A research proposal on leitmotifs in video game music

The following is a research proposal I submitted last year as part of my course work towards my Master's in Music at the University of Victoria. I'm entering my second year now and will have to focus my time on completing my thesis, but this is still a topic that interests me. I'd like to hear from gamers and non-gamers alike to see how this topic resonates with them.

      Academic research on video game music is still very much in its infancy. Though this is partly a result of the newness of the genre, there are other problems that have restricted the growth of this field. Any music outside of the realm of art music is slow to appear in scholarly papers and faces a long and hard struggle to gain acceptance and find its place among academics. Though there are relatively few reports on game music in and of itself, there exists considerably more research on elements of video game music unique to the medium. The work of Karen Collins is an example of the kind of research being done. In 2008 she edited a collection of works into From Pac-Man to Pop Music; of the 12 chapters in the book, only the last approaches the theory of video game music. Among the other topics covered are: commercial aspects of game music, the interaction between the game and the gamer and the technology behind early game music.
      This has been my experience with how video games are treated in general. Among gamers discussion gets much closer to the actual games themselves, but whenever video games show up in other settings, there is a tendency to talk around the games. My impression is that games are being contextualised in a broader setting to legitimise them. Unfortunately, video games are still in a position where they are criticised as being for children, and therefore should not be taken seriously. Game music has progressed beyond the technical limitations of seconds-long melodies and sine waves, and the necessity to borrow from pre-composed melodies, but proponents still have to argue against game music being labelled derivative (Newcomb 2012). While there is progress in Japan, game music is still struggling in the West to catch on outside of special concerts dedicated to orchestral arrangements. Before iTunes, game soundtracks were very rarely made available in North America. In his article “Video Game Music: Not Just Kid Stuff,” Matthew Belinkie relates a story of a friend who performed a piano arrangement of the ending theme from Final Fantasy VI; the students who heard it were impressed, but once they found out it was from a video game “they started ridiculing it” (Belinkie 1999). In this case, contextualising very obviously hurts the reception of video game music.
      Discussion of game music is caught between two worlds. On the one hand there are thoroughly researched academic papers such as Guillaume Laroche's 2012 thesis on variational technique in the Super Mario Bros. series. This is an important milestone in establishing a precedent for analysis of video game music. Laroche is very clear with his intentions, and he also has a detailed introduction on the state of analysis and research on the genre, to which I would direct you for further reading. In the middle of the spectrum there are blogs, such as Game Music Theory, run by Tom Berg as a personal project. He started it in August 2013, and as of December 2, 2013 his site has over 30 pieces of annotated game music transcriptions and analyses. His work highlights two of the issues facing game music discussion: 1) the necessity of transcribing the music, and 2) the issue of the blog format tending towards short analyses for quick and easy consumption. This also means that the discussion never gets too technical, as it is still mainly geared towards people who are primarily gamers. On the end opposite academia are commercial sites, such as Destructoid that publish editorials that sometimes involve video game music. For example, someone with the username SWE3tMadness wrote a series of articles in 2009-2010 about music in some of her favourite games. While it is clear from some of her observations that she has an understanding of musical analysis, she falls short of actually analysing the music itself. She also makes some questionable statements, such as suggesting that it's possible themes from The Legend of Zelda series have been recycled out of laziness. Her extremely casual writing style, use of profanity and poor use of terminology (e.g. using the word “song” to describe instrumental pieces, and dedicating an article to dissonant pieces she calls “anti-music”) but the positive reception to her articles show that perhaps there is still a small crossover between gamers and academics.
      However, this is changing because people—such as Laroche, Matthew Thompson (see outline below) and Berg—who grew up playing video games are now in a position to generate discussion in an academic setting (or at least with an analytical point of view in Berg's case). There is still an enormous amount of work to be done in the field, including establishing categories and defining trends and terminology for the repertoire of video game music, as well as finding greater acceptance in the academic community. And while analysis may still be under-represented, the other supportive work provides a stepping stone and foundation for future discussion.
      The goal of the paper is to define and analyse the leitmotifs found in the video game Final Fantasy XIII-2 (developed and published by Square Enix in 2011 for the PlayStation 3 and Xbox 360 game consoles), and examine their appearances in the music and their use as an element of the game's narrative.
      There are three important sources that establish a precedent and context for this work. The first is Guillaume Laroche's MA thesis on the variational techniques used in the Super Mario Bros. series. This is the only major academic work I have encountered that specifically deals with theoretical analysis of game music. Its focus on variation and reuse of themes also relates to my idea of analysing reoccurring themes within a game.
      There is also the Game Music Theory blog, run by Tom Berg. His work highlights one of the biggest challenges facing game music analysts; that is, it is necessary to create your own transcriptions for the vast majority of game music. There are some instances where transcriptions already exist, such as the piano collections for various Final Fantasy games, but this represents a small sample of the game music library, and even in these cases, the transcriptions account for only a fraction of the game's soundtrack.
      Finally is Matthew Thompson's personal blog, Video Game Music Nerd. Thompson currently teaches a course on video game music at the University of Michigan and his blog deals with both the analysis of game music as well as the challenges he faces teaching a new course in a new field. His video analysis of some of the leitmotifs in Final Fantasy VII was influential in guiding my approach to this topic. Previously I had intended to analyse the music from Final Fantasy XIII-2 in its relation to a traditional theme and variations, but Thompson's analytical work steered me in the direction of leitmotifs, as I believe the importance of the themes in the Final Fantasy series as part of the story should be highlighted.
      This paper would draw upon ideas from each of these sources, mainly: the analysis of game music in an academic paper; the necessity of working with your own, previously unanalysed transcriptions rather than official scores; and the treatment of the themes in Final Fantasy XIII-2 as leitmotifs and their relationships to the characters and story. This could potentially be the first academic paper to examine modern video game music and music from the Final Fantasy series, and it would be a contribution to the small pool of academic work on game music currently available.

      Introduction to the history of video game music research and game music analysis
      Laroche's thesis has a very thorough section on the dearth of scholarly analytical work of video game music. Here I would provide a summary on the current state of research and make some conjectures on the lack of information, but would refer the reader to Laroche's work for a more general history and to demonstrate how new this area is (his thesis being from 2012). Since this area of research is understudied in the field of music, I think it's worth providing some background information for the reader. Here I would discuss the current research on game music, namely the three important sources discussed above (Laroche's thesis, Thompson's blog and Berg's blog). Also worth discussing at this point are the issues related to this kind research; that is, lack of scholarly sources, necessity of transcribing the music yourself, lack of established language or any kind of standards for analysing game music, and the difficulty of being taken seriously by academics. One of the aims of the paper would be to show how game music can be discussed on the same level as other art forms that are discussed seriously. I understand, of course, that this is impossible to do with one paper, but it is important that there are more works produced in the vein of Laroche's thesis to show that analysis of video game music can be academic and can go beyond analysing it based on a larger context. That is, game music need not necessarily be defined by its underlying technology, or how interaction occurs between the gamer and the game, or even how it relates to film music to name but a few examples.

      History of the Final Fantasy series and the Final Fantasy XIII trilogy
      If detailed context needs to be provided for analysing the music from Final Fantasy XIII-2 (or indeed any other game) I believe this is the section for it. Here it is worth talking more about research or analysis directly related to the Final Fantasy series. Even though the first nine instalments were composed by Nobuo Uematsu, and Final Fantasy XIII was the first time Masashi Hamauzu composed for a Final Fantasy game on his own, this is much closer to the paper's topic than the general history of game music. This is where I would talk about how the series has a history of reusing themes (musical and otherwise), certain characters, and nomenclature in subsequent games despite there being no narrative connection between most games: Final Fantasy XIII-2 is a direct sequel to Final Fantasy XIII, but neither is connected to Final Fantasy XII. There exists some common elements in many games in the franchise; for example, often there will be a character named Cid (though he will differ in appearance and personality), the player will usually encounter magical creatures called moogles (original creations by Square Enix), and most games in the series contain variations on-—among others-—the victory fanfare (music that plays after the player wins a battle) and the prelude (the very first piece of music played in the original Final Fantasy for the Nintendo Entertainment System). This establishes a precedence of using variational techniques, which can support how reoccurring motives are purposeful and part of the history of the series.
      I believe a detailed analysis of reoccurring themes within and across the trilogy (Final Fantasy XIII, Final Fantasy XIII-2 and Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII) would be worthwhile, but possibly too large for one paper. Among other reasons, my familiarity with the middle entry led me to single it out for the topic.

      Biographies of composers Masashi Hamauzu, Naoshi Mizuta and Mitsuto Suzuki
      The final step before the analysis is to give some insight into the histories of the three composers. Unfortunately, information on game music composers in general is meagre, and certainly the language barrier contributes to the difficulty in establishing detailed profiles for Japanese composers.
      Hamauzu's involvement in Final Fantasy XIII should be highlighted, as his score for this game necessarily influences the music in Final Fantasy XIII-2. Reoccurring characters and locations means musical themes will be reused and varied to strengthen the connection between the games.

