The show was phenomenal, his milky guitar work and the tightness of his live band along with the accompanying in-game visuals that acted as a backdrop for each song really made it a special night, I’ve since been a fan of his guitar-based work.
Here though, the music focuses a lot more on expressionistic, expansive soundscapes, co-written with Reikowski - a composer who is the Bloober Team ‘go-to’ man for the sonic side of their releases. I’m familiar with his work via the incredibly atmospheric Observer, the amusing Irony Curtain, and the seductive Vampire the Masquerade: Coteries of New York (which should really be getting a vinyl release).
The Medium soundtrack, however, is certainly the most intense and ominous yet. last year’s Halloween article was on the wonderfully cartoonish Skelattack, this one is slightly more intense.
From the Black Screen Records website:
Black Screen Records and Bloober Team have teamed up to release the soundtrack to Bloober Team's latest third-person psychological horror game The Medium - which features patented dual-reality gameplay and an original soundtrack co-composed by Arkadiusz Reikowski and Akira Yamaoka - on limited edition double vinyl and as a 2xCD set this October.
The soundtrack will be available on audiophile 180g black vinyl, as well as a limited edition BSR exclusive variant on orange & clear w/ black marbled vinyl and the limited retail version on brown & oxblood vinyl. The vinyl comes in a gatefold sleeve with art by Bloober Team and a Bandcamp Code for the digital soundtrack.
Immerse yourself in the disturbing and oppressive atmosphere of the game thanks to the original "dual" soundtrack co-created by Akira Yamaoka and Arkadiusz Reikowski. Akira Yamaoka is a legendary Japanese composer, best known for his work on the Silent Hill series. Arkadiusz Reikowski is a Hollywood Music in Media Awards nominee who worked on such acclaimed horror games as Blair Witch, Layers of Fear, and Observer. Now they joined their creative forces for the music and songs of The Medium.
RELEASE NOTES:
• Music by Akira Yamaoka & Arkadiusz Reikowski
• BSR Exclusive Variant on 140g orange & clear w/ black marbled vinyl
• Also available on 140g brown & oxblood vinyl
• And audiophile 180g black double vinyl
• Comes with a free Bandcamp Code for the digital album
Presented in a double gatefold sleeve, the version I received was the 140g brown & oxblood vinyl, two shades that will be very familiar to fans of the game. The cover features hundreds of desiccated souls crowded around a glowing artefact, all gathered in an underground crevasse under a sepia sky. It’s a haunting image, and you can almost feel the yawning silence and stillness represented in the art. The rear of the gatefold is captured in similar muted colours of rusty reds and browns, this time illustrating a shoreline in the spirit realm, strange symbols and hanging souls litter a barren landscape of lightly glowing flora and crumbling rocks. The track list is here, and with such titles as ‘Childeater’ and ‘I Want to Wear Your Skin’ – the hints are here that this isn’t going to be a summery folk album filled to the brim with sing-along choruses.
Opening up the gatefold fully shows a double-page illustration of a glowing light emitting from within a twisted, ancient ruin, a path leading inwards as the structure itself is surrounded by a duo of the huge, weeping figures. There’s a real sense of lost grandeur and all-encompassing psychic pain, echoed by the song titles, and other artwork throughout. The records themselves are held in the hallmark Black Screen Records anti-static, black sleeves. Good.
Track-by-Track
Side A
The Love That Was Lost - A beautiful and understated way to open the album, lilting solo piano is soon joined by richly acoustic drums and stark single-note guitar lines. Rimshots, keening notes and soft melodies give off almost a stripped-back blues jam vibe, before a roll around the drumkit launches into the song proper. The guitar layers up, as the drums open and a warm, wandering bass bubbles around the fretboard. This is a prime example of Yamaoka’s guitar telling a narrative, each note chosen more to further the audio story as opposed to needless technical bravado. I was surprised by the intimacy of the performances, especially in the percussion, it’s a warm, organic sound that always captivates me when I listen. The melodies play out until the solo piano is left, reaching a sudden stop, as if something has interrupted the tale. Brilliant stuff.
Marianne – Those expecting a continuation of the style laid down in the opening track will be pretty shocked here, as a slowly rising synth, dotted with muted pulses and distorted scratches melds with sweeping echoes. We move from emotive, ‘real’ instrumentation with a human touch straight into ambient horror, it’s not jarring, though – the growing unease of the track is more of a shadowy figure lurking in the background as opposed to a jump-scare fest, it’s creepy as all hell and something that wouldn’t be amiss on a Boards of Canada album. The chiming, four-note rising crescendo as the track reaches its end adds a twisted innocent child-like tone to rattle the listener even more, as swells of Carpenter-Esque layers creep through.
