My second stepfather was a prick. He'd sit there, over the kitchen table, smacking his lips while he ate, the flap of skin under his chin jiggling, his breath wheezing through unclean nostrils. What a sight. He'd listen to the family events, ignoring most topics until it was time for him to weigh in. Then he'd throw back his grey-topped head, draw a huge breath and ask, "Can I give you a piece of advice?" Then you're left with only two options: Deny the pathetic shit his god-given right to lecture or brace yourself for the wisdom of the ages set in the days of MacArthur and post-depression suffering. It only took me a few times to learn to always, always respond with "No, you may not give me a piece of advice."

Now I ask you, dear reader, may I give you a piece of advice? I don't want to lecture-- not really, anyway. Nor do I yearn to regale you with tales from the trenches or seputugenarean pontifications. It's just the Trainspotting soundtrack-- the first one, the orange one, the one that got the good tracks. You might know that the movie's about heroin use, and hey, isn't that just special?

As the old bastard used to grunt, "Is it a good album? Sure, it's a good album," he'd muse to himself as if the world depended on his opinion. Then he'd toss a bit of inspiration into the mix: "Is it a great album? No, it's not a great album, but it's a good album." He usually didn't talk about albums though. He'd refer to restaurants, WWII movies, shotguns and antique pottery in such a way, but the technique serves in this scenario. Did I mention that he only washed his hair once a week and used to pull his pajamas up the crack of his ass?

Trainspotting offers names worthy of respect; Brian Eno, Iggy Pop, Primal Scream, Blur and Lou Reed, to name a few. Are all the tracks good? Well, not really. Trainspotting is smudged, like many soundtracks and compilations, by a handful of dubious tracks. Fortunately, and unlike Trainspotting #2, the superior tracks far outweigh the junk. Is it a great album? Hmm. Let me sip my Jack and think on that... Well, as far as soundtracks go, it's pretty good. Is it a must-have? Nah. Is it a good disc for parties? I doubt it. Can you work at a Fotomat and listen to it pleasurably? Sure. Does it have both rock and techno? Just like the battleship New Jersey, baby, all rock and techno. Does it have loud exploding noises like a shotgun? Almost, if you'll consider Underworld's "Born Slippy." Can you stick needles into your arms and shoot up heroin, ride the China princess into the sunset with it playing on your stereo? Yeah. But don't.

The long and the short of it is this. (My old boss used to say that-- we'll get to him some other time.) Trainspotting comes across a lot like The Crow, but instead of going for the stone-goth depression-metal sound, Trainspotting speaks to cardboard box pillows and fleeting epiphanies along decaying streets. Listen for the lazy disposability of these songs and you'll hear a collection of tracks that mesh well with the detachment of the drug culture, embracing that cold atmosphere of self destruction. Will it work in your bedroom? Will it work in your car? Will it work in your world, your life, your yacht? Does the needle talk to you? You think about Burroughs a lot? Ah... so many questions. So little advice.

-James P. Wisdom