Jon Benjamin - The Soundtrack Collection (LP) - Orange w/ Orange Smoke Vinyl

H. Jon Benjamin has always thrived on the gap between confidence and chaos. If you’ve heard his deadpan as Sterling Archer or Bob Belcher, you know that precise tone where sincerity keeps tumbling into absurdity. The Soundtrack Collection takes that instinct to a bigger stage. It’s a record built on an elegantly simple gag: classic movie songs and themes, rendered with genuine, pro studio polish while Benjamin barrels through the center with a voice that treats pitch like a rumor. The musicians keep everything glossy and sweeping, and he just keeps being gloriously, obstinately himself.

If you caught his earlier jazz prank, where he sat in at the piano while not actually knowing how to play, you already get the appeal. The thrill comes from hearing talented players pour their hearts into faithful arrangements while the star of the show drifts slightly out of frame, like a lounge singer who wandered in from a different night. But there’s a twist here. Movie music is collective memory. These songs are coded into our heads from late-night TV reruns and mall food courts and school dances. So when Benjamin leans into the melodrama, it’s not just funny. It’s a little bit confrontational. Do you love this music because it’s perfect, or because it’s familiar and over-the-top and you’ve lived with it for years?

The band treats every swell and cymbal crash with respect. Strings rise, keyboards gleam, and the rhythm section locks in as if they’re backing a crooner who’s about to split the room in two. Benjamin doesn’t sneer. He doesn’t turn the songs into parody. He plays it straight, which is what makes it work. A note hangs slightly off, a phrase gets rushed, then a line lands with such earnest force that you catch yourself rooting for him, even as your brain goes, wait, that can’t be right. It’s outsider music as mirror. You laugh, then you listen harder, and suddenly the sentimental core of these film favorites feels a bit more human.

It helps that the production sounds big and clean. The record glows at a modest volume, the way soundtrack LPs used to in the front room while dinner was finishing on the stove. That’s why The Soundtrack Collection vinyl hits so nicely. The floor toms thump with a little extra room, strings spread wide, and his voice sits right in the foreground, unfussy and just a touch dry. Spin it for friends and watch the room tilt from confusion to delight. I’ve seen that moment in a shop too. Flip through the comedy and soundtrack bins, see the cover, and someone goes, “He made another one?” If you’re crate-digging in a Melbourne record store, it’s the kind of sleeve that makes you grin before you even reach the listening station.

What sticks most is the generosity of the setup. The players aren’t winking. They’re delivering the goods. Benjamin doesn’t hide behind heavy irony. He commits. That friction, not mockery, powers the record. It lands in the lineage of beautifully strange vanity-and-valor projects, somewhere between William Shatner’s earnest spoken-word dramas and Mrs. Miller’s accidental lounge surrealism, but with a modern studio shine and a performer who understands timing as well as any stand-up.

As a listen, it flows like a highlight reel of cinema’s big emotional swings. Power ballads, montage fuel, closing-credits sing-alongs. You won’t need a tracklist to recognize half of it. That game of instant recall is part of the fun. The musicians hand you the cues, and Benjamin swats them away, then half-catches them on the bounce. Even if you come in for the joke, you may stay for the feeling that these songs don’t need flawless execution to hit the heart.

If you collect comedy or soundtrack curios, Jon Benjamin vinyl belongs on that same shelf where you keep your oddities and conversation starters. You can buy Jon Benjamin records online easily enough, though spotting one in the wild has its own thrill. I’ve seen Jon Benjamin albums on vinyl filed under “humor,” “easy listening,” and once under “vocal oddities,” which feels about right. And if you’re shopping for vinyl records Australia wide, keep an eye on local stock because this is a quick seller whenever fans of Archer or Bob’s Burgers wander in.

The short version: this is a sharp, lovingly produced joke that keeps revealing a tender middle. It pokes at the pomp of Hollywood romance while quietly honoring the craft of the players who make those feelings soar. Put it on when the room could use a chuckle and a sing-along that isn’t quite a sing-along. It’s a record that remembers what soundtracks are for, then reminds you how fun it is to be surprised by music you already know.