Jonny Trunk (compiler) — The Music Library

As we argued in our review of Ange's Le cimetière des arlequins, the years 1968-1975are a golden time for many genres of popular and experimental art. One of the strains we did notmention in that particular piece is that of library music, a now seemingly extinct form ofmusic making that has largely escaped the public's gaze. Library music, alternatively referredto as source music or mood music, is music that is composed and recorded with the specificaim of being used for radio and television documentaries, series, and programs of all varieties.In the climate of the 1970s, where dozens of B-movies were released every year, there was alsodemand for cheap source music to add a little bit of flair and mystique to otherwise oftenlaughably incoherent strips of celluloid.

An interesting paradox of library music is that, for all its cheapness, it offered an opportunityto work for some composers and musicians of a very high standard. Almost all the luminaries ofthe Italian soundtrack scene, including Ennio Morricone, Bruno Nicolai, PieroUmiliani, and Stelvio Cipriani, were regulars when it came to producing albums oflibrary music. In France, and across the Channel in Great-Britain, some of the country's finestjazz musicians are featured in many a library album that has never gained any public recognition.

Long-time collector and library and soundtrack music fanatic Jonny Trunk has now compiledthe first ever overview of library music artwork, simply called The Music Library.The cheapness of the music is reflected in the sleeve designs, which often follow a standardtemplate with slight variations, or consist of simple graphics or typography applied intwo-color print. Like in all so-called trash, there is an enormous redeeming value to be found in these sleeves.Far away from the sterile world of corporate artwork agencies, the graphic designers as much as thecomposers and the musicians could basically do whatever the hell they wanted. This results in manyremarkable examples of efficient design, reflecting the mood of the times but also going back tothe stark visual impressions of El Lissitzky and the incredible Polish film posters of the 1960s.The book presents well over 300 album sleeves, and turning the pages leads the reader from onemoment of utter amazement to the other. The influence of this type of sleeve design is apparent when oneconsiders the artwork on Stereolab and Broadcast releases. Not surprisingly,Julian House, whose company works for both bands, provides a concise but poetic afterword to thisstunning and beautifully produced book.

To make matters worse for those who thought they'd heard and seen it all, the book comes witha CD packing 17 obscure library tracks. Next to relatively well-known electro-acoustic composersBasil Kirchin and Delia Derbyshire, we find tracks here by a bunch of completeunknowns - at least unknown to the present author. And don't tell us you've been playing a lotof Hervé Roy or P.A. Dahan & M. Camison lately... Or maybe you have, as Roy turnsout to have been the musical director on the erotic classic Emmanuelle.The music ranges from bossa-inspired funky grooves via eerie, atonal suspense themes not unlikethose familiar to lovers of the giallo genre to wild electronic beats that predate thecurrent interest in electro by more than two decades. Hidden amongst the relatively short tracks isthe 13-minute funky rock freakout Kermesse Non Héroïque, composed by (you guessed it)Guy Pedersen.The music on this disc is so excellent that it in fact forms the most welcome addition to ourcollection of soundtrack and library music (which is, admittedly, limited to some 200items) in years. Those who have recently been swept away by the great Morricone sampler Crimeand Dissonance would do well to check out this book and CD, which will bring them many new delights and will open up many possible roads of investigation in uncharted territory. Now, if you'llexcuse us, we will leave the scene and pour ourselves a glass of Martini and dance into the nighton the tune of Flutes Ad Libitum by (you guessed it) Raymond Guiot & Guy Pedersen...