From B-Roll to Boogie Shoes: The 10 Greatest Paul Thomas Anderson Music Moments

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An article by Glenn Kenny (The Village Voice) has pinpointed the essence of Paul Thomas Anderson’s keen ear for soundtracks: “the knack of being able to choose the most unlikely, but absolutely correct, song to change the stress of a scene“.

But one could say this sentiment rings true for all of Anderson’s choices: the seemingly arbitrary firecracker kid in Boogie NightsMagnolia‘s frog storm, the nude “A-Roving” scene from The Master… these things have no good reason to fit nicely into the narrative, yet they do. The flavor of a P.T.A. movie is no doubt bizarre (the product of his equally-kooky influences, Thomas Pynchon, Robert Downey Sr. and others), but it’s all the more digestible with the director’s sheer elegance in delivering something we’ve never seen before. And his penchant for music is no exception.

Ergo, here are the top 10 greatest music moments in Paul Thomas Anderson films:

10.) Harmonium Chaos – Punch-Drunk Love

At the midpoint of Anderson’s oddball rom-com, there is a moment where the film’s Barry Egan (Adam Sandler) is tangled between his belly-up business, a plethora of patronizing sisters, and most mysteriously, a harmonium taking up space in his office. Job Brion’s clanky score (titled “Hands and Feet”) complements the stressful scene perfectly. It’s an acoustic collage of brooms sweeping across the floor, tiny bells ringing, metal screeching, and the sound of a bathtub’s edges being rubbed. Barry’s paranoia is placed into audible form, making for an queasy and chaotic sequence.

9.) Ouija Board Nostalgia – Inherent Vice

Although it lost many with its stoner centric logic and one after another of befuddling events, there is a beautiful moment of clarity in Inherent Vice when Doc Sportello (Joaquin Phoenix) recalls a ouija board he once consulted during a dry spell. Neil Young makes a too-sparse filmic appearance with his song, “Journey Through the Past”, which is precisely what Sportello is doing: reaching into his cloudy bag of memories for some semblance of meaning. The line, “Now I’m going back to Canada” hark to Young’s roots, which began in Canada and have without question earned him the right to be chiseled onto the hippie Mt. Rushmore. This moment is brief, and sandwiched between the rest of the perplexing narrative, but it’s an invigorating detour into Doc’s love affair with Shasta, the catalyst for the entire film.

8.) The Loneliest Number – Magnolia

The exodus, so to speak, of Magnolia is a montage of our nine players at their loneliest point, poised to be dragged even lower: Jim Kurring (John C. Reilly) records a voice message asking for a companion, the deathly ill Earl Partridge (Jason Robards) is slowly losing his consciousness, and Quiz Kid Donnie Smith (William H. Macy) crashes his car with the haze of his waning success hanging over him. “One is the loneliest number” indeed. Aimee Mann’s cover of Three Dog Night’s hit sports psychedelic guitars and Beatles-esque backing vocals, laying a vivid coat of fantasy over the film – a fantasy where raining frogs, miraculous coincidences and one’s own pipe dreams may or may not come true.

7.) Seymour Hoffman’s Serenade – The Master

Anderson has stated that he would “trade all [his] screenplays for a writing credit” to Frank Loesser’s “(I’d Like to Get You on a) Slow Boat to China”. And when you watch Lancaster Dodd’s wounded and heartfelt rendition, you can see why. Whichever way you slice it, The Master is in many ways a romantic story between Freddie Quell and Dodd – not of a physical or passionate breed, but instead rooted in the human yearn to classify one’s self through someone else. Dodd’s lullaby is essentially a “break-up” song for the two. And as most sour break-ups go, they may make you stronger, but you are still fated to become (as Dodd puts it) “sworn enemies”. The next scene follows-up with Helen Forrest’s “Change Partners”, a song about the emptiness one feels when you change partners on a dance floor: precisely how we feel when we part ways with our proverbial “masters”.

6.) Pool Party Medley – Boogie Nights

With the closing of Eddie Adams’ door and the opening of Jack Horner’s, the Three Dog Night cut, “Mama Told Me Not to Come” perfectly embodies Eddie’s casting-off the chains of his spiteful mother. The tune is fun, summery, and damn catchy. But hidden underneath are trepidatious lyrics of someone “passed out on the floor” and how “that cigarette you’re smoking nearly scared me half to death“. Anderson is cleverly camouflaging the writing on the wall for the disasters ahead. Elvin Bishop’s “Fooled Around and Fell In Love” also shows up, scoring Little Bill’s wife bumping uglies whilst encircled in a ring of onlookers. It’s profoundly depressing, but fitting: Bill’s wife, a retired porn star, has now settled down, but perhaps this “love” is not what either of them signed up for. A third great track at the party is Hot Chocolate’s song, “You Sexy Thing”, a hammy theme for Scottie’s (Phillip Seymour Hoffman) attraction to Eddie. Though perhaps it’s a tad on-the-nose, you still can’t help but grin when Scotty removes his shades in sheer awe of the future Dirk Diggler.

