50-31 - Phineas and Ferb Song Ranking

Introduction
300-251
250-201
200-151
150-101
100-76
75-51
Intermission

Continuation of Tier 4: Songs Which Are Spectacular


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        50. Rubber Bands, Rubber Balls (from Summer Belongs to You)



During the approximately eight years from 2011 to 2019 in which I very rarely watched or gave thought to Phineas and Ferb, years which I will discuss in greater detail later, “Rubber Bands, Rubber Balls” was one of the very few songs from Phineas and Ferb which would occasionally pop into my head. This might be the one number from the show whose mix I would be most interested to see broken down. New details are constantly being introduced into the arrangement which confidently demand my attention, including the persistent percussion, the staccato organ(?)-like block chords, the backing vocals which appear nearly patternless, and the ethereally dissonant strings in the ‘knick-knacks’ section at 0:57. To boot, ‘here’s a little fridge so the curry won’t spoil’ is one of my favourite lines across the discography; perhaps you will see it employed one day in a project I am assisting with.



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49. Not So Bad a Dad (from Finding Mary McGuffin)



The more intently I listen to this song, the more it reminds me of When I’m Sixty-Four, with its clarinets filling in the middle ranges and schmaltzy low-brass interjecting intermittently. But whereas When I’m Sixty-Four momentarily strips back all the brave technological experimentation of Sgt. Pepper in favour of something more jarringly corny, the corny taste of “Not So Bad a Dad” is not jarring in the slightest. The song carries on its shoulders the entire narrative brunt of Vanessa and Dr. Doofenshmirtz’s relationship, and it does so with great success. The lyrics appear to have been the easy part. Bla bla bla, you’re dumb but you love me anyway. What makes the elements of “Not So Bad a Dad” fit so well together is that they all reflect Vanessa’s attitude towards her dad impeccably. The song is lazily swung. Its harmonies push and pull into inventive extensions, appearing to have done so accidentally. ‘I guess it’s possible not every part of you isn’t good,’ she sings, with no distinctive rhythm, as if she just thought to say it on the spot. The song slows down and cleverly drags itself to its conclusion, because why should the instrumentation come across crisply and cleanly? Vanessa just wants to be a little nice, or whatever. It’s no big deal, really. It doesn’t even mean anything, dad. Don’t go all crazy.



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48. Takin' Care of Things (from Across the 2nd Dimension)


I must begin by once again mentioning the fact that I ranked “Improbably Knot” / “Buford Is in Trouble” at #85. Before that post was published a few weeks ago, I spoiled that particular ranking for my friend Taisei. Taisei knows only some basic information about Phineas and Ferb, and a couple of the most popular songs. When I showed him “Improbably Knot” and “Buford Is in Trouble,” and explained the context, and what I liked about it, he seemed to agree that it was a praiseworthy song. About a week later, he asked me if there were any other upcoming entries which he would find interesting, so I pulled up my list and scoured.


‘Takin’ Care of Things,’ I told him, ‘is the last song in the movie Across the 2nd Dimension, but it was originally written to be the theme song for a show called Pair of Kings.’ He was shocked by this. I continued explaining, ‘I guess the Pair of Kings crew decided to go with another song.’ I’m thankful that they did, because “Takin’ Care of Things” is the perfect wrap-up to Across the 2nd Dimension. By the movie’s nature, it wouldn’t have been possible to end with a grand finale like “Us Against the Universe.” This song, which is short and sweet, and which includes Dan Povenmire singing in his natural, wholesome voice, fulfills the bill. ‘From a pair of jokers to a couple of kings,’ he sings. When this song was under consideration for Pair of Kings, this line was originally: ‘From a couple of jokers to a pair of kings.’ Of course, ‘pair of kings’ rhymes extremely, almost eerily closely with ‘care of things.’ What phenomenal lyricism this would have been! But the line was changed. Maybe in order to avoid having the name of Pair of Kings in the lyrics, or maybe to capitalize on the cool alliteration found within ‘couple of kings.’ Such are the deliberations of the songwriter.