      Presentation and analysis of main character themes
      The analysis would begin with the exposition of the main characters and their themes. Since most people reading the paper would not be familiar with the characters, some background information on their involvement in the story will be necessary. Though there are other reoccurring themes in the soundtrack, the case will be made for the analysis of only four of them, being the themes for Noel and Serah (the two characters controlled by the user), Lightning (Serah's older sister and the protagonist of Final Fantasy XIII, and sole playable character of the third instalment Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII), and Caius (the antagonist). Based on my preliminary research, these themes are the most prominent in the game and are connected to the most important characters in the game.
      Each theme will be analysed in terms of melody, harmony and orchestration and any defining characteristics that sets it apart from or relates it to other character themes. It will then be discussed in relation to the character's personality and role in the story. Each treatment of a motive will be contextualised by its placement in the game, its relationship to the character, and its purpose as an element of the narrative. For example, in the analysis of the piece An Arrow Through Time, I would note that it only plays near the beginning of the game when Noel meets Lightning for the first time. It contains elements of Lightning's theme as well as Serah's theme. This is interesting because Serah hasn't appeared in the game yet or had her theme played, but Noel and Lightning are talking about her, and she is introduced in the next scene.
      The paper would finish with some observations on the use of leitmotifs in the game. I would also include some commentary on the overall process and any issues that arose, as well as some thoughts on the future on video game music analysis. This would include my desire to see game music treated as a genre and area of research in its own right. While one can't ignore any parallels between video game music and film scores, art music and popular music, I believe research should not rely too heavily on trying to make it a subset of another field. This will allow for more growth and will create an environment where video game music can be analysed and appreciated in a more positive light.

Bibliography

Belinkie, Matthew. “Video Game Music: Not Just Kid Stuff.” 1999. Accessed November 21, 2013.
      http://www.vgmusic.com/vgpaper.shtml.

Berg, Tom. “Game Music Theory.” Accessed November 20, 2013. http://gamemusictheory.tumblr.com/.

Brame, Jason. “8-Bit Analysis.” Accessed December 2, 2013. http://gamemusictheory.blogspot.ca.

---. “Thematic Unity Across a Video Game Series.” Act. Zeitschrift für Musik &
Performance issue 2 (July 2011). http://www.act.uni-bayreuth.de/en/archiv/2011-
02/02_Brame_Thematic_Unity/index.html.

Collins, Karen, ed. From Pac-Man to Pop Music: Interactive Audio in Games and New
Media. Aldershot, England: Ashgate, 2008.

“Final Fantasy VI's 'Dancing Mad', a Critical Analysis.” Destructoid. Published December 15, 2009.
http://www.destructoid.com/final-fantasy-vi-s-dancing-mad-a-critical-analysis-157570.phtml.

“Final Fantasy XIII-2: Original Soundtrack.” Final Fantasy Wiki. Accessed December 2, 2013.
http://finalfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Final_Fantasy_XIII-2_Original_Soundtrack.

Hamauzu, Masashi, Naoshi Mizuta, and Mitsuto Suzuki. Final Fantasy XIII-2 Official Soundtrack.
Square Enix Music SQEX-10296~9, 2011. CD.

Laroche, Guillaume. "Analyzing Musical Mario-Media: Variations in the Music of Super Mario Video
Games." MA thesis, McGill University, 2012. ProQuest (MR 84768).

Newcomb, David Lawrence. “The Fundamentals of the Video Game Music Genre.” DMA diss., James
Madison University, 2012. ProQuest (3507135).

Thompson, Matthew. “Analysis: Final Fantasy VII Leitmotifs.” Video Game Music Nerd (blog).
http://videogamemusicnerd.blogspot.ca/2012/11/analysis-final-fantasy-vii-leitmotifs.html.

Whalen, Zach. “Play Along – An Approach to Videogame Music.” Game Studies vol. 4, issue 1
(November 2004). http://www.gamestudies.org/0401/whalen/.

On the ethics of Plunderphonics

This year I'm taking a course in computer/electronic music. One of our projects is to create a piece using plunderphonics; that is, use a known piece of music and digitally edit it to create a new piece of music. This is something I did during my undergrad, but it got me thinking again about the ethical implications of plunderphonics, to which I don't believe there is a clear answer--even for someone who generally plays it by the books when it comes to ethics in music (such as myself).

To an extent we were already doing plunderphonics long before the advent of modern computers or any kind of electronic means of manipulation. At some basic level the (re)interpretation of a piece of music is a type of plunderphonics. We take the music a composer has supplied and export it as something uniquely our own. Instead of manipulating it digitally we're doing a much more primitive form of manipulation that must, necessarily, be closer to the original intent of the composer than anything we could do with the modern style of plunderphonics. There is of course a large difference (several actually): with traditional acoustic composition the idea is that the composer gives out his works willingly with the intent that the performer will reproduce it according to the score. With plunderphonics, on the other hand, it is implied that the composer releases the recording as a finished product without any further thought or intention of manipulation or appropriation (of course these ideas have changed somewhat over the years, but this is the general idea).
So whether we are playing a Chopin prelude with our own dynamics, articulations and tempo; or we're doing a rock cover of a Miles Davis tune; or we're digitally editing a Michael Jackson song, we're weaving a thread of commonality. We're creating something that was never intended to exist, and which may be at odds with what the composer wanted.

So if it doesn't belong to us, are we allowed to play with it? Gradually, it seems, the answer is shifting towards Yes. In the 1950s and 60s Glenn Gould was vilified for his interpretations of Bach and Mozart, while now his recordings are largely seen as revolutionary and refreshingly unique. (Even farther back, before recordings, baroque composers "sampled" each others' works as a sign of respect). And with the growing culture and community of remix artists, and the way artists accept--even embrace--remixes, we seem to be on the move towards a society of free-exchange art.

What is our responsibility as musicians when it comes to using someone else's music? The name 'plunderphonics' itself suggests that we know we're doing something "forbidden," and, by nomenclature, differentiates itself from a 'remix' or 'cover.' The latter two suggest "homage," while the first tends towards "parody" or "mocking." I think plunderphonics can be a useful tool for critical commentary. There is a lot you can say by re-organising someone's music vs. writing a scathing review. But if that's our goal then we need to be careful with our message. It's not constructive to write a review saying "this song is terrible" and neither is it useful or even necessary to plunder a piece of music just for the sake of destroying it without really saying anything. Panning music you find loathsome might get you a few heads nodding in consent, but it will be soon forgotten. Carefully editing someone else's work to make a point is much more effective and might draw more attention. A well-made point, even contrary to my beliefs, will keep me engaged, but someone smashing their keyboard in a YouTube comment will either make me leave or laugh.

On the other hand we have the chance to use digital editing to create something powerful and positive that is not derivative. For a plunderphonic to be 'anti' something, it must necessarily be dependent. It has to stand in opposition to the original work for it to be effective or even relevant. But positive-driven editing can stand either in support of the original or on its own as something significant.

I've been slowly writing this over several months, and every time I come back to add some more thoughts I'm still torn on how I feel about non-consented appropriation of art. However, the more I think about it, the more strongly I feel that remixes (whether they fall under the category of plunderphonics or not) should be able to stand independently and make a positive contribution. I can't make a grand conclusion to this entry because I feel this is such an open issue with potential for much more discussion. I welcome any thoughts on the matter.

(Part 3/2) Reflecting on Reflections

I want to preface this third entry about art criticism by making a clear point of what my goal with these posts is. I want to focus on how criticism is often used poorly, and offer a different take on how we can critically analyse music (or any kind of art, or really just anything in general). Art criticism doesn't require a degree or special training. Anyone can speak his or her mind on how they perceive creative works. But I think there are good and bad ways (or perhaps useful and irrelevant ways) of talking about it, and I see and hear far too much of the latter. There are so many different ways we can talk about art, so why should we limit ourselves to such narrow views?

"Art and love are the same thing: it's the process of seeing yourself in things that are not you."
Chuck Klosterman, Killing Yourself to Live

This says as much about creating as it does about analysing. And so perhaps the reason we see poorly constructed criticisms and irrelevant commentary is because those providing it don't know who they are. If you don't know what you look like, you can't see your reflection. The more you know about yourself, the more you understand your likes and dislikes, the more you can embrace contradictions co-existing, the more self-aware you are, the better you will be able to offer analysis and commentary with depth and understanding.

I can understand how people can lose themselves in someone else's art. We do this all the time with varying degrees of attachment. Most people will have at least a song connected to some important moments in their lives (a song for falling in love, a song for a memorable summer, music for a rainy day, etc.). When we hear this music, it can feel as much a part of our lives as the actual experience it now represents. On deeper levels there are also those who are wholly dedicated to a band or musician, sewing the music directly into their lives. Music becomes a very personal thing, and sometimes we stop thinking we're a part of it and we start appropriating it. This becomes a problem for analysis when we stop hearing music as what it is, and can only see it through the filter we've imposed.

This is how we end up with people thinking they can influence artists with their personal agenda. In 2005, Nightwish fired vocalist Tarja Turunen, who also served as the frontwoman, was an original member and helped define the big sound that Holopainen aimed for. And people are still talking about it as if it's relevant. For some reason, eight years later, you can still find posts on YouTube, facebook and elsewhere where so-called fans have nothing else to say but "so sad Tarja is gone" or "this band sucks without Tarja" or even "will you do a reunion tour with her?" These people are missing the point entirely. She was fired for a reason (there was an open letter and it was very clear why she was fired and why they didn't want to work with her again). So what makes people think that by telling the band they miss the old singer that everything will be fixed? I can only imagine that those making these statements are either not artists themselves, or have never had to work with someone they don't get along with. Think about it this way: if you broke up with your significant other because you didn't get along with him or her, would you try to start the relationship again if all your friends said they missed him or her? Working with people in a creative situation is an odd cross between a working relationship and an intimate relationship.

