What is made blindingly evident from the very opening of the score for The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is that one or more of the involved parties (Disney, Adamson, or Gregson-Williams) made a conscious choice to move away from Howard Shore's already tried and tested sound for the similar Tolkien stories. Gregson-Williams, being a man of immensely diverse talents, was therefore able to insert a plethora of different world sounds into the score while still giving in to the necessary bombast of the kind that Shore had provided. Shades of Gregson-Williams' Media Ventures days shine through in the first half of the score, with distinctly modern synthetic elements providing theme, rhythm, and depth to an otherwise orchestral underscore. As with his previous successes, Gregson-Williams works with a decent ensemble; the 75-piece Hollywood Studio Symphony is accompanied by a whopping 140-voice choir in London, a separately recorded percussion section, the usual vocals of partner Lisbeth Scott, and an array of synthesizers. With the musical scope of the 125-minute score wandering seemingly without clear direction through different genres, it's possible that the hectic recording process disrupted in later sessions by post-production special effects led to some degeneration on the finished product. The reason for this speculation is that the music for The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, while reaching spectacular heights of orchestral majesty in its concluding cues, lacks focus and consistent imagination. Specific effects, such as the airplane engine sounds in the opening "Blitz, 1940" cue, are truly interesting, but the pounding simplicity of the Media Ventures sound that sets the rhythm in that cue is sadly lacking any British or historical sensibility that Lewis would have had in mind. Likewise, the "Evacuating London" cue, with its Mediterranean-stylized rhythm and vocals, is so remarkably out of place in the story that someone --whether it's Gregson-Williams, Adamson, or a studio producer-- should be flogged. Failing to meet audience expectations is one thing, but totally disregarding the historical setting and character demands of the story is simply unacceptable.

The fact that the music's most genre-bending elements occur before the wardrobe is even encountered is cause enough for some considerable head-scratching. The electric violin in "Lucy Meets Mr. Tumnus" is awkward, but serviceable in its background application. Where Gregson-Williams' score beings to take flight is when he introduces the themes for Narnia, Aslan, and the Witch, running with several fully rendered statements of those themes throughout the second half of the score. In the closing battle sequences, the symphony pulls you into the world that Shore and Jackson created despite the electronic accompaniment in rhythm, and ironically, only then does Gregson-Williams' score truly succeed. In several of the cues that exist in between "vista statements" (the defining moments for scores like these), Gregson-Williams's music meanders without much spark or life, leaving you wondering what kind of wondrous universe would be occupied by such a drab environment. As correctly stated by other reviewers, Gregson-Williams' The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe has the tendency for underachievement in its overall sound, leaving you wanting more. One problem with the recording is its unfortunate mixing. In two of Gregson-Williams' previous outstanding efforts, the mix wasn't an issue: in Sinbad, a close mix throughout caused a good balance between rhythmic elements (mainly percussion), choir, and orchestra, and in Kingdom of Heaven, the same massive choir was balanced well with the orchestra for a more wet, epic sound. The difficulty with The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is that the orchestra is badly undermixed (or undersized, if you just want to go that direction with it, but more likely undermixed). Take "The Battle," for instance... At its height, you have all the elements working at once. The choir is full, ethereal, and slightly echoing with a satisfying wet sound (closer than anything to Shore's somewhat controversial mixing for the Tolkien music), but the synthetic rhythm and percussion rips/snaps are in your face, mixed to the forefront so that the choir is stripped of its flowing majesty. Almost completely lost are the steadily performing strings, often chopping uselessly in the far background. Only occasional brass accents reach around the percussion to attention. Overall, while enjoyable, even this cue is evidence of poor mixing choices.

So when you hear complaints that Gregson-Williams' music for The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is not "magical," you have to take a hard look at lousy instrumentation choices and a poor mix as being the culprits. The themes are there, the ensemble seemed ready, and Gregson-Williams has proven himself as an outstanding composer in recent years. And to be absolutely clear, there are snippets of this score that will impress you with their momentary brilliance of harmonic resonance. Melody and harmony abound, and for this alone, the score makes for an easily listenable album. But the music's effectiveness for you will hinge on your feelings of modern, synthesized music in this particular C.S. Lewis universe. For those of you who read the stories as children and understand the religious allegories at work, Gregson-Williams' score is going to be a stretch. On the other hand, if you enjoy vivacious, modern scores without genre boundaries, then it could easily be a riot for you. It wouldn't be surprising to see Gregson-Williams earn himself an Academy Award nomination for his efforts here, though given that this score hasn't seemed to bring both film score collectors and average movie-goers together with the kind of universal appeal that Shore's music for The Lord of the Rings created, Gregson-Williams' success at the awards ceremonies will likely be tied to the fate of the film. Overall, the studio probably had some hand in this disappointment, with the songs at the end of the album serving as atrocious reminders of what happens when you take a perfectly good traditional fantasy film and "popify it." After only 55 minutes of score, the songs are a disgrace to this album, despite the fact that Gregson-Williams foreshadows them with some of his own "popification" in preceding cues. If you thought Annie Lennox's voice was to harsh to represent Middle Earth, then wait until you hear Alanis Morissette belt out her classless pronunciation of "Wunderkind." Even the concluding song by Gregson-Williams and Lisbeth Scott has a souring effect. A "limited edition" album version contains no additional music, and beware of the obligatory song compilation album. In the end, you can't help but get the feeling that this entire musical project got derailed somewhere in the creative process. Sometimes, you really do have to take expectations of the masses into account, because if you stray too far from those expectations, you end up with a score like this: an experiment with some bright moments, but one ultimately gone wrong.  ***   @Amazon.com: CD or Download