I'm increasingly aware of a preference I have for the study of abstractions. In its current form, this is manifesting as an enjoyment of musical semiotics, which I've been studying for thesis and prospective article purposes. This isn't a new thing for me, I think. When I started to find undergraduate physics too hard because I'd forgotten how to do integral calculus in the year between school and uni, I majored in pure mathematics instead. I've always found the application of mathematical models to real-life situations a bit challenging; on the other hand, algebra for algebra's sake is satisfying, pure geometry or topology fascinates me, and set theory permeates my thinking about anything quantifiable.
Musical semiotics is a little controversial. On the surface of it, music doesn't seem able to convey meaning; you can't say, for instance, that middle C signifies a tree, or love, or the number 231. On the other hand, you could say that music can convey meaning within the external framework of a shared musical pedagogy. In that instance, a perfect cadence could convey a sense of satisfaction if there's a socially-acknowledged precedent of perfect cadences representing satisfaction. But if this is the case in the Western tradition, there's nothing to say it must hold in other musical traditions. Furthermore, some have argued that it's possible to distinguish between a 'meaning' and a 'significance'; that is, what a thing means in and of itself, and what significance external factors can give it in people's minds. It's fairly broadly accepted that music can connote — it can be made to signify something within its immediate context — but can it denote, or refer to something outside itself? Some say "yes" and some say "no" (and it sometimes seems that each answer is also followed by "of course, that should be obvious").
This is barely scratching the surface of the question of musical meaning, let alone how (and if) music in games is meaningful. I know it is meaningful, at very least through its context within the audiovisual text, and I'm pretty sure there are even multiple ways in which it can bear meaning. But proving this in my thesis is shaping up to be a significant (and hopefully quite satisfying) challenge. I'm part way there with my current work, but every new text I read seems to open up further avenues for investigation. I guess I'm just glad that I can include some abstract theorising in my studies. Being able to look beyond the texts I study to the bigger issues, the things that inform, shape and permeate all such texts, and even beyond those things to the small glimpses one gets of how humans work through what they create; this is what, for me, makes this study worthwhile.
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Monday, 18 August 2014
Tuesday, 26 November 2013
Unheard Valve melodies
I've recently noticed that I've been not-noticing something, and it surprised me quite a lot. I've been not-noticing the music in Valve games — in Half-Life 2 and Portal 2 specifically.
This surprised me, because these games are excellent. Perhaps excellent enough to make me concentrate on the gameplay and forget about the music. The theory on film music is that when it's doing its job you shouldn't notice it much. Its job is to make you feel what's on the screen, so if it draws attention to itself, it's doing it wrong (massive generalisation, but fairly accurate for mainstream cinema). I understand Claudia Gorbman's Unheard Melodies: Narrative Film Music (1987) discusses this, and the concept has passed into common film music parlance. I guess we assume this is also the case for video game music, though that might just be another left-over assumption from film music studies (should look into this... thesis chapter potential?). Whatever was going on, I'd certainly overlooked the music in these games—perhaps I was too busy being entertained by a talking potato.
My moment of realisation came when, as I do about once a year, I loaded up my second play-through of Half-Life 2. For some reason I decided to play through the game again before attempting the Episodes, and I still haven't got through it. Anyway, I was fanging the hovercraft around a bend and the music started up and I thought "Wow, how on earth haven't I noticed that music before?" It's incredibly subtle, electronically precise like most of the Half-Life sound experience, and rather emotive. The Half-Life game world is one of the more sparse and ambient worlds in gaming I feel, and the music suited it exactly, giving its usual emotional direction without hindering the player's ability to usefully employ their sense of hearing.
Perhaps as a result of my Half-Life 2 revelation, I began to pay more attention while playing Portal 2 and was similarly surprised. The obvious points of musical interest in the game are finding "Exile Vilify" by The National playing in a side room and the game's credits song (which could only disappoint after "Still Alive" in Portal, but is still pretty good). But the score is both eerie and crisp, often showing a similar precision to Half-Life 2 but haunted and a little disturbed. I think it matches the game's myriad tensions: Aperture's past(s) and post-apocalyptic present, an awe of discovery (testing!!) muted by nervousness, two antagonistic and psychotic artificial intelligences, and of course the interplay between intelligence and movement upon which gameplay relies. Even the multiplayer has a more light-hearted, sociable treatment of the same musical mentality. But all of this is very subtle, and more so given that the score is juxtaposed with un-subtle music—"Exile Vilify" is a prime example, as is the jazz version of "Still Alive" that plays over the radios, but even the "sound effects" for using Gels and Aerial Faith Plates (and probably other things) are actually musical cues that actively modulate to match the current background music (even mid-cue!). All in all, its an intensely musical game, but it's just rather quiet about it.