And just as people come in go in our lives, so does music. Sometimes it seems hard to detach ourselves from period music--that is, music that represents or reflects a period in our lives that is maybe no longer relevant or identifiable. But as I've already talked about, it's hard to accept change, especially that we may have changed. We hear music from our youth and we feel young again, even though it may have been years since we last listened to it. It's a wonderful feeling to travel through time with music. But it is also ok to look at it, unbiased, and see times have changed. What's worth more is remembering where you came from and understanding how your tastes have changed and developed, than trying to cling to old memories, defending your former self.
My first real exposure to heavy metal was through Italian power metal band Rhapsody (now Rhapsody of Fire). It was a sound I'd never experienced before combining heavy guitar riffs, operatic vocals, orchestral backdrops, neo-classical licks, and a grand fantasy story. At the time it was the perfect amalgamation of my interests: it was like reading a Dragonlance book, while listening to a classical concerto with all the coolness of a rock and roll band. Once I'd set foot in that world I was only degrees away from Nightwish, Sonata Arctica and other European metal bands that would come to occupy my music collection. But as I listened to more and more metal I came to refine my taste, finding the common elements that linked the different bands I listened to and figuring out what parts of it actually appealed to me. Over the years I listened to Rhapsody less and less as I discovered I wasn't as interested in fantasy as I thought I was; I preferred the orchestral work done with Nightwish; I moved away from the bombast of power metal into the grungier aesthetic of gothic metal; I started preferring the speed and riff elements of thrash and death metal. Looking back I can see how it all got to where I am today; the progression was slow but now very obvious. At the time I almost felt bad when I realised I wasn't listening to as much Rhapsody, or when I started connecting more with Nightwish as my favourite band because I was still trying to hold on to this element that brought me into the world. I couldn't let go of my past. But I don't blame Rhapsody for any of this. I never fell into the trap of thinking the band had changed instead of me. They continued doing what they loved and what they felt was right for the band. When it stopped lining up with what I wanted I simply stepped away.

I admire most the artists who are honest with themselves. Now if we can only be honest. What of ourselves do we expect to see in their art? What do we expect of them? Are we being critical of their art or of ourselves? For years, American gamers have been extremely critical of the Final Fantasy video game series, particularly since the series' founder left and the original company merged with its competitor to form Square Enix (this happened 10 years ago, but they're still complaining). The Final Fantasy series has always been dedicated to progress and change--many games have pioneered elements that are now considered RPG standards. You can't do this by repeating yourself. I see in the complainants people unwilling to give up their pasts. They still remember Saturday mornings in front of a CRT TV with a flat grey controller in hands; top-down side-scrolling fantasy games with overworlds and chip-tune music. These aesthetics are now anachronistic, but they see the advancements as a departure, not as a progression. And who are these gamers that "stick with" a company they so dislike for 10 years? If you strictly want the 16-bit aesthetic, there are dozens of modern and classic games available on your phone, your computer, your home console and handheld. If you want a game that plays like a Western RPG, then don't go looking in Japan. It's ok that you once liked these games but no longer find them enjoyable. Art cannot please everyone, and it's truly a waste of your time to look in the wrong place for something you want. Don't go to a hamburger joint expecting them to make you a shepherd's pie.

If you are honest with yourself, you will find yourself in art, and you will find the art that best reflects you. And be prepared for change. The world moves ever onward.

Reviewing reviews (part 1: part 2, the sequel)

Before I move on to other aspects of art criticism (like fan entitlement and backwards relationships between popular and classical music), there are two more reviews I wanted to tackle in a similar vein as my previous post.

HIM occupies a curious space in the musical world. They've never really solidified a particular genre (beyond the self-imposed Love Metal style) and have variously been called gothic rock, gothic pop, gothic metal, alternative metal/rock and others, and have curiously become associated with Bam Margera, who is involved in a scene more likely to be linked to punk. HIM is also the first Finnish band to have a gold album in the United States, making them much more popular abroad than at home. Naturally when a band makes it this big they're bound to draw criticism for just about anything. When Screamworks: Love in Theory and Practice, Chapters 1-13 came out a few years ago everyone thought they'd "sold out" (an unfortunately overused term which can mean just about anything and is often used more now to denote music that is radio-friendly, or even just on this side of esoteric) because it had a very "pop" feel to it (see: In Venere Veritas), which was a big surprise seeing as the last album, Venus Doom was the "darkest" HIM album yet (see: Venus Doom). Again I think it's worth noting that this is a case where albums are treated as sequentially linked items, rather than separate entities. People often try to string albums together to show a progression towards "something." Sometimes it works, but the connections often tend to be artificial. It's easy to look back on a catalogue and map out how a band became more riff-oriented over their career or more progressive and then make something out of it. It may be an interesting project but it's rarely the case from the composer's perspective. Good music happens organically, not as a result of a composer with a five-year plan to make the band's music more popular with 18-25 year-olds.

And so here we delve back into the Ratings and Reviews section on iTunes for HIM's most recent release, Tears on Tape. (Once again the reviewer is neither credited or sourced). It does not start off well

There is a certain segment of rock & roll fandom that is adverse to change for any reason. Usually, it's an older generation that loves acts whose albums continue to sound the same. [...] In listening to their catalog, one or two things become self-evident: either they are happy to give their fans exactly what they desire over and over again, or they are incapable of change (or perhaps both, which is a win-win).

It's not a good sign when I'm just starting to analyse the review and I'm already seething. This type of review is so generic and bland it's beyond tired. The first two sentences are nothing more than filler (can you even start with filler?). All genres of music have musicians and fans that are adverse to change. It's something I talked about last time even--people in general are adverse to changes to anything: diet, location, friends, work, and so forth. There's a reason your grandparents listen to music from the 40s, and it's the same reason we're going to be listening to music from the 90s. It's music we grew up with and it makes us feel comfortable. It's us trying to feel like we're still relevant in a world that has moved on by listening to music of our youth.
It's also worth noting that there's a difference between a band that has a distinctive sound and a band that has no originality. One will release albums that sound similar because it's the same group of musicians playing music written by the same person; people have personalities and so do bands. Once we become adults and develop unique personalities we don't really change that much. Same thing goes for groups. A band with no originality will release albums that sound the same because they don't have the ability to move beyond their initial statement. Plus, as Valo himself put it, you have to focus on what you do best

...there's not a single person on Earth who can play Love Metal better than us. So I guess that that's our forte and we should concentrate on that

Getting back to the quotation, the reviewer is simply wrong in his assumption that HIM is incapable of change. While they are pretty firmly locked into the standard rock song form (2x verse, chorus, verse, chorus, solo/interlude, chorus), there's still a lot of wiggle room. Harmony, melody, instrumentation, time and key signatures, tempo, lyrics can all make two songs in the same form sound very, very different. As for the claim that "they are happy to give their fans exactly what they desire over and over again," that's also something I have a hard time believing. There's this weird assumption that bands are very interested in only writing music that appeals to their fans. Writing music that people like should not be confused with writing music for people that they will like. You always hope that people will like what you write, but you're not doing it to make them happy.

...even in his most sinister snarl, Valo is so wistful he sounds like a jilted schoolboy, and HIM are incapable of writing songs without proper hooks

Here is another laughable case of "missing the point." What does "incapable of writing songs without proper hooks" even mean? Maybe there are some people who go into the studio thinking "I have to write a really sweet hook for this song," but I believe artists with integrity just write good music and piece it together as they see fit. Does a song need a proper hook? Does it need a hook at all? Does anything in the song even need to be defined as a hook if it doesn't serve that purpose according to the composer?
Finally we round off the piece with:

How many records does one need like this? Here HIM seem to be banking a lot; and with more than 20 years and boatloads of albums and singles, who's going to argue?

To answer your first question: as many as I want. I get a totally different experience listening to Greatest Love Songs Vol. 666 than I do listening to Venus Doom and Screamworks. Writing about love and death isn't new, but that doesn't mean we can't--you know what, I'll just let Valo say it in his own words:

...love is very different with different people, so even if you're writing about separation or falling in love it's always different because you fall in love for different reasons [...] and that makes it interesting when it is a new combination for yourself

And to answer the second question: you, I guess? But I don't know who his review is targeted towards, so who is he arguing with anyway? And his claim that HIM has been around for more than 20 years is grossly exaggerated. They may have been jamming together since 1991, but they didn't release an album until 1997. And "boatloads" seems a tad hyperbolic for eight studio albums (with a standard number of singles per album), one live DVD and three remix compilations.

