Here is TIME's guide to the 25 best sound tracks from six decades of movie music (part 2 of 3):
Superfly, 1972
Curtis Mayfield tells it like it is. Rather than glorify the violence and wheeling and dealing of ghetto culture as other blaxploitation films of the day, his sound track for Superfly was a commentary on what he saw as a plague on America's streets. The hard-hitting, socially-aware album accomplished a rare feat when it outsold the movie to which it was set. "Freddie's Dead" — the film's unofficial theme song — laments the death of one of its main characters, a good-hearted man (played by Charles McGregor) whose work as a drug dealer ultimately leads to his demise. While hailed as one of the most influential albums in black history, its smooth funk sound, wailing guitar and horns also helped make the album one of the most important musical touchstones of '70s pop and R&B. "Curtis Mayfield's productions were a singer's dream and a musician's delight," Aretha Franklin wrote in a brief eulogy for TIME following Mayfield's death in 2000. "We moved and grooved to his sweet, funky, soul-stirring musical scenarios, and said, 'Amen, that's right, go ahead,' as we related."
American Graffiti, 1973
George Lucas' American Graffiti asked the question "Where Were You in '62?" It should have been an easy enough one for moviegoers to answer, seeing as how the film was released in 1973, barely a decade later. But much as The Big Chill would in the 1980s, Graffiti capitalized on nostalgia for the not-too-distant past, with early-'60s rock songs from Bill Haley and the Comets, the Beach Boys, Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly, Del Shannon and many, many others. Eschewing any sort of orchestral score, the film is entirely populated by jukebox hits, many of which emanate from the radios of the hot rods cruising the streets of Modesto, Calif. In between the songs are the ruminations of famous real-life DJ Wolfman Jack, who serves as American Graffiti's gravel-voiced Greek chorus. The film was a smash hit upon its release. Wisely, Lucas made sure to secure for himself the profits from sound-track sales, a precursor to his fortune-making decision to snap up merchandising rights for his next film, Star Wars.
The Harder They Come, 1973
In 1973 reggae had yet to make it on the radar of most American music fans, and for moviegoers, The Harder They Come was a gateway drug. The crime drama introduced unfamiliar listeners in the U.S. to Jamaican music, especially through the four songs performed by its star, Jimmy Cliff (who plays an aspiring musician who turns to crime), including the now legendary title track and "You Can Get It if You Really Want." The sound track also features songs by artists like Toots & the Maytals, the Melodians and Desmond Dekker, among others, and helped put many of them on the world stage.
Saturday Night Fever, 1977
What's a dance movie without a killer sound track? A pretty lame one. That's why John Travolta's role as disco stallion Tony Manero had to be accompanied by songs that would make even the shiest wallflower want to throw on some bell-bottoms and clacky-heeled shoes for a night of rump-shaking. Saturday Night Fever wasn't all wide collars and satin leisure suits; while the fashions look pretty comical, the film is a weighty melodrama about a bunch of dead-end Brooklyn yoots who dance to take their minds off their dead-end jobs, dysfunctional families and pregnant girlfriends. The sound track, however, is irrepressible. Heavy on tunes from disco kings the Bee Gees, including "Stayin' Alive," "Night Fever" and "How Deep Is Your Love," it also features "If I Can't Have You" by Yvonne Elliman and "Disco Inferno" by The Trammps. The album topped the Billboard 200 for 24 weeks and was still charting in March 1980, well after disco finally died.
Grease, 1978
The film adaptation of this hit Broadway show solidified the mainstream appeal of both its faux-'50s sound track and its lead actors, John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John. As star-crossed high school sweethearts Danny and Sandy, Travolta and Newton-John surprisingly sing only seven of Grease's 24 songs. Still, their tracks — particularly "We Go Together," "Summer Nights" and "You're the One That I Want" — were the film's biggest hits. Newton-John's rendition of the ballad "Hopelessly Devoted to You" was nominated for an Oscar for Best Song — although it lost to Donna Summer's "Last Dance," from the now forgotten disco film Thank God It's Friday. No matter: the Grease album is still one of the best-selling sound tracks of all time, and a sing-along version of the movie was even re-released in theaters in 2010.
