Since the ridiculously shallow characters in Burn After Reading clearly think they're part of a conspiracy much bigger than they really are, the decision was to make the music sound artificially inflated. Joel Coen stated at the time that they requested a score that was "something big and bombastic, something important sounding but absolutely meaningless." To that end, Burwell succeeds in writing music with a detached personality that develops much more gravity than really necessary in this circumstance (a plus from a parody standpoint), but he also surprisingly infuses some tender lyricism into the mix for the romantic aspect. Together, you get a mutated noir score that is as paranoid as any in its era. There was an idea shared by Burwell and the Coen Brothers early in the production of Burn After Reading to employ an extremely aggressive and sparse array of percussion to represent the governmental aspect of the story. This choice is flesh out in the form of insistent Taiko drum performances that rip almost unimpeded and alone in the mix for several major cues. Behind them at times is a snarling collection of synthetic and low orchestral sounds, the former including grinding metallic samples and electric guitars. The brutality of "Plan B" combines the drums with both these synthetic annoyances, adding cymbals and rattling gongs with dramatic effect. The brooding orchestral tones are normal for Burwell, using cellos, deep piano phrases, and groaning bass woodwind performances to set a suspenseful ambience for nearly every cue. Low brass in "Homeless" and other cues expands the scope even further. The score is quite rich thematically, though with the environment dominating the soundscape, don't expect any particular melody to define the film. Several recurring themes are developed substantially, most of them adhering to Burwell's rhythmic sense of gloom. A rolling string rhythm of domineering stature follows the government's shady intentions, using Philip Glass-like phrases of repetition in "A Higher Patriotism," "Night Running," "Plan B," "Seating," "Who Do You Work For?" This theme is translated into a Thomas Newman marimba setting later in the score, as a secondary motif spins off from this identity in "Building the Chair," "Breaking and Entering," and "I Killed a Spook."

The most clearly memorable and important theme in Burn After Reading is the one for domestic affairs (and humanity, if such a concept can exist in this context). A meandering piano melody with the score's only sense of higher style, this theme evolves through "Linda Looks For Love (Part 1)," "Rendezvous," "Opportunity," "Honey Nut Cheerios," "How is This Possible?," "Negativity," and "The Struggle for Ebullience." Its crescendo in "How is This Possible?" is immense and has a slight Latin influence (perhaps a nod to the Venezuela aspect of the story), its punctuation with the Taiko drums and chimes at the end producing the score's moment engaging moment. That theme's secondary phrases are among Burwell's prettier ideas in a while, heard first on woodwinds almost exclusively at the end of "Linda Looks For Love (Part 1)" and figuring heavily in the aforementioned Latin hints of "How is This Possible?" A few smaller motifs tie the rest of Burn After Reading together, led by a rising dissonant tone for ensemble and electronics that denotes moments of death and fright. Heard at the ends of "Earth Zoom (In)," "Breaking and Entering," and "Carrots/Shot," this idea (which unfortunately doesn't descend as one would expect in "Earth Zoom (Out)") is obnoxiously inelegant. A singular cue of note in Burn After Reading is "Night Running," opening with the distinctive Glass emulation, transitioning to the Taiko suspense motif with uneasy electric guitar and sample backing, and then closing with a creepy, distant, source-like choral performance of the "Old Nassau" anthem for Princeton University. Overall, Burn After Reading functions as the unsettling, self-absorbed, and deadly serious treatment of the topic sought by the filmmakers. If you find Burwell's often off-kilter trademarks appealing to your senses, you'll probably embrace it as an engrossing experience. But for the rest of the population, it translates into an extremely arduous 36-minute score album with little redemptive personality. There are moments of impressive harmonic resonance in both of the two main themes (and especially in "A Higher Patriotism," with some attractive brass counterpoint in its latter half), but none of these presentations really lasts long enough to make the score a candidate from which to take a truly accessible compilation of ideas. Approach with caution.  ***   @Amazon.com: CD or Download