Robert Levon Been - Original Songs From The Card Counter (LP)

Robert Levon Been has always sounded like someone who sings at 3am, when the air’s thin and the truth sits closer to the surface. On Original Songs From The Card Counter, written for Paul Schrader’s 2021 film with Oscar Isaac and Tiffany Haddish, he leans into that hour. The record isn’t a full score, more a suite of spare, haunted pieces that pulse with the film’s themes of guilt, ritual, and the slim hope of grace. If you know him from Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, you’ll recognise the low-slung tension and that dusky baritone, but there’s extra stillness here, a patience that feels earned.

“Mercy of Man,” featuring Kentucky singer S.G. Goodman, is the centrepiece and the song people kept talking about when the film landed. Goodman’s voice cuts like moonlight, high and aching, while Been keeps a steady, prayer-like undercurrent. It’s a simple arrangement, mostly guitar and air, yet it carries a surprising weight. The lyric asks for pardon without melodrama, which suits Schrader’s world where penance is a practice, not a speech. The collaboration makes perfect sense. Goodman’s cracked gospel edges and Been’s smoky murmur meet in the middle, and the space between them becomes the song.

Elsewhere you get the meditative drift of “Arise Sun,” which rolls in on a slow tremor of guitar and a low throb that feels like a heart settling after a long night at the tables. “Rapture” moves with more forward motion, a minor-key step that hints at redemption without promising it. Nothing here blows the doors off. That’s not the brief. These tracks live in motel half-light, all soft echo and careful phrasing, the kind of writing that trusts a held note more than a chorus that begs for attention.

If you’ve followed Been’s career, the restraint will ring familiar. BRMC always tucked hush and hum between their louder moments, and you can trace a line from tracks like “Fault Line” to the reserved menace of these pieces. The difference is the narrative frame. Writing for Schrader gives the songs an anchor. You can hear Isaac’s card sharp in the spaces, the way he moves, the way he counts. It’s character work in sound. Been never overplays it, though. He lets the images do their job and focuses on mood, texture, breath.

The production keeps to natural tones. Guitars sound like wood and wire. The low-end bloom could be a small amp in a quiet room. You can tell the songs were built to sit inside scenes, so they avoid the clutter that often dates soundtrack cuts. That restraint pays off on repeat listens. You catch tiny details, like a brushed pattern sneaking in the back of “Rapture,” or a harmony that ghosts in and out of “Mercy of Man.” It’s economical, but not thin. There’s enough bloom to get lost in.

A quick word for collectors, because this sits nicely on the shelf next to your BRMC LPs. If you stumble across Original Songs From The Card Counter vinyl, grab it. These pieces suit a late spin, volume low, needle tracing out the room. There’s a quiet charm in hearing the noise floor rise behind “Arise Sun,” and it makes a strong case for Robert Levon Been vinyl in general. If you prefer to buy Robert Levon Been records online, keep an eye on reputable shops that specialise in soundtrack issues and limited runs. Folks hunting Robert Levon Been albums on vinyl will know the drill, but casual fans who loved the film might be surprised how well this plays as a stand-alone listen. I’ve even seen a copy tucked in the soundtracks crate of a Melbourne record store, which felt right. It’s the kind of title that waits for the right hands.

Soundtracks can drift into the background. This one invites you closer. The writing is purposeful, the performances unshowy, and the tone feels true to the film’s moral fog. You don’t need the cards and the casino carpets to feel the pull. The songs are strong enough on their own, and that’s rarer than it should be. If you’re building a late-night stack of vinyl records Australia wide, this belongs in it, somewhere between your moody folk and your quieter rock, set aside for the hours when you want music that listens back.