In the Mix

It's all about the journey, not the destination. Or in the case of the final episode of the Sopranos, the Journey.

As in "Don't Stop Believing," the Steve Perry sung '80s-rock exhortation which played as the nuclear mob family gathered for one final meal - "I got some onion rings, for the table" - before David Chase devilishly cut to unresolved black.

Like any mook addicted to my Sunday slice of mortadella and mayhem, I'm bummed. I grieve for Bobby Bacala. I look for solace in the poetry of William Butlet Yeets. And I'm more than a little miffled by the idea that this time, the Sopranos are gone for good.

Along with the baked ziti, I'll miss the music. From the O.C. to CSI to Gray's Anatomy, soundtracks have become an synergistically essential part of any TV series marketing project. Young (and old) bands do an end around restrictive radio playlists to get exposure, and the shows use Death Cab For Cutie, the Who and Rilo Kiley to zero in on the target demographics.

And as with most things, it's never been that simple with the Sopranos. Instead, it's all about the right song, in the right place, at the right time. Examples from this just past season, may it rest in peace, abound.

Like The Pretender's "The Adultress" and "Space Invaders" playing in Vegas when Tony cheats on Carm after killing Christopher by hold his considerable schnoz closed. Or the week before, when Los Lobos, "The Valley" provided the soundtrack to Christopher stumbling home wasted, trying to fix up his garden, after he flew off the handle and clipped his screen writing buddy J.T. Or Daddy Yankee's "Rompe" playing at the Latino day parade where Blanca blows A.J. off, and Howlin' Wolf's "Goin' Down Slow" underlines Tony's taking a beating at the roulette table.

The final episode had some great moments, such as A.J. having his mind blown by Bob Dylan's "It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding") in his soon-to-be flaming SUV while with his eating disorder afflicted girlfriend Rhiannon, of whom Tony tastefully expresses his approval by saying "I wouldn't kick her out of bed for purgin' cookies." And the range of music was neatly demonstrated by the use of Vanilla Fudge's psychedelic cover of the Supremes' "You Keep Me Hangin' On," in the opening sequence when Tony wakes up to a world of trouble, to the hipper-than-the-room (but completely appropriate) sound of the Noisette's Shingai Shoniwa singing "Scratch your name into the fabric of this world" when A.J. starts from scratch in the movie industry, cruising in his new BMW.

And for the final scene, "Don't Stop Believing" - a song that also played a key role in Dave Egger's book A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius - was a masterstroke. Partly because of what may have been terribly brutal irony - if that dude really was going for a gun, Michael Corleone style, in the men's room. And partly because of how gloriously cheesy and uplifting it sounded as Carmela ("Just a small town girl, livin' in a lonely world...") showed up with a gleam in her eye to take her place across from the boss of the family at the table.

But I also loved the leadup to the Journey: Tony walking into the diner to Little Feat's "All That You Dream," and then paging through the jukebox to program the soundtrack to what might have been his last meal. Sawyer's Brown's "Somewhere In The Night"? Heart's "Who Will You Run To?" Or maybe go old school Italian to express the existential situation he finds himself in with a double shot of Tony Bennett: "I Gotta Be Me," b/w "A Lonely Place."

Nah. The episode was called Made In America, after all, a play on the series' original working title Made in Jersey, so it needed to end on a note that said something essential about the country of which A.J. had earlier noted "is still the place people come to make it. It's a beautiful idea. And then what do they get? Bling and come-ons for s--- they don't need and can't afford."

So Tony couldn't punch up something tragic, or morose, that suggested his isolation in the universe, or the reality that even if he wasn't about to be plugged full of lead, the Feds were ready with a RICO case that would be tough to beat. It had to be something soaring, and hopeful, and ridiculously undeniable that conjured up quintessential American optimism to go with the onion rings. Because like Steve Perry sings (and Sopranos fans can only hope, as they find solace in their DVDs and pray that Chase and Gandolfini go back on their never-again word): "Oh the movie never ends, it's goes on and on and on ..."