I tend to respect the music of Tune-Yards more than I actually enjoy listening to it. They are fully committed to being avant garde and experimental with finding new sounds, and they also know how to turn them into an unforgettable hook. But I’m rarely compelled to listen to much of it.
But it makes Tune-Yards doubly perfect to make the score for a Boots Riley movie, as they did with Sorry to Bother You, and now with I Love Boosters. Not just because they’re Oakland-based, and Riley seems to be a fierce supporter of Oakland as a community, but because you need musicians who know exactly how to keep up with the manic energy and unpredictability of his movies.
Listening to “Pinky Ring Dude,” which plays in the moments when Corvette is finding herself entranced by the intensely soulful eyes of LaKeith Stanfield’s unnamed character, really drives home how it’s such a perfect match. When he’s onscreen, everything else stops, including the plunks and whistles and chants of the rest of the soundtrack, replaced with a guitar and the echoing call of a siren. Hearing it now, I can immediately picture those moments.
The rest of the music reminds me of that period in the late 90s or maybe early 2000s, when there was a renewed interest in the music of Raymond Scott. I got a very nice compilation of his music for the Warner Brothers Looney Toons, and it was fascinating to get a sense of the musical artistry that went into it, once it was removed from its original context. I also listened to the compilation only once, because it felt as jarring and anxiety-inducing as living inside a cartoon.
So much of I Love Boosters has the feel of a live-action cartoon, so it’s a good fit. You’ll definitely remember “Hi Ho,” the motif that is repeated over and over again throughout in multiple variations. It’s perfect at matching the energy of what’s happening on screen. But hearing it outside of the movie is reminiscent of driving and having “Powerhouse” come on, and suddenly I’m on edge and on the lookout for falling anvils.
If I had to have a recurring motif following me throughout my day-to-day, I’d much prefer it to be more like “Bossa Plunk.” It’d do nothing to lessen the feeling that I’m living inside a cartoon, but at least it’d be a weird and happy one.
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