We must be vewy vewy qwiet. Repeatedly I pictured Elmer Fudd tip-toeing along
as this album begins. It takes until "Seven Acres" (quarter of an hour in)
for all that much to register through your speakers at all. There's lots
of subtly at work, but it's almost a strain on the ear to listen. Stylistically,
it puts me very much in mind of the elongated underscore for Hans Zimmer's
The Thin Red Line.
I have to confess to a general feeling of being non-plussed about the composer's
overall work. Wyatt Earp and Waterworld were momentary bright
spots that promised much, but subsequently I've found his music failing to
make much of an impact on me. My first and foremost criteria is what it does
for a picture, and I just didn't come away from The Devil's Advocate,
Meet Joe Black, or The Sixth Sense with any lingering musical
memories. Somewhere in that is a compliment toward not dominating the visuals,
but a good score ideally at least imprints something upon the listener.
Despite my opening reserve, there are moments on this disc that intrigue.
Through a leaning toward Mychael Danna's skill with ethnic instrumentation,
a voice is just about bubbling through. But all in all - this is a bit of
a non-event in a continuing series of suchlike.