Quentin Tarantino is a thief. He’ll be the first person to tell you that. He steals from the Shaw Brothers, from Sergio Leone, and from obscure 1970s TV shows that most people have rightfully forgotten. But nowhere is his "sampling" more effective than in the soundtrack Kill Bill Vol 2. While the first volume was a frantic, blood-soaked love letter to Japanese cinema and kung fu, the second half feels like a dusty, sweaty Spaghetti Western set in the American Southwest. It’s slower. It’s meaner. And honestly? The music is doing way more of the heavy lifting.
If you ask a casual fan about the music in these movies, they usually whistle the Twisted Nerve theme or talk about the 5.6.7.8’s playing in the House of Blue Leaves. That’s Vol 1 energy. It's iconic, sure. But Vol 2 is where the soul lives. It’s where Robert Rodriguez—Tarantino's long-time buddy—stepped in to help with the score for the grand total of one dollar. You can feel that gritty, DIY texture throughout the entire runtime. It’s less of a "greatest hits" compilation and more of a curated psychological landscape.
The Ennio Morricone Factor
You can't talk about this soundtrack without bowing down to Ennio Morricone. Tarantino has a well-documented obsession with the Italian maestro. In Vol 2, he doesn't just use Morricone; he weaponizes him. The track L'Arena, originally from the 1968 film The Mercenary, is used during the scene where The Bride is buried alive.
Think about that moment. It's claustrophobic. It's terrifying. Most directors would use silence or a screeching horror score. Instead, Tarantino gives us this soaring, triumphant, yet dusty horn arrangement. It transforms a scene of certain death into a scene of resurrection. It’s the sonic equivalent of a middle finger to the grave. We also get A Silhouette of Doom, which sets the tone early on. Morricone’s music provides a sense of mythic scale that the first film lacked. Vol 1 was a comic book; Vol 2 is an epic poem, and Morricone is the reason why.
Shivaree and the Melancholy of Revenge
The song Goodnight Moon by Shivaree plays over the closing credits, and it’s arguably one of the most inspired choices in Tarantino’s entire filmography. Most people expect a high-energy "we won" anthem. Instead, we get Ambrosia Parsley’s breathy, smoky vocals singing about a big bad wolf. It’s eerie. It feels like a lullaby for a child, which is exactly what the ending of the movie is actually about.
The Bride’s journey isn't just about killing Bill; it’s about finding BB. By the time the credits roll, the adrenaline of the revenge plot has evaporated. What’s left is a mother and a daughter. Goodnight Moon captures that weird, post-traumatic peace. It’s a track that feels like the 3:00 AM comedown after a long night of bad decisions. Honestly, it’s a bit unsettling, which fits the reality that Beatrix Kiddo is still a world-class assassin who just murdered the father of her child in a hotel room.
📖 Related: The A Wrinkle in Time Cast: Why This Massive Star Power Didn't Save the Movie
Why Robert Rodriguez Charged One Dollar
There’s a famous bit of trivia that Robert Rodriguez scored the film for $1 because Tarantino had directed a segment of Rodriguez’s Sin City for the same price. It was a creative trade. Rodriguez’s contributions are subtle but vital. He brings a certain Tex-Mex grit that bridges the gap between the film’s various influences.
Unlike the RZA’s heavy influence on the first film, which gave it a hip-hop backbone, Rodriguez and the various licensed tracks in Vol 2 lean into the "Southern Gothic" vibe. We get Tu Mirá by Lole y Manuel, which brings a flamenco flair to the proceedings. It’s unexpected. It shouldn't work in a movie about a blonde lady with a katana, but it does. It adds a layer of "Old World" sophistication to the gritty desert setting.
The Forgotten Masterpiece: Malcolm McLaren’s "About Her"
One of the most polarizing tracks on the soundtrack Kill Bill Vol 2 is Malcolm McLaren’s About Her. It’s a strange mashup. It samples The Zombies' She's Not There and layers it with a trip-hop beat and haunting vocals. Tarantino uses it during the "Chapter Five: Bill and BB" segment.
It plays while Beatrix and her daughter are watching a movie together on a small TV. It’s a domestic scene, but it’s loaded with tension because Bill is right there. The song reflects that duality. It’s nostalgic because of the Zombies sample, but the production feels modern and cold. It mirrors The Bride’s internal state: she’s seeing her daughter for the first time, but she knows she still has to finish the job. It’s a masterclass in using music to telegraph emotional complexity without a single line of dialogue explaining it.