So, while HIM is being berated for its apparent inability to change, other bands are being slammed for changing too much. Because change is a bad thing when you don't want change, but change is a good thing when you don't want things to stay the same.
Theatre of Tragedy is another unique band in terms of genre--people apparently like labelling things and it's very convenient for these people when they don't have to change the labels or come up with new words. Theatre of Tragedy is very interesting because they are largely credited with creating the genre gothic metal, or at least spurring it forward and giving it the shape and sound that most people would call gothic metal today. Their first three albums are the definition of early gothic metal, so when they moved to electropop gothic rock (or something) for their next two albums, people were not happy. (For those interested, compare "Cassandra" from 1998 to "Crash/Concrete" from 2000). I wasn't around to witness the fallout, but from the bits and pieces I've gathered since then, it wasn't pretty.
In the liner notes to Theatre of Tragedy's live album Carl Begal (of BW&BK) shares some of his thoughts on the band's history as a "die-hard fan, part of a legion that has enjoyed one hell of a ride over the past 16 years." He says, in part

...from coming to grips with [Raymond]'s clean vocals on Aegis and beyond; finding worth in the band's Musique/Assembly era; accepting their decision to have Nell Sigland replace Liv Kristine

This doesn't sound like a "die-hard" fan with the utmost respect for his favourite band. How did this get printed in the band's farewell to the world? There's nothing wrong with being critical of what you enjoy, but his way of describing his experiences listening to the band sounds very detached and indeed separate from the rest of his write-up about what a stellar band they are. But phrases like "coming to grips" and "finding worth" and "accepting their decision" are not at all flattering or appreciative. It's like he can't appreciate Musique on the same level as Aegis because they're different. That's creating a problem where there isn't one. Again it's outsiders imagining these unnatural separations: contiguous blocks of CD releases instead of continuous evolution of music. I think it's beautiful when you have a situation like this where two instances are incomparable and yet they're amazing works of art in their own rights. Just as we can love a parent and a sibling and a friend in different ways for who they are, we can love contrasting art for what it is.
He also finishes with another cliché that comes up again and again in art criticism. Speaking of the band's final album, Forever is the World he says, "the band that launched an entire metal genre had returned to form." The mysterious "return to form." What exactly is it? It seems to be this imaginary construct of those longing for "the good ol' days," that other tired expression. To me, calling something a "return to form" suggests that the artist has deviated from his path in a negative or deconstructive way. It calls to mind images of a lost soul who has let his worldly troubles affect his art, only to clean up his life and release a magnificent work of art that shocks and pleases the masses. Unfortunately, people usually use it to mean "this sounds a lot more like their first album, which I really liked." More on that next time.

Reviewing reviews (part 1)

"Art criticism is weird." So said my brother Alan (of Robert Flood Octet fame) recently. He's right, and I've found album reviews to be one of the stranger sides of it (even though I'm guilty of having written a few myself from time to time). It's not the criticism itself I find weird. There's nothing wrong with being critical of art, even good art. Thinking critically, analysing, breaking things down piece by piece, getting down into the fine details of what makes a piece of art good and bad and everything in between. This is all acceptable, and you don't need to be an artist to be critical of art.

However, the problem with reviews is that they tend to miss the point entirely, overuse cliché terminology ("soaring melodies," "soulful tunes," "crooner") and/or go on at length without really saying anything. One particular review has stood out in my mind for a long time. In 2007 Sonata Arctica released their fifth album, Unia. It was unlike anything they'd done before and marked a turning point in their career, as they shifted away from speedy, melodic power metal towards prog metal for the next two CDs. The review for the album on iTunes (no name or source is given) is a mess.

...it found the group experimenting with novel songwriting techniques, and diverting from the straight-and-narrow of their career path for the first time. Problem was, these new elements mostly served to subvert the group's extremely competent and popular power metal formula with unprecedented doses of commercialism...

My first problem with this excerpt is that the author assumes that the "novel songwriting techniques" serve to "subvert" their sound and image as a band (or something). That because they're so good at doing power metal, doing something different is--in his words--a "problem." This comes up a lot in album reviews. When bands start trying something different there is an outcry from reviewers and fans. But it's never an issue of whether or not the New Thing is Bad. It's just Different. And somehow Different has become Bad. That's what the reviewer said--by doing something new, Sonata Arctica had created a problem.
Now, my second issue with this review is his ludicrous claim that Unia is somehow a "commercial" album. This is another thing that pops up a lot in analyses of popular music. Heck, this guy called post-2004 Children of Bodom commercial. Have I been using the word wrong all along? I'm not sure if they mean

a : viewed with regard to profit b : designed for a large market

or

b (1) : being of an average or inferior quality (2) : producing artistic work of low standards for quick market success

when they talk about commercial music in this situation. Don't confuse artists making money with selling out! And it's hard to be a huge commercial success working in metal, which is still very much a niche market. Children of Bodom is only the 35th best-selling band in Finland (including international artists), having sold roughly 240k albums (that's eight regular CDs, one live CD, one live DVD/CD, one best-of compilation, one compilation of covers and a dozen or so singles). Sonata Arctica is even further down the list at 48, with fewer than 200k sold. I'd hardly call those commercial.
And I would say Unia is far from being the pop-oriented album the reviewer seems to think it is. I offer for your consideration "The Vice", which I think is a fairly good representation of the album.

And finally the reviewer finishes with:

...first time arrivals will still want to pick up one of Sonata Arctica's earlier releases if they want a proper introduction to their prevalent power metal template.

Now this is a curious quotation. It seems to suggest that to properly enjoy this album one must be familiar with the band's back catalogue, as if the albums are sequential. On the one hand I think it's worth saying that to get a deep understanding of Unia one should experience Sonata Arctica to see the progression from Ecliptica up to this point. But there is a difference between hearing a progression and hearing a sequence. A band's history is more than a list of its CD releases, just as a person is more than her list of accomplishments on her resume. But what I think the reviewer is trying to say--and I assume this because this is so often the case--is that "this CD is ok but man did you miss out on their first CDs, they used to be so good." And this only serves to perpetuate this idea that artists should not deviate with what fans are used to and that change is Bad and not up for debate.

"Art criticism is weird."

Live

This has been an amazing year for concerts. I'm quite fortunate to have been in Montreal, where all the action happens. In February I saw Children of Bodom for the first time; September brought Kamelot and my fourth Nightwish concert (second time meeting the band, and, as fate would have it, one of the last concerts with their now ex-singer); last weekend I saw Wintersun, whom I never thought I would see; Tangerine Dream in June was a throwback to my childhood (and some of my first exposure to electronic music); I got to see the Robert Flood Octet throw down their debut show in November; and two of my favourite gaming franchises came to town with Symphony of the Goddesses (Legend of Zelda) and Distant Worlds: Music from Final Fantasy.

They were all unique experiences, and it got me thinking about a lot of different things. One aspect of the concert experience stuck out in particular: the role of the audience. It sounds a bit odd at first, as one does not usually think about the listeners having a "role" at a live performance. Now, the role of the audience has shifted a lot over time, and perhaps it seems odd that the audience might be considered in a concert setting because many of us have now grown up with our primary role as listeners being simply The Observer. It's much cheaper and easier to listen to an album at home (and geographical location has a huge influence on who you'll be able to see in concert). In fact, if you have your headphones on, you are literally the only audience member at that point. We have no interaction with a live setting: we can't see the performer(s), we aren't affected by sitting right in front of the orchestra/speaker or by being too far away/in a dead zone, and this particular listening is now an artifact--it has been months or years since it happened, in another room (or rooms), another country, the artist could be dead, there might be five layers that were recorded on different days.

This type of listening experience differs greatly from the days gone by. Before recorded audio, when you went to a concert you were probably hearing the music for the first time, and there's a good chance you wouldn't hear it again. Now--particularly with rock music--there'a an album release often several months before touring so that fans have a chance to get to know the music before the show. And even then, bands rarely play more than three new songs on tour because everyone wants to hear what they're familiar with. That's an interesting idea to me. Why are we so uncomfortable listening to new music? Are we afraid it's going to be bad? How does it differ from going to a concert where they play something you've heard before that you don't like?

Though I generally like processing new music on my own, I'm not opposed to hearing it in a concert setting. However, I have noticed that I tend to receive it in different ways depending on what it is. For instance, both the Tangerine Dream and Robert Flood Octet shows were about 90% music I'd never heard before. But there was something about the setting where I felt like I didn't need to know it, and I was okay just sitting back and hearing it, knowing I probably wouldn't be able to hum the tunes after the show. In those cases, I really felt like it was more the experience of being at a live show that was important. The Wintersun concert was a little different. It was about half old material and half from their new album, which, unfortunately, I have not had the chance to hear yet. I won't say that I wasn't there for the experience (I was), but I felt a big shift in the way I experienced the concert as they played songs I knew and those that I didn't. As it was a rock concert, I was free to sing along and move about in time with the music. But when they started playing something I didn't know, it was like shifting from rehearsal to improvisation. I had to take cues from the audience members who knew the songs and the band (can I cheer on every beat for this section, or is the feeling really on every other beat?). I could "rock out" to the new music, but I had to pay constant attention to where the music was going.

I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with rock concerts. My main purpose is to go and experience the show, and hear the music. So far, Nightwish has provided me with the best concert-going experience. I can sing and dance and let the music flow through me, without the insanity of mosh pits that are often found at metal concerts. Nothing takes me out of the moment more than being pushed around, kicked in the back of the head and having wild hair whipped in my face. Some people really love going to concerts to mosh and crowd surf, or drink or get high, and I will never understand that because the music is always the most important thing about the concert to me.

The two video game-based concerts I went to were very interesting. At their base, they are already a hybrid, a meeting between the symphony and "high art," and "popular" multi-media entertainment. This creates a curious atmosphere because the setting to an unknowing observer would appear to be that of a typical symphonic concert, but the audience's energy level is so much higher. Classical musicians are often frustrated by the lay community clapping between movements or making any kind of sound above and beyond polite applause. I understand why you would want to maintain silence between movements, but I can also appreciate that some people are very excited and moved by the music and want to show their support and approval. However, I think we can draw the line clearly on some points. For instance, it felt very obtrusive when during the opening notes of Aerith's Theme applause broke out. During the final piece, credits rolled on the screen behind the orchestra, and people clapped and whistled on and off as various names came up. I can't say it's wrong to do this because I know I'm excited to be there and be a part of it, but when it interferes with the music, I find it hard to reconcile.

