Record Collecting for Girls: Unleashing Your Inner Music Nerd, One Album at a Time

by Courtney E. Smith

  Though the movie's soundtrack became legendary for introducing a generation of listeners to underground new wave music, it was originally supposed to feature well-known bands like the Jam, the Clash, and the Go-Go's. Just a year earlier, Fast Times at Ridgemont High had established the practice of loading teen movie soundtracks with as much pop music as dialogue. However, the plan was scrapped when it became clear that licensing tracks from highly sought-after bands would kill the movie's entire production budget. So director Martha Coolidge went local. At the time, Los Angeles radio station KROQ was developing its status as a legend in modern rock by mirroring MTV and embracing the British invasion of virtually unknown new wave bands. Coolidge chose to set the film to music by bands she was hearing on the radio and in clubs across town, many of whom she knew personally, along with a few unknown Brit bands who were second string in the genre. Even so, they reportedly spent almost for song rights as they did making the film.

  If Fast Times at Ridgemont High created the template for scoring a film with pop music, then Valley Girl perfected it. Even though Cameron Crowe wrote Fast Times at age twenty-four, the songs featured in that flick lean toward the middle-aged: Jackson Browne, Don Henley, Joe Walsh, Graham Nash, and Jimmy Buffett. Perhaps Crowe made these selections because these dudes were huge stars in the 1970s, when he was writing for Rolling Stone. In any case, by the time of the movie's release in 1982, the tracks were outdated. Valley Girl, on the other hand, used unknown artists who had bizarre haircuts and played synths. They were the very representation of new-wave music that was gaining popularity in the '80s. There is a reason the Valley Girl soundtrack is legendary—it connected with what was new and cool in youth culture. John Hughes adopted this method of incorporating music in his films—which was easy for him as an avid record collector—and it later became standard operating procedure for movies aimed at teen audiences.

  There are four songs in particular from Valley Girl that can go on any make-out playlist and get you to at least third base. A lot of the music is up-tempo, in keeping with the style of the day, so this soundtrack lends itself more to the playful make out.

  1. THE PLIMSOULS, "A Million Miles Away"

  If they had been from Athens, Georgia, the Plimsouls would have fit right in to the early-'80s jangle-pop scene as contemporaries of R.E.M., but since they were in Los Angeles, their break came via Hollywood when they were asked to perform as the Sunset Strip club band in Valley Girl. They didn't embody the new wave look, though they did rock some sunglasses at night. Their sound was more akin to power pop than anything British, so they were an unlikely choice for the part. The Plimsouls make multiple appearances in Valley Girl, scoring Randy and Julie's first date and also Randy's ultra-steamy bathroom make out with his ex-girlfriend. In both instances, the song illustrates the distance, either cultural or emotional, between Randy and Julie. Something about remembering how they kept themselves apart while this song played in the background makes it feel so right for that make-out moment just before you lunge at each other for the first time.

  2. THE PSYCHEDELIC FURS, "Love My Way"

  This song is only for those who are seriously looking to get down. It's got the sexual impact of Al Green, and you should only put this on for hard-core sensual seduction. It's the emotional neutron bomb of a song on the Valley Girl soundtrack. The song makes only a small appearance in the film as background music when Randy is hiding in the shower at a house party, waiting for Julie to use the bathroom so he can convince her to leave with him. The Furs would go on to be one of the biggest bands on the Valley Girl soundtrack, and their most identifiable song, "Pretty in Pink," served as the title track for the 1986 John Hughes film.

  3. JOSIE COTTON, "Johnny, Are You Queer?"

  This is a terrible song choice for making out with shy boys who are afraid to make the first move. Hit those guys with the Psychedelic Furs. For the pompous ass in your love life, however, drop the needle on this one. He'll think you're sassy and adorable for putting something so unconventional on the speakers. On a make-out mix, this song issues a subversive challenge to the boy you've brought home that will implore him to prove his manhood. Once you've implied that you don't think he's able, he will immediately want to do all the things Johnny won't.

