, any James Bond film they’ll ever score would be one where 007 sits and reflects on all the terrible things he’s done. This piece also contains echoes of the Soulsavers’ own past, and this is not the only one either.
The final third raises the bar further, and is Kubrick’s emotional heart. ‘Mandrake’ in particular sounding like it could have come from the lighter parts of either collaboration with Dave Gahan, and a “we’ve paid for them so we’re going to highlight all of them” attitude to orchestral employment by adding plaintive woodwind to the acoustic guitar chords that make up the piece. Closing with the all-too-short ‘Ziegler’, Kubrick bows out with grace and a happy sadness.
Weirdly, for all its change in direction and tone, this may well be the most “Soulsaver-like” record the Soulsavers have ever done. Their skill lies in the application of layers, even/especially the ones that the listening public may not necessarily notice are even there, so the obvious conclusion of all their endeavours to date is to do this with as many people and instruments involved as possible, applying each bit with a deftness and confidence that shows that all the work with Daniele Luppi left a profound impression on them – and, by extension, us. The only downside to this collection is that wonderful as all this music is, the film industry doesn’t make the sort of films where these tracks would both fit and enhance. This however is a criticism of the people who fund little other than sequels and reboots, and if something such as Kubrick can give the moneymen a bit of a prod in the right direction to plough some cash into the sort of slow-burning dramas that we’re missing on the big screen of late, then I’m all for it.
