Laura Intravia: Performer, Composer, Arranger

Let's change things up a little! Instead of talking about one game in particular this week, let's talk about a musical concept and how it is applied in games from different series. This is a big post I had a lot of fun writing about, because it's a really neat concept that can be really powerful when used correctly: the counter-melody.

Wikipedia says the definition of counter-melody is “a sequence of notes, perceived as a melody, written to be simultaneously with a more prominent lead. Typically a counter-melody performs a subordinate role, and is heard in a texture consisting of a melody plus accompaniment.”

What does all of that mean? Basically, a counter-melody is exactly what it sounds like: it's a secondary melody that is meant to “counter” the primary melody. It generally follows a totally different rhythm and contour (shape) than the primary melody, so that it stands out in the texture. A lot of the classic game tunes feature a “melody & accompaniment” form, like in Zelda II's “Palace Theme.”

The middle line of music is obviously supporting the melody; it is not a melody in and of itself, but simply an accompanying pattern that lies underneath the melody. A counter-melody is different in that it would also have a melodic character of its own.  

The strength of using a counter-melody in video game music is that it adds variation to a repeated melody. Let's face it, most video game music HAS to be able to loop endlessly, right? A counter-melody is a great way to prevent the theme from getting old. A counter-melody can make the original melody sound way more interesting, by highlighting the differences between the two.

Before we look at Banjo-Tooie's “Atlantis,” one of this week's new transcriptions, let's bounce back to a piece I posted a while ago, “The Bunnies” from Super Mario Galaxy. This is a freaking PERFECT EXAMPLE of how counter-melody works, and in a really lovely, mystical way.

First, take a look at about half of the primary melody of The Bunnies.

Check out the bottom staff in the piano; obviously just accompaniment, right? We wouldn't describe that figure as being melodic in nature—the repeated pattern is actually closer to an ostinato.

Now let's jump ahead in the piece:

Check out that second line. It's not simply arpeggiating chords, it has a distinctive shape and character of its own, completely unrelated to the primary melody. The primary melody is much more rhythmically active, on a punctuated harp string sound; the secondary melody has a fuller, sustained sound and less rhythmic activity. Each melody tends to move in opposition to the other; i.e., when one goes up, the other goes down.

Now what does this mean musically? What does this convey to the listener? Here's my take on it, my own opinion: The primary melody kind of hops around innocently on that high harp sound, so for me, it represents the bunnies. The secondary melody sounds a bit softer to my ears, and is much more sustained and has a —for lack of a better word--”sci-fi” kind of synthy sound. This is just my own take, but it gives the piece a feeling of weightlessness for me (weightlessness...loss of gravity...HEY WAIT WE'RE IN SPACE). The sound design in and of itself suggests a feeling of wonderment to me, like a child exploring a new world. In the game, Mario has just woken up on a strange planet after being blown into space by Bowser; he wakes up and encounters space bunnies who encourage him to catch them. The purpose of this scene is to give the player more practice with Mario's game controls; so, not only does the music convey the dramatic content of the scene (“Where am I and who are these bunnies?”), it also reflects what is happening for the player him/herself: exploring the controls and the new space world you find yourself in. It's an innocent song, which conveys to the player that he/she can freely experiment with the controls without fear for Mario's life.

It's pretty cool how much a simple counter-melody can add, isn't it? Let's look at some more examples. First, “Atlantis” from Banjo-Tooie. Primary melody:

 Now let's jump ahead to where the counter-melody comes in.  

Oooooh, something neat is going on here! The melody is obviously in the high flute, and in the lower flute at m. ___ we have what sounds to me like a long, sustained counter-melody. Then, at m. 39, ANOTHER counter-melody splits off of the first one. It only lasts for a few measures until m. 9 of this example, where it takes over the primary melody-line.

Now the high flute has a supporting role, the low flute is the primary. It all happens in the span of just a few seconds and the result is seamless, each melody-line weaving in and out of the other (Like fish swimming in the ocean, OH SNAP!)

One more example! This is from a personal favorite tune of mine, “Forest Frenzy” from Donkey Kong Country. Take a listen to the entire song here, see if you can pick out the counter-melody just by listening. 

Hopefully you caught it on that first hearing! Now check it out in the sheet music:

Now, for me, the counter-melody does not stick out as strongly in this piece as in the other examples. This piece has a LOT of ostinati in it—those repeating rhythmic and chordal figures make up a lot of the catchiness of the song—but as a result of the repetitive nature of the texture, the counter-melody is kind of lost. It isn't as different from the melody as it could be. In fact, it's almost tempting to call it simply some sort of accompanimental figure—but the fact that it is a single-line melody (one note at a time) and it's in a higher register than the primary melody makes me think that this was intended to be a counter-melody. Not as prominent as the other examples we looked at...but maybe that was the point. This piece is highly rhythmic and the melody is not necessarily the most important feature. So the weaker counter-melody doesn't really take away from the piece, but helps the melody blend in with the rest of the texture.

That's a lot of information to digest, but hopefully you get the idea of all the different ways a counter-melody can function. To finish this ginormous post off, I want to quote a very famous poem by William Carlos William. “It is a principle of music / to repeat the theme. Repeat / and repeat again, / as the pace mounts.” This is more true than ever in video game music, a medium that requires musical looping for the player to have freedom to play at his/her own pace. It is how composers vary the theme, to make it different each time we hear it, that enables us as listeners to not become bored with the same thing over and over again. The video game world has a history steeped in extremely strong melodies—melodies so catchy that you can hear it literally a thousand times and not get bored—but as the hardware grew, so did the capabilities of the composers to create music with more variation. I mean, what was the average length of the typical video game song in the 80's, like one or two minutes? Now we have composers creating much longer pieces with more depth in the music that supports the melody; and that's how we get pieces with beautiful use of counter-melody like “The Bunnies,” “Atlantis” and countless other examples in video game music.  

Here are some more pieces of video game music with counter-melody...can you spot those moments just by listening? Can you find more examples in video game music that I haven't listed here? I'd love to hear them!

New Super Mario Bros. Wii - Staff Roll
Legend of Zelda: Windwaker - Staff Roll
Ar-tonelico - Singing Hill
Star Fox - Main Titles

Enjoy this week's transcriptions of Atlantis and Grunty Industries from Banjo-Tooie! More on the way! 