West Wing – This was the first track to really get under my skin (in a good way). Not since covering Volume 2 of Dead by Daylight did I have an urge to genuinely look over my shoulder as I listened, that sense of being watched being powered purely by the music. The sheet-metal grinding opening of this is pure horror, but it slowly fades out to be replaced by sparse, thick single-note piano echoing through the fog as a single synth note underpins the track. In the space of a few minutes, it moves from sheer intensity to the visuals of someone wandering in a fugue state through a darkened, dusty room. The first time on the record that a sense of sadness worms its way into your head - very reflective and lonely.
The Ruins – A return to the ambient stylings of Marianne bring us in here. Rising, screeching notes and treated violin-like sounds accompanied by what to my ear is something dragging itself roughly across a wooden floor really raise the hairs on your neck. From here, it moves to twisted radio sounds and low, metallic bass notes, occasionally cut through with otherworldly wails. This really is an album focused on unsettling the listener, something that the two gentlemen behind this are very capable of doing – as exhibited here. Terrifying and gritty.
Outside NIWA – Whilst this doesn’t shift away from the heightened styles of the preceding tracks, it’s certainly a softer touch. The swirling synth called to mind something akin to a slowly spinning light on a lighthouse during a foggy night in audio form. This is soon met with other -dare I say - mellow sounds of ambience. There are several subtle layers here, and the hypnotic pulses almost relax you, until the jittery electronica moves forward, never allowing you to fully settle, that swooning pulse sees out the first side of the record
Side B
Fade (feat. Mary E. McGlynn & Troy Baker) – There’s no way to sugar-coat my feelings on this one. It’s rare, but sometimes nothing about a song appeals and that’s absolutely the case here, it’s almost a showcase of lazy self-indulgence. The opening hints at another track intent on building a soundscape - but soon, cheesy, uninspired acoustic guitar and ‘80s soft-rock beats lead us to a duet between Troy Baker and Mary E. McGlynn that makes me physically cringe every time I hear it. The bland, rhyming lyrics are delivered from an overwrought Troy Baker (I can almost visualise him clenching his fist and gurning in the recording booth as he delivers the lines), who switches from singing at the back of his throat like Paul Young to eye-rolling vocal inflexions and acrobatics like he’s a slightly drunk, long-faded one-hit wonder trying to impress his nan at a karaoke bar. With lyrics such as, ‘these scars we hide / the pain inside / we run and hide’ and ‘your light shows me the way / leads me astray / to a place where I can’t stay / it fades away’ – they just feel unacceptably bland and uninspired. There are other vocal-led tracks on the album that work, but this really does stick out like a hard-on at a police line-up, and at best should have been a bonus track. Mary E. McGlynn has a rich, expressive, and angelic voice, but even she fails to elevate this twaddle.
Echoes – It’s back to the airy, sweeping synth score for Echoes, revisiting the pulsing swirls of Outside NIWA, alongside whispered flute. The track then switches tact to bold keyboard notes with what seems to be reversed guitar lines with a delay effect, it’s a stark track that relies on mood and serenity.
Sadness (feat. Liz Katrin) – Liz Katrin appears here - more for vocalisations than traditional singing, ‘doh-ing’ and ‘thrumming’ as well as supplying breathing noises over the sound of chiming tones and sweeping synth. It’s one of the more minimalist and stripped-back tracks of the record and has a haunting quality that bleeds throughout. Liz Katrin’s childlike voice adds a layer of wide-eyed innocence to the darkness.
You Can’t Save Everyone Butterfly – It’s back to industrial horror for the final piece on this side, as the track opens with a descending, doom-laden note that then moves on to ringing bass notes over a delicate keyboard line that cascades. The ambient work here is light and glassy, the constant bass note punctuating weight in a song otherwise rich with delicacy.
Side C
Across The Shore (feat. Mary E. McGlynn) – This track was one that caught my ear early on in my listening. Possibly because I had such reservations following the previous vocal-led track, Fade. This time around, however, the lyrics aren’t quite as on the nose - but are backed up with digital, shimmering bass notes and an insistent climbing melody that adds a hypnotic quality to the song. It also helps that McGlynn’s vocals are subtly treated with delay, layering and double tracking, making them an interesting listen. The delivery is in a form of haunting breathiness – perfectly produced, as if she’s almost whispering into your ear, with mouth sounds and the human quality pushed to the fore, something that makes it stand out against the heavily synth-based soundscapes. The ‘80s-style synth that pierces the background adds colour and expressiveness, an early favourite.