The Big Chill, 1983
A tale of former college classmates who come together to mourn their friend's death, The Big Chill is at its heart a movie about disappointment and nostalgia, and the often blurry line between the two. Its sound track, too, is all baby-boomer throwback to the rock and Motown hits of the late '60s and early '70s that the movie's characters reveled in during their years at the University of Michigan. Featuring songs by Marvin Gaye, the Temptations, Smokey Robinson and Aretha Franklin, The Big Chill's first sound track (its success prompted the release of a second, More Songs from The Big Chill) is full of the type of music that one might put on at a party to make their older relatives and coworkers feel comfortable. Yet the songs on this album are by now so ubiquitous and timeworn it's feasible to believe that there's no one on earth who wouldn't like them. It's also almost possible to forget that the sound track, like the film, co-opts the amazing work of talented black Detroit musicians for a story about whiny white Ann Arbor grads.
Flashdance, 1983
This 1983 romance earned scorn from critics, but audiences loved Jennifer Beals as Alex, the welder by day, exotic-dancer by night who dreams of becoming a ballet star, and Flashdance was the third biggest box office hit of the year. Reportedly made with an eye (and ear) on the MTV crowd, the story line was intercut with scenes that relied on music — including Alex's audition finale — to make it seem like a series of music videos. The tactic appeared to work: within two weeks of the film's release, its sound track was selling 50,000 to 100,000 copies a day, in part on the strength of its two hit singles, Michael Sembello's "Maniac" and Irene Cara's "Flashdance ... What a Feeling" (which won an Academy Award for Best Song). The album ultimately sold more than 20 million copies.
Sixteen Candles, 1984
If Sixteen Candles is for many the definitive portrait of '80s youth, then its sound track is the era's anthem. With artists like Wham!, the Thompson Twins, Billy Idol and David Bowie, the music perfectly captures the new-wave zeitgeist and its popularity among the film's gawky, insecure protagonists (i.e., all teenagers everywhere). The song selection was courtesy of Sixteen Candles' music-crazed writer-director, John Hughes, who crammed his film with more than 30 songs. Amazingly, the original sound-track release, now long out of print, contained just five. But even without the full collection, it's impossible to hear the Thompson Twins' "If You Were Here" — one of the five songs released — without picturing Samantha Baker (Molly Ringwald) and Jake Ryan (Michael Schoeffling) leaning toward each other over Sam's candle-lit birthday cake.
Purple Rain, 1984
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life. Electric word, life. It means forever, and that's a mighty long time. But I'm here to tell you there's something else: the afterworld. A world of never-ending happiness where you can always see the sun. Day ... or night."
When an album opens like Purple Rain does, with what sounds like an effeminate preacher's treatise on life as prison and death as release, it's hard to know what to expect from the rest of the thing. And over the course of the subsequent nine tracks, Prince and the Revolution try their hardest to keep listeners both off balance and on their feet. A funk-pop-rock-R&B-psychedelic mashup, Purple Rain is the album that propelled Prince into the pop-music stratosphere. Ostensibly the sound track to the film of the same name — a laughably acted, semi-autobiographical look at a striving Minneapolis musician called simply the Kid — Purple Rain moves from the exciting opener "Let's Go Crazy" to the sweet pop of "Take Me with U" to the sultry experimentation of "When Doves Cry" (the song has no bass line) to the epic closer and title ballad.
