I believe I’ve mentioned this once or twice before, but I’ll say it again:  I’m a HUGE sci-fi nerd.  My parents (my mom especially) were big fans and raised me on both the Trek and Wars.  Where many people are ardent followers of either Roddenberry or Lucas, I am fans of both and don’t see any reason why we all can’t get along (and also invite the Whedonites to join in the party).  Anyway, what I want to talk about today is a different, almost forgotten Sci-Fi show from the mid 1990s: Space: Above and Beyond.  This show only aired for one season, 1995-96, on, you guessed it, the FOX network (though unlike Firefly they didn’t cancel it mid-season).

A few years ago, the show was released on DVD and when I heard, I quickly scooped up the set.  As a teen, I had watched the show and remember enjoying it, though parts of it were conflated in my head with another short-lived 90s show, Space Rangers (which lasted only 6 episodes back in 1993 on CBS). A few weeks ago I pulled the DVDs back off the shelf and started re-watching the series and was surprised to see in the credits that a well-known name to me scored the show: Shirley Walker (the same Shirley Walker that was behind most of the music of Batman: The Animated Series).  As soon as I saw that credit, my ears immediately perked up.  I hadn’t remembered much about the score for years before, except that it was very heavily scored with orchestral sounds, but this time through the series (of which I still need to finish watching the final 6 episodes), I paid very close attention.  What I heard was a show that not only made use of normal Sci-Fi orchestral scoring conventions, but in a few episodes showed a brilliant use of music, not only orchestral, but also diegetic songs played by characters.  I would like to briefly discuss two episodes: Episode 3 – “The Dark Side of the Sun” and Episode 5 – “Ray Butts.”

The basic plot of the show is that in the near-future (2063) mankind is engaged in a interstellar war against a foe known as the “Chigs.”  Our show follows a group of raw Marine recruits who, by the end of the 2 hour pilot, are out of accelerated basic training and thrown into the front line (these Marines not only fight on ground, but also fly space fighters in WWII style dogfights).  If you’re interested in reading more, check out the Wikipedia article.  “The Dark Side of the Sun” is an early episode where our heroes are sent to protect a remote mining facility shipment, but as soon as they get there they discover that the place has been overrun by Silicates, intelligent robots who years ago had rebelled against their human creators (ya…basically the Cylons).  And in this rebellion had killed the parents of one of our main characters, Shane Vansen.  The episode opens with Vansen recounting the recurring nightmare of her death and the death of her parents.  It is underscored by a minor theme with a string ostinato, and changes slightly as she wakes up (the strings change to a legato patten), but the ostinato comes back in as she gazes out a porthole at the sun, which in her dream had exploded.  The camera zooms out on Vansen as the theme reaches a sort of climax and the credits begin.

This minor theme becomes a leitmotif for Vansen and her unresolved issues surrounding her parents death and reoccurs throughout the episode as she tries to deal with these issues while facing down the enemy that killed her parents.  Many times this theme doesn’t resolve, leaving the viewer with much the same feelings that Vansen has.  This usage also includes the very end of the episode, which while reaching a sort of climax and cadence, emphasis the minor key, and ends with only the bass instruments playing.  In this way, wallowing in the dark feelings that Vansen has had through the episode and informing the viewer that despite receiving an answer as to why the Silicates attacked her house that night and killed her parents, that answer did not satisfy her.

In the second episode I will discuss, “Ray Butts,” I’ll talk about how it uses diegetic music to inform about a character.  S:AaB would do this many times (the use of the music of Patsy Cline in “Never No More” and the Funeral March from Beethoven’s Third Symphony in “The Angriest Angel” are two great examples), but “Ray Butts” was the first episode to do this, and it used the music of Johnny Cash.  In episodes using diegetic music this way, they will very early pair the music and character together, usually before the credits.  “Ray Butts” opens with a lone plane flying toward the carrier Saratoga (where our heroes are based), and landing without clearance.  After landing, the cockpit is opened and we are greeted with Johnny Cash’s “Folsom Prison Blues” as the formerly unconscious pilot wakes up and proceeds to disarm the entire compliment of security guards.  In a piece of cute editing, the first lyric we hear, as we see the guns trained on the pilot, Lt. Col. Raymond T. Butts, is “don’t ever play with guns.”