I'm a little ashamed I didn't pay attention to these excellent scores on my first play-throughs. Both Half-Life 2 and Portal 2 have a multitude of innovative or just plain excellent elements that usurp players' attentions, so it's not my fault; and besides, who isn't distracted by the surprise of a good sequel? But maybe Valve has silently found the formula for that holy grail of video games — music that works so well and so subtly that it never gets boring, and thus avoids being indelibly stamped upon your consciousness in a bad way.
This surprised me, because these games are excellent. Perhaps excellent enough to make me concentrate on the gameplay and forget about the music. The theory on film music is that when it's doing its job you shouldn't notice it much. Its job is to make you feel what's on the screen, so if it draws attention to itself, it's doing it wrong (massive generalisation, but fairly accurate for mainstream cinema). I understand Claudia Gorbman's Unheard Melodies: Narrative Film Music (1987) discusses this, and the concept has passed into common film music parlance. I guess we assume this is also the case for video game music, though that might just be another left-over assumption from film music studies (should look into this... thesis chapter potential?). Whatever was going on, I'd certainly overlooked the music in these games—perhaps I was too busy being entertained by a talking potato.
My moment of realisation came when, as I do about once a year, I loaded up my second play-through of Half-Life 2. For some reason I decided to play through the game again before attempting the Episodes, and I still haven't got through it. Anyway, I was fanging the hovercraft around a bend and the music started up and I thought "Wow, how on earth haven't I noticed that music before?" It's incredibly subtle, electronically precise like most of the Half-Life sound experience, and rather emotive. The Half-Life game world is one of the more sparse and ambient worlds in gaming I feel, and the music suited it exactly, giving its usual emotional direction without hindering the player's ability to usefully employ their sense of hearing.
Perhaps as a result of my Half-Life 2 revelation, I began to pay more attention while playing Portal 2 and was similarly surprised. The obvious points of musical interest in the game are finding "Exile Vilify" by The National playing in a side room and the game's credits song (which could only disappoint after "Still Alive" in Portal, but is still pretty good). But the score is both eerie and crisp, often showing a similar precision to Half-Life 2 but haunted and a little disturbed. I think it matches the game's myriad tensions: Aperture's past(s) and post-apocalyptic present, an awe of discovery (testing!!) muted by nervousness, two antagonistic and psychotic artificial intelligences, and of course the interplay between intelligence and movement upon which gameplay relies. Even the multiplayer has a more light-hearted, sociable treatment of the same musical mentality. But all of this is very subtle, and more so given that the score is juxtaposed with un-subtle music—"Exile Vilify" is a prime example, as is the jazz version of "Still Alive" that plays over the radios, but even the "sound effects" for using Gels and Aerial Faith Plates (and probably other things) are actually musical cues that actively modulate to match the current background music (even mid-cue!). All in all, its an intensely musical game, but it's just rather quiet about it.
I'm a little ashamed I didn't pay attention to these excellent scores on my first play-throughs. Both Half-Life 2 and Portal 2 have a multitude of innovative or just plain excellent elements that usurp players' attentions, so it's not my fault; and besides, who isn't distracted by the surprise of a good sequel? But maybe Valve has silently found the formula for that holy grail of video games — music that works so well and so subtly that it never gets boring, and thus avoids being indelibly stamped upon your consciousness in a bad way.
Thursday, 21 November 2013
Reflections on the MSA/NZMS 2013 conference and my own place in the world
I'm in Brisbane at the moment, having attended the joint annual conference of the Musicological Society of Australia together with the New Zealand Musicological Society this week. It's been an intellectually stimulating week of papers from a truly diverse range of disciplines. As I usually do after a conference, I'm coming away with a head full of ideas and an inexplicable desire to start composing again. But that will definitely have to remain a hobby (at best) for the time being since, as I might mention a bit further down, things been hella busy.