‘Is that something to do with cards?’ Taisei asked. ‘What?’ I said. ‘Couple of jokers, pair of kings, like the cards?’ This had never occurred to me. But suddenly, the line: ‘you never know just what a shuffle brings,’ made so much more sense. Am I the only one who didn’t realize that “Takin’ Care of Things” used metaphors about playing cards? Sound Off In The Comment Box Underneath. Either way, the melody on that line deserves statues built in its honour. Without going into details which will confuse some readers, something I worry I have done too frequently throughout this ranking, I will say only that the melody pulls the song into a place of comfort, and the underlying chords take a little bit longer to catch up. Such perfect tension!


Now that I think of it, maybe the switch was made from ‘couple of jokers to a pair of kings’ to ‘pair of jokers to a couple of kings’ precisely because ‘couple of kings’ is a much closer sounding rhyme to ‘shuffle brings!’ It’s clear that there was no bad option here; this song was destined to be written and written well.



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47. Danville for Niceness (from Phineas and Ferb Christmas Vacation)


This is the most underrated song in Christmas Vacation. It opens with a drum fill and an organ, exactly like you’d expect some kind of holiday Christmas broadcast to open. I shall begin by complimenting: ‘In the verse is vice versus us, vice versa, us versus vice,’ not just in the lyrical sense, but in the musical one too. The drums syncopate themselves in a way which is totally aligned with the lyrics ‘versa us versus vice,’ making the rhythm a little bit unstable as we head into the chorus. And what a chorus it is, in its simultaneous simplicity and complexity! Perhaps to call it complexity would be a slight exaggeration. ‘Danville is very nice,’ they sing, the syllable ‘ville’ clearly landing on the first beat of the bar. ‘Santa please,” they sing, with the cymbal crashing on the word ‘please,’ signifying the start of a new bar, implying we have just heard a bar of 2/4. Thus, the syllable ‘ville’ never again lands on the first beat, but only on the third! Such spontaneous and natural sways in meter are to be expected when a massive group of Danville citizens are singing together in impromptu fashion.



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46. Fabulous (from Dude, We’re Getting the Band Back Together)


It feels dishonest to say that rapping occurs in the verses; it’s really just dialogue. It is counterposed to this dialogue that the glory of the choruses is impactfully felt. The chords slide back and forth between the ii and the V, like Pink Floyd’s Breathe (In the Air), and the melody follows a pretty straightforward contour. At its best, “Fabulous” delivers some S-tier one-liners, like ‘We need you back on bass guitar,’ a fact-of-the-matter statement which fits the rhyme scheme, and contains in it the song’s entire purpose. And of course, Phineas’s iconic exclamation of ‘Dude, we’re getting the band back together!’ accounts for the greatest title drop in the history of art. One lyrical gripe which keeps this song from even higher territory on the list is the line: ‘You’re the one we all can see.’ It’s clunky with regards to content and rhythm. Contrast this with the alternative I invented in my own brain with my mind powers: ‘You’re the one they came to see,’ or maybe even better yet, ‘You’re the one we came to see,’ or maybe even better yet, ‘You’re the one they want to see,’ or better yet, ‘You’re the one we want to see,’ which is more sensical and flowing in and of itself, and in relation to the following line, ‘It’s all about you, it’s all about me.’



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45. S'Winter (from S’Winter)


What a spectacular song! It’s no wonder that more people remember it than remember the plot of the episode in which it finds itself. The Sleigh Ride-esque sleigh bells and horse clomps, and the ‘bum-bums’ playing with the 6th, 7th, and 8th degrees greet the listener right off the top. Much like “My Undead Mummy and Me,” there’s a reason why this instrumental was recycled so frequently at various points in Phineas and Ferb, and even in Milo Murphy’s Law. Few musical pieces could capture the feeling of winter better than this. And why? Besides the concrete musical elements, the juxtaposition of winter and summer deserves much of the credit! Leroy Anderson himself actually composed Sleigh Ride on a hot summer day. I don’t think this is a coincidence.


If I’m not mistaken, LC Powell sings the lead vocal for this song, including those which come out of Isabella’s mouth. Yet, in the credits bumper, included in the embedded video, Alyson Stoner’s voice can clearly be heard overlaid atop it. Why? Comment that like box under low to explain.