“Music theory” can be somewhat of a polarizing force in music school ;-) Some people love it, some people despise it with every fiber in their being. The reason for this is that music theory involves staring at scores for long hours and analyzing each and every note for connections to each and every other note in the score. It can quickly become visually and mentally exhausting. And most students have trouble with the “ear-training” aspect of it; there's sight-singing, where you have to sing a melody line that you've never seen before, on the spot, in front of your entire class. Or dictation, listening to a piece you've never heard before and having to write down the melody and bass line by ear. It's very challenging, and the fact that most public schools only offer music theory courses in high school doesn't help. Learning to read and comprehend music is like learning a whole separate language—it's harder to learn as an adult, rather than as a child.

Me, I was lucky in school! I enjoyed the sight-singing, dictation and ear-training courses because it's something I had been doing ever since I was a child. I started transcribing video game music as hobby when I was just 10 years old, because I wanted to be able to listen to the music without having to play the games. So when I started my first music theory courses in high school, I was surprised to discover that my ear-training was already very strong, at a more advanced level than most of my class. But even with that solid foundation, score analysis still would have my head aching and my eyes rolling after about half an hour. 

It's true that composers write with a form in mind--they create melodies and themes that work well together, have them connect in some way, use certain distinct elements to build the fabric of a piece, etc. So, it's always, always worth it to look at a score and discover the individual elements that make up the music; it's like looking at the blueprints of a machine and figuring out how all the parts work together; with that knowledge, you can start building your own machines!

But the flipside is that you have to be careful that theorizing doesn't completely take over—all of a sudden, you find “things” in the music--motives, phrases, rhythms, intervals--that seem meaningful at first, but were quite possibly accidental, unintentional and had no bearing on how the piece was written. The fact that it's called music theory means you can basically draw any conclusions you want, but I think sometimes a composer chooses the notes not because of some mathematical equation, not because he had used a similar pattern upside down and backwards 400 measures earlier, not because the notes are actually code for the initials of his first girlfriend—he chooses them because he likes the way they sound. It's just plain aesthetic taste. There's also a great deal of intuition involved in composing—putting different elements together because it "feels right," without coming up with some musical formula to support it. 

Now that we've discussed the ups and downs of music theory :-P let's do a little theorizing! Today we're looking at Donkey Kong Country 2: Diddy's Kong Quest. The DKC soundtracks are some of my favorite of all time, especially DKC2. I have played this game more than any other game I've had in my possession, even more than Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time and Super Mario World. Words cannot convey how much I adore this game. 

In 2010, I was asked to promote our Indianapolis VGL show by performing some video game tunes at our ticket booth inside Gen Con. I tried to pick songs from all the big franchises that worked well as flute solos, but Donkey Kong proved pretty tricky. To me, the magic of the music came not just from the catchy melodies, but from the colors and orchestration. I use the term orchestration loosely; obviously, the music of the Donkey Kong games did not use a traditional symphony orchestra, but in this case, “orchestration” refers to the specific sounds and timbres that Wise used to produce the melody, harmony, bassline, textures, rhythms, etc.

So there I was, listening to various DKC themes. I finally picked out “Snakey Chanty,” which had a fun, fast melody, and while I was transcribing it, I got some major deja vu. Something about the song seemed really familiar, like I had heard it somewhere else. I mean, I knew it was drawn from DKC's Gangplank Galleon with a jazzy twist, but there was something else about it that I just couldn't place. It was killing me—what was it about this song that sounded so familiar?

Then it clicked.

Take a listen to a bit of “Island Swing” (Jungle Hijinx) for a moment. Check out the rhythmic pattern in the drums, one of the most iconic game themes of all time:

Now check out a bit of the melody-line of Snakey Chanty:

Notice anything about the rhythm of each song?

THEY'RE THE SAME.

I wanted to punch myself in the eyeball for not noticing the connection right away—the super catchy “Snakey Chanty” from DKC2 is based off of the rhythm of “DK Island Swing” from the previous game! With only slight differences, the rhythm has been transplanted into a totally new setting; originally an earthy jungle beat, it's now a breezy, almost Dixieland Jazz type melody. Wise rehashed an old theme into something brand new, but still totally recognizable.

SO! Why did I write all of that stuff about music theory in the beginning of this article? Because I want to make it perfectly clear that is just my theory. Yes, Snakey Chanty and DK Island Swing share the same rhythm, that is a fact. But whether this connection was intentional or completely intuitive on the part of the composer...that's something we'd have to ask David Wise himself ;-) But whether it was intentional or not, I think it was a really ingenious way to musically connect two games in a series, without simply copying the same exact track from one game to the other.  NO WONDER HIS NAME IS DAVID WISE. HA-HA SEE WHAT I DID THERE.

Enjoy this week's transcriptions of Bayou Boogie, Snakey Chanty and Swanky's Swing from Donkey Kong Country 2: Diddy's Kong Quest! More on the way!

Playing Skyward Sword has me in a Zelda mood, so let's take a look at a very popular tune from Zelda II: Adventure of Link! I haven't played the game myself and I'm told that it was not the best game in the Zelda franchise, but the Palace Theme is a favorite tune of many gamers I've met. A lot of video game music in the 80's and early 90's depended on strong melodies to make up for the limited hardware of its time. So, it makes sense that some of the most memorable game themes of all time are from that era. The melodies had to be super catchy, but what is it about melodies that makes them super catchy? What's the “hook” in the Palace Theme that keeps us listening?

Let's get a little technical for a second: the definition of “melody” is a succession of musical tones which is perceived as a single entity. A melody, in its most basic form, is made up of two things: pitch and rhythm. So let's look at the first part of the Palace Theme's melody, just the pitches for a moment. 

Not the craziest melody in the world, right? I'm not saying that it isn't a “good” melody, I personally definitely enjoy it (and it's all up to your personal taste anyway)--but I notice that the melody-line isn't what I'd necessarily call very "active." For a point of reference, let's compare it to a melody like the original Legend of Zelda Overworld. 

Compared to the Palace Theme, it seems to me like there's a LOT more going on in the Overworld theme, right? The melody has a larger contour (shape), the harmonies and chords supporting it are varied and colorful, the rhythmic pattern with alternating triplets and dotted eighth-sixteenths grabs your attention. 

Ah-hah, the rhythm! That's just as important to the melody as the pitches—so let's look at the Palace Theme's rhythm for a moment. Right away, in the second bar, we see the rhythmic pattern that will drive the entire piece: dotted quarter, dotted quarter (represented by an eighth tied to a quarter), then quarter. 

The middle voice has an even stronger role in reflecting this rhythmic pattern—the arpeggios reflect the 3-3-2 pattern as well. If I were to change the beaming of this entire passage to reflect the rhythmic pattern, it would look like this.