I mentioned a diverse range of disciplines, and I wasn't kidding. Highlights included a set of papers suggesting that certain composers should be considered as modernists, a paper on "the cup game" and its role in high school musical culture, a paper on the metal scene and underground sub-scene of Adelaide, a paper on remodernism in the work of a Georgian composer, a paper denouncing the labelling of Reich's "Different Trains" as documentary, a paper on the inaccuracies (and otherwise) of an amateur scribe, a paper on child soldier musicians in Australia and England, and another set of papers on creativity in the recording/producing processes. My favourite thing about conferences like this is that your mind is stretched in so many different directions. Quite beyond just being interesting, it helps me think about my own work in new ways.
Also thought-provoking was the discussion around music and musicology's place in Australian university culture and the nation's culture at large. What I heard, and what resonated with me, was that there's a certain sense of entitlement among musical practitioners, educators and theorists regarding access to the public purse which stands in direct opposition to the uniquely anti-intellectual, anti-academic rhetoric and mentality found in Australia. The call was to be responsible and to be able to justify your place—this is something I struggle with frequently, and I suspect that's because I don't fully expect people would accept my justification, even if I had a good argument prepared. I think I can justify my research to someone who's sold on the notion that the pursuit of knowledge in all its forms is beneficial to society, but people (and even universities) these days don't seem to buy that without significant discounts. But quite apart from my puny little PhD, I find it disturbing that music itself is falling under the same ire. I guess when Spotify etc. let you access music ad nauseum, musical practitioners seem as abstract and irrelevant as a cow does to a supermarket-bought scotch fillet. Super sad.
The presentation of my own paper on L.A. Noire's place in the noir tradition went well. I had a chance in the week leading up to the conference to re-do some of the video examples, and I think it paid off. Removing the part where I crash a car into a power pole certainly made me look more professional. The questions I received afterwards were helpful, as always—I often feel as though I learn more from the questions than I impart in the presentation. But it's particularly good to have had another chance to discuss ludomusicology on the national stage. I'm slowly getting more of an idea of who's interested in this field in Australia, and while numbers are small I'm hopeful that talking and presenting can help change that.
My big stack of work at the moment is finishing off the article version of this paper and sending that off for publication (hopefully). I aim to get that finished ASAP so I can start working on EVE Online and its multiple musical experiences, which I'm quite excited to do. Things are busy, but they're moving forward.
I mentioned a diverse range of disciplines, and I wasn't kidding. Highlights included a set of papers suggesting that certain composers should be considered as modernists, a paper on "the cup game" and its role in high school musical culture, a paper on the metal scene and underground sub-scene of Adelaide, a paper on remodernism in the work of a Georgian composer, a paper denouncing the labelling of Reich's "Different Trains" as documentary, a paper on the inaccuracies (and otherwise) of an amateur scribe, a paper on child soldier musicians in Australia and England, and another set of papers on creativity in the recording/producing processes. My favourite thing about conferences like this is that your mind is stretched in so many different directions. Quite beyond just being interesting, it helps me think about my own work in new ways.
Also thought-provoking was the discussion around music and musicology's place in Australian university culture and the nation's culture at large. What I heard, and what resonated with me, was that there's a certain sense of entitlement among musical practitioners, educators and theorists regarding access to the public purse which stands in direct opposition to the uniquely anti-intellectual, anti-academic rhetoric and mentality found in Australia. The call was to be responsible and to be able to justify your place—this is something I struggle with frequently, and I suspect that's because I don't fully expect people would accept my justification, even if I had a good argument prepared. I think I can justify my research to someone who's sold on the notion that the pursuit of knowledge in all its forms is beneficial to society, but people (and even universities) these days don't seem to buy that without significant discounts. But quite apart from my puny little PhD, I find it disturbing that music itself is falling under the same ire. I guess when Spotify etc. let you access music ad nauseum, musical practitioners seem as abstract and irrelevant as a cow does to a supermarket-bought scotch fillet. Super sad.
The presentation of my own paper on L.A. Noire's place in the noir tradition went well. I had a chance in the week leading up to the conference to re-do some of the video examples, and I think it paid off. Removing the part where I crash a car into a power pole certainly made me look more professional. The questions I received afterwards were helpful, as always—I often feel as though I learn more from the questions than I impart in the presentation. But it's particularly good to have had another chance to discuss ludomusicology on the national stage. I'm slowly getting more of an idea of who's interested in this field in Australia, and while numbers are small I'm hopeful that talking and presenting can help change that.
My big stack of work at the moment is finishing off the article version of this paper and sending that off for publication (hopefully). I aim to get that finished ASAP so I can start working on EVE Online and its multiple musical experiences, which I'm quite excited to do. Things are busy, but they're moving forward.
