“High Desert Cosmonaut,” the award-winning fea­ture film about the ICED BORSCHT & OTHER DELIGHTS weblog, con­tains one of the finest sound­tracks of the (no-longer new) mil­len­nium. What fol­lows is a detailed account of the soundtrack’s finest moments.

Our jour­ney begins on some name­less high­way in the American Southwest. Grainy, 1970s-style cin­e­matog­ra­phy cap­tures an Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme ambling toward nowhere on the desert thor­ough­fares. Glen Campbell’s “By the Time I Get to Phoenix” accom­pa­nies the open­ing credits.

Unrelenting sun­shine rips apart this serene trav­elscape. The desert’s blast-furnace heat brings with it “Let’s Turkey Trot” by Today’s Sounds.

Critics find the next sev­eral min­utes of the film — where our pro­tag­o­nist runs into some jams in the black part of town — mean­der­ing and dis­jointed. But don’t blame this lack of cohe­sion on the spicy Roberta Flack and Donny Hathaway num­ber, “Be Real Black for Me.” A very hott scene involv­ing bumper pool is hard to forget.

Nervy and raw sex­ual ten­sion from the ‘hood soon gives way to Hank Thompson’s “I Cast a Lonesome Shadow.” You’ll shed a tear as our besot­ted hero is over­come by the cold, lonely prison of his cheap hotel room.

Wanderlust turns sour and our boy finds him­self back in the famil­iar envi­rons of Madison, Wisconsin. The din of Bongzilla’s hit ditty “Amerijuanican” fills the air. Fisticuffs ensue!

Relative tran­quil­ity soon fol­lows, and view­ers are awash in the sounds of NON’s “Cruenta Voluptas.” However, the tone gets creepy. One senses some fore­shad­ow­ing. Indeed, we soon dis­cover that our lead­ing man is lost in dark­ness and confusion…again.

Is there any way to claw out of these cat­a­combs? For things to get bet­ter? The next scene fea­tures a cameo by Gary Busey, which answers this ques­tion with a resound­ing “no.” Cue the fore­bod­ing sounds of the Eagles and “New Kid in Town.”

A lighter atmos­phere soon pre­vails and we enjoy the clink­ing of bar-room beer bot­tles amidst Bobby Bare’s “Dropkick Me Jesus.” A visit to the near­est truck­stop diner does noth­ing to squelch the upbeat tim­bre of the moment; dis­tant back­ground sounds soon form the shape of “Safina” by Secret Chiefs 3. However, this road­side rest gives way to road rage, and near tragedy. Ken Nordine’s “Crimson” artic­u­lates the film’s bur­geon­ing nervousness!

Somber intro­spec­tion replaces the fren­zied energy of ear­lier scenes. Our lost hero bat­tles his own soul to the tune of Anton Lavey’s “Hello Central, Give Me No Man’s Land.” Sweeping melan­choly devours all, con­sumes every­thing. The only nearby entity is the cold indif­fer­ent weigh sta­tion, which is closed.

There may be light at the end of this dreary tun­nel, though. A tall, hon­est Injun picks up our hitch­hik­ing pro­tag­o­nist to the accom­pa­ni­ment of Red Sovine’s “Phantom 309.” Long happy talks ensue between dri­ver and hitcher. Their inevitable part­ing ush­ers in a spir­i­tual moment. Cue “Happy Like Larry (He Taught Me How to Die),” by the Zip Code Rapists. Our hero reclaims that which is lost. He is embold­ened. He is jam­ming to Thin Lizzy’s “Cowboy Song.”

Does every­thing end so groovy, though? Can unmit­i­gated opti­mism dis­place the heartache of the film’s first six hours? A care­ful lis­ten to Scenic’s “Ionia” tells us that things are not as placid as they seem.

At the risk of pro­vid­ing too many spoil­ers, I will say that things end on a hope­ful note. Barry Adamson’s “Civilization” rolls with the end cred­its. Make of this what you will. The film’s sequel, due in early 2010, report­edly takes place in Vancouver, Washington, and fea­tures an orig­i­nal score by Philip Glass.

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