This is called additive rhythm: when a rhythmic pattern features irregular groups of durations. In common 4/4 time, normally we would just divide each beat into smaller groups; the whole note is divided into 2 halves, the 2 halves are divided into 4 quarters, the 4 quarter notes into 4 groups of eighth notes, etc. This is called divisive rhythm. But in this piece, the rhythm strongly reflects beat durations of 3 eighths, 3 eighths and then 2 eighths—we're adding the smaller beats up to make the bigger groups.

You see additive rhythm most often in asymmetrical meters like 5/8, 7/8—any meter that doesn't divide the beats equally. But as we see in the Palace Theme, additive rhythm can be applied to any type of meter, including the symmetrics. Contemporary composers sometimes notate additive rhythms in the time signatures themselves; in this case, it would be 3+3+2/8.

So why didn't I notate it as such in my sheet music? Because there are sections of the piece that do not use additive rhythm. The B section starting at m. 27 is a fluid triplet feel on top of the sweeping 16th arpeggios, which is a really awesome part of the piece as well—by setting up such a strong additive pattern for A section, the B section's more straightforward, divisive rhythmic pattern becomes more noticeable and is a welcome break. Not only that, but the contour of the melody suddenly blows up, it starts a climbing scalar pattern; the rhythm has clearly become secondary to the pitches of the melody. Pretty cool right? In the first half of the piece, the rhythm is the driving force; in the second half, the pitches are the driving force. In this short piece, the composer has highlighted and featured each part of what makes up a strong melody: pitch and rhythm. Bam! Two points for Nakatsuka-san!

Enjoy this week's transcriptions of the Main Titles, Overworld and Palace  themes from Zelda II: The Adventure of Link. More on the way! 

I think I was about twelve or thirteen when I first played The Sims. There was something really addictive about the game; maybe it was the fact that I was a child at the time, and being able to live like a grown-up through The Sims was really compelling. It also had some really hilarious touches, like the undead Sims coming back from the dead at night. Let's face it, zombies are always a treat in any medium LOL But there was nothing quite like the day when my perfectly healthy, successful Sim walked out of the giant mansion I had purchased and lovingly decorated for him, walked three-quarters of the way around the house stopped, and writhed and screamed bloody murder for no reason before collapsing to the ground. Then the tombstone and a message popped up, and I promise you I am not making this up: “Oh no! Brad has sadly burned to death. May he rest in peace.” My Sim had died of spontaneous combustion. Now THAT'S ingenious game design.

Anyway: the music! I had actually COMPLETELY forgotten about the music to this game until I was doing some research the other day. I noticed that I have a tendency to arrange a LOT of Nintendo music, namely the Super Mario Bros. series, and I've want to try to branch out to games on different consoles; that's when I remembered The Sims, with music composed by Jerry Martin, Marc Russo, Kirk R. Casey and Dix Bruce. I typed “Sims music” into Youtube, loaded the track to “Buy Mode 1,” and suddenly I was overwhelmed with a tidal wave of nostalgia. There really is nothing like rediscovering something from your youth, especially music. Up until the moment I pressed play, I had no recollection at all of what The Sims music actually sounded like, but the moment the track started, I was able to hum along with the entire song, recalling every note and rhythm.

What a unique body of music for a game, huh? It had a wide variety of styles, while still creating a cohesive whole. The Building Mode tracks in particular are a good example; the tracks are comprised completely of solo piano music, but each piece is in an entirely different style.

The use of the solo piano in this game is a great example of “less is more.” There is power in a symphony orchestra, choir, wind ensemble—any large ensemble, really, has an incredible, boundless range of colors and textures and can create literally a mountain of sound. However, there is an equally powerful quality to a single instrument playing. Composers write instrumental and vocal solos into large ensemble pieces all the time, and when those moments occur it's really special. To have one, single voice pop out of an enormous texture calls your attention to the individuality of the player/singer, that qualities of their sound that make them unique amongst all of the other instruments in the ensemble. It can also represent something programmatic, like a character or idea that the composer would like to draw your attention to. For example, the violin solos in Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherezade. For those of you who aren't familiar with this freaking amazing masterpiece of sound, it's the story of 1,001 Arabian Nights; the violin solo represents the voice of Scheherezade as she tells the Sultan her stories each night. (I attached a link to the Youtube video, but this is one of those pieces that you simply MUST hear live someday, DEFINITELY check it out if your local orchestra is performing it!)

A piano is especially different from the instruments of a symphony, in that it is a polyphonic instrument; it has the capability to play many multiple notes at a time. Some other instruments have a limited capacity for this, i.e. string double stops and woodwind multiphonics, but a piano is literally its own orchestra, if you compose for it the right way. And let's face it, the piano as an instrument that has an unbelievably huge history behind it. It's the instrument of choice for many famous composers such as Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin, Debussy; and even composers who aren't piano virtuosos still use the instrument as a tool for writing their compositions. So, a solo piano can sometimes bring to mind the idea of a composer alone in his/her studio, writing or improvising at the piano.

So, with all of that in mind: why the choice of solo piano for the Build Mode? I personally think it's supposed to actually take you out of the game, in a way. I mean, you literally pause the game to go into Build Mode, you aren't actively participating in your Sims lives while in that mode. For me, the solo piano is saying, “your turn, Laura.” It's not about the Sims at that point; it's about you building a home, maybe even a dream home you'd like to live in someday. It's different than creating a musical theme for a person, place, etc. within the context of a story. For example, In Silent Hill 2, the music is ambient, creepy, atmospheric sounds that create a feeling of fear and horror. In Banjo-Kazooie, the bright, cheerful melodies, quirky harmony and downright silly instrumentation (tuba & piccolo FTW) creates the happy world that Banjo and Kazooie live in. The main theme of Legend of Zelda that we all know and love is suitably heroic for Link. But in all of those games, the music is accompanying a pre-determined plot. In the Sims, you create the plot, characters, world, atmosphere, everything. You are the composer hunched at the piano late at night, only instead of music, you're composing a world for your Sims to live in. There is almost no music in the game except in the Buy and Build Modes; the music in the game is entirely reserved for you, the player, as you create your world. There are no themes, motives or melodies that accompany the Sims themselves; the soundtrack accompanies you, the player. And it's all up to you to build the world that you want. Unless you're like me, and delight in creating stupidly designed structures just to see if your Sim can actually live in it :-D

Enjoy this week's arrangements of The Sims' Building Mode 4, Dr. Mario's Fever and Sonic the Hedgehog's Marble Zone! More on the way!

