On Art Music and Video Games

I remember hearing the start- up sound of the playstation for the first time. I was most likely at my (then) home in Tromsø. It started with a sound familiar to anyone passionate about classical music or should I say Art Music); The sound of an orchestra tuning. The thin A of the first violin started, then the cellos, then the brass. I thought; "This video- game console must be made for me". Gaming has never been high class, but the playstation stood out. It had a high price, was shiny black, and was defiantly rounded off - effectively preventing anything to be put upon it and thereby securing it a prime spot in the living- room.

That year was the first one I lived by my self. It was a somewhat lonely experience - but also a liberating one. I learned many things about my self. For one; that It's really not healthy for me to live by my self. I like being alone - but overindulging in that respect tends to lead to depression. However, all that solitude gave me a lot of time to pursue my artistic interests. I left elfwood behind, and took a step up into the art world. I was also developing pretenses to really like classical music. It might not sound like a positive thing - but no one likes all art music or all jazz at the very beginning. It's like coffee - you have to acquire a taste - after which you simply love it. Another thing happened; I took up singing in a choir. I became a tenor - sitting next to full- time music students, and other musical nerds. One of our first tasks that fall was singing a piece by Brahms called Ständchen. In the middle of singing I found my self almost moved to tears. The music was so powerful - and standing in the middle of it all, partaking in the ritual that is a choir practice, was just magnificent.

I never thought that liking classical music would ever be combined with my love for video- games. Those two worlds just seem so far appart. A more natural fit was always electronic music - which in any case we inherited from the 8- bit era of the late 80's. For the most part classical music entered the video- game business with the dawn of 2nd generation consoles. The higher fidelity of the playstation and the xbox meant that developers could start incorporating full orchestral scores into their games. A memorable example is Halo - with it's distinct intro music consisting of a lot of clear and clean Es, Final Fantasy X and Shadow of the Colossus. The music was important - it elevated the gameplay and created a tension in the atmosphere that sendt shivers down our spines and made our palms sweaty.

From then music has developed a much richer history. Rhythm games rose to prominence, then waned for over exposure. Later music was incorporated into the gameplay in subtler ways - such as Vincent Diamante's excellent score for Flower by Thatgamecompany, where his sparse piano- tunes were punctuated by light tinkles as you (playing the character of the wind) picked the petals of waiting flowers.

In some ways video games is the ultimate art form - incorporating all those that came before into a single piece. There is play- acting, movies and sculpture - and music. Still - I feel that music has been unique in that it's been given such a prominent place. Like in the early days of film - games are, excepting ambient sounds, mostly silent. Games often last 40 ours - writing dialogue for the whole experience would be incredibly hard, and moreover, not desirable. The game that came closest was Grand Theft Auto IV with it's 9000- page script. But the incessant dialogue was a frequent point of complaint from reviewers and gamers alike. It falls to music to fill up the sound space - and a good or bad score can make or break a game. But mostly break.


I understand the incredulous looks of parents - as children toil away at a Pokemon game - the nerve- racking midi music repeating itself endlessly to mask the silence of speech bubbles (Got'ta catch them all!). Adults don't stand the same "musical" punishment - and shy away from this aural abuse.


Between music being used as a filler, and music being used as a mood regulator, it's always a pleasant surprise when I find something worth listening to as a standalone track. One such game is the indie title Sword & Sworcery EP. It looks and sounds like the game creator and music creator shared vision. And I believe that's why they also share the game- title. But the music was decidedly 8- bit inspired. Not per se Art Music. To find that I had to download another title by the name of Echocrome.

Echochrome

Echochrome is simultaneously difficult and simple. It has very sparse visuals. Mostly black and white lines and dots. It is a puzzle game where you control an artists doll, or rather the world of that doll; which you rotate and twist to help this figure navigate. The doll should walk to a few set locations, and then return to it's original position. The core mechanic is that relative perspective dictates reality; so that if you hide, say; a hole behind a pillar, that hole then doesn't exist.  The visual design is simple, elegant and thereby legible. If the game was any more chaotic, gameplay would have suffered. However, with a few black lines on a white background and a white space, how could you possibly fill that emptiness with enough interestingness to hold a players attention? Enter the music by Hideki Sakamoto.

