People in love often associate music with their relationships. Lots of couples have an “Our Song” set aside to play at weddings, or said couples formed their bond over a mutual respect for country radio. Maybe love for some people is an old Talking Heads song, or a piano sonata. Or maybe love is just a series of sweaty Gucci Mane makeouts. At any rate, music is powerful for people under the sway of love. And it exists in all forms. You may not know it, but a man named Yann Tiersen may have scored your entire romance without your knowledge.
Yann Tiersen hit it big (reputation wise) about a decade ago with the soundtrack to the film “Amélie,” basically the epitome of French romantic comedies (don’t laugh). Any particular trope that could be called “Tiersenesque” was on display: ebullient French chanson orchestrations armed to the teeth with accordions, strings and piano. And it fit. While the film itself is highly excellent, it is almost unimaginable to conceive such a precocious love story without its precocious soundtrack.
Tiersen’s recent work couldn’t be farther from “Amélie’s” “Cloud Cuckoo Land,” however. Perhaps dissatisfied with being yoked into indie-soundtrack territory, his recent albums have shucked off, by and large, the accordion trills and the gilded whimsy. Instead, Tiersen brings guitars and drums (essentially rock) to the forefront with albums such as 2010’s Dust Lane and this year’s Skyline, a move that may leave people tepid.
A person familiar with Tiersen’s orchestral work may listen to Skyline and not realize it’s from the same guy whose work previously exemplified precociousness. There are no streets of Paris winding through Skyline’s nine songs; they sound like Yann Tiersen had wandered into the middle of an industrial plant, or a skyscraper under construction.
The first thing you may notice are the drums. There are many, many drums. And they all rollick and roll and announce themselves. The opener, “Another Shore,” in particular booms with cymbal crashes and plods, amidst guitar drones and synth lines.
The synthesizer seems to be another toy Tiersen has stumbled upon, sometimes relying on them exclusively. Closer “Vanishing Point” is like some lost 80s synth ballad (or a lost track from 69 Love Songs by The Magnetic Fields).
Elsewhere vocals play a prominent role in the music. The only way I can describe “I’m Gonna Live Anyhow” is if you took some of the chanting from “The Lion King” and set it to a slowed down synth buzz and drumbeat. And “Exit 25 Block 20” mixes xylophone with intermittent, unintelligible screaming. In short, a difficult song.
Maybe it’s unfair to say Skyline is a wholly different beast from Tiersen’s previous work. After all, it doesn’t feel like Tiersen has consciously thrown away who he is as a composer. And even amid the guitars and the drums, there are still glimmers of Tiersen’s former work. “The Trial” opens plaintively, almost like “Le Moulin” or “La Dispute” from “Amélie” before segueing back into Skyline’s clamor. And even the synth pieces and chanting vocals don’t, in a sense, betray his back catalogue.
So what’s the verdict on Skyline? Has Tiersen betrayed “Amélie,” Paris, “Cloud Cuckoo Land,” and precocious love? I’m not sure Tiersen really cares and neither should you. As a composer, it’s Yann Tiersen’s prerogative to compose music he likes or finds worthwhile. It’s unfit for an audience to begrudge him solely for being different, and it still makes for an okay listen.
Grade: B