Yoshi's Story is one of those games that I remember enjoying immensely, only to discover from reviews ten years later that some critics apparently thought it was a totally lackluster game. Yikes. I hate to admit it, but I always second-guess my own take on a game whenever I read a review by an official “game critic.” I mean, everyone's got their own taste and therefore different games will appeal to different people, but when I read criticism about game controls and the like, I start to think, “Gee, maybe I wasn't 'supposed' to enjoy that game, if there were so many people found it disappointing or badly constructed.”

Honestly, though, I think much of the criticism had to do with the extremely childlike atmosphere, and not really “fitting in” with the Mario franchise. I think this definitely comes down to simply a matter of taste. This is the first time we've ever seen Yoshi sans Mario, and I thought it was really cool that the creators made a whole new world with its own ridiculously happy personality. Other games have taken Mario-originated characters in new directions, i.e. the Warioware games. They are awesome in a ludicrous, extremely bizarre way that is entirely unlike your typical Mario game.

In the case of Yoshi's Story, I guess it was generally disliked because people assumed it was going to be like Yoshi's Island, which was definitely intended to be considered a major installment of the Mario franchise. But me, I just loved how different the game was! The storybook theme was positively enchanting, and added to the overall cuteness of the game. And I personally happen to love any and all things cute, and Yoshi just might be the Cutest Creation in the History of Cute Things. His voice makes me squeal. His hover-kick makes me giggle. His scream when he falls makes me bawl with laughter each and every time I hear it. And when composer Kazumi Totaka combines multiple Yoshis into a Yoshi choir, I melt at the gloriously endearing sound of slightly-out-of-tune love.

All of the music in this game is completely adorable, and that includes Baby Bowser's Lullaby. This theme plays during dungeon levels, and I am CONVINCED that it is a clever musical homage to a Late-Romantic piece of music: Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky's Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. For those of you who are unfamiliar with where this piece comes from, it is a segment of the extremely famous ballet The Nutcracker. I'm sure almost everyone is familiar with at least the name of this ballet, but we are probably most familiar with the pieces that make up The Nutcracker Suite, a concert piece comprised of eight numbers extracted from the ballet. One of these pieces is Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy; take a listen to it real quick. Now go listen to Baby Bowser's Lullaby. Pretty similar, right? Obviously the two pieces begin to deviate after the first few bars, but I'd wager just about ANYONE listening to them would notice the similarities right away.

First big question: was this intentional? I have absolutely no idea! But it does seem like an awfully big coincidence to me that the instrumentation, texture and melody line are SO similar between the two pieces. Now for the second big question: if it was intentional, should this be considered stealing? As in, stealing another person's ideas? And if so: is stealing actually bad?

Igory Stravinsky once said: "Good composers borrow (ideas from other composers), great composers steal." What does this mean? Basically, composers very often draw off one another for compositional ideas. It sounds a little sketchy at first; "stealing" ideas is something we commonly refer to as plagiarism, and you can get into HUGE trouble for that in the literary world. But just like in literature ,dance, theater or music, artists are free to borrow ideas and rework them in new ways to create new, unique pieces. We hear it all the time when musical artists talk about their influences. I was watching American Idol a few weeks ago and I remember a contestant saying "I'm a mixture of Shakira and early Madonna." Did that bother anyone? Did anyone accuse her of "stealing" those artists' voices? Of course not! Look at all of the songwriters who create songs about their own personal experiences. Their music is influenced by their own lives, so why shouldn't music be influenced by other composers' music? Obviously, you can't steal the entire first movement to Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, but if you liked his idea of the three-note rhythmic motive that is the core of the first movement, then why not take it and rework it in a brand new way?

Obviously, there is a point at which borrowing crosses the line into truly stealing. This happens more often in pop music than in classical music. For example, Huey Lewis felt his song "I Want a New Drug" was plagiarized in Ray Parker Jr.'s "Ghostbusters." Even I noticed this one when I first heard the songs. There were a few instances where members of the Beatles were involved in various plagiarism lawsuits. So, you obviously can't take someone's entire song and just change the lyrics, or vice versa for that matter.

BUT, there are situations in which it is permitted to directly quote another composer's work in your own. This is aptly known as musical quotation, and it can be done for many reasons; for example, parody, or commenting on another composer's work. In the song “Beethoven Day” from the musical You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown, there are several quotes of famous Beethoven pieces that make us laugh in recognition when we hear them. Quoting in a programmatic work (a composition with an accompanying story, like an opera or a video game) is often done for characterization purposes. For example, using the Star Spangled Banner to accompany an American soldier character, as Puccini did in Madama Butterfly.

So now that we all understand the difference between borrowing, stealing and quoting LOL let's get back to Baby Bowser's Lullaby (sheets). Let's look at what similarities the piece has to Sugar Plum Fairy. The instrumentation, for one; the combination of the contrabass pizzicato, celeste and bass clarinet is very distinctive. Next, we've got that pizzicato bass pattern; slightly different between the two pieces, but close enough that the connection can be made. The celeste melody and its supporting chords are also very similar to the original. And the descending clarinet run in m. 10 is a direct quote from Sugar Plum Fairy. The piece deviates quite a bit towards the end—the long, sustained melody is brand new, and there are definitely no castanets in The Nutcracker--but you get my point. This piece is too similar to Tchaikovsky's for me not to assume it was done on purpose.

So! Did Kazumi Totaka borrow, steal or quote? My personal vote is that Baby Bower's Lullaby is intended to be a parody of Sugar Plum Fairy by way of quoting. There is a certain dark innocence to Sugar Plum Fairy, which is dramatically exaggerated when paired with Baby Bower's dungeons instead of dancing fairies. I think it also alludes to the fact that dungeons are full of tricks and traps, and Yoshi has to step pretty lightly to survive—like a sugar plum fairy :-D Don't get me wrong—I certainly don't think Totaka researched Late-Romantic Russian ballets for inspiration when writing for Yoshi's Story, but who knows, maybe he was looking at the beta images for the first Bowser dungeon and thought “You know what would be cute and ironic? Sugar Plum Fairy.”  It's really quite hilarious to quote such a famous piece in a game that could not be farther from the story of The Nutcracker. Especially when Baby Bowser is anything but innocent.