I suppose the question should be asked: Does the audience need to know what's going on? In any given concert setting, very few listeners will be professional or educated musicians. So if most of the audience is made up of non-musicians, who may or may not attend many concerts, can they be expected to know the "rules?" Can they be blamed if they can't clap in time? Will they even know where the end of the piece is? I went to a concert this year where they played the Kyrie from Mozart's Requiem. Near the end, the chorus builds to a high point and climaxes on a diminished seventh chord (for reference, see this clip which starts at 2:10; the chord of interest is at 2:25). Now, it was probably Mozart's intention to lead everyone to this climax, thinking it's the end. But once you hear the chord, even without musical training it's likely you will find it uncharacteristic on an ending. However, at this particular show, as soon as they hit that chord, the audience broke out into thunderous applause, and it was all I could do keep from laughing aloud at the absurdity. It wasn't so much "haha, I know about music, and this isn't the tonic chord" as it was "these people have stopped being active listening participants." I think it's unlikely many of them were actually listening to the piece at that point, but were responding to the stimulus that a big, loud, held chord means the end of the piece, and now I applaud. If people aren't listening to the music anymore, that worries me.

And maybe that's why new music isn't played as often. If no one's listening, it's not really worth it, is it? So I think in one way, active participation as an audience is a good way to keep people engaged and listening. That was something I really noticed at the RFO gig, and most of the rock concerts I attend. Especially with solos, you can see and feel an immediate reaction. I don't see this trend being passed into "classical" music settings for various reasons, but mostly because of the difference in sound levels. No matter how many people are at a rock concert, you're not really going to drown out the band if you cheer after a solo; at a jazz show, the setting is much more intimate, so there are fewer people, and chances are the instruments will be amplified anyway.

One final thought about my experience at the Symphony of the Goddesses and Distant Worlds concerts. Both shows used a large screen behind the orchestra to synchronise game footage with the music. I think the Zelda show did a much better job with creating a real harmony between the music and video, but in both cases I found myself spending far more time looking at the screen than at the musicians. In that respect I was a bit disappointed because I felt I lost some of the experience by spending time with the screen rather than sharing that interaction with the performers. On the other hand, having the display helped to ease some of the discomfort I experience watching a live performance--my own fear of screwing up in a public concert manifests itself physically, and I have to constantly remind myself they're professionals and much better at a) not screwing up, and b) dealing with unexpected mishaps than me.

Vox pop

I've heard some strange criticisms of popular music over the years, usually from people trying to claim (or at least trying to imply) classical music is somehow inherently better. One of the most common complaints I've heard is that popular music abuses the song structure. I admit that it is ubiquitous. I think it would be fair to say 9 out of every 10 songs you hear on the radio are written thusly: verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus, with the possibility for minor variants, such as an intro or an extro (if it doesn't get cut for the radio edit), or a pre-chorus/extra bridge. Unless you listen to very progressive music, it's unlikely there will be a lot of variety on any given CD.

Alright, that's a little strange then, isn't it? And it must get boring to listen to songs written in the same structure over and over again! After all, people keep complaining about all these songs with "catchy choruses" and "sweet hooks." On paper, it looks like they all sound the same.

Except. Except. Except. Classical musicians are totally hipsters and were doing it way before it was cool. Remember the sonata-allegro form? I have never heard anyone complain that composers relied too much on the sonata. Why is that? After all, it can be quite simply broken down into three sections (exposition, development, recapitulation), and more often than not has a plain overarching structure of I-V-I. Why would composers keep coming back to this same form for sonatas, songs, symphonies and movements of suites? What could possibly make the sonata interesting after Beethoven and Schubert and Haydn wrote so many of them?

Content. It's all about content. And structure has no bearing on it. I could write a sonata that sounds just like any other sonata, the same as I could write a song that sounds just like any other song. But I don't because /that/ would be boring. Structure helps give me a guideline for organising the music I write, but does not dictate what the music is.

Of course content is subjective. That's the whole point of music. Music is a universal language, and everyone understands it, but not everyone speaks or understands the same dialect. After Nightwish's Once came out I often used "Nemo" as a way of getting people familiar with Nightwish. It embodies a lot of their qualities, it's short and straightforward, it's catchy, and I think a very nice piece of music. I once played it for someone who I thought might appreciate its beauty and who should know better than to say to me, "Well, it's just circle of fifths, isn't it?" This person is a highly educated musician, and I think that's a very basic way of talking about music. I don't care if they didn't like the song, but to debase it like that is unacceptable because if "Nemo" is "just circle of fifths" then what are all the sonatas written during the classical and early romantic period? And the worst part is that "Nemo" isn't even based on circle of fifths. Taken from the official Once Notebook, the verse is: ||: Dm, C/D, Bb/D, Dm, Dm, C/E, Gm, Csus, C :|| (or i, VIIadd9, VI6, i, i, VII6, iv, VII) and the chorus is ||: Dm, Csus, C, Dm, F, C :|| (or i, VII, VII, i, III, VII). And when it does modulate during the second verse and at the end of the song, it goes to Fm. That is not the circle of fifths that I learned about.
Also, I once heard someone complain that Nightwish never changes the tempo in their songs. That's a ridiculous complaint because there are hardly any tempo changes in any single piece of music in any style of any time period. Sonatas will change tempo from movement to movement, but rarely during.

So why do educated people persist in talking about "popular music" as if it can't be taken seriously? For all the times in school I was told to keep an open mind about serial and 20th-century music, I think I should be allowed to say at least once that you should keep an open mind about any type of music. No one genre is the be-all end-all of music. I never want to restrict myself to listening to or composing one style because there are too many emotions, and too many things to be said. Sometimes I need to listen to Sibelius, and sometimes I need Andy Moor, and sometimes I need to listen to Ryu Kyu Freestyle. Some days I want to write piano quartets because I feel that's the best way to express myself, and other days I want to write a heavy metal song because that's the only way I can tell my story.

Memory

One time in my fourth year, I performed the first movement of Bach's f minor keyboard concerto during our regular studio masterclass. It was probably November, and I had started working on it in July, but it was the first time I'd worked up the courage to play it in front of the class. Afterwards I was asked how I could have memorised it so early in the semester; in fact, at that point, I had already memorised not only the whole concerto, but most of my other repertoire as well. I don't say this as a means of bragging, and I never considered my ability to memorise superhuman by any stretch of the imagination. I think too many people have the wrong approach to memorisation--precisely because that's what they're trying to do.

It's frustrating returning now to some pieces I played during my undergrad because of the disconnect. I know these pieces very well even after several years. I can sing along to them, I can feel the shapes of the phrases and the harmonic shifts. But my memory of them is much poorer. So as I'm reading along I know where it's going, but my hands can only vaguely remember how to do it.

Admittedly, I do consider myself to have a good memory (for some things), but really what I'm doing is learning a piece of music. I do have to memorise certain things about it, but I think it's more accurate to say it's a learning process. I don't have any secrets either, but there are some things that help me along the way.

Harmony. This one is easy for me, but I think one of the harder things for many--or so I've gathered from talking to people about memorisation, as well as theory discussions. It's one of the most important steps in learning new music, and with my strong attachment to theory possibly gives me an advantage to learning common practice period music over newer pieces with unfamiliar harmonies.
Learning the harmony of the piece doesn't help you so much at the end of it all, but it's a good place to start. Analyse the overall structure just to see where the music goes. Then you can start breaking it down into smaller cells. Especially in piano scores, memorising a few bars of music can seem daunting at first, but it's almost never as complicated as it looks. To take the f minor concerto as an example, the first three bars are: i-VI-iv, all using the same figuration. Not surprisingly, this figuration and chord pattern is repeated in mm.5-8, as well as a half a dozen other times in the piece (with slight variations). Once you have those first three bars down, Congratulations! You now know about 20 bars of music! I know it sounds really simple...but that's just it. It is that simple. And while you're analysing harmony, take a look at how many passages you'll play that are literally fancy arpeggios or scales. Sometimes you'll luck out and you'll have measures upon measures of standard chord progressions laid out for you in easy-to-read broken or solid chords.

Visual memory. Here's an interesting test: start to learn a piece of music, then switch to a different edition and see if it feels different reading it. There are times when it's helpful to remember key points in the music based on their physical position in the score. Often it's around a page turn; sometimes it's helpful to learn these passages first so when you're still learning you're not fumbling around the page turns. But other times I've been able to visualise the score, not necessarily in perfect detail, but enough that I can find where I am and keep me on track.

Tactile memory. I sometimes lament being a pianist. Tactile memory is a double-edged sword for me. On the one hand it gives me the freedom to stop thinking about the music. There are countless passages where it's easier to let my fingers do the work so I'm not working overtime processing the harmony and trying to remember where I am in realtime. There is a massive downside to this, however. If I slip up, I'm lost because I've given up my performance to my hands, and if they don't know where they are, I'm put on the spot to try to figure out the nearest available pick up.
This wouldn't be such a problem if I wasn't continuously practicing on different instruments. During my undergrad, from the first day I read the score to the day of my jury I would have played it on a minimum of five pianos (my own, the teacher's, a practice room piano, a piano in a masterclass room, and the concert hall's piano). The number is more likely to be double that. Not all pianos are created equally! That means while I can usually rely on the general shape, that's it. I might get used to practicing on a piano with a nice grip and springy action, which throws me off when I have to perform on a keyboard with sluggish keys and a propensity for allowing perspiration to build up. And I cannot tell you the number of times I've felt off because the bench was too high or low or because I sat slightly to the right of the centre and my hands are no longer in their regular positions and I feel like I'm an octave too high.
One interesting thing that ties into tactile memory is technical practice. For a pianist, practicing scales in double thirds and doing arpeggios of both triads and seventh chords prepares your fingers for holding the memory of musical shapes. Once you have the basics down of knowing the feeling of a third between your index and ring finger, or the feeling of moving a third and then a second, you free up your fingers to move on their own. They recognise the patterns and can feel the distance between notes, allowing you to gauge your position on the keyboard.

