5 uncanny '90s tracks that use epic film samples and make you feel weird (but amazing, too)
So as the lede isn’t buried six feet under, let’s get to it: I’m talking tracks from the ’90s that sampled uncanny films which make you feel weird. If there were a nutshell, and it had very specific qualities, that would be your huckleberry. Confused? Just get your ears around it.
Is there a word yet for borrowed nostalgia? The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows might know one. I’m talking about ’90s dance, broadly, and I was riding my mid-teens when those rave waves crested in, so I never actually, properly looked through the warehouse doors. Kinda.
This means I’ve still got a fluorescent, slightly dangerous image in my mind as to what they would have looked like. (That merges with spending some of the late ’90s to early ’00s dancing in nightclubs and watching films like Human Traffic.) But, I’ll always have my mix tape memories, and Energy Rush: Phase 4. Yeah boi.
Danny Tenaglia, aka The Look, Glamour Girl.
The sample is from a John Waters film, Mondo Trasho, and the scene in question depicts a blond hello-eyelashes woman being given the gossip smackdown by two others. They list off an insane amount of diatribes, “glamour girl” included, before asking, “maybe it’s a baby butch?”
And then the baddest baseline you’ll ever hear kicks the fudge in. Everything about the intro gets me. Can you imagine hearing this out and waiting for the beat to drop. All up in that noise, no doubt.
Symphony Sound Recordings, Pennywise
I am a drum and bass soldier. I definitely watched horror films at that mate’s house whose parents were a lot easier than mine. Of all the wrong ‘uns, good ol’ SK was up there—aided and abetted by Tim Curry. Sure, we all hated the spider (late spoiler) but that clown was the definition of terror for a long time. Symphony Sound Recordings chose his implacable sentiment, “they all float down here!” to set against such heart-string chords, airy pizzicato noises, and mellow drums. Its’ a beautiful thing. That suggests it’s slow. And that infectious DNB through line just won’t quit. And the orchestra hit—essential ’90s.
But that melody… it’s so delicate it seems odd to think about all those wide boys, puffing away in puffer jackets and Spliffy jeans, trying to dance with their man cards out. Anyway, it’s a real sunrise track—the kind for waking up on hills you shouldn’t have pitched a tent on before making the long way home. True story. Choooon.
Aim, Demonique
Same decade, but—almost—difficult to tell. What makes the first two tracks is what dates them. What makes this song is what makes it feel beyond ’90s. Or, if not timeless, at least more atmospheric and more befitting of the terrifying sample dialogue from Halloween: “You let him OUT!” The hip hop through line absolutely anchors it, the strings are unnervingly Hitchcock, the choir is nautical gothika, and the bell is a dark church on a Sunday. The oboe is a ’70s film soundtrack (it reminds me of Watership Down) and the bass is surely halfway between brass and string. Everything is so perfectly put together. “Damn you for letting him go. We’re all afraid of the dark inside ourselves.” Amen.
Boards Of Canada, Aquarius
If you want a song that feels like the world is becoming computers, somehow, this is it. BOC flawlessly manage to make the Uncanny Valley aural; sampling Sesame Street kids giggling over off kilter melodies, adding sounds that feel all trip hop like the Silent Hill, playing almost-but-not-quite-out-of-place funky bass, and like Salad Fingers is in there somewhere—these are the things that make the dystopian, upside-down world feelings. Did they slow down his voice on purpose when he says “orange”? What is that rainbow overture where she starts counting and becomes robot? Why do the children laugh here? The crashy drums—something about the delay and the peaking—just gorgeous.
Aphex Twin, We Are The Music Makers
Pick some time between midnight and four am (it’s always four am) and put this gently into your speakers. (Or your headphones if you’re a nice neighbour.) It’s not as weird as BOC, it’s not as dark as Aim, but it’s not as straight ’90s as Tenaglia and Symphony Sound Recordings. Those guys are all firmly in place—this leads you, steadily and unconsciously bobbing, into late 20th century ambience. It’s not normal but it’s not unnerving enough to put you on edge. Watch patterns in the wallpaper with your eyes and follow the keys and odd beats with your head. “We are the music makers and we are the dreamers of dreams” will be the gentle assurance, from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, whilst you melt into the pillow and fall asleep.
The Avalanches, Frontier Psychiatrist
As you’re coming around or up or sideways, let’s call it 6am for the sake of it, you’ll need some therapy. This isn’t it, but it’s definitely something—thanks to samples from comedy duo Wayne and Shuster. Who knows what’s going on at this point but it’s a damn good time because there’s choral drama, the feeling like you’re being accused of being mad and you’re the only one who knows there’s a conspiracy, all finished off with like you probably got given something to “calm you down”. You’re trapped there now, good luck.