Monday, 4 February 2013
Pointing Things Out with Music 1: Left 4 Dead
Left 4 Dead is the game that got me into the whole video game music thing. About the time I was first playing it I took a course at uni on film music, during which the lecturer took us through the music of Psycho. Pretty soon I realised that the tone clusters and the descending semitones Bernard Hermann used to freak people out in Psycho were also used in Left 4 Dead to the same effect. I started to listen a bit more closely to the music when I was playing games, and here we are.
I'm going to write a few posts about pointing things out with music, because the games I've been playing lately all seem to do this differently and I think that's kinda cool.
Left 4 Dead almost smacks you in the face with its musical cues. It uses leitmotifs for each kind of zombie you fight, and even one for the zombie horde that comes to eat your brains if you noob it up too much. If you're not familiar with the term "leitmotif", listen to the music that comes into your head when you think of Darth Vader or Indiana Jones. That music comes to your mind because it's repeated when those characters have important on-screen moments — they're like musical name tags for those characters. John Williams, who wrote the music for Star Wars and Indiana Jones, apparently loves leitmotifs heaps, and I think he probably got pro tips on their use from Wagner or Strauss or someone.
Leitmotifs are a nice touch for a game like Left 4 Dead. It could have been a "shoot everything that moves" game like Quake or something, with a suitably "make all the noise" soundtrack. But a leitmotif-laden soundtrack gives Left 4 Dead a touch of cinematic panache and it gives you a heady dose of prescience, which is actually quite terrifying. If you can see a horde of zombies coming at you, you know where to aim. But musical information is not usually directional. If you only hear a bit of music that tells you they're coming but not from where, you flail around nervously and fire off a few shots at anything that moves, less ignorant but powerless and scared because your impending death could come from anywhere. The focus turns from killing things to surviving. The game is better for it.
I also think Left 4 Dead deserves a bit of kudos for its musical tutorial slash intro movie. The intro plays all of the leitmotifs as it introduces the "special infected". If you bother to watch it, you learn things. Learning is fun! And so is not having your brains eaten. Double win.
Monday, 21 January 2013
Intergalactic Solace
A friend got me on to EVE Online a couple of years ago. Despite an apparently widespread opinion that it's a spreadsheet simulator, I quite enjoy it for its Star Trek-on-nerd-steroids vibe. Outer space in RL is awesomely beautiful, and EVE has enough simulated space prettiness to satisfy APOD cravings while you go about your particular flavour of business. And whatever your business you need that eye candy to get you through it, because EVE is one of the most prolific learning curve generators I've ever encountered. There's a steep learning curve to every action or profession you undertake in EVE; the game can be simultaneously tedious and engrossing, but the time in/knowledge out ratio is unparallelled.
Every six months or so, EVE is updated by an expansion. These usually include some kind of story-backed changes to the game world (read: different ways to kill other spaceships) along with various alterations to the mechanics of gameplay. One of these expansions came out in November 2012, just a couple of months ago. I didn't get a chance to play EVE until after Christmas, but when I did I noticed quite a lot of things had changed, and I was pleasantly surprised that the dull and discordant theme music from the previous expansion had been replaced by a new theme with spirit. There's a new main theme tune with every expansion, and sometimes they're not so amazing.
EVE (like most MMOs I'm sure) serves you up enough hours of play to make the in-game music far more familiar to you than any of its title themes. Usually it's the title theme which sets your emotional compass when you launch a game, and the title theme of a new game in an RPG series can put you right back in the world even before you've started playing. But in EVE the function of the title themes is almost cursory compared with the homeliness of the synth pad-driven background tunes. The vast majority of the visual elements in the game today have undergone some kind of change since I started playing two years ago, but the music has not. It welcomes you back into the universe while you're adjusting to other things, subtly going about the business of holding the whole game together.
Strangely, there's far less music fatigue than I'd expect. The tunes are full of melodies and harmonic variations, so the game's creators seem not to have attempted to avoid fatigue too hard. Perhaps familiarity breeds contempt only to a certain point, beyond which familiarity is a comfortable state of equilibrium. I could never say the music doesn't get boring, and it's hardly mistakable for Koji Jondo or Jeremy Soule, but it accompanies you through tough learning curves and space battles and somehow earns its place. Though the universe of EVE can be a dangerous place to fly, it always sounds a little bit like home.
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