A Soul Made of Sound

Today… is a day to be heralded as nothing short of triumphant. After four long years of being away from home to support his family in desperate times, my father has finally come home—this time, for good. It’s been a long 1,200 days… my mother hasn’t been the same since he left, nor my brother and myself.

The very second he walked through that door, I no longer saw just my father, but a man who had greyed the hairs on his chin for his family—A King who stalwartly cast his gauntlet in vehement objection to the roll of the cosmic die and repeatedly rose against the crippling gravity of fate for his country. Now he returns home, road-weary, grey and battered—but with a crown adorning his head.

To honor the homecoming of my father, earned through blood and tears, I chose “Pride & Glory,” the theme of Guardia Castle in Chrono Trigger, to reflect this… magnificent moment, and to capture what would be blasphemous to say is anything less than a moment of unabashed, infectious mirth and jubilation. Even as I sit in my chair valiantly struggling to weave words to do justice to the inexplicable, pure joy that fills this house, I just can’t. As silver-laced as my tongue tends to be, this is one time I’m gonna just have to shut the fuck up and let words take a seat while the music does what they only distantly wish they could.

Though my Dad feels he’s made a few wrong turns, we saw that King Guardia, despite his shortcomings and follies, was willing to do everything in his power to atone to Marle after shouldering the burden of the loss of his wife—a sacred familial bond formed through tragedy. Though our situation isn’t quite the same, the obvious parallel to be drawn is my father’s staunch readiness to hoist the weight of the world to protect those he loves.

As the prosperity and pride of Guardia resonates through the stentorian bellows of the brass, so too does it ring throughout our home now that my Dad’s home to stay—perhaps starting an era of peace my family hasn’t seen since I was a little kid. Welcome home, Dad. I couldn’t be more proud of you—you earned this song.

This is “Jaws of a Scorched” Earth from Castlevania: Order of Ecclesia, and if any of you are familiar with the Castlevania series, then prepare yourselves for the brand of heresy if you don’t know the composer—Michiru Yamane!

This song plays in the Tymeo mountains, which is a mountain range whose landscape lends itself not only to the music, but the name: scorched. An ashen overcast, aloft in the sterile air betwixt the gaping maw of the mountain passes—lonesome—scorched, if you will. As Shanoa is apathetic in her trepidation, so does this song reflect: barren and stripped—melancholy. Bittersweet, maybe? What the hell, I love excessive expletives. Herp.

Having just moved to Oregon, the solemn trepidation of the song reflects how I feel every time I look out my window and see the mountains. Gorgeous as they are, leaving my home in New Hampshire 3,000 miles away leaves a bittersweet aftertaste. It has such a unique dual quality to it—tumultuous quietude—isolation, if you will. It’s also composed in my personal favorite key: C minor. C minor obviously lends itself more to sad songs, and while Jaws of a Scorched Earth resonates as a sad-sounding tune, Michiru Yamane’s awesome use of chromatics and bass movement in diminished intervals creates a hauntingly melancholic tonality. As a testament to this notion, listen to a Aquatic Ambiance from DKC—it’s in C minor, too! Pretty unreal difference, huh? Just goes to show you it takes a master to weave such a unique sound with such minor alterations.

I can’t wait until I can go hiking here sometime, now. Maybe I should focus more on Wintery songs so I don’t have to wait five goddamn months until I can start to fully appreciate songs in the appropriate environment. Can’t wait to feel those lonely mountain winds.