Childeater – For such a strong title name, this starts off uneasily mellow, with a single-held and breathy synth note that eventually washes into another. A high-pitched violin is sometimes heard from a distance as if coming across an ocean. The mental imagery of fog, dim lighting and being lost in an unfamiliar, threatening place raises its head a few times throughout the record, and this is another more contemplative track. Cascading horns sound like a ghost ship from the bowels of hell approaching a grey shore, as a simple electronic, percussive beat underpins the terror.
The Maw – Effectively the theme of the main antagonist of the game, this would feel at home on the Dead by Daylight soundtrack, as pounding, tribal drums blended with an industrial edge boom from the speakers. Electronic death drops and keening metallic sounds make this an incredibly intense and sinister track, without resorting to aural jump-scares. It’s got that ‘Terminator’ chase sensation in the insistency of the music and how it ebbs and then creeps back up as if involved in a staccato chase sequence, scary stuff!
My Name Is Thomas – Another track that has a beginning that doesn’t give any clues as to the ultimate direction of the piece, a far cry from the preceding track - The Maw – this is a softer and gentler track of lilting synth and violin, like a ghostly caress. It also sees the return of glassy notes, as used previously in the track You Can’t Save Everyone Butterfly. The emotional resonance of these melodies brings a human centre to the music, far removed from the ethereal horror in the darker moments.
Richard – An echoing, percussive note dies out over more low notes that pulse and drop out, it’s an effect that is used perhaps overly on some of the tracks, seemingly taking its roots from movie trailers scored by Hans Zimmer in the late noughties that feature the same idea (I look at you, The Dark Knight Rises and Inception). Luckily, the track rises above this and brings in layers and melodies that combine both beauty and the beast, eventually bringing the song to a sudden crescendo that ends this, the third side of the album.
Side D
Voices (feat. Mary E. McGlynn) – A raw and emotive track that features Spanish-style nylon strung guitar and brushed percussion alongside occasional piano runs throughout the intro, before opening up into raucous guitar and full drums towards the midpoint. The lyrics are certainly not the highlight, as they are again uninspired and exist seemingly to give McGlynn something to sing. There’s more energy present here, though than in the diabolical Fade and the production on the instrumentation and vocals give a live and organic vibe, which is welcomed. It really is a shame that the lyrics throughout are by far the weakest part of the record, it’s an area that could really have been lifted if they weren’t so straight and obvious.
Pump Station – Stick percussion and more metallic audio imagery keen out of the night on this one. There’s an intermittent buzzing synth line that feels like an understated alarm that eventually sits really nicely as the drums pick up the pace for a segment of the song, threatening to become almost ‘dancey’, which was unexpected! Fret not, though – the core of unease that acts as the main vein of the record is never lost.
I Want to Wear Your Skin – Unlike the more aurally understated and equally terrifyingly titled ‘Childeater’, I Want to Wear Your Skin wastes no time in getting…well…under your skin. It’s a miasma of crawling, growling sludge that lumps out of your speakers with glitch drums, throbbing bass and monster vocalisations, absolutely one of the most wonderfully unpleasant on the album! The gasping breath sounds capture the image of a foul being in unbridled ecstasy at the torment and horror being inflicted, I wouldn’t suggest popping this on the stereo as you pour a glass of wine at a first date.
It Starts With A Dead Girl (feat. Adam Rucki) – The final track again features a relatively understated opening that surprisingly moves into squelching ‘80s bass synth and a similar hypnotic, climbing melody as featured earlier in Across the Shore. The airy ambience returns and shimmers almost as if the song itself is disappearing into the ether as it progresses until slow, meaningful piano notes ring through as if willing the song back into existence. It fades out entirely before huge, thunderous beats and keening violin fade back in, as if a lumbering form is slowly making its way out of the dark. Eventually, the song almost explodes in intensity, before pulling back and echoing the introduction, before twisting completely on itself as if swirling in a vortex. It’s an incredibly full-on ending that really throws everything at the canvas for maximum impact.
As is usual with Black Screen Records releases, the production, design and sound quality is fantastic, with Christian Bethge’s mastering giving a fully rounded sound that accentuates the styles and sonic approaches of each track. The tracks with live instrumentation and vocals feel organic and ‘in the room’ with you, whilst the more expansive soundscapes are given room to manoeuvre. The overuse of the Hans Zimmer ‘blarp’ and stylistic approach in some songs push the idea that this is a soundtrack that perhaps works more in the context of the game, which is a recurring theme for games in the horror genre, whereby the heavy atmosphere of the visuals so tightly compliments the sound design and music.
Akira Yamaoka & Arkadiusz Reikowski
Black Screen Records
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