The Crucial Role of Johnny Cash and Charlie Feathers
Tarantino loves his rockabilly. He loves the "forgotten" legends of Sun Records and the surrounding scenes. Satisfied Mind by Johnny Cash is a gut-punch. It’s a song about wealth, but not the kind of wealth Bill has. It’s about being satisfied with your soul. Playing this in the context of a film where every character is driven by greed, ego, or vengeance is a classic Tarantino irony.
👉 See also: Cuba Gooding Jr OJ: Why the Performance Everyone Hated Was Actually Genius
Then you have Charlie Feathers' Can't Hardly Stand It. It’s twitchy. It’s nervous. It’s got that slap-back echo that defines the 1950s rockabilly sound. It pops up when the Bride is approaching Budd’s trailer. It captures the heat and the boredom of the desert perfectly. You can almost feel the flies buzzing and the smell of stale beer coming off the screen.
Meiko Kaji: The Link to the Past
While Vol 2 leans heavily into the Western genre, Tarantino doesn't forget the film's roots in Japanese "Pinky Violence" and Chanbara cinema. Urava No Urami Bushi by Meiko Kaji is the connective tissue. Kaji was the star of Lady Snowblood, the primary inspiration for Kill Bill.
Using her music isn't just a "cool" choice; it’s a mark of respect. It’s an acknowledgment that without her and the directors she worked with (like Toshiya Fujita), this movie wouldn't exist. The song is a "grudge" song. It’s haunting, traditional, and filled with a very specific kind of Japanese melancholy called mono no aware—the pathos of things. It reminds the audience that for all the cool stunts and witty dialogue, this is a tragedy.
The Impact of the "Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique" Music
The final confrontation between Bill and Beatrix is surprisingly quiet. There is no massive sword fight like the one with O-Ren Ishii. Instead, it’s a conversation. When the "Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique" is finally used, the music is minimal. It’s a heartbeat. It’s the sound of finality.
The choice to keep the music sparse in the final moments is what makes the soundtrack so effective. Tarantino knows when to shut up. He knows when a song like The Chase by Luis Bacalov needs to roar, and he knows when the audience needs to hear the wind blowing through the grass.
✨ Don't miss: Greatest Rock and Roll Singers of All Time: Why the Legends Still Own the Mic
What Most People Get Wrong About This Soundtrack
A common misconception is that this is just a collection of Tarantino’s favorite songs. That’s lazy analysis. If you look at the tracklist, it’s actually a very carefully constructed narrative arc.
- The "Call to Adventure" tracks: A Silhouette of Doom and Il Tramonto.
- The "Descent" tracks: Satisfied Mind and A Few Dollars More.
- The "Resurrection" track: L'Arena.
- The "Finality" tracks: The Demise of Barbara and the Return of Joe and Summertime Killer.
It follows a classical structure. It’s not a mixtape; it’s an opera. The way Tarantino uses Summertime Killer (by Luis Bacalov) during the scene where The Bride is walking toward Bill’s villa is pure cinematic adrenaline. It’s a track that screams "The end is here."
Actionable Steps for Music Lovers and Cinephiles
If you want to truly appreciate the depth of the soundtrack Kill Bill Vol 2, don't just listen to it on Spotify while you’re doing the dishes. You have to engage with it.
- Watch the source material: Find a copy of The Mercenary or The Big Gundown. Seeing how these songs were originally used will give you a much deeper appreciation for how Tarantino recontextualizes them.
- A/B test the volumes: Listen to the Vol 1 soundtrack and the Vol 2 soundtrack back-to-back. Notice the shift from "Pop/Hip-Hop/J-Rock" to "Orchestral/Western/Blues." It’s a fascinating study in how a director can change the "genre" of a story just by shifting the musical palette.
- Focus on the Foley: Pay attention to how the music interacts with the sound effects. In the scene where Budd is preparing the grave, the rhythmic sound of the shovel is almost musical itself.
- Track the "Spanish" influence: Look for the flamenco and Latin influences in Vol 2. It’s a subtle layer that differentiates it from the purely American "cowboy" sounds we often associate with Westerns.
The soundtrack isn't just background noise; it's the heartbeat of the film. It's the reason why, twenty-plus years later, we still think about a woman in a yellow tracksuit and the man she had to kill. It turns a simple revenge flick into a myth. And that is exactly what great cinema music is supposed to do.
The best way to experience it now is to seek out the original vinyl pressings if you can find them. The analog warmth suits the desert-soaked production of these tracks far better than a compressed digital stream ever could. Dig into the discography of Ennio Morricone and Luis Bacalov beyond these films to see where the DNA of this masterpiece really comes from.