Sakamoto designs music for games as a living. He has contributed to, amongst other titles, Yakuza 2 and Castlevania Judgement. If you start the music player at the top - you'll hear a track from Echocrome. The music is charactericed by strong themes, sparcity and a kind of thematic independence which I find refreshing. The progressive tempo, and the small ensemble help to bring out a sense of urgency in the gameplay. It is also one of the most memorable pieces of game- music ever to come out.

Unfortunately, just like modern art music, Echochrome is decidedly fringe. The sales figures are too low to even register properly at ranking sites - except of in Japan where it achieved a measly 80.000- something downloads. But poor sales need not reflect poor quality - a truth sorely reflected in Echocrome.

Any and all of us with interests that combine in such odd ways should praise themselves lucky to live in our modern connected world. The instantaneous and world- wide markets make possible the smaller and riskier ventures that dear to be a little avant garde and aspire to high- art, or at least to challenge gamings "pop- industry". (Let's leave the discussion of which is which for later). One last example which I find just as endearing as Echochrome is Proun. A game combining jazz and the paintings of Lissitzky. It's colours and music shine, bloom and twirl just as much as the gameplay. If there's anything to learn from this mishmash of art forms, it is that gaming really lends itself to these inspired combinations - and that when we embrace the best from several worlds we can create unique experiences. Some might say that goes without saying. I'm saying; we haven't seen anything yet.

The "Is this art"? discussion is now largelly finished for gaming. Now the question is; when are we going to start producing art that is worth- while to consume? What would a game with high artistic merits look like? Is it possible to differentiate between entertainment and art?

Possibly the question is wrongly put. A the start of the 20th century professors of various american universities were discussing - when should America get it's Bach? All the while Louis Armstrong where playing the river boats and orchestras - quickly becoming the most emulated horn- blower around - and since going on to transform music forever. Then again, those transformations happened in music, and will never happen in the same way again. We have here the dual example that says; Innovation must follow it's own path, and possibly cannot be helped by the dawning of a new artistic era in other art forms.

If high art is, as Bourdieu says, characterized by it's increased complexity, and thereby inaccessible to the uneducated (or uninterested), then we should perhaps look to games in which interaction is more demanding, it's semantics deeper and it's metaphoric allusions more obscure - one might actually have to refer to the pretenses of the author (as coders are also called) to find the art games; in which case I think Jonathan Blow would come out on top. He has expressed disappointment that even professional reviewers couldn't find the deeper meaning in Braid, and so missed out on it's claim to high- art. I am inclined to disagree. Braid has it's merits, but it's repetitive music and sub- par animation displeases me - and it's try- and- fail style gameplay may fit it's overall narrative - but the emotions the endless repetitions and failures elicit in the player certainly don't - and as such I think the game is a failure.

Ironically two of gamings champions don't much care for the art/entertainment demarcation; namely Fumito Ueda and Shigeru Miyamoto - respectively behind Shadow of the Colossus and the Mario and Zelda series. Miyamoto- san is to gaming as Armstrong was to Jazz. His style has been emulated and his influence is incalculable. A hallmark of them both is how non- linguistic raw gameplay elicits equally non- linguistic and raw emotion from us - driving forth a narrative that is not explicit but internal. In concordance with Bourdieu, these are unaccessible to the untrained - the difficulty of the controllers would quickly tear away any enjoyment of flow. Incidentally the music of the mentioned games have been incredibly important - setting moods and creating memories. So powerful have they been, that professional symphonic orchestras have dedicated themselves to playing only game- music, of which the sounds of Zelda, Mario and Shadow of the Colossus has been well represented.

And in the end I think it is this rolle that music will play within the game universe - just as a small part of a bigger vision. A games music isn't something that comes in addition to "core" elements, like gameplay, but is rather just one of the many parts constituting it. And so you get the familiar asynchronous relationship; art music doesn't make an art game, but an art game confers it's artsy- ness to the music. There are many prominent examples of this - but maybe the foremost is seen in Fez (my review) where the music has the same relation to you as your perspective has - only showing to you the tunes concurrent with the games ontological status. (I know - I could have said that much simpler - but it was so much fun!) Again though: When the world changes, so does the music; most notable in the game's superb ending sequence.

