Tag: favorite songs

All-Time Favorite VGM

Tomoya Tomita – Credits theme for Kirby’s Epic Yarn

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3UgbY1WyVS8

How does Kirby, a sugary ‘for babies’ series, endure so much with a teenager like me? In my case, someone who didn’t grow up with it? For me, the escapism. Sometimes it’s a nice break to dive into a fictional world that needs no reason for it’s relentless cheer, or to make sense. A game like Epic Yarn is so set on making you relax and feel it’s warm nostalgia, against all odds and without forcing it, that I have to pay respect. “Staff Credits” demonstrates more than any Kirby music, and not many songs give me such inner peace in general. It was enough for me to get the game used for my old Wii! (“Cool Cave” helped.)

I heard “Credits” at a low point, where I realized those ‘it will be okay!!!’ songs were over-assuming and even ‘good news if you reblog’ posts weren’t working. So, when THAT melody hit (0:37), so elusive but so knowing and ever-fulfilled, it was like the moon lit a cave. It doesn’t assume or promise too much but I preferred this. Nothing but one of the warmest, most loving pianos to grace a video game, with high notes nothing short of precious. It’s a carefree feeling unique to happy childhood activities, but it fell asleep on itself and flew to space. The playground becomes a refuge. I’d put this on to fill the miserable silence or wind down before bed; it was just a good energy to put out there at any time. The definition of ‘sweet dreams’ in song.

Tomita knew his stuff when matching Yarn’s ’storybook’ theme, because “Credits” gets me reminiscing without coming from my past. After all, it’s the exact kind of ‘haunting credits theme’ feeling that would catch my ears all those years ago. I’m looking out the car window in awe, the moon’s peaking in on the night before a holiday. These moments where I felt comfortable with unknown things and noticed the beauty around me. Not everyday that music does this to me.

Dream Land may not exist, but Tomita did such a gorgeous job at capturing it’s harmony that it’s comforting to imagine for a few minutes alone.

See also: Milky Way Wishes

Songs that got me into music

Glass Candy – “Computer Love” (Cover of Kraftwerk)

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Few albums show me the range of colors and emotions in a synth like Glass Candy’s B/E/A/T/B/O/X. Johnny Jewel seems to pry out the richest analog tones possible here. It’s a masterful dance album that fills each corner with glitter, but never without melody or feeling. If you wonder why I got so obsessed with synths, look no further than here (and The Knife, but that’s another story).

“Computer Love” demonstrates with a heaven-sent take on my favorite Kraftwerk classic. You’d think seven minutes would wear it out. Instead, Johnny makes decadent variations on their melodies over and over, finding new sweet spots in the harmony. I could listen to that same echoing synth for much longer; it’s like a magnet. The almost operatic fluttering later on takes it to a whole new place.  B/E/A/T/B/O/X is a decadent album already, but “Computer Love” is a true journey. When I listen, I’ve entered some haven of digitized bubbles and flowers.

With this fountain of synths backing her, Ida No could douse her face in it. She gives that falsetto title-drop the pure frozen longing it needed. Critics labelled her goofy and ‘detached’, but songs like this show a warmer, gentler side to her that’s just as prominent. She has a barbie-doll glamor that makes a closer fit for a song like this. Ralf Hutter has his charms, but he’s not a big love-song type.

Something about this cover takes the loneliness further. With how they sequenced B/E/A/T/B/O/X, “Computer Love” provides a refuge in the face of paranoia (see “Candy Castle” and “Digital Versicolor”). The way I hear it, this version doesn’t wish for love alone, but for relief in general. It searches the ends of Earth, science, and fantasy for this.

Songs that got me into music

Cocteau Twins – “Pandora” (Treasure, 1984)

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I learned of Cocteau when I overheard “Amelia” from my sister’s room.  “Amelia” was interesting, but Liz Fraser’s singing baffled me at first.  “That’s their whole style”, she said. This seemed too ‘weird’ for me. But that was when “Pandora” came on, which changed my mind the second it hit that chorus. Before I knew it I was obsessing over dream pop and all things ‘atmospheric’. Like the Banshees, CTs showed me an atmospheric density I hadn’t thought possible before.

The melody’s rapid syllables could become too much, but Fraser’s voice makes it sound easy and free. Add guitar wash from Atlantis and her most angelic falsetto and every note feels like a fountain. For all I knew, they were playing those drums from under a well.

“Pandora” is one of those rare songs with a therapeutic quality, where I wish I could take a nap in it. I pictured a happy-sad farewell in some aquatic world, where someone watches their friend journey off. It’s somewhere between this and the purest daydream.

Complex emotions like these are part of Treasure’s power. It will evoke such grand, sublime images and feelings across time and space, but never one at a time.

Songs that got me into music

Siouxsie And The Banshees – “Into The Light” (Juju, 1981)

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‘A racket that mixed up Blondie with Siouxsie And The Banshees’; said one critic on Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Who were the Banshees?, I thought eight (!) years ago. Soon I found “Into The Light” on my sister’s iTunes by fluke and it blew my mind within seconds. I knew nothing about the new wave scene and the endless creativity within yet, so you could imagine my awe.

The song resembled a campfire with Siouxsie as the enigmatic storyteller. The guitar sizzled over Budgie’s drums like wood covered in flames. With this band, guitar worked more as the portal to their surreal worlds than a tool for beefy riffs. John McGeoch’s ‘Gizmo’ effect pedal played a big part in this. “Into The Light” has a raw instinct for sure, but they didn’t look past melody; it’s an agitated beast. Likewise, something vulnerable lies in Siouxsie’s defiant voice. Her lyrics insist on rhymes with ‘light’:

Our hearts entwine / a new horizon

Remember when / bleached into white

Your time again / kept out of sight

Standing in the light

I never wanted to be right

Now I’m attracted by the light

And blinded by the sight

What is this light? ‘I never wanted to be right’; it’s confessing something, it sounds defeated. Genius suggests a light-before-death scene, fitting the cosmic images though not confirmed. Either way, I couldn’t ask for a stronger delivery.

Key to Juju’s impact was how it found Siouxsie between her punk roots and later refinement. She reached a raw desperation (especially live) that wasn’t quite the same with earlier and later periods. As it took one jam-based take to record with improvised lyrics, this song came from pure impulse. It told me that spontaneous bursts can birth the best inspiration.

Go here for my Siouxsie gateway playlist if you’re unfamiliar.