In Jon Burlingame's thorough and engaging account of the composers, singers, and lyricists who have contributed the stylistically eclectic scores and title songs for James Bond films over the past fifty years, the author correctly observes, “That Bond music not only is of its time but has been hugely influential is evidenced by the many homages and parodies that have surfaced in recent years, notably Michael Giacchino's music for The Incredibles [2004] and George S. Clinton's for the Austin Powers [1997–2002] spy spoofs” (257). Clearly, music is one of the most recognizable elements of the James Bond franchise, yet it is also arguably the least-covered aspect of the films, especially amongst academic accounts of the films and their place in cinematic history.

Burlingame's The Music of James Bond provides an important first step towards a better understanding of the music itself as well as a fascinating perspective of the myriad personalities and events that went into creating the music. For connoisseurs of Bond films and their scores, The Music of James Bond will likely become an indispensible part of their collection. Burlingame's efforts also represent a useful resource for scholars of film, music, and media studies, particularly those interested in the intersection of film and contemporary pop music (both American and British) to help create the modern soundtrack album. Readers of this journal will appreciate the connections made between composer John Barry's arranging style with big band charts of the 1940s–1950s (e.g., Stan Kenton), the contributions made by American songwriting exemplars like Burt Bacharach (Casino Royale, 1967) and Marvin Hamlisch (The Spy Who Loved Me), as well as the details surrounding one of Louis Armstrong's last recordings, “We Have All the Time in the World” (On Her Majesty's Secret Service). Yet, because Burlingame stops short of deeper analysis of how the score enhances the film and its narrative, these same academics will be pleased to know that this volume does not represent the last word on scores for James Bond films.

Throughout the book, Burlingame presents a consistent format that, while it becomes somewhat monotonous when executed over the course of twenty-four chapters, represents a clear and organized blueprint for conveying a wealth of information. Burlingame supplies each chapter with a thorough account of the principal composers, studio executives, songwriters, and musicians involved with each film as well as intricate behind-the-scenes negotiations that often went into securing the talent. In addition, the author also includes numerous movie stills and artist head shots, a brief plot summary and extended discussion regarding the creation of “Bond songs” and their varying success on popular music charts, as well as commentary from newspaper and trade journal critics in both the U.S. and U.K. Interspersed within each chapter is a helpful description of all cues found in the soundtrack along with a brief synopsis of the concurrent action. While these inserts—emblazoned with the respective soundtrack cover art—are sure to prove particularly useful for soundtrack owners who desire to relive the story through music alone, DVD timings would also have been beneficial in these sections to readers of the text interested in examining how the music interacts with the film as it was intended.

In the first of the valuable appendices, Burlingame lists both LP (where applicable) and CD recording information and is also careful to clarify how soundtracks differ depending, for instance, on where they were released (e.g., U.K. versus U.S.). In addition, Burlingame also includes Bond retrospectives in this discography that honor the films as well as the series’ most prolific composer, John Barry. In addition, for readers who may have wondered if Johnny Cash's “Thunderball” (1965) was really intended for the film or why Alice Cooper's “Live and Let Die” (1973) was dropped in favor of Paul McCartney's legendary efforts, Burlingame compiled “The Bond Songs that Never Were” (263–65).

Throughout the monograph's account of the Bond legacy—from Dr. No (1962) through Quantum of Solace (2008)—Burlingame suggests that an examination of music accounts for both the changing face of the film music world over the last fifty years and the role the films’ scores played in helping to foment that change. Burlingame channels this discussion largely through John Barry, who composed eleven Bond scores and became one of the most renowned composers in film music history. Burlingame introduces us to Barry's impact in the book's introduction and later emphasizes Barry's role in the original James Bond theme, which has since become a complicated issue of authorship. Burlingame goes into great detail regarding the theme's initial composition by Monty Norman (b. 1928) and Barry's subsequent, now iconic arrangement of Norman's tune. Desiring an edgier, more contemporary sound for the Bond persona, executives brought in Barry based on his success with the John Barry Seven and their jazz/pop fusion hits like “Bees Knees” (1958) and the theme song for Beat Girl (1959). Barry and Norman both agreed that the theme should be played on guitar and should also incorporate the “big band sound” (17) that Barry incorporated into the theme's middle section.