5.) Up in Flames – There Will Be Blood

There may have been nobody better than Jonny Greenwood to take the helm once Paul Thomas Anderson turned to original scores. The scene above marks a major drawback to Daniel Plainview’s burgeoning empire: a total collapse of his venerated oil rig. Greenwood’s music begins with a steady percussion of drums, tambourines and rattling wood blocks. Not only does it sound like a frantic heartbeat as Daniel rushes his deafened son to safety, it’s also phonetically similar to the crackling of weak timber, as in, say, a flimsy oil rig. As the oil geyser catches fire, the beat lathers into something fiercer, adding scurrying violins into the mix, and a few sinister plucks of their strings as the rig goes down in flames. It’s utter desperation and madness.

4.) Long Take of Little Bill – Boogie Nights

This scene may seem to be about the foils: the end of the 70’s vs. the beginning of the 80’s, happiness of New Year’s Eve vs. Little Bill’s despair. But if there is anything welded completely together it’s the tension of Charles Wright’s “Do Your Thing” and Little Bill’s boiling hatred. In a three-minute long tracking shot (with no cuts), we follow Bill through Jack Horner’s house into a bedroom where his wife is cheating on him, back outside, into his car and back into the house before returning to the bedroom to shoot his wife and lover. The lack of edits or cuts weds with the song’s anchored rhythm/lack of a chorus or bridge. “Do Your Thing” sounds upbeat enough, but as a nigh-instrumental jam session, there is ultimately no lyrical message other than to “do your thing“, even if that thing is to reap terrible retribution.

3.) Hawaiian Rendezvous – Punch-Drunk Love

The song, “He Needs Me”, from Robert Altman’s 1980 film, Popeye, is sung by the meek, endearing Shelly Duvall (Olive Oyl). On its own, the track’s preciousness just may be too much for it’s own good. But arranged into Barry Egan’s trip to Hawaii to find the woman he loves, its whimsy is put to good use. The repetition of the phrase, “he needs me” (24 times) is all the justification we need to make sense of Barry’s erratic behavior and misplaced decisions (the 99 Cent Store pudding, the decision to keep the harmonium, the defacing of a public restroom). It’s just love. It’s reckless, it’s unpredictable, and all it takes is for someone to “need” somebody else. The repetition also has an anxious temperament to it. When Barry is huddled beside a pay phone trying to reach Lena, the phrase heightens the moment again and again by reminding us what is at stake.

2.) Aimee Mann Sing-Along – Magnolia

Perhaps the boldest use of music in Anderson’s repertoire, Magnolia sees its characters reach their respective breaking points, only to stop and sing in unison. Aimee Mann’s stanzas in “Wise Up” are divided among the characters, who sing along to the half-diegetic song. Claudia (Melora Walters) is given the lion’s share of lyrics, which directly reflect her situation: “You’ve got what you want. And you can’t hardly stand it“. Claudia fears real human contact after being abused as a child, and even though she has found someone who care for her it’s frightening. Another telling verse is the one sung by Linda Partridge (Julianne Moore): “Prepare a list for what you need before you sign away the deed“, which sums up her dilemma of securing her dying husband’s assets before committing suicide. Other characters’ verses are less-relevant, and only repeat the phrase, “It’s not going to stop ’til you wise up“, a theme of resilience to the pain they all share.

1.) Botched Drug Deal Suite – Boogie Nights

This should come as no surprise to anyone frequenting the countless P.T.A. blogs and articles over the years. It’s a mythic moment that has been analyzed since it’s 1997 for its Tarantino-ish dialogue, it’s lathering sense of panic, the unexplained presence of firecrackers, Mark Wahlberg’s 50-second catatonic stare, and Alfred Molina’s doped-up performance as the scene’s tractor beam of attention, Rahad Jackson. The scene flaunts giant 80’s hits, “Sister Christian” and “Jessie’s Girl”, all the while Rahad Jackson indulges his three swindlers (Dirk, Reed and Todd) on his cassette-mixing opinions. Much has been written about this scene already, so I’ll just let the music speak for itself. It’s possibly the paramount of Anderson’s lengthy and inspired body of work.

Making a Case for Originality [Music Review]

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Looking back at one of last year’s more notorious moments in music – Marvin Gaye’s family suing Robin Thicke and Pharrell Williams over their song, “Blurred Lines” – it would appear that the current postmodern age is still having an identity crisis. Music scholar Derek B. Scott breaks down postmodernism as an era of “sampling”, “remixing”, “blending features”, and “shifts the focus from new creation to new use of creation”. Under Scott’s definition everything from the past and present – chord progressions, movie storylines and more – becomes a workable tool with which to build other forms of media.