The plot of the episode is that Butts takes our heroes on a secret rescue/retrieval mission to a planet behind enemy lines.  In a scene where he takes command of the squad away from Col. McQueen, we hear him listening another Cash song, “Walk the Line.”  A third song is playing when Vansen confronts Butts, “So Doggone Lonesome,” whose third verse, which involves Cash observing that time moves slower while your waiting, proves to have a subtle connection to the one of the last scenes in the episode.  The viewer takes these musical association with Johnny Cash as information as to the personality of Butts: a hard edged man who has seen too much, “The Man in Black,” which the disc taken out of his plane is labeled.  But in a wonderful turn, towards the end of the episode, after the true nature of the mission is revealed, we learn that Butts actually hates Johnny Cash.  He is honoring the memory of one of the men lost under his command, whose perferred way of going out was to be listening Cash while falling into a Black Hole.  Towards the end of the episode, Butts actually sacrifices himself to save the squad, and as his plane is pulled into a Black Hole, he turns on the disc and listens to “Walk the Line.”  He is thus fulfilling the prophecy that had been implict throughout the episode every time we heard Butts listening to Cash.

As to the show itself, it starts out quite good, but towards the middle, falls into a weekly routine of how are our heroes going to get in trouble this week, almost die, and miraculously escape alive.  As the season drew to a close and it was clear that the show would most likely be cancelled, it started to get good again.  Alas, it was too late, though, and another Sci-Fi show that could of been something was killed.  And a show with a quality orchestral score by Shirley Walker also met it’s end.  The show is worth checking out for the variety of music (both diegetic and non-diegetic) used.  Walker crafts a unique score almost every week, and it is also of top quality week in and week out.  Other episodes worth checking out, besides the ones already mentions, is the episode “Who Monitors the Birds,” which goes for long periods of time with no dialogue and relies heavily on her scoring.

Mouthful of a title, I know, but it’s been a long percolating entry.  Actually, this topic was almost my paper for my Asian Aesthetics seminar, the paper that become the Kurosawa/Rashomon topic.  Anyway, enough prologue, onto the actual post.

For those of you who don’t know, Shinichiro Watanabe is an anime producer/director/creator.  He did two short films for The Animatrix (“A Detective Story” and “Kid’s Story”) and also the four episode/film Macross Plus (which I know nothing about), but what he is most well known for are his two anime series: Cowboy Bebop and Samurai Champloo.  Two of the most critically acclaimed anime series, though maybe not as well known by the masses as Dragonball, Pokeman, or Naruto, they are quite popular with older fans who appreciate thought and character to go along with scenes of crazy fighting.  The other thing that makes them different from the above mentioned series is that they are each only 26 episodes (with Bebop also having a feature film), and within those episodes, they tell a complete story of the main characters.

As a musician, though, they hold another level of interest, and that is the integration of cultural-musico aesthetics into the narrative and soundtrack.  Let me explain.  Both titles reference a specific type of music that not only sets the tone of the show’s soundtrack, but also informs the personalities and actions of the characters.

Bebop is story of two bounty hunters (also called ‘cowboys’) in a near future trying to scratch out a living in our solar system.  Their spaceship is called the ‘Bebop’ and freewheeling lifestyle they live mirrors that of Bebop jazz in the 1940s and 50s.  In the opening credits sequences, we see bits and pieces of text projected in the images.  The full text reads:

“Once upon a time, in New York City in 1941… at this club open to all comers to play, night after night, at a club named “Minston’s Play House” in Harlem, they play jazz sessions competing with each other. Young jazz men with a new sense are gathering. At last they created a new genre itself. They are sick and tired of the conventional fixed style jazz. They’re eager to play jazz more freely as they wish then… in 2071 in the universe… The bounty hunters, who are gathering in the spaceship “BEBOP”, will play freely without fear of risky things. They must create new dreams and films by breaking traditional styles. The work, which becomes a new genre itself, will be called…Cowboy Bebop.”

So we have not only a declaration of the aesthetics of the characters, but show itself.  And Watanabe was creating a genre busting work.  Most notable for it’s integration of traditional cel animation and 3D animation, Bebop also mixed styles such as film noir, sci-fi, martial arts films (specifically Hong Kong martial arts films), gangster films, and created a new and unique work.

The soundtrack itself is not limited to ‘bebop’ jazz, but also other jazz styles (including a wonderful ballad called ‘Adieu’ that acts as sort of a memory echo to the main character’s life before), and also classical music (for a Godfather-esque opera house sequence).  The episodes themselves are named for either specific works/songs (‘Sympathy for the Devil’ and ‘My Funny Valentine’) or musical styles/forms (‘Ballad of Fallen Angels’ and ‘Heavy Metal Queen’).