Aural memory. This one's a little different from the other two types of memory I mentioned. It's also something I discovered much later on, and didn't necessarily help in the ways the other tools do, but it was useful at the beginning. Using your aural memory to help you learn involves listening to recordings of the music. Unless you're already familiar with it, I recommend listening to several different performances. I was worried at first that I might be tempted to emulate the recordings, but I focused instead on using it as a guide--a general template to work towards. Since I didn't know the music beforehand, hearing what it will eventually sound like pushed me in the right direction. I found this helpful while learning Debussy's Pagodes. As with much of the romantic repertoire, the music often looks more difficult than it actually is. Some parts just looked like a complete mess to me and I had a hard time wrapping my head around it, but once I knew what it actually sounds like I could use this aural memory to guide my practicing. It's similar to having a finished image to help you along with a puzzle. It's not exactly the same because the puzzle is just a picture and there's only one final product. A piece of music can come together in so many different ways and aural memory is really just a suggestion.

Enjoyment. Never underestimate how much your enjoyment of a piece of music can affect your ability to retain information about it. If you have five pieces in your rep and you really like two of them, chances are you're going to want to play them more anyway, so repetition will factor into it (as my sensei says, practice makes permanent). But if you're relaxed and in a state of mind where you want to learn something, you'll have a better chance of absorbing information. In each of my years, my baroque and renaissance music always came together more quickly and coherently than the others. I practiced it more and I thought about it more. I carried the music around with me even when I wasn't practicing. I saw this phenomenon shift from one end of the spectrum to the other when I was learning two Bartok shorts. I started out avoiding them, failing to understand them, struggling with them. I finally reached a point where something fell into place and I noticed I changed my attitude towards them. After that the practicing flowed more smoothly and I started drawing on my aural and visual memory and I applied harmony to the music. It was no longer a chore.

Stay tuned for a new entry in a couple of weeks where I'll be doing a small giveaway!

EQ

Music is everywhere. Everyone listens to it. Look around you: on the bus and in the streets the majority of people under 30 are wearing headphones, and those in an older age bracket can be seen sporting them. Headphones are part of our apparel; in-ear, on-ear and over-ear. They're built into hats and earmuffs. Music is on the radio at work, it's coming from CDs, radios and mp3 players in every car. We can choose our environment. I don't have to listen to whatever is playing in a store while I'm shopping, and I don't even have to hear what's going on outside. Except during human interaction (and some other situations), we control what we hear.

And it's not just musicians or so-called music-lovers who are doing it. The accessibility and ubiquitousness of music has fundamentally changed its nature. Hearing music no longer means playing it yourself; it no longer means going to a recital or a concert; and you're no longer confined to your living room to listen to it. More accessibility means more possibilities for musicians, and opens the opportunity for more musicians to enter the market. Once upon a time most people who listened to music were musicians themselves. Now with the world wide open anybody and everybody has access to it and listens to something. Anything. Furthermore, with the expansion of music from a niche market into a huge consumer business, it is no longer necessarily strictly about music. I'm not going to turn this entry into a complaint that "big business is ruining music, and there is so much terrible music out there and no one knows what real art is anymore" because there will always be bad music. And there will always be music that does not appeal to a large group of people. And there will always be people who take advantage of a current trend to be popular. There will always be empty music.

What I'm more concerned about is what this means for today's musician. How does it affect us when music is so easily accessible and there are so many others to compete with? Over-saturation can cause some serious problems, particularly when music is not the only medium being over-saturated. Film/tv (traditional and modern/internet), music, literature and gaming are all arts that have had their doors opened to the public. The line is being blurred between professional and amateur, specifically if we're dealing with the financial definition of the terms. Now people with enough disposable income can purchase the necessary instruments, recording tools and software and offer their music for free or pitifully low prices on their own website, or through other providers like YouTube and bandcamp.

I say pitifully low because I have a bit of a bone to pick with artists. The old joke "What's the difference between a musician and a park bench?" (A: the bench can support a family of four) is getting, well, old. It's moved on from being a reality that many musicians will face to a sad self-fulfilling prophecy. When I started studying music at university I would join in these moments of jest, but after a while it started sounding a little whiny. It was a way of making their lives sound that much harder than everyone else's. They had resigned themselves to a life of poverty.

Yes, a lot of artists are underpaid. Art has been undervalued and devalued, by both the consumers and the artists themselves. Not every gig is going to pay your rent bill. And sometimes you will play for free. I have no problem with that. Even if you're a hotshot, you can't expect a non-profit organisation to put up five bills for your quartet to play background music at an event. And that's okay.
However, having said that, my problem is this: artists are putting themselves in a situation where they have lessened the value or their work and, increasingly, consumers are expecting to consume for less and less to the point where obtaining music for free is okay.

Put a price on your art. Do it. It's not free and it's not okay that people expect it to be. You have a right to be compensated for your spirit and your work. Saying a CD costs 10$ doesn't mean it's worth 10$. But don't confuse creating a value for your art with doing your art solely for money. There's a huge difference. I didn't go back to school for music because I wanted to make a living from music, but rather I want to live to make music. I know it sounds cheesy, but it's a subtle and important distinction.
If you teach music lessons, you may be doing it because you love it, but you shouldn't devalue it. You're passing on valuable knowledge. And it's a little sad, but if you attach a monetary value to something, people will appreciate it more. A student will think twice about cancelling a lesson if it means a monetary penalty; they might think twice about skipping practicing for a few days if they think their next lesson is going to be a bust, and thus a waste of money.
Free albums on-line become more disposable. What are you going to do with them all? Instead of purchasing say 7 or 8 albums a year, you could probably download one a week. It becomes something that you consume and digest rather than absorb. How many of those 52 albums will keep on listening to? But now it's about eating more and more music. Whatever is most accessible is most readily consumed. Musicians are expected to produce more albums and more frequently. Haven't put out a CD in three years? If you haven't toured in six months, you might as well be dead. So-called amateur musicians releasing free material undermines others who are trying to become professionals; and professionals releasing free material creates a larger rift between those at the top and those on their way up.

You can make a difference if you want to. Not everyone will be successful, but the same goes in every field. But if you want people to take you seriously, start acting that way. We're up against a tough playing field, but that doesn't mean it's hopeless.

The Love Song (Part 2)

I wanted to keep the same theme as yesterday but try something a little different. I present another two examples, side by side, this time both sung by women. Many will probably recognise the first, "Call me Maybe" by Carly Rae Jepsen; the other is Andy Moor's "She Moves" with vocals by Carrie Skipper.

CALL ME MAYBE	SHE MOVES
I threw a wish in the well Don't ask me, I'll never tell I looked to you as it fell And now you're in my way I'd trade my soul for a wish Pennies and dimes for a kiss I wasn't looking for this But now you're in my way Your stare was holdin' Ripped jeans, skin was showin' Hot night, wind was blowin' Where you think you're going, baby?	Sometimes you’re lost You find you’re on your own When you look and see the life that you could lead She won’t let you down She’ll show you how to love And she’ll take away the world that you believed So take those fears away And live just for today Open up and let your love shine through She might never know If you don’t ever show her You’ve got to show her how good it feels

Jepsen's song falls into the category I mentioned yesterday of "chance/fated romance." This already turns me off because it's an oversimplification. Instead of being based on deep-rooted feelings, these songs are all about impulse. I realise a song about building a relationship might not always be interesting, and most people can make a connection to this "in the moment" feelings. But their love, like this music, is fleeting. These kinds of situations aren't about lasting feelings; they're now, they're quick, they're accessible.
The way Jepsen uses "you" is very specific, just like in "Boyfriend," and again it's catering to a listener. They want someone to hear the song and feel like they're being spoken to. "You" in the other song, however, is used in a completely different way. "You" is "me." Consider this:

• Jepsen is singing to a guy > guy listens to the song and falls in love. Two people.
• Skipper is singing to someone > I'm that someone > but I'm in love with someone. Two people, three voices.

This song is presented more as an inner conversation. This puts me in the song, rather than as a receiver. And I'm being asked to look deep within myself for answers. This isn't chance, I have to work for it, "you've got to show her how good it feels" because "she might never know." I'm an active participant in the song and I have a responsibility.

CALL ME MAYBE (chorus)	SHE MOVES (chorus)
Hey, I just met you And this is crazy But here's my number So call me, maybe? It's hard to look right At you baby But here's my number So call me, maybe? And all the other boys Try to chase me But here's my number So call me, maybe?	Don’t be shy Cause she looks to you And you’ll find She moves Don’t be shy Cause she looks to you And you’ll find She’s drawn to you

"She Moves" is a song about self-confidence and believing in your love enough to make it work. "Call Me Maybe" is flippant; supposedly she's absolutely taken by this guy, but off-handedly asks him to call her...but if you don't, whatever. That's leaving a lot to chance. Carrie Skipper is much more assertive in her tone. Jepsen relies on cheap tricks to draw her catch in, saying that boys are constantly after her, and that this guy should be lucky she's interested in him and needs to make his move fast. On the other hand, it feels like Skipper is that little push to take the first step forward and own the situation. One is playing mind games, the other gets in your mind and plants an idea.

