Review: Various Artists – “Almost Alice” (Soundtrack)

Record labels: please stop. Stop with these cynical marketing abominations you call movie soundtracks “inspired by” this movie or that. We as a music buying public (to the extent that people still buy music) are not stupid (which is why people are buying less music). You don’t have to do this. These bands can just put out singles unrelated to albums and get you your extra large bag of M&Ms, if need be. Do you really want a whole roster of artists on your label trying to tie their music to a movie?

It’s especially embarrassing when you can’t load it up with a hit song. Spider-Man had “Hero,” with Chad Kroeger and whatshisname from Saliva. The Twilight series has had Paramore and Muse. What does Almost Alice have? “Alice” by Avril Lavigne: a lead single that’s totally indistinguishable from anything, despite being nothing like what you expect from Avril. It plunges into darker depths than, say, “Girlfriend,” finding her in Under My Skin mode. It’s not a guitar-heavy track, and the production is of a murky, otherworldly flavor. But at 25 she can’t really play bratty anymore, so the “You can’t stop me now” and “Don’t try to stop me” lyrics don’t quite work. I’m an unabashed Avril Lavigne fan, and this song doesn’t seem worthy as a single. There’s one more hook to this album: a duet between Mark Hoppus and Pete Wentz. Look at it this way: Hoppus’s voice isn’t distinctive, and Wentz isn’t the lead singer of Fall Out Boy for a reason. The song doesn’t sound like either of their bands, somehow. These two songs are the biggest reasons to give this collection a look, and they’re both boring.

So what’s the filler here? Owl City has a song that owes Death Cab for Cutie some money for ripping them off (and another truckload of cash for doing it badly). All American Rejects makes me long for “Swing Swing” with a generic-sounding ballad that goes psychedelic on the bridge because, well, Alice in Wonderland. Shinedown takes the cake for the most literal use of Alice; they paint her as a tortured soul who probably cries at her very existence. Alice is an excuse for that sort of tortured wailing all over the album. Why? Is it because she’s alone in a strange world? Because she’s crazy? Most of the songs could be about “Andie” instead of “Alice” and have the same effect. They have nothing to do with the movie. It’s such a naked cash grab, it would be sad if it wasn’t so persistently annoying. You can even play a drinking game: a shot for every mention of madness, and you’d be dead before the end of the hour it takes up.

But all that’s not to say there aren’t any upbeat moments. They just come off as strangely out of place. Metro Station offers a dance track that comes in stark contrast with the rock music here. These compilations would also be incomplete with the label sneaking in some lesser-known acts to piggyback on promotion. So I ask: who is Kerli? And why is her Rihanna-lite song using tea parties as a sexual euphemism that misses the point of euphemisms? It’s distressing on something that is ostensibly promoting a kids’ movie. Of course, 3oh!3 show up to do a song about following them down a hole. That’s the second drinking game: every time holes or going down a hole or going down is mentioned on this album, take a drink. You’re going to want one.

I have not covered this collection’s worst crime, though. Follow me, here (no hole), the explanation takes a minute. Robert Smith of The Cure sings “Very Good Advice,” from Disney’s animated Alice in Wonderland. Once, The Cure was a very good band. Maybe just a shade under true greatness, but definitely capable of reaching massive heights on a regular basis. This album is marketed to kids and teens. Who else would buy an Alice in Wonderland soundtrack so chockablock with second-tier emo and alterna-pop? Right? Now, for many of them, this might be their first exposure to Robert Smith. It might be their only exposure. These kids are going to live their lives thinking that Smith is a sad camp performer of some kind. A guy who brings embarrassingly overwrought vocal tics to a simple ditty sung by a purple cartoon cat. That’s a horrible way to remember someone whose prime should be required studies for anyone who’s ever been A) a teenager and B) sad.

I have one positive thing to say about this collection, though: Franz Ferdinand’s “The Lobster Quadrille” is very good, coming out of nowhere with some dark whimsy that seems appropriate and without taking Alice or Wonderland literally. Those guys deserve to be better regarded than they are. Also: Wolfmother’s song is not bad. Unfortunately, it’s also called…::sigh::…”Fell Down a Hole.”   

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Jere is not from Chicago. Nor is he from Parts Unknown. But he sure loves to hear things. Follow him on Twitter!
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