Nobunaga’s Ambition: Tenshouki Soundtrack (PC-98 – Soundware Version)

Nobunaga’s Ambition: Tenshouki Soundtrack (PC-98), Yoko Kanno, 1994

Tenshouki, the sixth instalment in Koei’s long-running Nobunaga’s Ambition series, marked the end of an era in several respects, even if its strategy gameplay, centred on medieval Japanese warlords, had not changed all that much. It was the last Nobunaga’s Ambition title to appear on the PC-98 line of Japanese personal computers, and also the final entry in the franchise to see release on 16-bit hardware. Most importantly for present purposes, it was the last Nobunaga’s Ambition game to be scored by series mainstay Yoko Kanno.

Kanno’s star had been steadily rising throughout the early 1990s. By 1994, she was on the verge of shifting her focus towards anime and film scoring, an area in which she had already worked as an arranger and where her breakthroughs with Macross Plus and The Vision of Escaflowne were just around the corner. For this farewell to the Nobunaga’s Ambition franchise, Koei once again increased the musical budget, and did so considerably.

Nobunaga’s Ambition: Haouden had been recorded with a small domestic orchestra on a local sound stage, with mixed results. Tenshouki, by contrast, benefited from a performance by the Warsaw Philharmonic Orchestra. A Japanese game being recorded by a Polish orchestra may seem an unusual combination, but the same ensemble had already done magnificent work on Masamichi Amano’s Giant Robo score in 1992. Tenshouki also marked the beginning of a fruitful collaboration between Kanno and the orchestra, one that would continue through works such as The Vision of Escaflowne, Brain Powerd, and Genesis of Aquarion.

Anyone wanting to hear the difference in performance and recording quality between Haouden and the Nobunaga’s Ambition: Tenshouki soundtrack should sample “Supreme Ruler Suite -Warsaw Edition-”. The piece combines Haouden’s “Supreme Ruler Introduction” and “Destructive Army”, and while the contrast is not exactly night and day, the more transparent recording does make the intricate layers of “Supreme Ruler Introduction” much easier to discern.

With one of the world’s finest scoring orchestras at her disposal, it is hardly surprising that Kanno leans more decisively towards classical writing on the Nobunaga’s Ambition: Tenshouki soundtrack than she had on Nobunaga’s Ambition: Bushou Fuuunroku and Haouden. Japanese solo instruments are used only sparingly. Instead, Kanno evokes culturally specific colours through deft orchestral shading and pentatonic melodic writing. Gone too are Haouden’s jazzier impulses. This is classically inflected music through and through, drawing on both symphonic and chamber traditions.

At the same time, Tenshouki’s overall character retains the capacity to surprise. One might have expected Kanno to go bigger and bolder now that she finally had access to a large, first-rate orchestra. Instead, she pulls back, crafting a far mellower work than the sometimes tumultuous Bushou Fuuunroku. In fact, there is not a single cue on the Nobunaga’s Ambition: Tenshouki soundtrack that could properly be called an action or battle piece. It is worth noting that Kanno chose not to reuse any of the ‘War’ tracks from the PC-98 chiptune original in the PC-98 Soundware version. The score’s generally genial temperament therefore feels entirely deliberate.

Perhaps this absence of Sturm und Drang reflects Kanno’s growing confidence as a composer. She seems perfectly content to identify the precise ingredients a piece needs in order to work its spell, and then to stop there. Her restraint and economy of means are especially apparent in the album’s midsection. “The Cloudy Road” is a peaceful, sunlit piano piece with a relatively simple but lovely progression, worlds away from the rampaging pianistic display of Bushou Fuuunroku’s “The Helpful God of War’s Banner Last Chapter”. “Wind Orchid” follows in a similar spirit. An elegant air for piano and strings, it is an exquisite miniature whose short running time and seemingly uncomplicated surface conceal a composition that repeatedly shifts momentum, tempo, and rhythm without ever losing its lightly dancing motion.

Closing vocal ballad “Distant Blue” is similarly spare in its scoring, relying on acoustic guitar, piano, and subtle synth pads to support Akino Arai’s intimate and deeply affecting performance. With its almost meditative lilt, “Distant Blue” lacks the hushed grandeur of Haouden’s vocal number, but it feels warmer and more consoling. What is remarkable is how naturally Kanno stretches the track to nearly seven minutes without ever sounding as though she is padding it out. The composition simply flows from one beautiful melody to the next.

The more fully orchestrated cues preserve much the same atmosphere, usually to gorgeous effect. A particular standout is “Crescent Moon on the Lake”. It pairs a plaintive pentatonic cello melody with iridescent violin harmonies that evoke the cue’s setting perfectly. There is little counterpoint or busy musical motion here. Kanno can simply rely on her ability to conjure bewitching harmonies, letting the violins’ impressionistic chords glisten in pale moonlight. “Distant Fields” is less heady, but it offers one of Kanno’s finest melodies up to this point, a delectable, swooning string tune that carries the listener into a dreamy haze. The castanets introduced in the cue’s second half are a quietly inventive way of bringing colour and momentum to music otherwise defined by its gentleness.

Indeed, “Distant Fields” seems to crystallise the nostalgic undercurrent running through much of the Nobunaga’s Ambition: Tenshouki soundtrack, and it is difficult not to hear that feeling as partly shaped by Kanno’s departure from the franchise that launched her career. That said, Tenshouki does contain moments of genuine, if often fleeting, drama. It is here that Kanno’s increased maturity in writing for full orchestra becomes unmistakable. Opening cue “The Hawk of Turbulent Times” sets the scene with startling assurance as brass chords build, only to descend suddenly in frantic chromatic motion and vanish. This game of feint and release continues throughout the piece, which moves between elegant 5/4 rhythms, brutal brassy eruptions, and a strained flute melody over trembling strings that creates breathless tension.

Previously, Kanno’s orchestral writing had certainly been rich and subtle, but it was usually quite direct in the emotions it sought to evoke. On Tenshouki, she creates music in which moods conflict and tonal relationships become more complicated. “Summer Squall” opens in similarly fragmented, edge-of-your-seat fashion before settling into a bouncing march whose almost exaggerated jollity is undermined by the acidic dissonances lurking in brass and strings, perhaps consciously recalling Shostakovich’s use of irony. “Spring Waves” continues this exploration of more complex emotional territory. Here, mock-pompous brass back a violin line that sounds both imposing and cantankerous, like a mighty warlord throwing a temper tantrum while the music quietly mocks his self-importance.

Kanno closes the Nobunaga’s Ambition: Tenshouki soundtrack on a perfect note with “Yonder Dreams”, adding generous romantic sweep and elegant grandeur to the album’s mostly peaceful template. Proceeding with complete assurance, the cue is fantastically melodic from the start and only grows more beautiful and moving. Part of the brilliance of Kanno’s melodic writing here lies in the harmonic surprises she introduces to sustain the piece’s long span. Listen to how increasingly passionate phrases resolve into unexpected chromatic harmonies at 0:45 and 3:13, subtly complicating the music’s emotional flow. It is difficult to imagine a more fitting goodbye to the Nobunaga’s Ambition franchise, and Tenshouki left no doubt that still greater things lay ahead, both for Kanno and for orchestral game music, a field she helped pioneer.