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44. Christmas Is Starting Now (from Phineas and Ferb: Christmas Vacation)


On November 17, 2021, I asked Andrew Grabowski if I could record a version of “Christmas Is Starting Now” for the M.W.C.A. Christmas album, and he said ‘I don’t see why not,’ so that's what I did. I picked that song because I like it a lot. I like the crispness of the brass, and its syncopated moments. I like the toms which underline the line at 0:18, à la Sing, Sing, Sing, and the adjacent one later. I like the modulations which circle back to the tonic after brief adventures into other keys, atop and around ‘Tonight, I’m on top of the world.’ I adore the sleigh scene in which it plays. It could’ve used a piano solo and some bop-shoo-ops, but despite those shortcomings, the small dose of big-band flavour it injects into Christmas Vacation is extremely called for.



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43. Carpe Diem (from Rollercoaster: The Musical)


Here we find the best song, by far, in Rollercoaster: The Musical. A song which clearly wishes to group itself in the same category as “Summer Belongs to You” comes up short, but finds in itself much to be praised, mostly in the choruses. Like in The Beatles’ Help!, the lead vocals and backup vocals play some back and forth, some catch and throw, each giving the other opportunities to seize the day. The drums perform an off-putting rhythm at the line ‘dance to the beat of a different drummer,’ at 0:47, which is on-the-nose enough to be endearing. The key change up a full tone is cheesy, but so is Rollercoaster: The Musical altogether! Or rather, that’s what Rollercoaster: The Musical wanted to be, or thought it was. Yes! That’s it! “Carpe Diem,” with every character, however big or small (except Norm,) dancing and singing in this explosive finale, is the closest Rollercoaster: The Musical ever got to actually being what it wanted to be, or thought it was: a big ol’ show-stopping musical with group choreography and a heartwarming message about not waiting around to have a good time.



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42. S'Fall (from Minor Monogram)



I had to check my gut very closely when deciding whether or not to rank the little-known “S’Fall” ahead of its more famous predecessor “S’Winter.” This is the decision which is true to myself. It is hardly 30 seconds long, and it hits every key point, with beautiful harmonic turns on, ‘All the leaves and gold and red,’ and harmonies and instrumentation which combine carefree fun with chilly weather. But in a more symbolic, sentimental way, it is one of very few nods towards the finity of the show. Last Day of Summer was still about three years away at the time of the premiere of Minor Monogram, but even the acknowledgment that the season of fall exists, and that it, like summer, can be fun, is enough to make the astute listener slightly misty. Pay mind to the specifics of the line: ‘We can have it all, when summer turns to s’fall.’ Not only is summer still years away from turning to fall, but it has not even turned to s’fall yet! Though we will ‘have it all’ when it does so. The marching onward of time is acknowledged without a hint of regret, and Phineas and Ferb carried onward for several more years.



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41. My Nemesis (from It’s About Time)

40. When We Didn't Get Along (from It’s About Time)




It was in the famous B-plot of It’s About Time that the amiability of the relationship between Perry and Dr. Doofenshmirtz was revealed in its full glory. It was through the duality of “My Nemesis” and “When We Didn’t Get Along,” two songs almost as good as one another, but opposite one another in mood, that every angle of the amiability was explored. It is only through the sorrow of “When We Didn’t Get Along,” through its rainy piano, through its minor subdominants and minor dominants which solemnly pull the song forward against its will, through all of is elements and details which combine to send forward Perry’s yearning for his nemesis, that the bright joys of “My Nemesis” can come across in full. And likewise, it is only through “My Nemesis,” through its sunny guitar, through its verses whose chord progressions refuse to approach any meaningful musical tension, through its refusal to acknowledge that Perry and Doofenshmirtz’s relationship is odd in the slightest, that “When We Didn’t Get Along” can meet its full potential.