As a visual example, here’s a scene from (500) Days of Summer. Literally the biggest, loudest example of postmodernism I could find:

As an easier-to-digest definition: Postmodernism is where Han Solo, Hall & Oates, a spontaneous dance scene and a Disney-esque bird can come to roost in the same spot.

In the Thicke/Pharrell lawsuit from last year, “Blurred Lines” was accused of having a “feel and sound” too similar to Gaye’s “Got to Give It Up”. But in this millennium postmodern generation, this begs the question: What song doesn’t borrow the feel or sound from another source?

Perhaps the most important documentary on this issue is Kirby Ferguson’s Everything is A Remix. Skip to 38:41 in the video below to hear about Ferguson’s notion of “Loss Aversion”.

As mentioned above, George Harrison, Led Zeppelin and Ray Charles have all been nailed for creating music far too evocative of pre-existing songs, and yet, it could be argued that Gaye’s “Got to Give It Up” could not exist without the R&B templates of The Five Keys and Nat King Cole from which to draw. Ferguson explains the belief that “When we copy, we justify it” and “When others copy, we vilify it”. For this reason, the use of intellectual property falls between – pun intended – confusing and blurred lines.

So how wide a berth does an artist have to give to avoid scandal?

While Thick/Pharrell are among the “vilified”, The Beatles (who wear their influences on their sleeve) somehow get off scotch-free (with the exception of their internal lawsuits against one another): on Back in the U.S.S.R., Paul McCartney lifts both the feel and sound of The Beach Boys’ California Girls, Come Together takes heavily from Chuck Berry’s You Can’t Catch Me, and I Feel Fine’s guitar riff is the same exact one found on Bobby Parker’s Watch Your Step.

The point to make here is not whether or not they should also be punished. It’s that sampling is not a new concept. It isn’t an esoteric practice performed only by a select group of conspiring thieves. It’s simply a stepping stone all artists take when making art. It’s how we follow genre. It’s how we improve ourselves based on our masters. Phillip Seymour Hoffman might’ve said it best in Paul Thomas Anderson’s film, The Master:

If you figure a way to live without serving a master, any master, let the rest of us know. For you’d be the first person in the history of the world” – The Master (2012).

Paying homage through sampling lends a sense of timelessness to art. Outdated and forgotten works, like those Quentin Tarantino pays homage to, are suddenly renovated as relevant, important wells of inspiration.

The genre of hip-hop itself would not exist if not for a free reign of music sampling and rearrangement. Take Nas’ track, “No Idea’s Original”:

The track samples Barry White’s, “I’m Gonna Love You Just a Little More Baby“. Hip-hop is in many ways a foray into a network of vintage artists many fans would not be privy to otherwise. It’s less opportunistic theft (as maybe the Gaye family would suggest) than it is a celebration of music’s history as a whole.

Some rappers’ careers have even erected their entire careers out of the premise of sampling. Take the Wu-Tang Clan for instance:

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The group’s debut album, Enter the Wu-Tang: 36 Chambers (1993), features vocal samples from long-forgotten kung-fu B-movies. Their reworking of the films’ soundbites isn’t a robbery, it’s a love letter – one that caused a resurgence in the films’ popularity, as well as a revolution in the ingenuity of 90’s hip-hop.

Another great example are the Beastie Boys. The culture of sampling came full circle when the group lifted Led Zeppelin (one of the more prominent culprits mentioned above) riffs for their boom-bap classics She’s Crafty and Rhymin’ & Stealin’. Beastie Boys also went on to produce the most influential postmodern rap album of all time: Paul’s Boutique (but not without an onslaught of lawsuits), which made Rolling Stone‘s 100 Greatest Albums of All Time list.

Even outside of hip-hop, genre-blending makes for an order of music better in-tune with our A.D.D. web-savvy culture. Who could’ve predicted that the 2013 Grammys’ album of the year would go to an album with disco-funk music? Daft Punk’s Random Access Memories relies on a genre that has long since gone belly-up, and yet, defiantly became a runaway hit. As Kirby Ferguson explains, they didn’t merely steal disco grooves for themselves, they combined it with other workable tools, presiding over a marriage between disco, electronic and pop.

See if you can recognize these other retroactive pioneers, and the genres they used:

The Mars Volta’s “L’Via L’Viasquez” coalesces progressive rock with salsa music.

MGMT’s “Brian Eno” takes on… well… Brian Eno.

One would be hard pressed to encounter any media that hasn’t been touched by another text. Added to this, the advent of easy-to-use video/photo editing apps now allows us to splice media together with more ease than ever.

And in the end, we get this:

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and this:

And if our world can blend media with such ease, shouldn’t music follow suit? Lawsuits like Thicke’s/Pharell’s – and those that preceded it – can often be barricades in the artistic process. It’s one thing to wrongfully take credit for someone else’s work, but if we’re going to condemn artists merely for their “feel” and “sound”, we are hampering the originality and self-awareness that spurs modern media forward.