Again, we don't know that any of this was intentional--the only way to find out would be to ask Totaka himself LOL--but intentional or not, the song worked great, right? Because bottom line, this is Baby Bowser we're talking about here. King Bowser deserves epic, frightening music for his dungeons, but Baby Bowser is, in fact, a baby. It wouldn't make sense for him to have a choir, organ and drum corps accompanying his childlike dungeons.  Thus, we have a little dose of celeste ;-) I think Baby Bowser's Lullaby was really a very clever way to convey that Baby Bowser is the bad guy, but reminding us that this game is about Yoshis and therefore will have cute music at all times--even if that cute music is occasionally slightly demented :-P

On a final note: Igor Stravinsky actually was not the first to say "good composers steal." That famous quote is actually from T.S. Elliot, speaking about poetry ("Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal"). Stravinsky actually stole his own quote about stealing. OH THE IRONY!!!

Enjoy this week's arrangements for Yoshi's Story's Baby Bowser's Lullaby, Love Is In the Air, Super Mario Kart's Star Power and Super Mario World 2's Flower Garden. More on the way!

I recently finally got to sit down and play through the entirety of Super Mario Galaxy. I haven't really read any professional game reviews about it, but personally, I LOVED this game. Everything including the level design, the completely beautiful construction of the Comet Observatory as the galaxy map, the occasionally excruciating Prankster Comet challenges, Luigi's complete adorableness...and especially the music. I am addicted. It is now officially my dream to perform this music in an orchestra someday. I was surprised to learn that most of the music was not composed by Koji Kondo, but by composer Mahito Yokota. Not only are some of the tracks BEYOND EPIC (Melty Molten Galaxy, Gusty Garden, Bowser Battle), but there are also some throwbacks to old themes from earlier Mario games (Toy Time Galaxy, Nostalgia 1), as well as some really soft, moving tracks that reflected the sweet, sentimental aspects of the plot (Bunnies, Sad Story). I don't want to spoil the ending for anyone who hasn't beaten it yet, but this was a pretty deep Mario game; it had a lot of references to the circle of life, life after death, etc. And this from a franchise that started out as, in the words of my friend Mallory, “A plumber who jumps down pipes.” :-P Mario, you have a-certainly a-come a long way.

Which brings me to the point of this article! So, while I was getting some arranging work done for a few clients this week, I put on some Super Mario Galaxy tracks to listen to, which inspired me to randomly asked on Facebook, “What are everyone's favorite tracks from this game?” Most of the votes were for Gusty Garden, which I think turned out to be kind of the iconic Galaxy theme. And one of my friends, in addition to his vote, sent me the link to this completely awesome interview with the music and sound design team of Super Mario Galaxy. This is, by far, one of the coolest articles I've ever read on video game music. It interviews the composers and sound designer of the game and really digs into how they tried to make this game unique, but still retain the “Essence of Mario.” It's such a great, in-depth look at not only the music of Super Mario Galaxy, but the entire Mario series as a whole. I'm not going to paraphase the entire article here, you just need to stop and read it right now LOL—but I will say that I practically fell out of my chair when I read the section where Yokota talks about his original conception for the game. He mentions at one point that he had always thought Mario games had a lot of—I kid you not--Latin influences.

I couldn't believe it!! I mean, this blog is just a collection of my own ideas and takes on music in video games. I try not to be a “reviewer,” I don't want to judge a soundtrack as being “good” or “bad,” I just want to talk about the music itself, the different techniques composers use to construct their pieces, and what I personally hear when I listen to the music. So it was a really special moment for me to know that such a renowned, talented composer such as Mahito Yokota heard the same Latin influences in Mario music as I did—and that we were both kind of backwards in the way we were thinking! While Yokota and I both heard some pretty distinct Latinesque influences (sometimes as simple as just bongos and steel drums), Kondo states in the Iwata interview that he was never actually conscious of his Latin tendency. It was something that kind of popped out from time to time, but only when it suited the game.

Let's quickly return to my post from a few weeks ago: Why did Latin music suit Super Mario Kart so well? I think it had to do with the rhythmic qualities to Latin music. It gets your feet tapping, makes you feel like moving; basically, it excites you. And I think a racing game needs exciting music to make it work. I'm sure there are examples out there of racing or driving games with calmer music that disproves this theory, but if we're talking about Super Mario Kart, a game in which you are desperately trying to trip up your opponents with banana peels and blast them off the track with a well-timed lightning bolt. I think it calls for some pretty heart-pumping musical action. So Latin music worked perfectly for that game, and many of the following Mario Kart and Mario Party games.

But when Yokota wrote 28 tracks of Latin space music and Kondo rejected them, it was like a slap in the face. He was pretty upset. There are a plethora of Mario games in which samba rhythms and steel drums worked just fine, why wouldn't it work for Super Mario Galaxy? That's when Kondo showed Yokota the light: he had it backwards. Yokota was trying to copy the “Mario sound,” when really, he should have been writing music that suited the game. In truth, there is no exact formula for a Mario sound; Mario is made up of many sounds and styles and genres, Latin is just one of them. And to try to copy any of the preceding Mario games would be a mistake, because there is no Mario game like Super Mario Galaxy. It's not Mario in a go-kart, Mario in a doctor's coat or even Super Mario 64. This is freaking Super Mario Blasting Through Space, and therefore a full-fledged symphony orchestra and scary Bowser choir is in order. Once this fact was realized, Yokota and Kondo really came together and were able to create such an amazing, epic, orchestral, unique soundtrack for Super Mario Galaxy.

Check out this other, fairly recent interview with Kondo, where he talks more about his work with the Mario series as a whole, and his own personal musical influences. Very cool and informative as well!  Lastly, enjoy this week's arrangements from Super Mario Galaxy: Bunnies, Power Star, Sad Story and Space Junk Galaxy! More on the way!

For those of you who caught the New Jersey show in December, you and I had the great honor of meeting one of the original composers of the Castlevania series, Kinuyo Yamashita! Not only is she extremely talented but she is also an absolute sweetheart, it was such a pleasure to meet her. It inspired me to do a couple of more early Castlevania arrangements and talk about its iconic theme, Vampire Killer. This blog entry is a little broader than just Castlevania, but Vampire Killer is a great example of how powerful and nostalgic game music can become.

I'm a big fan of the Zero Punctuation game reviews on The Escapist. If you like hilariously brutal honesty, this is the reviewer for you. One of the many things he tears apart are the tendencies of platforms to reuse the same game franchises over and over—i.e. Mario, Zelda—instead of creating entirely new games. I do agree with him, to a point. There are so many unique stories, characters, places, etc. that we can create through video games, and sometimes ONLY through video games. (check out Zero Punctuation's review of Silent Hill 2).