CALL ME MAYBE	SHE MOVES
You took your time with the call I took no time with the fall You gave me nothing at all But still, you're in my way I beg, and borrow and steal Have foresight and it's real I didn't know I would feel it But it's in my way Before you came into my life I missed you so bad And you should know that I missed you so, so bad	Sometimes you’re torn And you are broken And it takes a lot to get back on your feet But in your heart She gives you that feeling And it pushes you to where you want to be So take those fears away And live just for today Open up and let your love shine through Cause she might never know If you don’t ever show her You’ve got to show her how good it feels

I'm really lost with the rest of "Call me Maybe." The first part of the song is so literal that this part just sounds really hokey. The steal/real/feel rhyming triplet feels incredibly forced, especially the word "foresight." And the part about missing someone before they came into her life isn't intrinsically bad, but again it's out of place. I get the sense that whoever wrote the song wanted to create this powerful feeling in the bridge to leave the listener with a sense that this chance encounter really is magical and the only way you can describe it is with this oxymoronic lyric.
I feel very empowered by "She Moves." There is still a sense of taking a chance (you might never know/if you don't ever show her) but it feels like there's a risk involved, or that there's more to it than impulse. There is a steady encouragement throughout the song that keeps the composer-listener grounded. It's like it's not all in your head, and the singer has your back.

This is just a brief look at what lyrically interests me in a so-called "love song." "Call Me Maybe" and "Boyfriend" were both chosen because they're on the radio a lot, so they were two of the first songs that came to mind when I wanted to illustrate my point. I'm not trying to say this music is bad just because it's on the radio, or even that it's bad period. My point is to demonstrate using a small sample that these are the kinds of songs about love that show up on the radio and this is typically how pop serenades are written. The other pieces were specifically chosen to represent my interests in lyrics and are not strictly meant to be "better." The idea was to pick similar but contrasting songs that (a) represent my taste in music and (b) show there is another angle to writing love songs than how is usually presented in popular music.

The Love Song (Part 1)

The radio has been on a lot at work lately. This has given me the opportunity to hear the latest hit songs several times a day. Rather than completely tune them out, I decided to figure out what exactly it is that I don't like about them. These "top of the pops" are usually described as being repetitive, unimaginative, vapid and stale. I agree that there are a lot of bad songs on the radio, but I knew there had to be something specifically that got to me. After all, I'll admit that a lot of the music is pretty catchy. Whoever is writing them knows how to get under your skin.

In the end it largely came down to lyrics. I can't blame them for being formulaic. Everyone writes songs verse-chorus-verse-chorus-chorus. Most of the songs written by my favourite bands do that and I won't discount their music on that alone. After all, it's what you do with the formula that is important.

I noticed most of the hit songs are, in one way or another, love songs. Not ballads, but certainly songs about romantic feelings. I don't have a problem with that. After all, most people fall in love, most people encounter strange feelings they don't know how to process, and most people are comforted by these songs because it helps them not feel alone. Writing about love is easy for musicians because it's a very relatable topic, and it's something that goes on all the time (love songs encompass both in love and out of love). I don't have a problem with that. HIM has been writing love songs for 15 years and I still listen to them.

I listened more closely and finally found the difference. The pop songs typically describe: love at first sight (ostensibly, though I would say lust is more accurate), fated love/chance encounters, serenading a woman. These songs can't appeal to me because I'm not the target. I can't get inside of these songs because they really don't describe their feelings, apart from superficial statements like "you make me feel so good" or "I'm crazy about you." I want to hear a love song that puts me in the composer's head. When I hear the lyrics I want to feel like that's me saying them. If the whole song is just describing a beautiful woman, or talking about meeting and dancing in the club, I'm missing out because the point is for a woman to hear the song and feel like someone is talking about her. If the lyrics actually detail what the lovestruck individual is feeling, that's the one for me.

Let's compare two songs to illustrate my point. Justin Bieber's "Boyfriend" and "Right Here in My Arms" by HIM. Both have two verses and a chorus. Both talk about wanting to be with someone. Here are the first verses side by side

BOYFRIEND	RIGHT HERE IN MY ARMS
If I was your boyfriend, I'd never let you go I can take you places you ain't never been before Baby take a chance or you'll never ever ever know I got money in my hands that I'd really like to blow Swag swag swag, on you Chillin by the fire while we eatin' fondue I dunno about me but I know about you So say hello to falsetto in three two swag	She is smiling like heaven's down on earth Sun is shining so bright it hurts All her wishes have finally come true Her heart is weeping, happiness is killing her It's 'cause she's in love

Bieber's song has an audience, literally. He is singing to someone (possibly undefined, but there is for a person). This is meant for a girl to listen to the song and feel like Justin is singing to her. She can understand from this first verse that Justin not only wants to be her boyfriend, but will take care of her with his money and spend quality time with her. This doesn't really tell me anything about how he feels, though. I can't get inside his mind and find out what's going on. Why does he want to be with her? What is it about her that makes him want to decorate her with swag?
On the other hand, with HIM, I'm hit right away. The simple act of this woman smiling feels like heaven on earth. I can feel that. I can put myself in his shoes and see her smiling and know what it feels like. And not only that, but it's so magnificent it hurts. The rest of the verse is also less literal than Bieber's song. Instead of being the lowdown on their fondue activities, I have to insert myself into this situation and figure out in my head how this happiness could be killing her. What have I done? That it is not very specific allows me to replace myself with the singer and become a composer-listener.

BOYFRIEND (chorus)	RIGHT HERE IN MY ARMS (chorus)
I'd like to be everything you want Hey girl, let me talk to you If I was your boyfriend, never let you go Keep you on my arm girl, you'd never be alone I can be a gentleman, anything you want If I was your boyfriend, I'd never let you go	She'll be right here in my arms So in love She'll be right here in these arms She can't let go

The choruses are remarkably similar and dissimilar. Bieber says he'll "never let you go" but HIM says "she can't let go." The difference in tone is very telling. There is this overwhelming passion in HIM's chorus, that she is so in love that she couldn't possibly let go. I can picture her holding onto him for dear life. There's an implied commitment, an incredible bond between the two, whereas Bieber is trying to prove to her that she shouldn't be wary--this coming after his first verse where he tells her, "Baby, take a chance." Bieber uses a more possessive language, by "keep"ing her on his arm. HIM has a much simpler tone; he's not holding onto her, or keeping her; he's letting her come to him, right into his arms.

BOYFRIEND

RIGHT HERE IN MY ARMS

Tell me what you like yeah tell me what you don't I could be your Buzz Lightyear fly across the globe I don't never wanna fight yeah, you already know Imma make you shine bright like you're laying in the snow Burr Girlfriend, girlfriend, you could be my girlfriend You could be my girlfriend until the world ends Make you dance do a spin and a twirl and Voice goin crazy on this hook like a whirl wind

So hard she's trying But her heart won't turn to stone, oh no She keeps on crying But I won't leave her alone She'll never be alone

Again, Justin is really trying to appeal to this girl. But he's just describing things he would do. I don't get a sense of his feelings, or if she has any feelings for him. I'm not even sure he really knows her, since he asks her to "tell [him] what you like yeah tell [him] what you don't." He is still very much a child, and this is reflected in the puppy love he's talking about.
HIM's second verse is much more mysterious. There's power in succinctness. He doesn't have to make her promises to take her anywhere or buy her things or change himself. He just vows that he'll always be there for her. It also sounds like a much more complicated relationship than at first. She is apparently experiencing heartache and trying to numb herself to the pain. But again, it's left to me to fill in the blanks and recreate the situation for myself. And not to say that Bieber's feelings of attractions aren't real or valid, but for me, they oversimplify the situation. In HIM's song it feels like a much more mature and realistic depiction of a relationship, and it feels like it's mine because the way it's written it's passed through me.

I'll be back tomorrow with another two songs up for side-by-side comparison. Stay tuned!

Skies of piano black, intoxicated by major chords

If you know me at all, it's not surprising that I have reserved the last post for Nightwish. I have been listening to Nightwish for about 10 years now, and unofficially declared them my "all time and forever favourite band" shortly thereafter. I have never been disappointed by Nightwish because I believe Tuomas (the lyricist, keyboardist and primary composer) is one of the most honest musicians out there. His integrity is second to none. And so long as he keeps doing what he likes to do and believes in it, I can never be disappointed.

Nightwish has a history of outdoing themselves for their newest album. This time they've decided to release a full length movie in conjunction with the CD, both titled Imaginaerum. Even without the movie (which won't be released until the spring at the earliest), the music stands quite well on its own. Nightwish has a fairly distinctive sound, but it's hard to compare the albums to each other. There has always been a natural progression, but I find it hard to say, for example, "Century Child is /better/ than Oceanborn" because they are so different. What Oceanborn does, it does well, and same goes for Century Child, but they essentially have nothing in common other than being Nightwish CD. However I do see Imaginaerum as a kind of culmination of their previous works. I kind of see it as this spiritual cross between Angels Fall First and Once. This might sound odd, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense to me. It combines the huge, explosive orchestral sound of Once with the openness of Angels Fall First. And all three of these CDs represent a beginning of sorts. AFF was Nightwish's first release and the beginning of their fusion of heavy metal with female vocals and the big sound that envelops their music. Once begin their relationship with the LSO and Pip Williams (who arranges the orchestral parts) and the new level they'd reached as a band. And now Imaginaerum is truly the beginning of Anette's integration into the band; it's the first time they've made a film; and I believe looking back in several years we will see this as a major turning point for Nightwish.