  This track has an interesting history. The chorus was written by the famous L.A. punk band Fear. Then the Paine brothers, a couple of scenesters-turned-managers who had produced a Fear album, came in and filled things out, turning it into a full song. They were managing the Go-Go's at the time and gave it to them to perform. After the Paines and the Go-Go's parted ways, the brothers barred the girls from performing "Johnny," according to Josie Cotton. Josie was dating Bobby Paine at the time, and when they were looking for a female vocalist to record a demo of the song, Josie ended up doing it, much to the dismay of most of Los Angeles. Everyone assumed she'd stolen the song from the Go-Go's and blasted her for it, but "Johnny" became a local hit for her anyway. Josie claims her label, Elektra, killed the budget for a music video for the song in 1982, saying there was no future in MTV. Without the kind of exposure MTV provided back then, Cotton found herself taping lip-synch performances for Solid Gold, singing on the new wave–centric TV show Square Pegs (starring Sarah Jessica Parker before she was Carrie), and playing as the prom band in Valley Girl, but she never made it in the mainstream. The song remains her signature hit.

  4. MODERN ENGLISH, "I Melt with You"

  Although the practice was gaining popularity at the time, no soundtrack album was released to complement Valley Girl. There was a collector's item dummy six-track album created but never officially released, so for years people just checked the movie credits and cobbled together their own mix-tape versions of the soundtrack. Finally, in 1994, Rhino Records released an official Valley Girl soundtrack, to great success. The one band who managed to parlay their placement on the soundtrack into a hit single was Modern English.

  Modern English were always going to be a one-hit wonder. Their first album was a sort of dark, Joy Division–influenced affair that, in spite of being on the venerable British label 4AD (home to important subculture bands such as the Cocteau Twins, the Birthday Party, and Bauhaus) got them nowhere. Their second album included "I Melt with You," which had a more distinctly pop feel than anything on the first album, and a bunch of other songs that were not nearly as good as "I Melt with You." I suppose if they'd had the imagination of Duran Duran and churned out oddball music videos, we might better remember the depth of their catalog. Instead they have cashed in on the success of "I Melt with You" for nearly thirty years now. The song was re-released and became a hit again in 1991, something that almost never happens in pop music, and it was revitalized a third time when Burger King used it in a national ad campaign in 1996. Versions of the song have scored commercials for Taco Bell, Hershey's chocolate, Ritz crackers, General Motors' Arcadia, and M&M's. This one particular song has literally scored your life since 1982; you might as well have it score your make outs.

  You would have to be a heartless bastard to rebuff the chance to make out to this song. It's easily one of the most sugary sweet hits of the '80s. A word to the wise, however: up-tempo songs like this are best kept to the start of your make-out playlist. It can be odd to have a dancy new-wave song come on when things are getting heated.

  ROMEO + JULIET (1996)

  This Shakespeare adaptation by way of MTV music video was released during my freshman year in college, and I went to see it with a bunch of girls from my dorm. At least half of us promptly bought the soundtrack, and it joined Ben Folds Five, 311, and Cake as one of the albums in constant rotation on our floor. None of us knew that much, historically speaking, about music. We frequently bought the albums we heard blasting out of each other's rooms, which led to a group of eighteen-year-old girls with identical CD collections to go with our matching dorm-room posters and Bed Bath & Beyond shower caddies. The late '90s were a messy time in rock music. Over the course of the decade, the previously forward-think
ing modern-rock radio format (responsible for breaking artists like Nirvana and the Lemonheads) devolved into a showcase for mediocre post-grunge bands like Limp Bizkit and Bush. Record labels turned the word "alternative" into a marketing tool, and the corporations who owned radio stations made alternative a sellable format, taking it into the mainstream.

  The Romeo + Juliet soundtrack captures the all-over-the-place quality of '90s music and displays how record labels were using soundtracks as a new marketing tool. Frequently the label releasing the soundtrack would stack the album with artists from its own roster, which meant you could find very underground acts selected by the filmmaker next to mainstream bands foisted on them by a record label. This soundtrack, released by Capitol Records, places Radiohead right next to Everclear, who were bastions of mediocre pop songwriting beloved by the masses. The selection of tracks for the soundtrack aptly reflects the sense that anything, from amazing to putrid, could be a hit on modern rock radio in the mid to late '90s.