But the flipside to that argument is the amazing feeling of nostalgia that comes with every new game in a franchise. If I had to draw a parallel, a game franchise is like a series of books; you've got to have some newness and some oldness to make it work. Take The Chronicles of Narnia, for example: same world, same setting, but different characters, plot and time period. Or the Song of Ice and Fire series, which is basically a story arc: same world, same time period, same characters, one continuous story from start to finish. Or an anime series like Death Note, where the entire story is entirely told in short chapters.

Same opportunities with game franchises. There are way too many to list, but just think of all of the franchises that exist that have more than one game; Halo, Super Mario, Legend of Zelda, Sonic, Kingdom Hearts, Mortal Kombat, I'm just rattling these off of the top of my head. And while a book can only use the characters, plot and setting to tie a series together, a game can use a very special element, often one of the most important of all: the music.

Don't get me wrong; plenty of franchises, including some of the ones I listed, use brand new music from game to game. But I think a special brand of awesomeness accompanies games that at least reference the music of preceding games; the music is a big part of what gives a game character and atmosphere. So if a composer writes a piece of music for a game that captures it perfectly, it makes sense to use it again in the second game. It's like the music is a separate character in and of itself; without it, the game just doesn't make sense. Or if it doesn't utilize the same melodies from earlier games, the game can have a similar sound and style. Let's face it, Banjo-Tooie would NOT have worked if it didn't have that same kooky cheerfulness as Banjo-Kazooie.

But often, the oldest, most popular game franchises do tend to reuse certain musical themes, and they seem to become even more awesome and lovable over time, i.e. the Vampire Killer theme from Castlevania. How is it that we can listen to the theme from game to game, over and over again for over 20 years? Answer: the art of theme and variation. Just like in a classical t&v, if you can create a catchy, memorable melody and then mess with it over and over again for twenty minutes, you're golden. That combination of old and new in a t&v is pretty much a perfect way to get a lot of mileage out of one melody.

We didn't play much Castlevania in my house when I was a kid, but I've listened to the music quite a bit and I really enjoy the dark, gothic style, perfect for a game about vampires. And almost every game contains a theme that was written for the very first game: Vampire Killer. I've transcribed two versions of this,Vampire Killer from the original Castlevania (sheets, audio) and from Castlevania 3 (sheets, audio). What's the same? The melody. What's different? A few things: the bass in Deja Vu has a much lower range. The texture in general is more active, there's more percussion going on. Basically, although the changes are rather subtle, I'd call Deja Vu a “more exciting” version of Vampire Killer.

Now prepare to be pulled through a time warp of undead awesomeness, because the franchise reuses the Vampire Killer theme about fifty bazillion times throughout the series, and it's so different every time they do it! I stumbled upon this great video on Youtube: it's literally a musical timeline of the Vampire Killer theme. Take a listen to it, listen for the changes between each version, and see if you can describe it in words! Think melody, key, texture, style, instrumentation, tempo, etc. As we move along the timeline, the composers tend to take more liberties with the arrangement, but still have most of the original melody. It's the perfect example of what I've been talking about for this entire post: all the Castlevania games have new, different stories, characters and music, but they all have an appearance of this one, memorable, iconic theme, which helps to tie the whole series together and remind you of how far the franchise has come and how much the story of Castlevania has grown!

Enjoy the new arrangements for Castlevania's Out of Time, Castelvania 2's Bloody Tears, Castlevania 3's Deja Vu and (random) Mega Man 4's Dive Man! More on the way!

So I don't know about you guys, but when I was little I was ADDICTED to Super Mario Kart. My family didn't have Super Nintendo, but one of my aunts did; it was a real treat for my siblings and I when we'd go to visit her and get to play the SNES. While my parents and the rest of my adult relatives played card games like Phase 10, my younger cousins and sibligns and I would race over to the TV to pop in Super Mario Kart. And I swear to you, half the fun for me was just listening to the ridiculously cheerful music that accompanied every level. The music had an undeniable grooviness that I thrived on when I was younger. Looking back on the music now, I realize that the music from that game is a combination of rock/pop drumbeats, original tracks from Super Mario World and—get this—Latin dances. I have several Super Mario Kart arrangements posted on the Arrangements page already, and I'm adding some new ones this week. Let's dive into these Latin styles that will forever remind me of the sadistic joy when Lightning Bolting somebody straight into the ocean on Koopa Beach 2.

Here's a confession: I am a terrible dancer. Second confession: I am also a HUGE “So You Think You Can Dance” freak. I LOVE dancing shows, I live SO vicariously through watching other people dance, it just looks so utterly joyous and carefree and fun! And if you've ever watched any dancing show at all, you've probably heard the terms samba, mambo, salsa, cha-cha, rumba etc. In the ballroom world, these are referred to as Latin dances. I am by no means an expert on Latin dance, but from what I understand, these types of dances originate in Latin America, Cuba or Puerto Rico, and several of these dances actually correspond with a musical form. We heard this word before when I spoke about Super Mario World and the theme & variations, which originated in European music. The word form can refer to a grand, overarching architecture of a piece (theme and variations), or it can refer to very small, compact ideas and styles that give a form its character (dance form).I just want to make that clear before I go on, because different cultural styles use the word “form” in different contexts. So, the dance forms we look at are not necessarily these big, broad outlines for an entire piece of music, but instead a collection of small compact ideas and elements that a composer would use to create the piece.

The music for Super Mario Kart was not composed by Koji Kondo; it was composed by relatively unknown composers Soyo Oka and Taro Bando, who worked on a number of early Super Nintendo games. (Kondo and Oka did however work together on the original Pilotwings!) The music from Super Mario Kart has a very unique and definitive sound to it; as I said before, it's mixture of 80's rock, original tracks from Super Mario World, and Latin-style dance music. Latin dance is a very recognizable style of music, one of those “you know it when you hear it” things. Why is that? “It's dancelike!” you say. But why? What makes it dancelike? What is it about any song that makes you want to get up and dance a party? The answer is: rhythm. And Latin dance has very strong, definable rhythmic elements that are instantly recognizable. In relevance to Super Mario Kart, we'll be looking at the samba and the mambo in particular.

Now, I'll be the first to admit that I had no idea the samba and mambo were two distinct musical forms; I thought that when people referred to the samba or mambo, they were referring just to the dance steps. But in fact, the musical forms are very different. I found this great video on Youtube when I was doing research on Latin rhythms, musician Kristin Parker basically outlines the basic differences between a samba and mambo. For one, while they both have African roots, they originated in different places; mambo is a Cuban dance, while the samba is Brazilian. Another difference is the time signature; a samba tends to be in moderate 2/4, while a mambo is in a fast 4/4. Lastly, Each style has strong syncopation elements, but a samba's style tends to be a more laidback, mellow dance, while the mambo is intense and “party-like.”