Winner of the Oscar for Best Original Song Score (a category that no longer exists), Purple Rain has another place in music history. In 1984 Tipper Gore bought the album for her young daughter Karenna. When Tipper heard the opening line to the song "Darling Nikki" (I knew a girl named Nikki/ I guess you could say she was a sex fiend/ I met her in a hotel lobby/ Masturbating with a magazine), she was appalled, even though it was actually tamer than some of Prince's previous efforts ("Jack U Off" and "Head"). The album prompted the wife of then Senator Al Gore to form the Parents Music Resource Center, dedicated to monitoring objectionable content in pop music; one Senate hearing later (John Denver and Dee Snider testified), "Parental Advisory" stickers began to grace album covers. But as the man formerly known as a symbol understands well, there's no such thing as bad publicity: the ruckus over "Darling Nikki" helped bring the Purple One to the attention of millions of new fans.[to be continued][time.com]
Superfly, 1972
Curtis Mayfield tells it like it is. Rather than glorify the violence and wheeling and dealing of ghetto culture as other blaxploitation films of the day, his sound track for Superfly was a commentary on what he saw as a plague on America's streets. The hard-hitting, socially-aware album accomplished a rare feat when it outsold the movie to which it was set. "Freddie's Dead" — the film's unofficial theme song — laments the death of one of its main characters, a good-hearted man (played by Charles McGregor) whose work as a drug dealer ultimately leads to his demise. While hailed as one of the most influential albums in black history, its smooth funk sound, wailing guitar and horns also helped make the album one of the most important musical touchstones of '70s pop and R&B. "Curtis Mayfield's productions were a singer's dream and a musician's delight," Aretha Franklin wrote in a brief eulogy for TIME following Mayfield's death in 2000. "We moved and grooved to his sweet, funky, soul-stirring musical scenarios, and said, 'Amen, that's right, go ahead,' as we related."
American Graffiti, 1973
George Lucas' American Graffiti asked the question "Where Were You in '62?" It should have been an easy enough one for moviegoers to answer, seeing as how the film was released in 1973, barely a decade later. But much as The Big Chill would in the 1980s, Graffiti capitalized on nostalgia for the not-too-distant past, with early-'60s rock songs from Bill Haley and the Comets, the Beach Boys, Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly, Del Shannon and many, many others. Eschewing any sort of orchestral score, the film is entirely populated by jukebox hits, many of which emanate from the radios of the hot rods cruising the streets of Modesto, Calif. In between the songs are the ruminations of famous real-life DJ Wolfman Jack, who serves as American Graffiti's gravel-voiced Greek chorus. The film was a smash hit upon its release. Wisely, Lucas made sure to secure for himself the profits from sound-track sales, a precursor to his fortune-making decision to snap up merchandising rights for his next film, Star Wars.
The Harder They Come, 1973
In 1973 reggae had yet to make it on the radar of most American music fans, and for moviegoers, The Harder They Come was a gateway drug. The crime drama introduced unfamiliar listeners in the U.S. to Jamaican music, especially through the four songs performed by its star, Jimmy Cliff (who plays an aspiring musician who turns to crime), including the now legendary title track and "You Can Get It if You Really Want." The sound track also features songs by artists like Toots & the Maytals, the Melodians and Desmond Dekker, among others, and helped put many of them on the world stage.
Saturday Night Fever, 1977
What's a dance movie without a killer sound track? A pretty lame one. That's why John Travolta's role as disco stallion Tony Manero had to be accompanied by songs that would make even the shiest wallflower want to throw on some bell-bottoms and clacky-heeled shoes for a night of rump-shaking. Saturday Night Fever wasn't all wide collars and satin leisure suits; while the fashions look pretty comical, the film is a weighty melodrama about a bunch of dead-end Brooklyn yoots who dance to take their minds off their dead-end jobs, dysfunctional families and pregnant girlfriends. The sound track, however, is irrepressible. Heavy on tunes from disco kings the Bee Gees, including "Stayin' Alive," "Night Fever" and "How Deep Is Your Love," it also features "If I Can't Have You" by Yvonne Elliman and "Disco Inferno" by The Trammps. The album topped the Billboard 200 for 24 weeks and was still charting in March 1980, well after disco finally died.
Grease, 1978
The film adaptation of this hit Broadway show solidified the mainstream appeal of both its faux-'50s sound track and its lead actors, John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John. As star-crossed high school sweethearts Danny and Sandy, Travolta and Newton-John surprisingly sing only seven of Grease's 24 songs. Still, their tracks — particularly "We Go Together," "Summer Nights" and "You're the One That I Want" — were the film's biggest hits. Newton-John's rendition of the ballad "Hopelessly Devoted to You" was nominated for an Oscar for Best Song — although it lost to Donna Summer's "Last Dance," from the now forgotten disco film Thank God It's Friday. No matter: the Grease album is still one of the best-selling sound tracks of all time, and a sing-along version of the movie was even re-released in theaters in 2010.
