From Cinema to YouTube, the symbiotic relationship between the moving picture and the vibrating sound-wave has been with us since around 1900, and the two are now so intrinsically connected as to be inseparable in this ongoing digital age.

Often stylish music can transform a directionless scene into something extraordinary, or make a film altogether. When screenplay, actors, cinematography and score all complement each other, the results can be sublime.

As someone from a generation whose entire existence has been underpinned by the comforting cushion of film and television themes; my own personal relationship with soundtracks goes right back to my very earliest memories. The first vinyl single my parents bought for me, when I was three years old, was the slinky, jazz-inflected pop double-act of The Pink Panther and b-side Baby Elephant Walk by the incomparable Henry Mancini. As I shimmied around our 1970s living room to these pop masterpieces in brown corduroy dungarees, much to my parents' amusement, little did I know that a musical love affair was set in motion.

Unwittingly, like so many others in their formative years, I was subjected to the sweeping, emotive brushstrokes of John Williams via the blockbusters of the day: Star Wars, Superman and Raiders of the Lost Ark. But as hormones kicked in and tastes developed, suddenly the exotic and accessible melodies of Ennio Morricone; the luscious strings and swagger of John Barry and the outright funk of Lalo Schiffrin opened doors to new musical avenues. So strong were these melodies that I can still whistle the motifs years later.

Fast-forward to my surly teens and twenties, and as my inquisitive, ravenous musical mind hoovered up more styles and genres, I was led back to soundtracks once again. It became apparent that as well as composers from the classical and jazz worlds, pop and rock musicians were in on the act. Wonderfully off-kilter works by luminaries like David Lynch, Jim Jarmusch and Wim Wenders always had impeccable music throughout – not only did their images and stories connect with me, but my sonic horizons were broadened further.

There is, however, a distinct difference between movies with artists at their centre such as Elvis Presley, The Beatles, Sex Pistols or Prince – all of whom have had films made about them specifically – and dramatic or documentary work with specially commissioned or curated music. There are two types of soundtracks as well: those composed by an individual or group to provide a particular, idiosyncratic score; and those comprising songs that have already been recorded and released.

Initially, I was drawn to the latter, investigating reggae legends on Jamaican celluloid via The Harder They Come, Rockers and Countryman; punk-rock from Derek Jarman's Jubilee and Alex Cox's Repo Man; and 1960s counter-culture spokesmen and women through Easy Rider. This kind of direct engagement with pop culture has had a further renaissance in more recent years, with Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction and Danny Boyle's Trainspotting setting new standards. It seems ridiculous to even consider them without their hipster soundtracks. It's safe to say that, having sold more than 4 million copies, the Trainspotting OST introduced an entirely new generation to the primal, unbridled abandon of Iggy Pop... and that can't be a bad thing!

With the former, it is actually surprising how many famous musicians, who tour and release albums in the "pop" market, have been coaxed into making music for film. From Curtis Mayfield to Popol Vuh, Queen to Damon Albarn, The Bee Gees to Throbbing Gristle; the eclectic list is endless. What's also interesting is when a musician has a second, post-popstar career. Clint Mansell was once the singer in ludicrous Stourbridge greebo/hip-hop combo Pop Will Eat Itself, and is now one of Hollywood's most highly sought-after composers, having scored Moon, Black Swan, The Wrestler and Requiem for a Dream. I couldn't possibly have foreseen that, watching him leap about on stages throughout the 1990s in over-sized shorts...

Closer to home, our very own Mogwai are slowly but surely carving out their own niche in soundtrack work as well. For some groups it seems almost inevitable, and here's a case in point. Their brooding, minimal, instrumental soundscapes are ideal to underline a poignant, emotional scene or an oblique artwork, having worked with the aforementioned Mansell on The Fountain and created the entire audio accompaniment to Douglas Gordon's Zidane. Their newest commission sees them providing music for a Les Revenants, a French zombie TV drama whose soundtrack is available on album this month. It's perfect somehow.

For those who want to dig even deeper, Glasgow Film Festival is once again with us, showcasing another cross-section of cutting-edge visual treats that take us on a journey through art, fashion, storytelling and experimentalism. Here is a film festival that takes its music strand very seriously indeed, and the 2013 programme is bulging with promise.

Highlights include Good Vibrations, a film dramatising the story of Terri Hooley, a record shop owner in Belfast who championed the nascent punk scene in the late 1970s and released The Undertones' classic single Teenage Kicks. I'm also intrigued by Ruth Paxton's expressionistic take on relationship-breakdown, Nevada, with a live score by post-folk experimentalists Lau; and the documentary Grandma Lo-Fi about a Danish/Icelandic septuagenarian, Sigridur Nielsdottir, who made a total of 59 homemade albums in seven years.

It's all hugely fascinating, exploratory stuff, showing that music and film are more interlinked than ever before. It seems these movie soundtracks are also increasingly the soundtracks to our lives.