In both types of dance, there is a LOT of percussion going on and it often subdivides the beat (i.e. four sixteenth notes to every quarter note beat). Typical Latin percussion includes the shaker, clave, bongos, conga drum, etc. Those have very particular timbres (sound quality) that we identify as being Latin in nature. At this point, I encourage you to watch Kristin's video and listen to her examples of each dance, they'll give you a better idea of what we're talking about. Much easier to just listen to the music, rather than describing it in words, I find ;-)

So now that we have a very basic background of what these pieces sound like, let's look at the music of Super Mario Kart! I think we can find some good examples of each dance style here. I think we can safely say that a few tracks are decidedly not Latin; Rainbow Road sounds more like rock to me, and Bowser's Castle and Ghost Valley are both taken from Super Mario World. Mario Circuit is hard to place because it's got the bongo sound, and the piano creating the Latin-like syncopations; but the presence and rhythm of the punchy bass and snare drums makes me think of a rock or pop sound, so let's call Mario Circuit a crossover piece (It's also completely AWESOME when it appears as a remix in Super Smash Brothers Brawl.)

Samba first! I think the best example of a samba in this game is Vanilla Lake (sheets, audio). The tempo is about quarter = 112, a pretty moderate tempo. I can distinctly hear the syncopated percussion, which is comprised of lighter instruments (bongos, shaker). There is also syncopation in the guitar. Lastly, the style of the piece, to my ear, is very laidback and easygoing. So considering the tempo, timbre, and flavor of this piece, I think we could consider this a samba.

What other pieces are sambas in Mario Kart? I'd say Koopa Beach (sheets, audio) as well; the tempo is slightly faster than Vanilla Lake, around quarter = 120, but the melody is pretty smooth and mellow. The bongo is providing that subdivided syncopation that we also heard in the shakers of Vanilla Lake. I'd call it a samba. I'm also tempted to call Choco Island (sheets, audio) a samba--it's roughly the same tempo as Koopa Beach--but something about that piece feels less laidback to me. It could be that it has faster harmonic rhythm (the chord changes happen faster) than Koopa Beach and Vanilla Lake; the percussion break in the middle is pretty active as well, I wouldn't describe it as being laidback. So Choco Island might be somewhat of a crossover between these two styles (or perhaps another Latin style entirely...)

Now for the mambos! Donut Plains (sheets, audio) is the first one that popped in my head. I was a little uncertain of it at first, because it's rather happy and lighthearted, and I think mambos generally have a darker, more intense sound. However, it's tempo is faster than most of the other tracks, around 138 bpm, and it has that 4/4 drive feeling that Kristin speaks about in her video. The choice of percussion for this track is a little heavier than the samba tracks, more drums and whistles and less shaker. I'd also put the Title Theme into this category; the tempo is the fastest out of the entire game around 140 bpm, it contains a lot of syncopation, it's heavy on the percussion and has a pretty active harmonic rhythm. The overall more intense sound and faster tempo makes me think it must be a mambo.

Now I've been speaking exclusively about the music for the racetracks, just to keep this post focused--I challenge you to go listen to the character themes and decide which ones are influenced by Latin dance! For example, try Luigi's Theme (sheets, audio). Samba, mambo, or something different? Test your listening skills! ;-)

The interesting thing is that even though Latin dance music works SO well for Super Mario Kart, the Latin style is not tremendously similar to Kondo's work on the preceding platformer Super Mario games; I find that those games have more of an element of ragtime to them. But it's around this point in time that Mario games do start to gain an occasional Latin feel, i.e. the Special Zone from Super Mario World; later on, the title theme to Mario Party has crazy Latin percussion going on, as well as samba-like the Mini-Game Stadium (both composed by Yasunori Mitsuda). And the Overworld Theme for the New Super Mario Bros. has an EXTREMELY distinct samba feel to it. I wonder if the Latin influences in Mario started with Kondo's Special Zone in SMW? Or maybe it didn't really start taking off until Oka and Bando's work in Super Mario Kart?...

So, to conclude, let me say again that I am no expert on Latin dances. If I've made any mistakes, feel free to call me out on them and correct me—that's how I learn! ;-) Again, I'm writing these blog posts from my own personal discoveries, and I'm sure I'll have a few misconceptions along the way. But let's remember that even though probably none of these tracks are perfect examples of sambas or mambos, the fact that the music has Latin influences at all is what makes the music so AWESOME. A real-life cultural style, Latin music, has been combined with a sound that is entirely Super Mario's; cheerful, carefree, cute, ridiculously happy. And together, these styles make amazing music that makes us tap our feet, snap our fingers, and recall with hatred how supremely infuriating it was to hit a banana peel just before the finish line and watch Donkey Kong Jr. steal first place.

Enjoy the new arrangements for Choco Island, Luigi's Theme and Princess Toadstool's Theme from Super Mario Kart! More on the way!

Hey peeps! Sorry about the lack of updates for the past few weeks, they've been pretty busy! I'm writing this on the VGL tour bus, as we begin our twelve hour drive to Wichita, Kansas for our fourth show of our two week tour. It's been a really great time so far! Performed some brand new segments which have gone really well, and premiered a new flute arrangement! :-D We just had a day off in Chicago which was awesome—I got to check out the Museum of Natural History, and went to my first ever NHL hockey game, where I witnessed a fistfight, a pane of plexiglass fall on a player's head, and a hockey stick fly violently into the audience. I think hockey is my new favorite sport.

Anywho! I've posted a few random arrangements this week, but the one I really want to dig into is "Heavenly Flight" from Dragon Quest III. Let me just say a big THANK YOU to David for sending this one to me--he sent me an email a while back to ask me if I was familiar with the Dragon Quest series, and sadly I was not at the time. But I listened to "Heavenly Flight," and man, I just fell in love! my best friend Mallory recently bought Dragon Quest VIII and was showing it to me last week--this soundtrack is absolutely gorgeous. It's all live symphony orchestra and man does it bring such an amazing epic feeling to the game. I definitely want to play through the whole game someday. I decided to start with the original "Heavenly Flight" from Dragon Quest III, but ALL OF YOU should check out this arrangement of the piece from VIII, it's BEAUTIFUL!