While Burlingame works to tie the theme's origin to Norman, he also uses the Dr. No chapter to establish Barry as the real creative force behind the theme's success as well as the quality of the scores going forward. Burlingame points to evidence of this in his chapter on Goldfinger (1964), wherein he reminds the reader of the important role the title song played in generating the score's thematic material, a compositional device employed on numerous future Bond scores. Later, Burlingame recalls Barry's ingenious use of Moog synthesizers in the opening of On Her Majesty's Secret Service that prefigured a similar use of synthesizers by Marvin Hamlisch on The Spy Who Loved Me (1975) and Bill Conti in For Your Eyes Only (1981). When Barry finally withdrew from composing for the Bond franchise after The Living Daylights (1987), it was not until David Arnold's work (composer of the last five Bond scores before Thomas Newman's contribution to the latest Bond film, Skyfall [2012]) that Burlingame believed the series finally found a composer worthy of Barry's legacy.

While Barry is a prominent focus of Burlingame's study, the author seems to relish divulging the multitudinous minutiae regarding the ubiquitous Bond songs and the personalities that went into making them. Throughout, Burlingame also uses these songs as a way to simultaneously chart the changing role of the pop song in film scoring. During Barry's early run in the 1960s and 1970s, the composer considered the song as an important component of the ensuing score and demonstrated his ability to provide wonderful musical settings for (sometimes) less-than-ideal lyrics. As the songs often served as the franchise's most widely marketed facet, studios actively sought the brightest singing and songwriting talent—both in the U.S. and U.K.—and offered what eventually became a coveted line on one's résumé, witnessed in Paul McCartney's “Live and Let Die,” Hamlisch’s/Carole Bayer Sager's “Nobody Does it Better,” and Tim Rice’s/Barry's “All Time High.” As MTV proved to be another reliable revenue stream for musical marketing, bands like Duran Duran (“A View to a Kill”) and Sheena Easton (“For Your Eyes Only”) garnered unprecedented financial success and global mainstream popularity for Bond songs. Thus in the present day, only a handful of recording artists possess the widespread international appeal necessary for consideration by the Bond dynasty.

Burlingame clearly possesses an encyclopedic command of the literature surrounding Bond films, evidenced by a bibliography replete with personal interviews, vast amounts of time spent in cinematic archives, rare access to film industry insiders, and a self-proclaimed “veteran reporter's sense of where previous writers went wrong, placing too much trust in faulty memories or simply failing to do their homework” (267). Yet Burlingame's keen ability to “report” the facts, and thus the book's chief strength, also causes Burlingame, at times, to lose sight of the bigger picture of contemporary music scholarship, particularly the degree to which American popular idioms like jazz and rock ’n’ roll contributed to the creation and development of the Bond score. For instance, Burlingame regards Barry as the pioneer of the pop/jazz hybrid associated with the spy film based on numerous subsequent examples of film and television scores that employ similar techniques. Perhaps, but when singling out Barry as the composer who “single-handedly created the spy genre” (2), Burlingame fails to mention or make any connection between Henry Mancini's equally iconic theme for television's Peter Gunn (1958–1961, thus predating Dr. No by four years) that also combined electric guitar (pop) with jazz-inspired ensemble work to underscore an unusually sophisticated private investigator who was also an aficionado of cool jazz. Mentioned above, Burlingame references Barry's connection to the British pop scene, but summarizes Barry's jazz experience by briefly citing the composer's correspondence class with Stan Kenton arranger, Bill Russo (15). One could also add Barry's work with the Ted Heath Orchestra, but a more glaring omission—particularly for jazz scholars—is any explanation of the clear connections between Barry's big band scoring and the contemporaneous work of Gil Evans.Footnote ¹ Engaging more thoughtfully with current jazz scholarship would also have allowed Burlingame to examine (for instance) why exactly Monty Norman envisioned a big band context for the Bond theme. Was he referring to other film and television series that employed jazz? Was he thinking of Benny Carter or Count Basie's work on M Squad (1957–1960)? Duke Ellington's score for Anatomy of A Murder (1959)? Mancini's work on Touch of Evil (1958) or the various Les Baxter charts that have since become associated with “crime jazz” or, to borrow Phil Ford's term, “jazz exotica?”Footnote ² While such questions may lie beyond the scope of this book, one wonders how pertinent scholarly sources like Ford's escaped Burlingame's considerable bibliographic sweep.

Despite Burlingame's reluctance to engage with such scholarship, The Music of James Bond represents a fine initial foray into a musical world that has escaped careful scrutiny for too long. While scholars will be hard pressed to find any new insights regarding the musico-dramatic relationship between the title songs, underscoring, and visuals (including Maurice Binder's silhouette-laden title sequences), they will certainly find the book useful as a handy reference tool. More importantly, like Dr. No more than fifty years ago, Burlingame's admirable compilation leaves open the opportunity for a sequel.