One of the more exciting aspects of film music, to me, is when non-traditional musicians try their hand at scoring. By this I mean musicians with careers that predate and are independent of their forays into scoring. It brings a new perspective to the medium, and brings this medium to a new audience (and potentially exposes the film music audience to the musician’s back catalog as well). Take Tim Hecker, who’s had an influential and successful solo career and has also dabbled in film and tv scoring for nearly a decade. As of this writing, my interview with Tim is also my second most listened to episode despite being roughly a month old (second only to another musician with a successful music career predating his scoring career – Fall Out Boy’s Patrick Stump). His audience and the general film music audience tune in, creating a rare nexus point for these groups that may otherwise only marginally overlap.

Why does this matter? It’s the uniqueness of his latest score, Infinity Pool. Tim’s typical fans experience a new dimension of his music, while score fans hear something downright strange and, quite likely, out of their comfort zone. It’s this latter aspect that really stands out for this score, and it’s something quite intentional, with Tim describing his drive to create music that acts antagonistically toward its audience. And while Infinity Pool wears many faces, antagonism is perhaps its most natural expression.

The film opens with shots of picturesque beaches and resorts, while Hecker’s score scrapes and gnaws, an initial assault informing the audience of a hostile world and its deceptive beauty. These flurries then turn into a tourist’s nightmare, a frantic anxiety signaling a flight response while knowing your legs can’t move. Even in the more psychedelic, visual-driven moments (like the “doubling” or orgies of the grotesque), Hecker creates a sonic overload that further repels the viewer from what’s onscreen while simultaneously pulling them closer.

With a score like this, it becomes almost useless to try and identify what “sounds” channel such fright. One can’t, simply by ear, notice that Hecker manipulated the buzzing of Mediterranean cicadas into becoming a faux Baltic banjo. It’s more akin to reaching into an enigmatic bag and simply pulling out a sound. It’s a magician’s trick that can’t be ascertained, making it simply easier to accept its existence and move on. These types of electronic scores often are born out of a quest for new sounds and palettes, and Hecker’s Infinity Pool reigns high in terms of the shear depraved uniqueness of its sounds (alongside something like Colin Stetson’s Texas Chainsaw Massacre).

Perhaps the main issue with the score is how well it works (or doesn’t) away from the film. Given that it’s presented chronologically, the score builds slowly, with the most striking standalone cues appearing far later. It tells a narrative, but untraditionally and in a more abstract fashion; rather than a closely tracking plot or character, broader palette and stylistic movements mark the film’s foray into layers of madness. If it isn’t clear by now, the sound itself is untraditional for film music, and those not used to it can find it off-putting, coalescing into a sort of auditory sludge. However, as is the case with so many dense, noisy scores, constant discovery awaits for the careful and curious ear.

Editor’s Note: I recently interviewed Tim Hecker about this score and this score appears in our article on the best film scores of January 2023.