  The way music was incorporated into the film, however, was completely unique. Impressed by super-producer Nellee Hooper's work with Massive Attack and Björk, director Baz Lurhmann brought on Hooper to create the score. Hooper worked with Scottish composer Craig Armstrong, who had created Massive Attack's Protection with Hooper, and arranger/programmer Marius de Vries, who had worked with Hooper on Björk's Debut and Post, not only to score the movie, but to twist the pop songs to fit the film. Most films simply lay music down to accompany the film with a bit of mixing to make it all work, but Hooper and his team were remixing the songs themselves to complement the story—like the slowed-down and drugged-out treatment Kym Mazelle's "Young Hearts Run Free" gets. During the song, the characters go on an Ecstacy-fueled party bender. The song is eventually sped up into a disco anthem that makes the head reel and echoes the increasing intensity of the scene. Next Armstrong draws on Des'ree's "Kissing You" to create an orchestral accompaniment to a moment of impossible love when Romeo and Juliet see each other for the first time. Most interesting is how they use the soundtrack's lead single, Garbage's "#1 Crush." The music is never overtly in the movie, but Hooper and Vries take elements of the track—a haunting melody, or just the vocals run through effects—and insert them into the background of scenes to foreshadow the deaths of the title characters. If you're not listening closely for the Garbage song, you won't hear it.

  The visual style of Romeo + Juliet drew heavily on the hyper-quick cuts and saturated colors popular in music videos and on MTV shows at the time. Featuring a fresh-off-Titanic Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes in her first film post–My So-Called Life, this film, with its super-slick soundtrack and guns in place of the swords in Shakespeare's original work, became a Gen-X manifestation of reckless, selfish, dramatic teenage love.

  1. GAVIN FRIDAY, "Angel"

  There is every chance a guy might find this song a touch fey when you initially put it on and ask him to touch you there. If his dreams aren't made of the wonderstuff found in high-pitched male vocals on top of typical early-'90s UK dance pop with a repetitive bass thump, here's what you do about it: inform the make-out partner in question that Gavin Friday is the singer of an '80s post-punk group called the Virgin Prunes. Scoff when he doesn't know who they are and explain that they're old mates of U2 from Dublin, that as a matter of fact the Edge's brother was in the band and that Friday went on to record tracks with Bono for In the Name of the Father. But the Prunes weren't commercial sellouts with a hard-on for that old-time religion like those bastards in U2. In fact, "virgin prunes" is slang for outsiders. When the know-it-all boy in question has been sufficiently baffled by your outpouring of knowledge, tell him maybe he should just worry about looking pretty and get back to kissing you, because you've got the soundtrack situation totally under control.

  2. GARBAGE, "#1 Crush"

  Certain bands become relics of their time. Garbage is undeniably one of those bands who perfectly encapsulate the aural landscape from 1995–2000. At the time it was defining, but it's since become a noose. That said, I do not object to some nostalgia in a make-out mix, especially if the other half of your kissy face is in the same age group as you. You probably knew this song when you were both younger, and that could add a sort of teenage love vibe to the proceedings.

  Singer Shirley Manson's deep voice and producer/performer Butch Vig's industrial soundscapes come together in an unexpectedly lusty combination. She uses unromantic and powerful words like "violate," "die," and "drown." The dirge is backed up with masculine guitars, dreary keyboards, and a decidedly feminine backing-vocal track with equal parts singing and moaning. The song has the yin and yang of male vs. female. Manson could be singing from the point of view of a psychotically needy woman or lovesick stalker Lloyd Dobler from Say Anything. The track just oozes sex.

  3. RADIOHEAD, "Exit Music (for a Film)"

  This song was created for people who exist inside their own bubble. Literally. Radiohead was sent only the last thirty minutes of Romeo + Juliet and asked, based on that, to write an end-credits song. The moment where Claire Danes as Juliet holds Romeo's gun in her mouth was the exact frame that inspired singer Thom Yorke to write what he calls, "a song for two people who should have run away together a long time ago." It attempts to give star-crossed lovers the happy ending they so desperately desire, which is a lovely sentiment. It is, by design, the kind of song you can lose yourself in over the course of four minutes.

