April 01, 2005 - Never mind that Robert Rodriguez nailed the cinematic interpretation of Frank Miller's violent illustrated PoMo noir Sin City yarns. Never mind that Rodriguez was cool enough to enlist Miller as his co-director. Never mind that the duo delivered their masterpiece to the screen in crisp black&white; imagery that captured all of the shadowy nuances of the source material. Yes, the film is pretty damn amazing, but you're here because you're curious about the music that accompanies the visual maelstrom that is Sin City the movie.

Most fanboys and cinephiles are well aware of Rodriguez' almost zealous command of his films. He writes, directs, edits, produces, and often scores all of his films. If he doesn't deliver a full-blown score, well then at the very least he has a few self-penned songs strewn throughout. The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack for Sin City is no exception. Rodriguez presides over the score like a musical monarch. And while his name dominates the credits, he also had the foresight to enlist the services of two composers who know a thing or two about not only genre composition, but how to craft dark, mystical, eerie soundscapes that completely envelope the listener and aid in transporting them to another time, another place (they have also both worked with Rodriguez previously on his Spy Kids and From Dusk till Dawn films). The two composers I am referring to are John Debney (Passion Of The Christ, a) and Graeme Revell (Pitch Black, amongst others).

As is appropriate, the album commences with the film's theme music. And the first thing you notice about Rodriquez's title theme is that it owes a heavy debt to Henry Mancini's classic theme music from the Peter Gunn television series of the late '50s. The distinct, rolling bassline permeates the undercurrent of the song, which is highlighted by squonking horns, and a dizzying array of noize filtration. Rodriguez opts for a much more traditional sounding slice of score for the next number, "One Hour To Go," utilizing a shuffling militaristic cadence to punctuate the feeling of urgency and impending dread that should permeate any good noir.

By the time Graeme Revell enters the mix on the third track, "Goldie's Dead," you hardly notice that a new composer has jumped into the game. His first inclusion keeps the squonking horns floating in the ether and adds some fluttering flute and detached female haunt vocals for just the right touch of eerie foreboding. He teams up with Rodriguez for "Marv," which again brings the Peter Gunn-esque bassline back into the equation, thrusts more scratchy sax in your face, and generally creates a disembodied jazz vibe.