Film Works XIX: The Rain Horse

I have a funny story to tell. And, as with many funny stories, it begins with an innocent misunderstanding:

You see, there's this musician named John Zorn. Among many other things, John Zorn writes music for films. These film scores are released by the Tadzik label, which titles each album in the series by slapping the words "Film Works" + a number before what is usually the name of the film being scored. So, for example, you've got Film Works V: Tears of Ecstasy or Film Works X: In the Mirror of Maya Deren. The latest score in this series is called Film Works XIX: The Rain Horse.


Notice the water-related adjective? I did. And then substituted it for the actual adjective "water". So that by the time I put on my headphones and started listening to the album, I was convinced that I was listening to John Zorn's score for The Water Horse.

Which would still be alright, if a film called The Water Horse—which has nothing to do with a Russian animated short called The Rain Horse—hadn't also come out last year. But, since it had, and I was convinced that Zorn, for whatever reason, had written the music for it, I kept imagining The Water Horse, or as much as I knew about it from the advertisements, while listening. It's important to note here that despite what The Rain Horse may be about, it is likely not about what The Water Horse is about: a British boy who befriends a cute dinosaur in Scotland during World War II.

So, what was the effect of this misunderstanding? Well, beyond a sudden urge to go out and see The Water Horse, it was my imagining of wonderful, magical scenes involving sharp, Scottish crags cutting through a lush, green, foggy landscape; and a dinosaur. One track, in particular, I was sure, would be played during the fateful scene in which the boy must finally bid farewell to his monstrous friend amidst the falling rain. Even the rhythm of the music, I would say in a future review, mimics the falling drops of rain in the film. Hell, even the title of the track, "The Rain Horse", was a perfect, sweet play on the words of the film's title.

And then I looked at the title of the track again: "The Rain Horse".

And then I looked at the album cover: Film Works XIX: The Rain Horse.

And, suddenly, all those wonderful scenes that played in my head disappeared, died. I listened to my favourite tracks again, and again, and again, and—nothing. The music was still good, yes: engaging, pleasing; but my imagination was no longer flying. As I looked more closely at the packaging and checked the album credits while the tunes played, I could, perhaps even more than before, appreciate the music (written by Zorn) and musicianship (piano, bass and cello not played by Zorn), but so much else had been lost.

Hence, while I still very much recommend Zorn's music for The Rain Horse—it truly is great music, and, unlike many of Zorn's works, the opposite of harsh—I miss the experience that it once was. Because of an innocent misunderstanding leading to a stroke of temporary ignorance, a great album will now always feel slightly disappointing.

Maybe that's not such a funny story, after all.