The Big Chill, 1983
A tale of former college classmates who come together to mourn their friend's death, The Big Chill is at its heart a movie about disappointment and nostalgia, and the often blurry line between the two. Its sound track, too, is all baby-boomer throwback to the rock and Motown hits of the late '60s and early '70s that the movie's characters reveled in during their years at the University of Michigan. Featuring songs by Marvin Gaye, the Temptations, Smokey Robinson and Aretha Franklin, The Big Chill's first sound track (its success prompted the release of a second, More Songs from The Big Chill) is full of the type of music that one might put on at a party to make their older relatives and coworkers feel comfortable. Yet the songs on this album are by now so ubiquitous and timeworn it's feasible to believe that there's no one on earth who wouldn't like them. It's also almost possible to forget that the sound track, like the film, co-opts the amazing work of talented black Detroit musicians for a story about whiny white Ann Arbor grads.
Flashdance, 1983
This 1983 romance earned scorn from critics, but audiences loved Jennifer Beals as Alex, the welder by day, exotic-dancer by night who dreams of becoming a ballet star, and Flashdance was the third biggest box office hit of the year. Reportedly made with an eye (and ear) on the MTV crowd, the story line was intercut with scenes that relied on music — including Alex's audition finale — to make it seem like a series of music videos. The tactic appeared to work: within two weeks of the film's release, its sound track was selling 50,000 to 100,000 copies a day, in part on the strength of its two hit singles, Michael Sembello's "Maniac" and Irene Cara's "Flashdance ... What a Feeling" (which won an Academy Award for Best Song). The album ultimately sold more than 20 million copies.
Sixteen Candles, 1984
If Sixteen Candles is for many the definitive portrait of '80s youth, then its sound track is the era's anthem. With artists like Wham!, the Thompson Twins, Billy Idol and David Bowie, the music perfectly captures the new-wave zeitgeist and its popularity among the film's gawky, insecure protagonists (i.e., all teenagers everywhere). The song selection was courtesy of Sixteen Candles' music-crazed writer-director, John Hughes, who crammed his film with more than 30 songs. Amazingly, the original sound-track release, now long out of print, contained just five. But even without the full collection, it's impossible to hear the Thompson Twins' "If You Were Here" — one of the five songs released — without picturing Samantha Baker (Molly Ringwald) and Jake Ryan (Michael Schoeffling) leaning toward each other over Sam's candle-lit birthday cake.
Purple Rain, 1984
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life. Electric word, life. It means forever, and that's a mighty long time. But I'm here to tell you there's something else: the afterworld. A world of never-ending happiness where you can always see the sun. Day ... or night."
When an album opens like Purple Rain does, with what sounds like an effeminate preacher's treatise on life as prison and death as release, it's hard to know what to expect from the rest of the thing. And over the course of the subsequent nine tracks, Prince and the Revolution try their hardest to keep listeners both off balance and on their feet. A funk-pop-rock-R&B-psychedelic mashup, Purple Rain is the album that propelled Prince into the pop-music stratosphere. Ostensibly the sound track to the film of the same name — a laughably acted, semi-autobiographical look at a striving Minneapolis musician called simply the Kid — Purple Rain moves from the exciting opener "Let's Go Crazy" to the sweet pop of "Take Me with U" to the sultry experimentation of "When Doves Cry" (the song has no bass line) to the epic closer and title ballad.
Winner of the Oscar for Best Original Song Score (a category that no longer exists), Purple Rain has another place in music history. In 1984 Tipper Gore bought the album for her young daughter Karenna. When Tipper heard the opening line to the song "Darling Nikki" (I knew a girl named Nikki/ I guess you could say she was a sex fiend/ I met her in a hotel lobby/ Masturbating with a magazine), she was appalled, even though it was actually tamer than some of Prince's previous efforts ("Jack U Off" and "Head"). The album prompted the wife of then Senator Al Gore to form the Parents Music Resource Center, dedicated to monitoring objectionable content in pop music; one Senate hearing later (John Denver and Dee Snider testified), "Parental Advisory" stickers began to grace album covers. But as the man formerly known as a symbol understands well, there's no such thing as bad publicity: the ruckus over "Darling Nikki" helped bring the Purple One to the attention of millions of new fans.[to be continued][time.com]
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