Samurai Champloo, on the other hand, takes its cues for hip-hop culture.  Unfortunately, there is no manifesto printed in the opening credits, but we can still work things out.  ‘Champloo’ here is basically a made up word that is related to the Okinawan word ‘chanpuru,’ which means ‘to mix.’ (At least according to Wikipedia, though some cursory further searching makes me trust it on this.)  Essentially what we end up with here is a word meaning ‘remix’ or ‘mashup,’ which is basically what the show does.  We have a story which is set in Edo period Japan (the setting of most Japanese samurai/chanbara (also spelled chambara…another possible influence on ‘Champloo’) films.  But overlayed with the Edo period setting (1603-1868) are anachronistic elements of rap and hip-hop.  The aural track is filled with turntable scratches and the soundtrack itself is written by Japanese hip-hop artists.

The characters themselves are three very distinct personalities that can be seen to have parallels in hip-hop styles, though I don’t know enough to truly comment extensively.  Jin is the cool layed-back trained samurai fighter and is the refined one.  Mugen is more forceful, quick to react, slow to think, and is angry at the world (with a troubled past).  His fighting style reflects this, and almost looks like breakdancing at times.  And Fuu, the young girl who brings the two men together to help her in a quest, is just bubbly school-girl age type that we see in much anime, though the character adds depth as the show progresses, and we learn about her reasons for wanting to find the “samurai who smells of sunflowers.”  If anything, generally, we can see the three streams culture: the refined, the reactionary, and the commercial.

Going along with the ‘mashup’ concept, we do actually have hip-hop culture breaking into the Edo Period.  We have a character in one episode rapping while a flunky accompanies him with beatbox, and graffiti/tagging among others.  Part of this can be read as an extreme form of the growing Western influence in Japan in the late Edo Period (which is characterized by the shutting of Japanese ports and insulating its culture, with the exception of limited contacts and trading with Holland).  A period that ended when American warships forced the fading Tokugawa Shogunate to reopen their ports to Western traders.  The whole thing is much more complicated that that, but this suits fine for blogs.

To brings things to a close, here, I’ll just summarize what’s I’ve posted.  In both Cowboy Bebop and Samurai Champloo, the titles themselves gives one the basic idea of the show.  It gives the character types (cowboys and samurai) and the guiding musical aesthetic that also informs the characters (bebop and champloo/mashup).  In this way Watanabe integrates not only musical aesthetics, but also the culture that created them into his anime series.

-or- Wagner vs. Brahms Redux: McCreary vs. Giacchino

I’ve blogged alot on McCreary’s BSG score, and talked somewhat about Giacchino’s Lost, but I’d like to spend some time now and ruminate on the differences in their scoring styles on the respective shows.  I must stress that these are not indicative of their style as a whole, though some of the traits do carry over into their other work.  I’ll mention these similarities and differences where appropriate.

McCreary, as I’ve stated before, in BSG uses a large complex of character and concept themes to weave an aural tapestry to compliment the show.  Every major character, character groups, major concepts, and even some minor characters have had some sort of theme associated with them.  And when McCreary uses that theme, it is usually in a very recognizable form orchestration-wise.  There might be subtle variations here and there (larger ensemble, maybe a different instrument playing the theme), but the large idea, especially melodically, is very recognizable.

The one major exception to this is the ‘Passacaglia’ theme that I blogged about previously.  Here McCreary takes the basic harmonic structure and thematic content and through the course of four major cues, sends the material into different time signatures and key areas, and even blending it with a new theme depicting Starbuck and Apollo’s “frakked up” relationship in ‘Violence and Variations.’  To put more traditional musical terms on it, this is the only major occurrence of McCreary really “developing” his previous thematic ideas.

Giacchino, on the other hand, uses a much smaller complex of thematic ideas, by my reckoning between 5-10 major themes, and they are not really associated with any of the major characters.  One can make the argument that there is a “Kate Theme” and a “Jack Theme” and so on, but truly, most of the themes convey moods and ideas rather than a character specific thematic identity.

What Giacchino does, though, is that he develops his themes through the course of a cue, and the course of the series, creating various material to subtlety tweak the affect of the theme.  His themes, in general, are fairly simple and are such that allow for a wide variety of both melodic and (some) harmonic manipulation.