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39. He'll Do Anything But Go Away (from The Bully Code)



With a melody so appealing, it’s hard for me to guess whether it was worked out in one flowing stroke of genius, or whether it was meticulously tweaked over the course of days, or weeks. It’s characterized by routine leaps up to the third scale degree, first occurring on the word: ‘all.’ (Trip a Little Light Fantastic uses the same effect.) Mirroring the way Baljeet is, at least in this point in the show’s run, non-confrontational, Danny Jacob and the accompanying acoustic guitar have seldom sounded so delicate, so consonant, and so tonal. Jacob’s pivots into falsetto on the big upward leaps are strikingly intimate, and there’s a payoff in the chorus, at which point he abandons the falsetto altogether. ‘Well the story is old,’ he sings, cleverly not abandoning the impeccable melody, but instead adjusting it, slowing it down, giving space to his own backing vocals to fill in the song’s texture. The motif of the leap up an interval of a sixth sticks around in various forms throughout the entire minute, just like Beethoven would do, or something.



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38. Come Home Perry (from Oh, There You Are Perry)


This is a difficult song for me to grab hold of, and to grasp tightly in my hands. I will start with the negatives. The whole thing is a little too sappy, especially outside of the context of the episode. ‘We like you more than ice cream cakes, we love you more than bugs and snakes.’ What are you talking about? This cannot be the same prodigy who wrote ‘Bow chicka bow wow, that’s what my baby says.’ This, to recycle an old complaint, sounds like something out of Disney Junior. And with warm regards to Larry Saperstein, the original notion of the ‘change her name to Larry’ situation comes across almost lazily. But still, I rank this song at #41, because it is among the harmonic and melodic masterclasses of the CSWPF. The woven introduction of the electric guitar at 0:30, and the extensions it plays, accentuate the already strong pre-chorus. ‘You’re kinda short and harry,’ sings Phineas, playing around joyfully on non-chord tones. ‘So come home Perry, come home Perry, come home.’ This first chorus is short, and resolves predictably to the tonic, the C major chord. This is what sets the groundwork so expertfully for the second chorus, which includes Candace. Phineas sings the same melody as he did the first time, ending on the C-note, but Candace moves up to the A. We have an A-minor chord in first inversion, when we expected it only minimally, if at all! It is the only instance of a minor chord in this song being emphatic, and it is at the song’s climax! Incredible! And of course, it serves to make the diminuendo, and the resolve back to C so much more meaningful.



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37. A-G-L-E-T (from Tip of the Day)

No one could forget this whole aglet situation. What someone could forget is this song’s melody, and I am proof of it. Upon my rediscovered interest in Phineas and Ferb in 2019, I of course, sought out Tip of the Day and “A-G-L-E-T,” realizing immediately that although I had not forgotten the song itself, I had totally forgotten how it goes. Nothing of the melody or chords had remained in my head. Is this a bad thing? Not necessarily. But it’s something.

I have listened to “Come Home Perry” more often in my life than I have listened to “A-G-L-E-T.” Go listen to the opening of “Come Home Perry,” then listen to the opening of “A-G-L-E-T.” You will notice that the strumming patterns are almost identical. You will notice that the guitar riff plays three consecutive eighth notes, in upward motion, the last one being sustained, starting on the second half of the third beat of the second beat. As such, to my mind, “A-G-L-E-T” opens like a faster, less mournful, perhaps even higher-pitched “Come Home Perry.” The similarities don’t stop there; both songs are canonically public performances. Is this why the CSWPF subconsciously (or consciously) had them start in such reflective fashion of each other? Probably not.

Nevertheless “A-G-L-E-T” is a scathing critique of the ineffectiveness of charity concerts, and of charity altogether, in creating much-needed fundamental change in society. ‘We’re tyin’ the world together,’ sings Phineas. It’s such a clever line that you almost can’t help but fleetingly believe it. But it’s all a ruse! Aglets tie nothing together but misguided individuals looking for hope, and they do so only momentarily. Just as with any reformist venture, the aglet hype is fleeting. The meaninglessness of its symbolism can survive for only minutes at a time, before the working masses return to their homes, having been let down once more by a hollow gesture.