  This song was not included on the film's official soundtrack, at the request of Radiohead, who released it a year later on their masterpiece album OK Computer. Instead, the song "Talk Show Host" was included, but it is far inferior for the purposes of communing with your soul mate. Or for appearing to have good taste in music during a one-night stand. Much like its placement in the movie, this particular song should appear near the end of your make-out playlist, with any luck hitting you after things have ... er, concluded. It is an excellent track for the post-coital moment, before you close your eyes and the world goes black.

  4. THE WANNADIES, "You and Me Song"

  Three years before the release of Romeo + Juliet, Sweden cruelly exported Ace of Base to the rest of the world. We all saw the sign, wanted another baby, did not turn around—all the things their catchy songs instructed us to do. Their music was sweet enough to give you a cavity, as the girls from Clueless would say. Lately Sweden's musical exports have gotten a lot cooler, from raunchy pop star Robyn to clapping gurus Peter Bjorn and John (PB&J). The Wannadies paved the path for groups like PB&J, creating music more akin to the cool Britannia movement out of the UK in the early '90s than to derivative, Roxette-esque pop (another terrible Swedish export).

  Making out to this particular track is perhaps best for committed couples. It appreciates the shorthand that develops when you've been with someone for a while and doesn't shirk from embracing the intimacy of coupledom. Nothing will make a guy you just met bolt like a power chorus of "you and me always and forever!" The samba rhythms are a sweet sort of sensual, though, bursting through into power pop at every chorus. It's the kind of song you can see a romantic montage being set to. The kind of song you can hold hands to.

  THE TWILIGHT SAGA: NEW MOON (2009)

  Part of me cannot believe I'm going to tell you that anything about New Moon will get you hot and bothered if you're older than fourteen years old. The whole Twilight franchise is a teen dream, but there is also something disturbing about the slavish devotion from legions of teenaged girls and their moms (aka Twi-hards). Don't get me wrong: I loved the books. They rehashed the longing feelings of my unrealistic high-school crushes, when everything felt possible (even the notion that the cute, shy, pale boy in school might be a vampire/superhero/Jake Ryan from Sixteen Candles who was secretly in love with me). That naive romantic illusion inevitably ends in disappointment for 99 percent of people, who realize their lives are going to be just as boring as everyone else's. The Twilight books are great for escapist entertainment, but the movies are terrible. The kind of sl
ow-paced romance, set to meaningful glances, that the Twilight series tries to evoke—where being apart inspires the same sort of heart-stopping emotion as being together—works great in a thousand-page saga but comes across as both dull and immature on screen.

  The first film, Twilight, owes a debt, thematically, to Pride and Prejudice, but the second film, New Moon, takes its nods to classic literature a step further and gives blatant homage to Romeo and Juliet with actual, unsubtle references to the play. In the opening scene, for instance, Bella wakes up with a copy of Romeo and Juliet on the pillow next to her. Later Edward and Bella watch the classic 1968 Franco Zeffirelli version of Romeo and Juliet in class and debate, in hushed tones, the classic relationship. Not that there's anything wrong with citing your references: Valley Girl did the same, sending its two leading lovers to see Romeo and Juliet on a date.

  The difference between the way music was chosen in the two previous films and in New Moon reflects the increasing commercialization of movie soundtracks since the days of Valley Girl, when no one would even pony up the investment necessary to release the soundtrack. Now the soundtrack album is a crucial wheel in the marketing plan of any movie aimed at teenagers. CD sales have been declining for the last decade, and the number of media outlets where new artists can catch a break, like radio or music television, is diminishing. The Pew Internet study of 2008 revealed that the most popular way for people to discover new music was through TV shows, commercials, and movies. Thus, getting songs placed in these vehicles has become essential for bands—and I'm not just talking about up-and-comers. Even for the most successful bands it's a tough market, which is why you'll see a band like Radiohead or Muse willing to license a song for placement on a Twilight franchise soundtrack.