Various Artists, Miami Vice Original Motion Picture Soundtrack

I hadn’t actually planned on reviewing this disc. It’s one of the perks of editor-dom — I have to listen to everything at least once, so I get to pick and choose the CDs I really give a crap about to review. And I hadn’t expected to be even remotely interested in this one: a soundtrack to an ’80s TV retread flick I’ve got no plans to see, probably packed with a good dozen alt-rock Sensations of the Moment and some obligatory “toughened-up” ’80s covers? Why bother?

Phil Collins, oddly enough, changed my mind. In my footloose-and-fancy-free youth, I was a big — no, make that huge — Phil Collins fan. I still own the first four of his solo albums (on tape, naturally), from 1981’s Face Value on up through 1989’s But Seriously, plus three of the poppiest Genesis albums, Genesis, which is actually pretty weird at points, Invisible Touch, and We Can’t Dance. I’m not remotely embarrassed about this, by the way; I liked the music then, and while I like to think my musical tastes have broadened and matured since then, I still like the music now. Some of the old tapes lurking in my office closet make me cringe, definitely, but when I look back at songs like “One More Night,” “Take Me Home,” “Long Long Way To Go,” “I’m Not Moving,” and “Don’t Let Him Steal Your Heart Away,” I don’t see the schmaltzy cheesemeister who’ll apparently do any soundtrack gig that’s handed to him, but rather a damn talented pop songwriter — hell, just writing this makes me want to go scour the used bins at Soundwaves for replacement CDs for the tapes I’ve got (the first three, anyway; I’ll admit that But Seriously kinda sucked).

Getting back to the new Miami Vice soundtrack, I found myself compelled to listen to the album pretty much just so I could hear what alt-rockers Nonpoint did to the Collins classic “In the Air Tonight.” I had braced myself, quite honestly, because I was expecting ham-handed butchery of one of the most genuinely tension-filled pop songs ever spawned by the ’80s, but I ended up being pleasantly surprised. There is indeed some “toughening” going on, and the song certainly rocks a lot more than the original, but the dark, sinister feel is heightened, if anything, by the scraping, clawing guitars and oddly warbly, Middle Eastern-sounding bass line. And hey, for once it’s a cover of an ’80s hit that’s not a pisstake — Nonpoint play it so faithfully as to seem reverent of the original, right down to the vocal inflections. The bitterness, the recrimination, the sense of impending danger, it’s all still there despite the stylistic changes, and I’ve got to applaud the band for that. Granted, there’s not a whole lot of ground-breaking going on, but still, kudos for not fucking up one of my all-time favorite songs, guys.

So, after unexpectedly enjoying the soundtrack’s lone “real” cover, I just let it run. And happily, the album hits all the right notes; it’s moody and murky, vibing repeatedly on the theme of sin and redemption (which makes sense, considering that the movie’s about cops dealing with the vice trade) and nicely incorporating Latin and Caribbean elements alongside the heavier or dancier stuff. The end result paints a gorgeously bleak, alternately menacing and alluring aural picture of the seamier side of “The Gateway of the Americas,” casting it as kind of a North American version of Constantinople or Tangiers, a melting-pot hub that’s dark and exotic and beautiful all at the same time. And as a long-ago fan of the original Miami Vice, that seems appropriate — in the show, after all, the city was as much a character as Crockett or Tubbs.

As you can probably guess (if you know much about Miami’s nightlife, that is), there’s a ton of electronic/dance stuff packed in here. Perennial soundtrack-dweller Moby makes a couple of appearances, with Patti LaBelle(!) on “One of These Mornings,” a gorgeously gloomy meditation on leaving town and dropping off the face of the planet, and “Anthem,” which sounds like a rave in Heaven and could probably serve as a companion piece to Moby’s work on Vice director Michael Mann’s “other” crime drama, Heat. Then there’s Felix Da Housecat’s remix of Nina Simone’s brilliant, starkly terrifying “Sinnerman,” a classic so untouchable that my lip curled in disgust when I realized that somebody was going to be screwing around with the genius of Ms. Simone…except that Felix’s version ain’t half bad. The hypnotic drone of Simone’s piano actually lends itself surprisingly well to the repetitiveness of house, and at least Felix doesn’t mess with her voice but instead lets it soar up above the proceedings. And again, I definitely get the “sin” theme, which is further expanded upon by King Britt on “New World in My View,” a bit-too-long track that takes a gospel sermon on the New Jerusalem and dancifies it to fairly good effect.

The biggest surprise on here for me was the inclusion of heavy-noise instrumentalists Mogwai; they pop up twice, first with the slowly-thundering menace of “We’re No Here” and later with the majestic, piano-inflected “Auto Rock,” both times acting like the band was freaking born to do this kind of work. Hopefully other folks will take notice and tap those crazy Scots for more stuff like this. I was also caught off-guard by “Strict Machine,” a Goldfrapp track that I’d heard in a commercial recently but had no idea was Goldfrapp — it drops the pretty distance of a lot of her other work in favor of thumping, grinding, full-on robotic sex, as voiced by Debbie Harry. Oh, and it’s absolutely awesome.

I can’t claim that the tracks contributed by Emilio Estefan (“Pennies in My Pocket,” which makes me think weirdly of Rachid Taha) and Manzanita (“Arranca”) do much for me, but they add a welcome tinge of Cubano flavor to the mix. Ditto for “Blacklight Fantasy,” by Freaky Chakra — okay song, nothing special, but it definitely evokes the club scene for which Miami’s known. Strangely, the two tracks on here that do the absolute least for me are the actual bits of John Murphy’s score, “Mercado Nuevo” and “Who Are You.” With stuff like this, I usually like the actual score more than the seemingly tacked-on alt-rock hits, but in this case the orchestral bits just don’t measure up when stood alongside the likes of Nina Simone, Moby, or Mogwai. “Mercado Nuevo” comes off like a less-powerful Massive Attack instrumental, while “Who Are You” just doesn’t come off as much at all, unfortunately; I can’t even remember what it sounds like, and I just heard it. Weird to think that the day may be fast approaching when “traditional” film scores may be surpassed by electronic noodlers and sludge-rock heroes, but that’s sure what it feels like here.

Now, about soundtracks in general: in my experience, they tend to be transitory. They’re made to accompany a movie, so unless you’re watching the movie (or at least have just finished watching it), there’s naturally going to be a disconnect; it won’t be the same without the visual accompaniment. In this case, though, every time the album finished, I found myself wanting to skip back to the start and listen to the whole thing again. I might not listen to all of every song, but I’d want to hear enough of ’em again that just listening to one or two tracks repeatedly didn’t make much sense. And given that very, very few soundtracks have any kind of staying power for me (Reservoir Dogs and Glory are the only two that leap immediately to mind), me wanting to listen to the Miami Vice soundtrack over and over again really says something.

Finally, if all of the above doesn’t convince you that this soundtrack isn’t just some random boring alt-rock compilation, here’s a thought to take home with you: at least on this Miami Vice soundtrack, Jan Hammer and Glenn Frey are nowhere to be found. Hallelujah.