Danger Mouse and Daniele Luppi, “Rome”(Parlophone)
A tribute to the music that scored Italian films throughout the ’60s, “Rome” is as trippy as it is traditional. This collaboration between producers Danger Mouse and Daniele Luppi isn’t much of a commercial effort — even with their substantial reputations and the cachet of guest singers Jack White and Norah Jones.
There’s not a commercial radio hit in the bunch, not a hit single in the mix.
And that’s part of the pet project’s charm. The record is nuanced and occasionally strange. It’s as anachronistic as a fine dinner on a cross-country train, and it has that kind of old-school charm, which exudes from every keystroke of the organ and piano.
The record’s many instrumentals play off the genre’s spacey trademarks, which have been celebrated recently by film directors Quentin Tarantino and David Lynch. And while it’s a winning tribute to some of cinema’s most memorable atmospherics, it’s also limited by its aspirations.
Film scores are rarely known for their listenability. Their primary purpose is to complement the visuals — the montage, the conversation, the pivotal moment. It’s not supposed to stand out. And the music on “Rome” doesn’t stand out.
The instrumentals are smartly short and layered, and one occasionally blends into another. The tracks with vocals are slightly longer but equally atmospheric, and even White’s postmodern charisma and howling vocals are played down to emphasize the mood, the candlelight, the black-and-white flicker.
And so “Rome” is great dinner music, and it’s a fine soundtrack for a romantic night in — but not much else. Ricardo Baca
Moby, “Destroyed”(Mute)
Moby’s 10th studio album was created on the road, late at night in “empty cities” while everyone slept, so it’s no surprise it’s one of his calmest records. It proffers clinically measured, ambient tones in place of the bombastic beats and blues samples that have characterized his most recognizable work.
The songs from, say, his multiplatinum 1999 album “Play” were overexposed to the point of burning away his personality, but they also had hooks to spare. The quiet, sad version of Moby on “Destroyed” sports a deft touch at the keyboard, unfurling Daft Punk-esque synth waves and fuzzy percussion with a steady hand. (There are even moments of subtle orchestral drama, as on “After.”)
But it all comes off as a bit insufferably emo, given the album moniker and woe-is- me titles like “The Broken Places” and “The Violent Bear It Away.”
Moby may be wracked with loneliness when he travels internationally, staying in posh hotels most of us could only dream of visiting. But the album’s back story — and the suffocating sense of self-pity it colors the songs with — erodes any sympathy.
Worse, songs such as “The Low Hum,” “The Day” and the unusually awkward, off-time “Lacrimae” are about as close to bland background music as he’s come. There’s little about album closer “When You Are Old” to differentiate it from the dashed-off soundtrack to a telenovela. Bits and pieces bear the influences of British electronic heroes like Aphex Twin and Autechre, but that’s not uncommon in these post-“Kid A” days, since Radiohead long ago brought electronic glitch and fuzz to the masses.
“Destroyed” is neither as visionary nor essential anything the aforementioned artists have done. Instead it sounds like an uninspired, tail-chasing time-killer from an otherwise talented artist. John Wenzel
