Like any musical microcosm, the world of film and video game scores is as niche as they come, and the fact that the music is such an integral and largely ignored part of what makes visual media work has already been documented. Is the best score one that remains unobtrusive, enhancing the visuals without taking on a solid identity of its own, or should a score cause you, at least once, to stop and think, wait, what was that? The best scores had me thinking a lot about this over the course of 2019, but I’m not the best person to answer this, especially as I continue to listen to most scores outside of their visual contexts. What makes a score satisfying for me takes place almost exclusively within the frame of the audio waves, and whether or not it stands on its own as an interesting work of music.
I was in luck: 2019 provided many scores to mull over and enjoy, without the need to spend extra time glued to a screen. There were more traditional scores, like Nathaniel Mechaly’s whimsical ode to Danny Elfman for Swoon and Martin Phipp’s The Aftermath. There were epic orchestral arrangements in the traditional style of scores of yore, from Geoff Zanelli’s Maleficent: Mistress of Evil and Hans Zimmer’s victory lap on The Lion King (the score only — I don’t care for the re-worked vocal pieces). There were modern scores for a handful of sequels, full of the kind of sound often reviled by traditionalists, like Kyle Dixon & Michael Stein’s synth-heavy work for the third season of mega-summer event Stranger Things 3, and Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard’s even synth-heavier work on John Wick: Chapter 3 — Parabellum, neither the best of their respective franchises, but still adept at wringing something fresh out of their third rodeos.
There were also some surprises, like Hildur Gudnadottir’s brilliant and haunting work for Todd Phillips’s Joker. Having heard and hated Gudnadottir’s work for the Grammy-Award-nominated Chernobyl, my expectations pooled somewhere in the gutter for this one, so what a shock to hear how eerie and sublime (in the traditional sense of sublime — the invoking of both fear and awe), this soundtrack was. Gudnadottir captures something ruthless, dark, and delicate about this movie and its subject, without resorting to the type of horror-movie cliches that riddle so many scores. Its simplicity makes it all the more effective, and though I’m at a loss to understand how someone who made Chernobyl could have crafted something so vastly different, I hope this bodes well for the type of variety we will see from the composer in the future.
Overall, I don’t think there were as many rich experiences as there were last year, but there was still strong material to sift through if you were willing to step out of your comfort zone and bury preconceived ideas about music for, say, television/serial programming, for which Netflix has been utilizing an amazing group of talent, such as Daniel Pemberton and Frederik Wiedmann. And though I wish there were more video game and anime soundtracks on here, I look forward to a day that more are made easily accessible. Until then, this list does a pretty bang-up job of underlining how eclectic and diverse the world of original scores are, and how rewarding it is to take the time to close your eyes and really listen.
Nathaniel Mechaly: Swoon // Martin Phipps: The Aftermath
Hans Zimmer: The Lion King // Craig Armstrong: Mrs. Lowry & Son
Hildur Gudnadottir: Joker // Adam Taylor: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, Season One
Tyler Bates & Joel J. Richard: John Wick: Chapter 3 — Parabellum // Kyle Dixon & Michael Stein: Stranger Things 3
Alexandre Desplat: Little Women // Geoff Zanelli: Maleficent: Mistress of Evil
Cris Velasco: Dauntless, Vol. 1
Daniel Pemberton: The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance Vol. 1
Rupert Gregson-Williams: Catch-22
Frederik Wiedmann: The Dragon Prince, Season 1
James Newton Howard: A Hidden Life