JAWS (Original Motion Picture Score – 50th Anniversary Edition)

John Williams’ classic Jaws score gets a stunning refresh! Remixed by longtime archivist Mike Matessino, the release arrives digitally via Universal’s Back Lot Music and as a deluxe 2LP 180-gram vinyl from Mondo—pressed on marbled red and blue “blood and water” vinyl.

These original film tracks, largely unheard until the 2000s, now sound more precise than ever. Mondo’s anniversary edition features new liner notes by Matessino, a pop-up shark fin jacket, a gold metallic 50th anniversary band, and interchangeable sleeves—all designed by Alan Hynes.

Also dropping: JAWS – Selections & Studio Rarities, a limited 10″ “chum red” EP die-cut to look like a shark bite, featuring two film tracks and never-before-heard alternate versions.

Fifty years ago, the waters off Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts, echoed with the most chilling and unforgettable sounds ever to haunt a movie screen. In the shadowy depths beneath a moonlit surface, a lone woman treads water—unaware of the nightmare rising toward her. Then, faintly at first, a low, guttural tone emerges: a sinister semitone from E to F, pulsing like a heartbeat from hell. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible—but it’s there, growing. The camera begins its slow, merciless ascent from the ocean floor, closing in on its oblivious prey.

At the heart of the soundtrack was the now-iconic shark theme: a relentlessly pulsing, two-note ostinato that echoed the suspenseful minimalism of Bernard Herrmann, yet carried a primal urgency all its own. With each passing second, the tempo increases. The two-note motif, relentless and inescapable, grows louder, faster, and more aggressive. The cellos and basses don’t just play—they stalk. Dread mounts as the music coils tighter around the viewer’s nerves. Then, with a sudden, shrieking burst of sound—sharp, discordant, and primal—she is dragged under, her scream swallowed by the sea.

What follows is even more terrifying: silence. Almost total. The ocean is still. The only sound is the eerie tolling of a buoy’s bell, swinging gently in the night breeze. No trace of her remains. The predator has claimed its first victim. The terror has begun. Simple, yes—but devastatingly effective. That haunting sound would go on to win one of the film’s three Academy Awards. This moment didn’t just set the tone for Jaws—it redefined fear itself.

The reaction was immediate. Preview audiences were gripped with white-knuckled terror, and the visceral power of the score was undeniable. So strong was the response that a separate soundtrack album was commissioned—rare for a thriller at the time. Astonishingly, the title track broke into the Billboard Hot 100, a testament to just how deeply those notes had embedded themselves into the cultural consciousness.

The moment you heard it—Duh-dun… duh-dun…—you didn’t need to see the fin. You knew: Jaws was coming. Williams and Spielberg had transformed two simple notes into a universal signal of dread. Ever since that summer of 1975, sharks—and the audiences watching them—have never been safe again.