Each week brings its challenges, right? Last week, mine was preparing a pre-concert talk I would give for the March 7 Dallas Wind’s Video Games in Concert.
I probably needn’t state that I’m not a “gamer.” Long ago, I dropped a quarter into a Pac-Man arcade. I scored poorly but do remember thinking the “music” was cute.
“Cute,” actually, was a specific stage in video-game music. Think of the now-classic tunes of Super Mario Bros. But now, cute has evolved into lush, lyrical, dynamic music created for an explosive, high-dollar gaming industry. This industry provides lucrative avenues for composers who, otherwise, would be staring at the walls, wishing they had a way to have their music performed.
Case in point. In the early 1990s a marvelous composition student in our SMU program named Guy Whitmore surprised me by moving out to Oregon and joining a start-up company that developed video games. I remember cocking my head and saying, “Huh?”
To this day I cherish the memory of his master’s recital which was staged in different areas of our cavernous Fine Arts’ building: off we tramped jollily through hallways and down staircases, leaving behind one exciting piece in search of another. I presumed he’d be heading off to a doctoral program.
“Video games? Why? What will happen to your career as a composer?”
Well, I wouldn’t ask that question today. His explanations back then foreshadowed what now is patently obvious: gaming music is where the action is today for composers. Writing music for video games involves developing new skills—new compositional strategies—because the musical themes, harmonies, and forms are intertwined with the game’s strategies and outcomes.
Such burgeoning new techniques tempt one to say, “Move over, old-style composition methods.” Except the old-style compositional skills are still needed. Video-game music thrives on the most basic of musical components such as counterpoint, theme and variation, and harmonic sequencing. Increasingly lush instrumentation (both digital and acoustic) soars above contrasting sections based on the most traditional rhythms like the waltz and the march.
Now I express my concern about what I call the “digital dulling” of our children in talks I give around the country. People may finally be waking up to the destructive, addictive power of video exposure in children. Shockingly young children spend vast stretches of time hypnotically engrossed in graphically vivid and, far too often, horrifically violent scenaria.
Yet, while playing these games, they are simultaneously hearing music that could serve as a ballet score in the 19th century. Music where the action shifts between robust waltzes and heroic marches. Music where heroes are characterized by melodies played by bassoon and English horn, piccolos and violas. (Yes, orchestras and wind ensembles are increasingly employed in the world of gaming music.)
Could there be hope here? Kids acknowledge being drawn to the games in part because of the lush, descriptive music. This attraction could lead them to sample other, equally lush Western classical repertoire. Perhaps the bridge from Devil May Cry 4 to Scheherezade will be easier to cross than the exploding bridges that their digital heroes race across.
Chatting with folks after my talk, one parent’s comment struck me. “Maybe I need to stop telling my son to ‘turn that music down’ when he’s playing these games.” I tend to agree. And I’d also encourage parents of teens who will be gaming to explore the new directions being created by the industry: games that employ cutting-edge visual technologies, but non-violent content. Also, encourage the movement towards game sound tracks (CDs, downloads) where the focus lies entirely on the music. You may be surprised how much it will remind you of the music from films in the Golden Era of Hollywood—music created by a previous generation of extraordinary composers who brought their talents to an entirely new medium.
