Disgaea 2: Cursed Memories Soundtrack

Disgaea 2: Cursed Memories Soundtrack, 2006, Tenpei Sato

Nippon Ichi struck gold with Disgaea: Hour of Darkness – quite unexpectedly, given its niche status as a strategy RPG full of parody elements and anime-manga references. More surprising still was that Hour of Darkness sold even better in the United States than in Japan. For the sequel, Disgaea 2: Cursed Memories, Nippon Ichi understandably chose to refine and polish rather than fundamentally alter its predecessor’s formula. The result was another hugely intricate strategy RPG that reviewers and genre fans welcomed with open arms, with some even preferring it to Hour of Darkness.

Tenpei Sato had delivered one of his finest works with the Hour of Darkness soundtrack: a joyous, refined orchestral score that playfully responded to the game’s Halloween-esque setting while throwing in a few stylistic curveballs and show-stopping musical numbers. Cursed Memories introduced a new cast and moved away from the demon underworld of the first game. As a result, the score also leaves behind much of Hour of Darkness’ The Nightmare Before Christmas-inflected atmosphere. According to Sato, the sequel’s new sound director also helped steer the music in a different direction, with a greater emphasis on rock: “many of the tracks are fast and intense”, as the composer put it in an interview.

That description is only partially accurate. Yes, the Disgaea 2: Cursed Memories soundtrack is a more full-on experience than its predecessor, though it is not actually that rock-heavy. Rather, Sato shifts his focus away from the orchestral writing that dominated Hour of Darkness and plunges head-first into the kind of genre-bending experimentation that would define the franchise’s reputation for joyfully eclectic music. Crucially, however, he never pushes the score’s zany, borderline silly side too hard – an unfortunate trait that would become more noticeable from Disgaea 3: Absence of Justice onwards. On Cursed Memories, irreverence emerges naturally from the wildness of the genre blends themselves; Sato never has to strain for comic effect. In that sense, while the game may not radically shake up the formula, its soundtrack is markedly more ambitious and points the series in a new musical direction.

What has not changed is the torrent of fresh ideas Sato pours into almost every cue on the Disgaea 2: Cursed Memories soundtrack. His genre hybrids are every bit as carefully sculpted and agile as the rich orchestral writing of Hour of Darkness. And for all the leaping between styles, he does establish a few unifying elements. One is the prominent use of solo violin, often placed within a large, echoing acoustic space. Given the technical limitations of the PS2 sound chip, that is a bold choice – but thanks to excellent work by Cursed Memories’ sound designers, the instrument sounds sufficiently convincing to carry the melodic burden across several major cues.

Take “Visual Sensation” and “Daybreak Crying”. Both are perhaps the closest the soundtrack comes to recreating Hour of Darkness’ Gothic atmosphere, albeit in altered form. On “Visual Sensation”, the solo violin is backed by snappy strings and irregular electronic rhythms, generating complex melodic and rhythmic progressions. “Daybreak Crying” is a fascinating slow-burner, combining dramatic violin lines with plodding rhythms, busy electronic bass, choral vocals and rock drums – a mixture that feels perpetually on the brink of violent eruption. Sato also places the violin at the forefront of the soundtrack’s grand finale. On “Disgaea Rhapsody”, it leads a rock-orchestra-electronica final boss cue as bombastic as it is unexpectedly experimental, thanks to constant rhythmic shifts and ghostly wailing vocals. And “Rosalin’s Palace” celebrates victory not with straightforward orchestral triumph, but by pairing its elegant violin lead with a smooth, laid-back electronic groove.