Let's talk about the texture first. This piece is comprised almost completely of arpeggios. An arpeggio is defined as a broken chord, where the notes are played or sung in sequence one after the other, rather than played simultaneously. And while I was reading the Wikipedia article on this, I found this very important point:

“In early video game music, arpeggios were often the only way to play a chord since sound hardware usually had a very limited number of oscillators, or voices. Instead of tying them all up to play one chord, one channel could be used to play an arpeggio, leaving the rest for drums, bass, or sound effects.”

Couldn't have said it better myself, Wiki. Remember when I talked about Castlevania's texture and how there were only 4 “channels?” In acoustic musical terms, this is like having a limit of four instruments. Four instruments vs. full symphonic orchestra means that some things are going to be different, because of the instrumental limitation. Same thing for channels—the less you have, the more creative you have to be about conveying basic musical things, like melody, harmony and rhythm.

Using the arpeggio is a great way to “convey” chords. If a composer writes a piece for solo flute, he's working with one “channel” of sound. A flute can only play one note at a time—so what happens if you want your music to have some kind of a chordal structure? You can't sound a bunch of notes at the same time. That's when you break out the arpeggios, baby—it breaks up a chord into individual notes that the flute can play, one right after another; the chord is present in the music without having been played as a “chord.”

And it also provides motion between notes, which is a cool and exciting effect! Playing each chord underneath the melody has a very different feeling than breaking the chords up into fluid arpeggios. Look at Heavenly Flight, for example—really, we're only working with two channels, if you think about it: melody and arpeggios. The arpeggios span many octaves, but we never have more than two notes playing at the same time. So with only two channels, this piece has melody, harmony and rhythm. Awesomeness.

Actually, one of the best ways to learn composition is to severely limit yourself with the number of instruments, and see what you can do. I know that when I first started writing, everything was for huge full orchestras and choirs and every instrument I could find in Finale—but with that many instruments and options and colors, it's hard to really get to know each instrument. Write a piece for solo trumpet and you'll REALLY start feeling creative—how do you make a piece work with one instrument? You have to find different colors and options within the context of that instrument and really push yourself to discover and explore what it can do. Do that with every instrument in the orchestra; then, the next time you write a symphonic piece, you'll be amazed at all of the colors and sounds you never knew existed!

Enjoy this week's arrangements for Heavenly Flight, Mario Party's Can It Be Done? and Ghosts n' Goblin's Stage 1 & 2! More on the way!

Heya folks! Gonna dive right in today: I talked briefly in in one of my other posts about the division of themes in this happy relic of my childhood; Koji Kondo associates certain melodies with certain types of levels of the game (i.e. the dark scary theme for castles and ghost houses, and the happier theme for pretty much everything else). But even though the melodic material is clearly the same between levels—we instantly recognize it when we hear it—there are many changes in the music that supports the melody. Accompaniment, key, meter, texture...there is, in fact, a name for this compositional technique, and it's a very cool one that has been in use for hundreds of years. It's called theme and variations.

Theme and variations is one of many musical forms, that dates back to the Classical period and is still in use today. First things first--what's a form? Well, form as you know is short for “formula;” musical forms are essentially different formulas for how material is organized in a composition to make it a cohesive piece. In layman's terms: form is what makes a piece make sense.

There are several basic forms that became popular during the Classical period (1700's and 1800's, Mozart and Beethoven's time), some of which are still in use today. There are entire libraries written about the Classical period, but one of the main things you should know is that, during that time period, music was supposed to appeal to the average listener; most of the people in concert halls did not have any sort of musical training at all, so the music was supposed to be easy for the audience to “understand,” i.e. easily recognizable melodies, phrases, harmonies, and of course, forms. There are tons of textbooks that talk about the forms of that period: sonata, rondo, scherzo, minuet and trio, etc...and of course, theme and variation (which I will know refer to as t&v).

Let's take a look at an example t&v; this example is aptly named “Variations on a Theme by Haydn,” by Romantic period composer Johannes Brahms. You certainly do not. need to listen to this entire thing to get the idea, but I encourage you to because it's AWESOME. When you listened to it, you probably said, “Hey, this piece is just the same basic melody, or harmony, or rhythm over and over again. Brahms just messes with it in different, crazy ways.” This is all part of the form called theme and variations (t&v). In t&v, you can literally vary ANYTHING: texture, instrumentation, rhythm, meter, key, register, harmony, etc. The possibilities are never-ending...which Brahms proved by writing twenty minutes worth of variations. He chose a theme by Classical composer Haydn, introduced it to you, and then varied different aspects of it throughout the course of the piece, while retaining some kind of recognizable elements of it.

“Cool...hey, wait! Isn't that what Koji Kondo did for the levels in Super Mario World?”

YES. YES IT IS.

I can't think of a more perfect example of theme and variation in the context of a video game. All the elements are there! Kondo created his main melody, and for the rest of the game, he messes with it. BAM. In a classical t&v, the theme is introduced first, and then the variations follow. Since the very first level we play contains the Overworld, then we call the Overworld the theme, and the rest of the levels following it the variations. Let's take a looksy (and you should listen to the tracks too, links on the Arrangement page!):

1) Overworld. Straightforward. Tuba hammers out the bassline, the jumpy banjo fills out the chords, and steel drum beats the melody in your face. Only in Super Mario World would all of those instruments work so perfectly together. Genius.
2) Underwater. The theme is now in a different meter; the original theme was in common time (4/4), while this variation is in a dreamy waltz (3/4).
3) Underground. In that low, percussive marimba, there's our friend, the ostinato! This is a perfect example of one of the most common uses of ostinato: as a variation technique. The composer can go completely nuts on the melody, harmony and rhythm of the theme, while the ostinato binds everything together.
4) Athletic. (No sheet music yet, sorry!) Now we've taken the theme and put it into a new musical style: a rag (short for “ragtime”). This is also a common way to vary a theme; for example, many composers have at least one movement that puts the theme into a “jig” format, which is a dance in 6/8. Lastly, it's in a different key.
5) Bonus Level. Almost forgot about this one! The changes in this one are not as drastic as in the other variations; it's been pushed to a more rapid tempo, with a new accompanimental pattern in the bass and steel drums. And of course, nonstop bongos. FTW.

Now, just to clarify: for game music to be considered t&v, it's not enough to just bring back the theme over and over again in a video game soundtrack. There's a difference between using a leitmotif (recurring theme) and actually constructing a classical theme and variation, where the variations are very distinct and clearly divided. But we'll talk about that more next time!

Enjoy this week's arrangements for Underground Theme, Bonus Level, and the map themes for Bowser's Valley and Special Zone! More on the way!