ver since J. Mascis rode into a dusty, trailer park town with his guitar and Alison Anders, the film score has been a beloved indie affectation and résumé builder. The rise of American indie film neatly mirrored the burgeoning popularity of indie rock, and the stars of each medium both fought many of the same battles: irony vs. sincerity, modernism vs. post-modernism, and, of course, DIY vs. corporate art.


It was a natural progression, then, that when the cream of the Sundance generation of moviemakers grew up and out of film labs and maxing out their parents’ credit cards that they’d seek to work with others who shared their sensibilities and vision.In the wake, we’ve heard film score work from, among others, Jeff Tweedy, Tortoise, Smog, Sonic Youth, Belle and Sebastian, the Tindersticks, and the ubiquitous Shudder to Think. Far from the American festival circuit, even the reclusive Scott Walker lent his elegant croon and skill as a curator to the soundtrack for the similarly slippery and difficult-to-categorize French director Leo Carax’s Pola X.


Eric Bachmann’s Short Careers, as the subtitle states, the score for “Ball of Wax” is as direct as its name. Bachmann, the front man/singer for the briefly beloved Chapel Hill noiseniks the Archers of Loaf— and currently the man behind the fragile, frequently beautiful barstool laments of Crooked Fingers— composed these 12 instrumentals that weave between typical incidental fare, rich orchestration, and understated beauty. Bachmann’s score isn’t revelatory but will be appreciated, perhaps even cherished, by his fans.


This isn’t Bachmann’s first foray into instrumental rock, having recorded two albums as Barry Black in the mid- to late-1990s. However, writing music that is meant at points to be incidental—or at least secondary to another work of art, in this case Writer/editor/director Daniel Kraus’ first feature and follow-up to his acclaimed 60-minute documentary, Jefftown— is another, ahem, ball of wax altogether.


As would be expected, the bulk of the record is rustic and hushed, sometimes leaning on violin, guitar loops, and cello. Yet, it’s also whimsical in places, using music boxes and even vacuum cleaners. Unfortunately, Short Careers doesn’t transcend its intent, which is often noble for a soundtrack—sometimes the most effective film scores are those that you don’t remember, that don’t intrude upon the film—but limiting as a record. It is, however, another feather in the cap of one of U.S. indie rock’s most deft renaissance men—and the definition of the old chestnut, “one for the fans.”