The Brutalist (Daniel Blumberg)

The Brutalist is a 3-and-a-half hour long drama telling the story of fictional László Tóth, a Hungarian-born Jewish architect who survives the Holocaust and emigrates to the United States, where he struggles to achieve the American Dream until a wealthy client changes his life. Directed by Brady Corbet (Vox Lux), its cast includes Adrien Brody, Felicity Jones and Guy Pearce. Whilst there are real-life László Tóths, it’s worth noting that this film is about a fictional character.

Brutalist by name and nature. The original score is by Daniel Blumberg, an experimental and often improvising musician and composer from London. His live shows are sometimes completely improvised or incorporate improvisation within his songs. That is clearly audible in this score, and perhaps most so in the lengthy “Intermission” which sounds like a composer trying out ideas, stopping and starting, trying to find the right notes.

The Brutalist is a tough listen; and at 82 minutes in length, it takes some stamina to sit through. At times barely bearable, often intruiging and sometimes downright beautiful. The score is heavily rooted in jazz; sometimes subtlely, but other times absolutely blatantly. Some cues are full-on hardcore improv jazz pieces.

Assuming the fictional Tóth is a brutalist architect, then I want to think the music makes sense. At least, some of the time. Brutalism is characterised by minimalist constructions that showcase the bare building materials and structural elements over decorative design. That description could be applied to the score as it is written for, what I believe to be, a relatively small ensemble. There’s piano, trumpet, maybe a trombone or tuba, percussion (although I think the piano takes a bit of a beating too) and that’s about it. This small ensemble allows each instrument to be heard, and often it is purely about the sound itself, thus exposing the raw building materials of this score. Blumberg then proceeds to get the most out of these few instruments by eliciting a wide range of familiar and extreme sounds from them. The piano doubles up as a percussive instrument, the trumpet frequently resort to making ‘deflating balloon’ sounds and so on. The only time when the arrangement grows beyond this, is when Blumberg deploys a full jazz band.

There is a main theme. There may be multiple themes; it’s a bit tricky to determine whether they are separates themes or variations. “Overture (Ship)” early on introduces a 4-note motif that forms the basis for the main theme(s). In this cue it’s performed by brass and as such easily identifiable. When it returns throughout the score, it’s usually performed on piano. To illustrate my earlier point, the next cue “Overture (Laszlo)” features a beautiful piano melody that appears to be based on that 4-note motif though is much further evolved. It has a minimal, classical air about it; like a modern “Moonlight Sonata”, “Fur Elise” or “Claire de Lune”. We hear it again in cues like “Library”, “Porn”, “Bicycle”, “Intermission”, “Erszébet” (one of the score’s highlights), “Bath”, “Looking at You” and “Epilogue (Venice)”. These tracks are beautiful, piano-driven and easily accessible; well, that last cue is a slightly odd electronic piece. If you make yourself a playlist with these cues, you’ve got yourself a pretty, perhaps even romantic playlist.

If we venture a few steps into the more experimental material, we come back to “Overture (Ship)” with its light but relentless rhythm, which I think is largely derived from piano sounds. Then there’s “Overture (Bus)” with its hypnotic brass ostinato and warm brass chords, which reminds me a little of Phillip Glass. This is a very angular piece, very tight rhythmically, again reminiscent of brutalist architecture that often prefers straight lines and clear geometric shapes. Its elements are re-used in “Steel”, “Chair”, and “Carrara” where it is overlayed with frantic, atonal trumpet noises. “Pennsylvania” is a hypnotic litte cue for piano arpeggios. “Construction” is another of those very rhythmic pieces, constructed almost entirely, if not entirely, from ‘prepared piano’ sounds. This is probably the most literally brutalist piece here. It’s raw, showing the bare bones of the piano, it’s relentless, feels overpowering and also feels cold and calculated. The latter two or three attributes are often listed as criticisms of brutalism and why it eventually fell out of favour.

And then there is the real jazz. “Jazz Club”, “Building Site”, “Ribbon Cutting”, “Gordon’s Dinner” and “New York” are lively jazz pieces for a full band like you would hear in a club. Mind you this is not the smooth jazz you may have enjoyed in “La La Land” or a Mark Isham album. It can get quite wild; and improv jazz is not for everyone. It’s typically not for me as it gets on my nerves. These cues are certainly pushing those nervey buttons. There are plenty of moments throughout the score where said buttons are being violated, when trumpets are making seemingly random noises with little regard for pitch or tempo. Beyond even that, cues like “Handjob”, “Picnic by the Lake”, “Marble”, “Tunnel”, and most of “Heroin” seem to exist for the sake of sound only.

It’s an interesting score. There’s a lot going on with not a lot of instruments. There are moments of absolute grace and beauty; and then there are moments that are almost unlistenable. The Hollywood Reporter wrote, “Blumberg’s stirring work honors [Scott Walker] with subtle echoes, also evoking comparison at times with the jagged edges of Mica Levi or the solemn grandeur of Terence Blanchard.” I can see how they came to that conclusion. I can also see why this score is gathering momentum during this awards season and has already picked up a Golden Globe nomination and a Critics Choice nomination. The music certainly attracts attention and for the average voter it will probably sound clever and inventive; and that can be enough to secure a win.

For me it’s a mixed bag and one that I, realistically, won’t revisit much if at all. Still, when it’s beautiful it’s beautiful. And when it’s not so beautiful, it is genuinely inventive, original and different. It’s not for everyone. It’s barely even for me, but it intruiged me enough to write about it (and considering I barely review anything anymore that is saying something). Most of the time I’ve been sat here wondering what in the actual f–k is going on. That’s not necessarily a bad thing; it means you’ve got my attention. It’s worth exploring; at least once. [32 tracks, 81m]

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Article by Pete Simons (c) 2024 Synchrotones