It is in this way, McCreary with his complex themes that change very little, and Giacchino with his simpler themes that allow for variations, that they are like a modern day Wagner and Brahms (McCreary and Giacchino respectively).  Consider Brahms’ Fourth Symphony (which I had to for many weeks in a Tonal Analysis class).  The opening theme is a series of falling thirds and ascending sixths (mostly) built over a harmonic progression (which escapes me right, but really isn’t relevant).

In the course of the first movement, Brahms reuses that opening theme seven or so times, varying it in some way each time.  The interval of a third is also the basic  unit from which the entire symphony is built.

Without the actual physical scores from Lost in hand, I can’t exactly tell you how things are constructed, but I can tell you what my ear tells me (sounds like a movement from Mahler’s Third Symphony, “What My Ear Tells Me,” okay, very obscure joke, look up the titles of the movements of Mahler 3).  Some of Giacchino’s most powerful cue are built from a simple piano harmonic progression from which a simple melody comes in, also on piano.  At this point, the chords are in a closed position on the piano, and the melody played close by, the entire range not taking up much more than two or three octaves.  From here, he usually brings in strings, first maybe a solo string then the section.  He also adds a few embellishments to the melody and expands the harmonic support’s range, eventually bringing in his entire ensemble.  Cues built like this are “Life and Death,” “Locke’d Out Again,” and “Parting Words,” which are all from the Season 1 soundtrack album and “There’s No Place Like Home” from the recently released Season 4 album.  But these are merely the most dramatic statements of their respective themes, there are many other examples of Giacchinousing variations of theme elsewhere.  Also, the basic themes presented in these three cues are used througout the series in different forms.  I also think that there is a basic connection between many of these themes.

What made me realize that this is how Giacchino builds his Lost score is that this is also how he builds the Star Trek score.  He uses a small number of themes (in Trek I believe it to be 3: the Federation/Human/Enterprise theme, the Vulcan Theme, and the Nero theme) from which he can build variations to suit the cue.  This is not to say that he builds all his scores in this manner.  I feel that Ratatouille, The Incredbiles, and Speed Racer are not truly in this style, but do show some hallmarks of it.  More Listening is needed.

So where Giacchino is Brahms with his developing variations (a term coined by Schoenberg and affixed to Brahms in Watler Frisch’s 1984 Brahms and the Principle of Developing Variation, but also describing the technique widely used by Beethoven and other Romantics), McCreary is Wagner, using a large collection of leitmotifs that,while changing in someways, don’t show a large amount of variation between presentations, but are equally impressive in their variety.

This is not to say that either composer sounds like Wagner and Brahms.  What has helped set these two scores apart is the distinct sound that each composer cultivates.  Giacchino has had from the outset a orchestra of roughly 37 strings, brass, and percussion, with a percussion section that is made up of spare airplane parts from the actual wreckage that was part of the season 1 set.  McCreary has had a much smaller ensemble, made up of a number of instruments from around the globe, including: duduk, erhu, taiko drums, string quartet (later expanded to a string orchestra for some episodes), and others.  But each has used those musicians at their disposal to create something not heard on much of modern television, a score that is an integral part of the overall aesthetic of the show.  A score that accentuates the grand, cinematic (dare I say epic in the case of BSG) aspirations of the many modern serial television programs.  And where a score like Sean Callery’s for 24, I feel, does little more than ratchet up the tension of Jack Bauer racing against the ticking clock, McCreary and Giacchino’s scores are just as much a character of their respective shows as are Admiral Adama, Jack Shephard, Kara Thrace, Kate Austen, the Galactica, or that damn mysterious island.

So Chuckdid it once again Monday night.  The writers, music production team, everyone, showed just how brilliantly the show melds music into its aural landscape, along with gunshots, knife fights, and its trademark witty banter.  This time pulling out all the stops for for the season – hopefully not series – finale.  For a climatic shootout at Chuck’s sister’s wedding, we have the dulcet tones of “Jeffster” (a band consisting of two of Chuck’s co-workers) singing Styx’s 1983 hit, Mr. Roboto, from the album Kilroy Was Here. 

But the brilliance of the segment is not simply limited to the kitsch of having such a wonderfully geeky song in the episode.  The way the song is arranged within the segment shows a keen ear in how to set the music with the image.  The song actually comes in three versions for the sequence (a fact already stated in the song’s Wikipedia article!).  First we have the intro section plus first verse played entirely by Jeffsterand set against the players of the show moving into place: the groom, who is in the know about Chuck’s double life, finding out that something more is going on, the bride freaking out, and Sarah getting ready to confront the bad guys.

