A few months ago I excavated from a basement closet a box of my old albums. I wasn’t surprised to rediscover that a large portion of them fell into the category of movie soundtracks. The oldest one was for Jaws. It may have been the first album I ever bought with my own money, way back in 1975. The unforgettable, simply evoked dread of the famous theme predicted a brilliant career for its composer, John Williams, just as the decision to proceed with such a minimalist score signaled the genius of director Steven Spielberg.

Not far behind in age and permanence in my brain—and the brain of virtually every other cinemagoer of that era—was the soundtrack for Star Wars. Saturday Night Fever was in there, too, though I may have moved to 8-track by the time it was released. I listen to The Godfather from time to time. And the collection still builds, through Blade Runner, Mike Oldfield’s orchestral version of his “Tubular Bells” used in The Exorcist. Hans Zimmer’s simultaneously opulent and haunting score for Gladiator. Many others.