What is so striking about the Disgaea 2: Cursed Memories soundtrack is how organic almost all of its stylistic experiments feel, no matter how unlikely their constituent parts. Such is Sato’s gift for bringing divergent inspirations together. A trio of cues – “Magnificent Dark Family ‘05”, “AKUMA Drops HG” and “Secret Circle” – seamlessly merges Arabian string and woodwind melodies with a web of acoustic and electronic rhythms, with “AKUMA Drops HG” even finding room for a brief medieval dance interlude. “Shinobi Dance” and “1st Samurai” look further east, drawing on traditional Japanese music as shakuhachi leads and koto accompaniment meet electric guitars, funky brass fanfares, stomping rock writing and yet more electronics. “Spread Your Wings”, meanwhile, is essentially one extended soaring guitar solo, pushed ever higher by surprisingly intricate drumming and proud brass fanfares.

Evidently, the Disgaea 2: Cursed Memories soundtrack places a much greater emphasis on electronica than its predecessor, so it is no surprise that some tracks put that style front and centre. “Cyber Dance” is the most elaborate synth-driven cue, packed with off-kilter melodies and polyrhythmic beats that somehow never lose their strident groove, while still building towards a catchy chorus. Other tracks in this vein aim more directly for an endorphin rush. “Prinny My Love” may be the entire franchise’s most ebullient cue, mixing irrepressibly joyful beats with outrageous brass fanfares to create one of game music’s happiest raves. “Overdriver” is not quite as overwhelmingly ecstatic, but still wins through sheer exuberance and energising rock percussion. At the other end of the spectrum, the warped synths and jarring electronica of “Night Head” form a mesmerisingly surreal piece held together by unsettling violin and woodwind melodies.

Do not assume for a moment, though, that Sato has lost his knack for outstanding orchestral writing – there is still a considerable amount of it on the Disgaea 2: Cursed Memories soundtrack. “Wonder Castle” highlights the score’s humorous, carnivalesque side, while “R.P.G.” is simply spectacular. It sounds as if Sato were trying to cram everything glorious about the beloved high-fantasy RPG idiom into a single three-minute cue – and he succeeds with ease. The sheer abundance of detail and invention packed into every corner of the piece is jaw-dropping.

Most remarkable about the orchestral side of the Disgaea 2: Cursed Memories soundtrack is just how deeply felt much of it is – not something one necessarily expects from a game in which penguins say “dood” a lot. The 32-bit era produced little choral writing denser than what Sato achieves on “A Flock of Lambs”. The layered synth choir not only demonstrates his exemplary contrapuntal skill, but through the cue’s heady repetitions also becomes an intoxicating, impenetrable wall of sound. No other piece on the album matches the tragic yet graceful gravitas of “A Flock of Lambs”, but “Dawn Whisper”, “The Warmth of this Heart” and “Elegy of the Tundra” all open up vast, empty spaces and fill them with delicate, gorgeous melodies. These cues take Hour of Darkness’ idyllic, sunlit tendencies and transform them into something more ethereal, introspective and searching.

And what of the songs? There are fewer musical numbers than on Hour of Darkness, and because Cursed Memories is so stylistically diverse they do not stand out quite as strongly this time. Even so, they maintain the score’s high standard. Closing ballad “Sparkle, to Become a Star” may not reach the dizzying heights of “Flower of Happiness”, but it still builds over six minutes into an impressively sweeping orchestral power ballad. “Etna Rock” stays fairly close to “Etna Boogie” and does exactly what its title promises, but swings with perhaps even more unbridled energy than before. It is great fun to hear Sato himself enjoying the enthusiastic lead vocals on the 1980s-inflected synth-rock anthem “White Tiger”, but ultimately “Sinful Rose” is the standout: a brilliant flamenco-infused pop song as passionate as it is playful, complete with virtuoso turns for Spanish guitar.

Does the Disgaea 2: Cursed Memories soundtrack cohere as a whole in the same way that its individual tracks do? More than one might expect, given how frantically Sato darts from genre to genre. Still, lurching from the near-operatic grandeur of “A Flock of Lambs” into the fist-pumping dance moves of “White Tiger” can be a jarring experience. That may be enough to leave Hour of Darkness marginally ahead of its successor. Taken on its own terms, however, almost every cue on Cursed Memories is a scintillating creation, dazzling with inventive timbres and beguiling melodies.