CD Review: Goldenthal's Frida
By Doug Adams
Frida *** 1/2
ELLIOT GOLDENTHAL
UMG Soundtracks 289 474 150-2
24 tracks - 52:33
Every composer strives for originality, for a musical voice that expresses
a unique amalgam of technique, experience and perspective. Good composers
succeed, and in establishing a private argot either illuminate or augment
an ever-growing musical lexicon. However they accomplish this lofty goal
at great risk. This individuality frontloads a time-release dilemma that
can return to haunt composers should they visit a creative well too consistently.
At worst, this regularity can invoke a perception change and reliability
becomes repetition -- that distinctive musical fingerprint is suddenly
seen as shtick. Great composers are those who can reinvent or restructure
themselves and avoid this pitfall.
Frida does not represent a complete overhaul to the Goldenthal
canon, but it does chart the composer's first steps in some new directions.
The writing finds its closest antecedents in The Butcher Boy and
the theater piece Juan Darien, but there's a streamlined sense of
scale and a melodic freeness in Frida that sets it apart. In fact, this
may be Goldenthal's most melodically oriented score to date. His central
tunes are effectively catchy, full of impetuous momentum but tinged with
an introspective sadness. Solo guitar plays a major role in this melodicism,
and serves to highlight the sophisticated/naïve cast that colors both
the score and the film. The guitar is virtuosic yet maintains strong ties
to authentic Mexican folk styles, and while there are glimpses of Goldenthal's
favorite harmonic twists, here he's more apt to give himself over to the
Mexican flavors.
Although Goldenthal is well known for creating some of the most dense
and expansive orchestral textures in modern film, Frida's writing
conveys a chamber-like delicacy. The composer's trademark minimalist patterns
reappear, but they're layered and moved off center so that the writing
maintains a flexibility and expressiveness. There's a clarity to the textural
layering in this score that draws the listener into a more intimate proximity
with the performers. As in his score to Cobb, Goldenthal again allows
disparate musical elements to impact upon one another, but in Frida
it's a collision of miniatures: emotive female vocals over electronic
soundscapes, Stravinskian guitar strumming (itself a collision of concepts)
coupled with acrid marimba textures, traditional accordion patterns mutated
by slippery modern harmonies. Goldenthal exercises a carefully selected
palette, because each one of these colors, no matter how outlandishly treated,
has to retain a readily apparent connection to its Mexican roots. Nearly
half of the Frida CD is comprised of traditional Mexican tunes.
Goldenthal's work moves in and out of these pieces flawlessly, sometimes
in imperceptible cross fades. However, this seamlessness also constitutes
the disc's one sticking point. Goldenthal fans may not also be fans of
Mexican folk music and may therefore find the coexistence off-putting.
Their inclusion is certainly valid, and I don't mean to imply that they
don't deserve a place on the disc, but listeners may find themselves reluctantly
in unfamiliar territory. (On a strictly personal note, I spent several
years playing in a marimba band that regularly covered Mexican tunes, so
several of these tunes were already familiar to me. They're all well performed
and great examples of the style.) Still, the album serves as a great primer
for those willing to stretch their ears -- though can't the same be said
about any Goldenthal CD?
Frida is a satisfying next step for Elliot Goldenthal. There's
an attention to detail and evidence of growth that's exciting both as a
listening experience and as a promise for the future.
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