The Walker Brothers were, briefly, England’s newest hit makers in the ‘60s, arousing A Hard Day’s Night mania across the British Isles. But they weren’t brothers, none was born with the name Walker and, despite their convincing Englishness, they were American expatriates. Soon it emerged that the group’s heartthrob, a gorgeous boy with sensitive eyes called Scott Walker, was also its musical genius. His vibrato bedroom croon was part of the soundtrack to swinging ‘60s Britain through a series of dramatic pop records. The music suggested Burt Bacharach as produced by Phil Spector as well as the sonic complement to the bleak, black-and-white vistas of contemporary British film. Already, the romance in Walker’s voice and lyrics cast dark pools of shadow.
In 1967 he went solo and enjoyed a few years at the top of the charts before running aground against an uncomprehending music industry. He descended into cult obscurity, beloved by an assortment of venturesome rock stars including David Bowie, Radiohead, the Smiths, Brian Eno, Blur and the Cocteau Twins.
The documentary Scott Walker: 30 Century Man (out June 16 on DVD) is a fascinating exploration of a reclusive composer whose earlier music influenced the direction of British rock since the ‘60s. Walker himself wove much of the mystery. Seldom photographed without dark glasses, he seemed temperamentally unsuited for stardom and retreated, Glen Gould-like, from stage to recording studio. The beautiful gloom of his music only thickened over sporadic albums from recent years as Walker merged electronics, orchestral music and imaginative use of the recording studio without entirely losing sight of pop song structure. Emerging from seclusion for the documentary, Walker speaks little of his life and mostly about his artistic methods. He might, for instance, instruct a string section to play like the sound of World War II bombers on the horizon. He might adopt a Method actor’s stance while singing to become one with the narrative perspective of the lyrics.
With 30 Century Man, director Stephen Kijak accomplished the remarkable task of visualizing Walker’s work, casting interviews and other footage in twilight shades of melancholy. It’s not just another “Behind the Music” hack job.