The soundscape is unlike anything I've heard before. Particularly since Once, Tuomas has been playing with ethnic sounds and incorporating music you might not expect to hear in a Finnish metal band. They started using uilleann pipes on Dark Passion Play which gave some songs a distinctively Celtic sound; well, they took that sound and really ran with it this time. The break down in "I Want My Tears Back" is basically a highland jig; it's kind of awesome. "Slow Love Slow" is also kind of jazzy; not 100% jazz, but that's fine because it's just supposed to capture the feeling, which it does quite well. The orchestral work is most impressive, with intense percussion sections, a children's choir, and some very strong choral passages.
I'm also wondering if Tuomas was listening to a lot of 80's music when he was writing Imaginaerum; there are a lot of vocal lines and guitar riffs that are reminiscent of that time, as well as the overall sense of hope that encompasses the album.

There's some really cool stuff they've done; there are at least three tracks where they have music come in on the second beat of the bar, which is a very cool sound, and not something you hear that often. The last song, which is split into two tracks, is also unique. The first part is a really intense piece in four movements, followed by about seven minutes of prose read by different people. Then to cap it off, there is a six minute orchestral arrangement of themes from Imaginaerum. I didn't know what to make of it at first, but it makes a whole lot of sense upon listening to it again and again.
Lyrically there are some new themes too, and, as always, Tuomas has found interesting new ways of using the English language.

In preparation for the release of the album, I'd been reading and watching plenty of interviews with Tuomas and had noticed something very different. He's had some very dark periods in his life (resulting in Century Child and Dark Passion Play). But he seems much happier now; he said Imaginaerum is a celebration of life. And indeed it is! I wouldn't say it's a "happy" CD, but there's a certain amount of hope and bliss that I haven't heard since Angels Fall First. By the end of the CD I feel a great sense of calm, which I've never felt before after a Nightwish CD. In fact, normally I can't listen to a Nightwish album more than once a day because they're so intense that I feel drained afterwards. I think if I heard Once or Dark Passion Play several times a day I would be exhausted. But Imaginaerum, as emotional as it is, is at peace with itself. Century Child, Once and Dark Passion Play all finish on rather dark tones; Wishmaster and Oceanborn had a sense of finality, but it was not uplifting; and Angels Fall First finished with a sense of uncertainty. It's almost as if Tuomas is getting more comfortable in his skin.

This is a phenomenal achievement for Nightwish, and I really want to share it with everyone. Nightwish has an incredibly diverse fan base and I've met so many people who get so many different things out of it. If you haven't listened to Nightwish yet, now is the time!

Music video for Storytime: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5g8ykQLYnX0
and a little clip with each band member talking about the album: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q_c701C91xE

www.nightwish.com // @nightwishband

A pair of hardworking hands

This the second of three entries about great music I've heard this year! In retrospect I probably should have started earlier and made more posts, but here we are. Today I talk about three albums from three of my favourite countries: Canada, Finland and Japan!

Some people might remember the name Kazzer from earlier in the decade. He is a Canadian hip hop artist who started off his music career with a really spunky album, Go For Broke. It was one of the earliest exposures to hip hop I had and it's stuck with me after all these years. A number of years later when he released his second CD, Broke, it was easy to see times had changed. There was still the same man, and the same hip hop/rock elements present, but the tone had darkened considerably. The songs were all a lot darker. After yet another quiet period, Kazzer has reemerged as Redlight King.

The title of the CD speaks volumes: Something for the Pain. The upbeat days of “Growin up in the 80s” and “Puddem Up” are but a memory now. The tone is decidedly dark. In fact, it only seems to spiral downwards as you go through the album. The last track, When the Dust Settles Down, is one of those honest moments that so rarely appears in popular music. It's a summary of some of the hardest times he's been through, without any fluff or exaggeration. It's a bleak way to end the CD, but it makes sense. I think it maintains his integrity; if they had finished with more bombast it would have changed the sound altogether.

Redlight King is for all intents and purposes a rock group, but Kazzer's distinctive vocals still steer the ship, sometimes dipping into a rhythm and tone more akin to his rapping on previous albums. And the rough edge his voice has tells as much of a story as his lyrics.

One thing I really love about this album is the story of how they came to use a sample of Neil Young on the track Old Man. This is the first time Neil Young has allowed anyone to sample his music. The band had a bit of a struggle to go through, but in the end once he'd heard it, he had no problem with them making it into a song. It's a testament to Kazzer's perseverance as a musician. He's been through so much so far, it only makes sense that he wouldn't give up on something he was committed to.

Check out the music video for Old Man
and an acoustic version of Comeback
redlightkingmusic.com // @theredlightking
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Norther gave itself a fresh start with Circle Regenerated. No band could continue on in the same direction after parting ways with a founding member, guitarist, vocalist, composer and frontman—and those roles were all performed by Petri Lindroos The band was already starting to reinvent itself when the original drummer was replaced by Heikki Saari. He brought a freshness to the music and a drastically different style of drumming with him. Now with a new vocalist and guitarist on board, I think Norther has really found its place and there is a lot of room for growth.

Even with three new members, Norther still has the familiar sound they’ve had since 2003’s Mirror of Madness, which I'm not complaining about. You can expect to hear breakdowns, contrasting clean and harsh vocals, ambient strings and plenty of solos. However, neither Circle Regenerated nor their last album N have explored alternate time signatures much. Norther’s second, third and fourth albums all masterfully tackled 5/4, 6/4, 7/4, 10/4 and 12/4. There are a few time signature shifts here, as in Some Day, which has an alternating 3/4 and 4/4 scheme. I don’t think complex time signatures in and of themselves make music better, but it can enrich a piece when done properly, and since I know Norther is more than capable of producing quality songs in something other than common time, I would hope they will do more when the songwriters feel it is appropriate.

The biggest adjustment is Aleksi’s vocals. He has not only taken over Petri’s position for harsh vocals, but has also mostly replaced Kride’s back up clean singing. I still think Petri is one of the best at what he does, but Aleksi does a good job of injecting his style into the music. After a couple of listens, you realize he fits right in; in fact, comparing the two singers is a moot point, as they both have completely different approaches. Aleksi is less melodic with his “screaming” but has a greater variety of timbres. His technique and range are showcased nicely, as in The Hate I Bear, where his singing is layered on top of his harsh vocals.

As always, Norther displays its softer side with songs like Falling, which is kind of like a power ballad, only more hardcore. The band makes good use of acoustic guitars, soft keyboard pads, strings and choirs to express some really powerful emotions. Make no mistake: Norther is not a band of adolescents who haven’t coped with their feelings yet. They are in touch with some very powerful emotions, and just because they’re loud does not mean they’re angst-ridden or just angry. My favourite track, Some Day, talks about dreaming of the day when you’re free, when you’re released from whatever pain that binds you. Another track, We Do Not Care, is about solidarity, and not being dragged into the madness around you. This isn’t anger or hatred; this is genuine human emotion at work. There is so much waiting for the listener to experience.

The digipak version contains three bonus songs, including a beautiful keyboard/synth instrumental, an acoustic song from guitarist/vocalist Kride, and a cover song of Swedish rock band Lambretta. The two original bonus tracks are quite respectable in their own rights. One thing I'd like to see Norther explore in the future is a song spanning ten or more minutes. Long songs aren't automatically good, but it presents new challenges for the songwriters and opens up the possibility for new sounds and forms.
I'm really pleased with the release and hope that Norther gains some more international attention.
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This last CD was one of the biggest surprises for me this year. The latest Legend of Zelda game came with a bonus CD, which is a collection of music from its 25 year history arranged for orchestra. The first time I heard an orchestral arrangement of a video game track was about ten years ago and I was pleased as punch, but the novelty soon wore off. A lot of games from the 8- and 16-bit era had music that was not really suitable for arranging. That doesn't make it bad; it just doesn't work when you try to play the Mario theme with a 50-piece orchestra. It wasn't conceptualised that way. It's the same when some rock bands try to add orchestral instruments to the music. Too often it sounds forced because the rock music was written and then the strings or percussion or whatever was added afterwards.

Even some games with music that begs to be orchestrated (Final Fantasy, Zelda, Chrono Trigger, etc.) have received poor arranging. But this is by far the best orchestration of video game music I've ever heard. One of my biggest problems with game medleys is that they frequently sound like this: theme/theme/theme/theme; or alternatively: theme/awkward transition/theme/exaggerated rit./theme. But the Wind Waker Symphonic Movement on the CD actually sounds like a movement from a symphony. It might have a few more themes than your typical symphony, and it's not exactly in sonata allegro form, but it works. The arranger cleverly used a transitioning theme to get between melodies. The main feature of Wind Waker was travelling by boat around the world. This is seamlessly incorporated into the movement, and works doubly well because of the double meaning: musical transition and in-game transition.

For a while, Zelda games have been experimenting more with overlaying music and transitioning unnoticed from one piece of music to another. For instance, you might be walking through the forest in the game, and as you approach an enemy (or one approaches you without you noticing), the music will slowly shift as a warning. If you walk away from the enemy, the music will return to normal. This eliminates the necessity for a “transition piece,” which might be awkward in a game where you don't change perspective for an enemy encounter (as you would in most Final Fantasy games, for instance). This sounds like the idea they were going for in the orchestral arrangements. I was very happy with this CD, particularly since it was so unexpected; I mostly ordered the limited edition version of Skyward Sword for the gold Wiimote.

The Wind Waker Symphonic Movement