For one who doesn’t know the lyrics, the song may just seems to fit the aesthetic of the show (Chuck’s love for 80s geek culture as epitomized by his Tron poster), but a quick look at the lyrics reveals the brilliance of the song choice.  The lyrics up to this point are:

Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto,
Mata ah-oo hima de
Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto,
Himitsu wo shiri tai

(Translation: Thank you very much, Mr. Roboto / Until we meet again / Thank you very much, Mr. Roboto / I want to know your secret)

You’re wondering who I am-machine or mannequin
With parts made in Japan, I am the modern man

I’ve got a secret I’ve been hiding under my skin
My heart is human, my blood is boiling, my brain IBM
So if you see me acting strangely, don’t be surprised
I’m just a man who needed someone, and somewhere to hide
To keep me alive – just keep me alive

A man with a secret?  Brian IBM?  Wanting to stay alive, needing someplace to hide?  Paging Mr. Chuck Bartowski.  From here the music moves into a vamp of the main backing part, played mainly by Jeffster, but slowly adding in more orchestral sounds, namely timpani, and also filling out the sound with more guitars.  The arrangement, though, kicks into a higher gear as Super Spy extraordinaire Bryce Larkin walks in, and we hear the vocal line for “You’re wondering who I am,” etc. played in the low brass, an arrangement used for much of Chuck‘s score.  By going back to this line, though, it essentially moves the song back to its starting point.  As the tension in the room builds, the manipulated vocals of “Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto” comes back.  The fight finally starts and the song starts to break down as the backing track continues, but vocals, instruments, and other elements drop in and out, mirroring the overall chaos.  We also get to see what else is going on in the church: a stunned crowd, the bride trying to hold it together.  Finally, the orchestral elements come back as Sarah, Bryce, and Chuck are captured.

The Pre-Chorus for the third verse starts to come back (simply, “Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto…Domo” repeated), first in a new version for the show, but then the actual Styx version starts to come in as we hear a plane overhead and see shadows…and paratroopers.  And as Casey and his commandos drop in through the convenient glass ceiling, the final verse comes in:

Thank you very much, Mr. Roboto
For doing the jobs that nobody wants to
And thank you very much, Mr. Roboto
For helping me escape just when I needed to
Thank you-thank you, thank you
I want to thank you, please, thank you
to hide to keep me alive

Essentially describing the on-screen action.  For those keeping score at home, that’s two fits of lyric to story.  This music segment, and its transition back to a recap of the intro, plays under the gunfight and Casey’s rescue of our spies, while also cutting back to the wedding and Jeffster’s performance, though we are clearly hearing Styx’s vocalist Dennis DeYoung.  From here, though, the arrangement goes back to Jeffster’s performance, and we skip ahead to the last three lines, as the live performance reaches its climax:

So everyone can see
My true identity…
I’m Kilroy! Kilroy! Kilroy! Kilroy!

And in doing so, they set of some flares or something, the fire alarms go off and the wedding is ruined.  In all, the sequence takes right around 5 minutes, actually coming in about 30 seconds UNDER the album length of the song.  In doing so, they cut out the second verse, and vamped mainly on the material of the third verse, which itself is a vamp the material from the Introduction.  But they also cut out a line that could have been very fitting for the show:  “The problem’s plain to see: too much technology / Machines to save our lives.  Machines dehumanize.”  It could very well be a motto for Chuck’s life as all the advanced spy technology has ruined his life.  To the CIA and NSA the information in his head (the Brian IBM) make him an “asset” instead of a real person, he has been dehumanized.  But maybe that’s a little heady for a show that derives most of its charm by not taking itself too seriously.  A shootout at a wedding set against Mr. Roboto?  I don’t think they have a problem of taking themselves seriously.

Another great moment happens right before the song starts as the Jeff of Jeffster turns to the string quartet playing the wedding and echoes Michael J. Fox and his instructions to the dance band in Back to the Future as he says, “This is in 4/4 time.  It’s in D, watch me for the changes.”  Classic.  And of course, later on in our many cuts to the performance, we actually see the string quartet playing.

In all, this is another example of just how musically astute this show is, something that probably starts with the show’s creators and producers, and extends to the writing staff, music producers, composers, and editors.  Everything about the sequence was carefully controlled to achieve maximum sync of music and image, proof positive that everyone involved cared not just about the on-screen performance, but also the musical performance.
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