Adele’s theme for new Bond film Skyfall released

Track revealed on the 50th anniversary of James Bond’s debut on the big screen, but does it match up to the glories of the past?

The theme for the new Bond film, Skyfall, was revealed in full just after midnight – have a listen.

It’s performed by Adele, and co-written by the singer and Paul Epworth.

Initially, I found, the instinct is to react with excitement. A new Adele song! And with the added majesty and grandeur of the Bond franchise! Why on earth wouldn’t you be delighted about that?

But on the third or fourth listen, you can’t help feeling that it’s all a bit two-dimensional to get really worked up about. Not a bad ballad, but where's the magic? Sure, Adele can pull off an awkward rising interval (the jump in pitch between the syllables of “Sky-FALL” isn’t a particularly friendly one for a singer) with a panache that even Shirley Bassey might have envied (she had a similar challenge on the “fing” of “Goldfinger”). With the swooping strings and the low buzz of brass in the background as the song builds you can’t help but be aware that you’re in filmic territory, but I do miss the raw crunchiness that I associate with a good Adele song.

Perhaps I’m being over-analytical. Bond films and their themes of the last decade or so have all been a bit flat – enjoyable blockbusters, of course, but the iconic status the franchise enjoys is almost entirely based in a nostalgic harking-back to the Sean Connery days, rather than any modern glories. Casino Royale is the notable exception, being a genuinely good film (and as was pointed out to me on Twitter, a decent theme effort by Chris Cornell). Coincidentally – or perhaps not - it was also the least traditionally Bond-esque film for ages.

By keeping it quite simple Adele’s found a decent solution to a tricky problem, then. And as @EosChater points out, her estuary pronunciation of the film’s title is brilliant:

For good measure, here’s three other excellent Bond themes to get your Friday off to a good start.

Shirley Bassey: "Goldfinger" for Goldfinger:

Duran Duran: "A View To A Kill" for A View To A Kill:

 

Carly Simon: "Nobody Does It Better" for The Spy Who Loved Me:

Bonus track - Radiohead covering Carly Simon:

Adele. Photograph: Getty Images

Caroline Crampton is web editor of the New Statesman.

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Listening to recordings from the Antarctic, I felt I could hear the earth groan

The Science Hour on the BBC World Service.

A weekend of listening to the radio news ­revealed nothing but sounds of the sucker-punched going through their pockets in a panic and repeating, “I thought you had the keys.” So, never was talk of “a perfectly flat area of just whiteness” more alluring. The oldest Antarctic ice yet recorded was recently found. “For millions of years,” the presenter Roland Pease assured listeners  (25 June, 9am), “snow has been falling, snow on snow, all the while trapping bubbles of air and other chemical traces of climate . . . insights into the ice ages and warm periods of the past.” How was this ice located? “The finding part is pretty easy – you just go there and start shovelling, and ice comes up,” the lead geologist, Jaakko Putkonen, said.

There it was, buried under a layer of dirt “in barren wastelands” high in the middle of Antarctica. An “incredibly mountainous and remote and . . . quite hideous region, really”, Pease said, though it was sounding pretty good to me. The world dissolved into a single, depthless tone. Then Pease mentioned the surprising fizzing of this ancient ice – trapped air bubbles whooshing as they melt. Which is perhaps the thing you least expect about ice regions and ice caps and glaciers: the cacophony. Thuds and moans. Air that folds and refolds like the waving of gigantic flags. Iced water sleeping-dragonishly slurping and turning.

On Friday Greenpeace posted a video of the pianist Ludovico Einaudi giving a haunting performance on a floating platform to mark an imminent meeting of the OSPAR Commission, as it decided on a proposal to safeguard 10 per cent of the Arctic Ocean. Einaudi looked occasionally stunned by the groaning around him. A passing glacier popped and boomed like the armies of Mordor, ice calving from its side, causing mini-tsunamis. When last year I spent some time at the remote Eqi Glacier in Greenland, close to the ice cap, local people certainly spoke of the ice as if it were living: “It’s quiet today,” delivered as though gazing at the fractious contents of a Moses basket.

“This huge cake of ice, basically flat”, Putkonen said, perhaps longing for a moment of deep-space silence, for peaceful detachment. He wasn’t the only one being forced to reappraise a landscape very differently.

Antonia Quirke is an author and journalist. She is a presenter on The Film Programme and Pick of the Week (Radio 4) and Film 2015 and The One Show (BBC 1). She writes a column on radio for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 30 June 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit lies