In the end, when we ask the question; What is the relationship between art music and video- games? The answer must be twofold: Art music can be a part of a game, such as in Proun and Echochrome, or the music in a video game may be given that status by constituting one of the many elements of an art game. Lastly the personal perspective. Must we be, so to speak, literate in all the artforms constituting the game to properly appreciate it? As with the question the answer is personal - and must forever be. Because like any artform - no game is complete without a player.

Returning to Honningsvåg

Coastal Steamer coming in to Honningsvåg

I’m in Honningsvåg; the largest town in the municipality of North Cape. But still o so small. Even now, seven years after I moved away, I still recognize at least a third of the faces that pass me in the street. Luckily they don’t recognize me. I’ve disguised my self by help of the old mustache and glasses trick. Fresh from my bachelor study in sociology, I am happy to put on the hat of observer, exploiting that hard- earned half crocked look at my own place of origin.

It is tempting to say that Honningsvåg is a city of opposites. Bright and full of life in summer, dark and devoid of life in winter. But that is just apparently true. (Things that are apparently true, are in fact not.) Winter places a blanket of snow on the island that shuts people into their own homes. There they take all the creativity they previously used for the summer festival, and start preparing the winter festivities. In the christmas, music shows and cabarets pop up, created by the local inhabitants. It’s not professional, its better than that; It’s local. All standup is normally based on what common denominator the up- standing person can predict the audience has. But the cabarets can be downright personal. And personal can be extremely funny. The jokes have a harsh north norwegian tone, but that’s okay. People who stick their heads into publicity, expect people will take a few crack- shots at them. It’s satire silly.

The creative tour the force that is Honningsvåg is never dormant, just diannually encapsulated by the snow - waiting to spring out in it’s two best seasons, summer and christmas. These two periods of the year, mark the return of family of friends from their self imposed exile. The returned are markedly happy to be back in that special way reserved for those who’s glorified memories can fuel them for a week or two. The returnés are happy to be home, and happy to be spending some of that well- earned money in Honnigsvåg. But they have a lot to thank the residuals for.

The residuals are the makers and retainers of the culture. Those who stayed behind. It is hard to say why someone stay, and someone leave. Mostly those from my class left to get some sort of higher education. Most of those who stayed home now have children. I suspect that is to be expected, they often took jobs right after hight school, and quickly bought a house, a car and a dog. Then the child. Then they make cabarets, music shows, and join the hiking association. Well - some of them do.

The same names circulate the very limited number of sheets in the local paper. (I wouldn’t recommend trying to see an eclipse through it). Many of them were actually not originally locals, but there is a good mix. Whatever they are, they are the agents. The ones who fuel the creativity of the island. They are often highly educated, and very interested in local life. Then there is the huge number of actors. But whatever position they can be said to have, they do it well. Even the disinterested are interesting, and the uninterested are at least partaking. A girl or boy, woman or man of North Cape are themselves to the fullest - and though that may be said about any person anywhere, I feel that often there is more person to be full of. As if, since the society is too small to be anonymous in, your only option by default is being extremely present.

But Magerøya kind of is that way. We don’t just have night and day; we have two whole months without sun, and two months with nothing but sun. We don’t just have small trees here, the tree line of Magerøya is beneath sea level. When there is a storm roofs are ripped of houses, when the snow melts rivers spontainously form on the roads. When Magerøya is something, it becomes that truly. And this quality is reflected in it’s people. When you grown up on Magerøya, then you are truly from Magerøya. It leaves a stamped imprint on your soul hard to rub off, and when it wanes people travel thousands of kilometers to have it re-imprinted.

My observations are based on prejudice. They are strange but entertaining. Still I suspect that Honningsvåg as a society tends to produce an outgoing personality, prepared to elbow their way through most social situations. I saw what happened when my father was introduced to the little island of Gran Canaria. He has a personal sphere so robust, it bumps into you with an almost physical quality. I wonder if that is the effect that many from Honningsvåg have when they move away. I my self, have a comparatively quiet demeanor to the average residual. I have been called an uncharacteristic Honningsvåging, and even I occasionally bump into people. As a man returning, I notice how much the residuals put into Honningsvåg. In many ways they lay down their lives for her.