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36. Rebel, Let's Go! (from Phineas and Ferb: Star Wars)


I will once again mention that I have never seen any Star Wars media except for Phineas and Ferb: Star Wars. Yet, I feel like I pretty much get the idea, which is, unless I’m completely off base, packaged up all together in its simplest form in the final number: “Rebel, Let’s Go!” There’s some kind of unjust oppression going on, but the ‘momentum has shifted,’ so now they’re having a dance party. Easy peasy! The quick chromaticisms in the bass line set it apart. As for the chorus, what I appreciate most is that it kicks itself off with vocalizations: ‘oh, oh, oh, oh,’ that type of thing, right on the back of the line: ‘Time to celebrate!’ Because in truth, what better way is there to celebrate than to say ‘oh, oh, oh, oh?’ There is none! Where Disney movies, and most movies, often fall short, is that their happy endings are nothing more than the re-establishment of the state of affairs which prevailed at the start of the movie, after momentary unsteadiness. This is why High School Musical is so beloved; things change by the end! Things improve! And this is why “Rebel, Let’s Go!” is such a stellar song. Its most important lyric is: ‘Time to celebrate and wreck the status quo!’ Its celebratory nature carries with it some political weight, which cannot be said for every celebration.



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35. Alien Heart (from Ladies and Gentlemen, Meet Max Modem!)

Within the Phineas and Ferb fandom there is an unofficial, disorganized faction of “Alien Heart” fanatics. Those people who will jump at every opportunity to proclaim how criminally underrated this song is. Although I tend to spend my time doing other things, I cannot blame these people for their feelings. “Alien Heart” is far from the only spectacular (or better than spectacular) Phineas and Ferb song which did not get an album release. But it is one of only two songs which is sung by Lawrence. And more importantly, it is one of only (approximately) three songs which are meant to come across as 80s-throwbacks. The degree to which this latter goal is accomplished is astonishing. The synth sounds were all the rage, so I’m told. And indeed, the synth sounds enthusiastically devour the entire track. But it doesn’t stop there. The content of the song might as well have been lifted straight out of the 1980s. ‘I think my girlfriend is an alien,’ sings Lawrence. ‘Said she was from out of town, but I know what she meant.’ One could easily infer this to be a song about being infatuated with someone who keeps themselves a mystery. One could instead infer this to be a song about being infatuated with a literal alien, and this is, most likely, what Lawrence intended. Just like he puts no effort into playing his instrument, he puts no effort into writing his lyrics. Both, nevertheless, or maybe even because of this, turn into big successes.



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34. Isabella's Birthday Song (from Happy Birthday, Isabella)



        In few other songs is the CSWPF’s ability to condense so many cohesive but contrasting sections of music into such a short amount of time more evident. Like “On the Savannah,” it moves on from part one to part two to part three without ever circling back to repeat a verse or a chorus. In fact, it’s unclear what here, if anything, should even qualify as a verse or a chorus!


The brilliance of the mix is immediately clear. The acoustic guitar strums a major-7 chord. Some kind of electric guitar chimes with a 3-note pattern, mimicked within a moment by a more subdued guitar. This is only a taste of what’s to come. The drums and guitars, constantly throughout the number, provide the perfect blend of support beneath Alyson Stoner’s vocals. Then at 0:34, we begin to hear some kind of synth lead riff, or something. I’m not totally sure what it should be called, but it is not the last time we will encounter it on this list. It provides a quiet but punchy countermelody, elevating the song from great to spectacular. Every detail about this song is a reflection of Isabella: understated, but far more complicated than it seems on the surface.



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33. Ain't Got Rhythm (from Dude, We’re Getting the Band Back Together)


I am at the point in the countdown which dangerously approaches the best of the best. Is this ranking high enough that I will not be criticized for *only* ranking fan-favourite “Ain’t Got Rhythm” at number 33? Only the future knows. Get a sense for the immense praise which I have heaped unto the preceding entries for a sense of how fond I am of “Ain’t Got Rhythm.” Now remember all the criticisms I laid unto songs like “There’s a Platypus Controlling Me,” devoid of harmony or melody. It is nearly miraculous that I love “Ain’t Got Rhythm” so dearly despite the fact that its only pitched element at the start is a bassline, underneath unpitched singing and percussion.      In prototypical musical theatre style, the song starts at a specific character-related point and gradually arrives at the opposite point. Steve Zahn of Diary of a Wimpy Kid fame gives an untouchable performance, in what passes for a one-taker, with his gradual build of excitement, voicing Swampy the drummer. This is all reflected in the instrumental. The guitar is introduced alongside several items of miscellaneous percussion. The organ gives an incredibly rich flavour to the second verse, striking on funky syncopations, perhaps foreshadowing an incoming line. The brass somehow undersells itself as part of the mix. And indeed, in the highlight of the song, Phineas sings, “But you’re laying down some funky syncopation,” and we are finally introduced to the drum set, which, after all, is what the entire song is about. The drum fill is crisp and uncomplicated, slicing through all the other instruments, just like they slice through each other. Any one part of the track can be easily heard by merely focusing on it. That is the sign of a masterpiece of studio work.


