Welcome back, my fellow creatives!

I’ve shared before that I am not good at storytelling when people sing. Any time I close my eyes to imagine a world, I seek instrumental music or ambiance videos to help concentrate my senses in the Otherwhere. This one, for instance, helped me slow down to imagine the Living Cosmic in my WIP.

But when such ambiance closes, the algorithm god steps in and sends me something similar, something I feel so foolish to have forgotten: Blade Runner.

Now I did speak of Vangelis back in 2017, so I’m going to share that post here. Then we’ll get into my addendum. 🙂

~*~ From 2017 ~*~

According to Bo, one of the queer bits of my sci-fi/fantasy upbringing was its lack of Blade Runner. “You watched Dr. Who, Star Trek, Star Wars, Highlander, Dune, but NOT Blade Runner?“

I admit, it seems strange Dad wouldn’t have watched it at some point. Maybe the cut available at the time really stunk–last I checked, there’ve been five different versions released. But this isn’t about all the various tellings of one story. A brief Internet search reveals that topic’s been talked to death and beyond. My focus turns to that which begins and ends the story, that which has not been altered: the music.

Vangelis (Evangelos Odysseas Papathanassiou) is a figurehead in the world of electronic music. Sure, everyone loves his song from Chariots of Fire, but truly, it’s his work on Blade Runner that proves to the world just how beautiful, captivating, and overwhelmingly powerful synthetic music can be.

So often synthesizers are used as a cheap alternative to an orchestra, but when it comes to Vangelis’ score, I think the massive variety of sounds and sound-textures would dilute the power of his music. There is unity in the synthetic, how all stems from the same source, yet branches out into so many different pitches, rhythms, and tones, that one still experiences an orchestra without the orchestra. And really, what other approach could better fit a movie about replicants hiding as real, living creatures?

You don’t know any of this in the beginning of the film, of course. In the beginning you have but a world: a city-scape that spills over the horizon, rusted and littered with fire-flares and lights more numerous than the stars. The opening zither-like run pulls us over the threshold. Rhythm isn’t as important here; we’re not rushed through the world, but rather allowed to float in awe. Harmonies move slowly as another synthesizer dances about like windchimes. The music does not intimidate, but it does not necessarily welcome, either. Reverence is the unspoken price to pay.

But for all the wonder in the beginning, the ending is where I set the repeat button. There’s no sense of wonder, no eye-opening as we experience with the opening track. No, here we are running, forever running with the rhythms slowly building, a new sound added every time. A timpani-like sound pounds, and the snare drum, a rare bit of “real” instrument in all the synthetic, has a peculiar tap at the end of each arc, almost like it’s clicking in reset to start anew. It’s not a melody of hope, nor of despair. There’s no certainty here. This is survival’s song.

Don’t let your characters gawk at their setting for long, for all is not well beneath the glittering surface. Press them onward, through the grime and fire, to that which all creations desire more than anything: the chance to live.

~*~ Present Day ~*~

Now it just so happens that there was a sequel to Blade Runner in 2017 called Blade Runner 2049. I finally watched it a few years ago, and while I wasn’t particularly impressed with the story or the acting, I was engrossed by the movie’s visuals and soundscape. Granted, I wouldn’t call it a typical soundtrack. Back in the 80s, Vangelis understood the power of treating the synth like an orchestra in the original film. I’m not sure Hans Zimmer and Benjamin Wallfisch followed through on that approach, but there are some highlights from their score worth mentioning.

The composers for 2049 work with the piano a bit more, though sadly, there isn’t a zither to be zounded anywhere. However, there is excellent use of the synthesizer to convey the eternal scale of The City. I really like the third track (“Flight to LAPD”), which encapsulates a sense of pursuit. That tension is built using lower bass sounds that evolve into the driving percussion for the track.

Given that it’s a synth score—and a Blade Runner movie to boot—there are plenty of low-key, somber tracks across both films where there isn’t much movement, just like the ambiance YouTube videos I actively searched for earlier. But let’s not end on such an ethereal note. Let’s end this focus on one more conflict, one more pursuit.

In “Sea Wall,” there’s an intense sense of violence, urgency, and combat created by a synth that sounds almost like a siren—a low alarm sweeping up and down. The alarms weigh down the listener as the percussion chases one through the dark, dank, and slick with future’s tragedy. Every beat sounds like a footfall closer to ruin, but we must press on. But at roughly the 2-minute mark, the alarms fade, the running stops. We are caught in the awe. The awe of what? Whatever your story reveals in that moment. Perhaps a world. Perhaps an embrace. Perhaps a truth. Perhaps a hope.

Sure, Zimmer and Wallfisch don’t quite replicate Vangelis’s orchestral synth approach from the original Blade Runner score, but Blade Runner 2049 makes a clear attempt to build on what came before with respect. There is still an endless sense to the sound, an eternity that will continue long after the last breath has been taken and the last tear has been lost to the rain.

What music gives you the atmosphere you need for your story? I’d love to hear!

Coming up, I’ve got another Story Empire Highlight, podcast, and a fond farewell. Stay tuned!

Read on, share on, and write on, my friends!