We, the returned, have much to thank those who stayed behind for. So I guess I’m saying: Thank you.

Riding the culture wave

Hey
This is something I just noticed on big think. As you may or may not know, I'm currently in the state of rapture, for descovering all these great ideas about evolution, culture, the mind and more that propels my joy an creativity. Just today I listened to an interview with Paul Bloom of Yale university. He is a professor of developing psychology. The whole interview was in it self very interesting, but he praticularily said something about the personal exploration of taste that just struck a chord within me.

Two expressions: 1: "Exposure effect": The effect that the more you experience of it the more you like it.
2: "The inverted u- shape": First you kind of don't like it, then you like it more and more until finally you start getting bored with it.

The thought I came up with I call riding the wave to sophistication. (Sophistication means developed by experience). So, while experience, for instance, music you can start out simple, learn the ropes, and when you are about to tip the boredom mark, move on to something similar but more challengig. In (some sort of quazi) theory you could ride that succession of waves right on to the edge of your cognitive ability. Until the music becomes so complex you won't be able to "understand" it, or until with food, you can't hold any more tastes in your mind, or with squash, the game becomes to complex. I mean, this theory is very positive in my view. It means that as long as you enjoy something, there is only one thing to do; slowly evolve for the better.

The downside to this, is that if you always evolve your taste or ability in this way, the materials of your pleasures tend to become more expensive. Well, that is, supposing there is a linear way to go when it comes to these things. When discussing these things there are almoast moral conciderations to take. Two things to ponder:

Is more complex really better? I know for a fact that Ravel's "Gaspard de la nuit: Ondine" is more complex than the "Shaun the sheep" intro melody, but does that make the music better? Perhaps it is just that the ability to enjoy the complex music is blocked for those lacking the experience, and not that there is something intrisically better with the music.

And also: Do we like things because they are exclusive? (complexity naturally excludes). The notion that this is only for me, because of my increased worth of a human being is a tantalizing thought, because it boasts our ego. And we for some reason like getting our egos boasted. Not only does the complexity exclude, but also the cost of many of the things we believe to be better. But keeping in mind the former paragraph, it might not even make sense to say that we need to be able to discern what has a fake elevated status because of is exentic value, and what should rigly be praised because of it's intrinsic value, because we have no way of impartially value one over the other.

Indeed. When not in the presence of a cognient entity with the aparatus to detect something as music, music would just be... sound. To us, removing humans from the world would... flatten it, for the lack of a better word.
Actually art is a good example, because we have such high thoughts about art.
We think that art becomes art, because the objects themselves are put in the "natural context" of being art; appreciated for their shape of form, or because it is in a gallery or similar environ. However, even when standing in an art gallery, there would be nothing whatsoever that would imply to you that this is important because this is an art gallery. You would only think this WAS an art gallery, and that within it was art, because long ago someone told you that this kind of space was exactly that.

These views are put forth rather more elloquently by Dr. Manhattan in the Watchmen graphic novel. The world is not composed of hope, faith, art, justice and beauty. The world is entierly made up of atoms, ordered in molecules and structures like salts. There is no room in newtonic or relativistic physics for love, or hate.

But why am I at all speaking of this? Am I in fact trying to imply, that because love and beauty does not exist, that it does not matter? Not at all! That something "matters" is in fact just another human invention.

But what other measure do we have?

So to answer some of the more answerable questions in this post. Exclusiveness is not a prerequisite for quality. That much stands to reason. But the notion of complexity however might hold some merit: Because in the action of unravveling the, to us, mysteries of this inherent complexity there lies a joy, and it is the joy which in this sense is important. In a sense, why we feel a good sense of accomplishement over enjoying Stravinsky or Chopin is not an important question at all. Merely that we do matter.

And it is here, that I think the knowledge of riding the cultural wave could be important. The message to us as thinkers is: If you stand still, you are in fact going backwards. The status quo is never non- action, it is movement. Da Vinci said it wonderfully:

"Iron rusts from dissuse, stagnant water looses it's purity. So also does inactivity sap the vigour of the mind."

But riding the wave is actually also moving forward. There is an end there to our endevours, which is represented in short by our intelligence. There is at least, only so much complexity my mind can handle.