        And we get a fun little coda, partly for the character of Swampy the drummer to show off. And partly for the CSWPF to show off, and take a final victory lap, knowing full well that they just hit a home run.



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32. Sunshine and Bubble Gum (from A Real Boy)



I bet you don’t even know what this song is. I bet you had to click on the video in order to remind yourself what it is, or to see if you’ve ever heard it before. Does it bother you that I’ve placed this no-namer song, which plays under a montage of Norm waking up and getting ready for the day, one spot ahead of a song which was nominated for an Emmy? Cope and seethe. “Sunshine and Bubble Gum” is unimaginably infectiously happy. On a recent evening in which I found myself particularly in love with it, I experimented with extending it into a second verse, but quickly found myself getting carried away by playing the entire thing over and over again, in an infinite cyclic loop of verse, bridge, verse, bridge, verse, bridge, for who knows how long. The simple I - V - vi - IV progression which dominates the verse began to melt into the bridges, like sunshine melts bubble gum, enough so that they become gum shine and bubble sun.


        The opening hook of chord progressions tends to linger in my head for days at a time; I never get tired of it. D-C#-F#m-E-A. It momentarily looks as though it will land in a minor key, before forcing itself to perform a perfect cadence, and get comfortable in A-major. It is not an accident that this same chord progression reappears at the tail end of the song on the oddly sinister line: ‘If you’re worried about the sound, you can always scream into a pillow.’ In the context, this screaming is meant to be a happy scream, despite the fact that screaming into a pillow is typically done only in frustration or anger. Is this not the perfect encapsulation of Norm the Robot and his struggles with wishing he were Dr. Doofenshmirtz’s son? Or wishing he were a real boy at all? A frustrated action, or frustrated words, masked behind a happy face and a happy melody? Like the chord progression forces itself into a major key, Norm has no choice but to smile.



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31. Let's Take a Rocketship to Space (from Out to Launch)



I have broken protocol by embedding the episode version and the soundtrack version of this song. Naturally, I have listened to the soundtrack version more times than the former, and thus, every time I listen to the episode version, I am struck by how dramatically different it is from the soundtrack version, and I am left wondering why this is the case. If anybody knows, please click on the leave a comment button. The episode version is noticeably slower. Danny Jacob’s vocal is noticeably tapping into a lower, lazier part of his vocal register. The orchestral flourishes are fewer and farther between. It is for these reasons that I prefer the soundtrack version.         There is a muffled, rolling snare drum providing ‘atmosphere’ right from the start. The tempo is livelier, the vocal is livelier, and there is even a colouration of strings playing straight sixteenth notes at 0:06, on top of the swung rhythm. So beautifully wonky they are. The harps and the electric guitars are mainstays instead of special appearances. The brass makes a bold entrance, pushing along the ‘crooner’ feel of Fly Me to the Moon, allowing to do what the show does best, blur the lines between literal and metaphorical.


       Despite my status as a non-gamer, I am a fan of the Super Mario Galaxy game series, and particularly, of its soundtracks, which are, as you could probably guess, pretty outer-spacey. Here is a video called The Quiet of Sadness of Super Mario Galaxy, which, despite its flaws in tone, hits the nail on the haid regarding the game’s treatment of outer space as not something to be either revered or feared, but as something which is open, and eerily vast, removed from any kind of moral qualifiers. This is exactly where the musical decisions of “Let’s Take a Rocketship to Space find such great success. They do not aim to depict outer space as a grand beast, but only an infinite, open pool, which it would be cool to visit.


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