"There is a burgeoning barrel of positive superlatives
buried deep in my vocabulary that is simply bursting to shower
its contents of praise on a worthy Aussie soundtrack. Iíve
been expecting such CD to arrive at any moment. And here it
isnít. So long as my poor CD player continues to be
force-fed concocted compilations of bands with overdeveloped
images performing underdeveloped songs, the poetic plaudits must
remain untapped. Like most collections of
rock-bop-teen-trash-punk-pop ditties posing as soundtracks, this
is a collection of the good, the bad and the unforgivable.
Fortunately, the first track belongs to the former category.
Killing Heidi is a young band brimming with potential and
although weíre all weary of Weir itís a promising
start. But the illusion that this could be a soundtrack of
serious merit is seriously shattered by track two. Just when you
thought it was safe to remove the novelty-song-protection ear
plugs Ė The Macarena having long been tossed out with the
stale spaghetti and Aquaís Barbie drowned in a sea of its
own banality Ė along comes Happyland with a less than
felicitous sonic atrocity called Tintarella Di Luna. La Luna is
precisely the distance I want to be from anywhere on planet Earth
if this kitsch, crass excuse for a song becomes remotely faddish.
Things improve considerably with Catatoniaís whispery,
whimsical Dead From the Waist Down but itís not enough to
rescue this soundtrack from the dire sounds of Hamish Cowan
delivering an ineffably awful U2 cover, Frenzal Rhomb
demonstrating that there are more angles to a parallelogram than
their linearly predictable music and Magic Dirt providing lots of
dirt from their overdriven guitars but considerably less magic
than Samantha "Bewitched" Stephens with a broken nose.
But finally Iím won over . . . by the very last track . .
. a reprise of Tintarella Di Luna thatís even tackier than
the original. I give up. Iíve joined the novelty song
bandwagon. I know the brilliant Aussie soundtrack Iíve been
waiting for. Bring on a dozen dance remixes of Joe Dulceís,
Shaddap You Face, I say. Only kidding.