Holism: Music in The Legend of Zelda

Note: Due to the nature of the subject, this article will have a number of embedded YouTube pages and may be harder to read on some devices.

Thanks to Cart Boy and NantenJex for edits.

In Cadence of Hyrule: Crypt of the NecroDancer feat. The Legend of Zelda, the iconic heroes and monsters of Nintendo’s classic Zelda games fight in an endless groove. Link and Princess Zelda dodge fire, slash at enemies, and solve puzzles to a beat. The game pumps in Danny Baranowsky’s energetic remixes of Zelda music, each track perfect for exploring an endless dance pad of a world. Nintendo’s latest crossover game, and their first with an independent developer (in this case Brace Yourself Games, which made both Cadance and the excellent 2015 NecroDancer), came out in June of 2019 to well deserved acclaim. Since its announcement three months prior, it was seen as a wonderful oddity, a “What?, Hell Yeah!, What??” game, if you’ll excuse the parlance. It’s an indie Zelda dancing game! How isn’t it a personification of weird?

A fanmade mashup of all versions of the song that plays in Cadence’s Lost Woods. While some can overlap in gameplay, others are mutually exclusive.

Truthfully, though, it’s not that far of left field, even beyond how smoothly the world of Zelda ended up fitting into the world of NecroDancer. This isn’t to downplay the game’s charming weirdness; seeing a Nintendo IP in the painfully challenging roguelike genre is bizarre just on its own. But really, Cadence is ultimately falling in with a long tradition of the Zelda series, one in which music is itself a tangible power. Hyrule is a land of myth and music, and that’s both in and out of the world of the series. It’s easy to see (or hear) the power in the series’ scores, with tracks like “Midna’s Lament” and “Dragon Roost Island” being just as iconic for players as any character or plot point. The work of composers like Koji Kondo and Manaka Kataoka is often a cut above most video game music, evocative or empowering or melancholic. But I want to specifically look at how music exists as part of the world of Zelda, a series of kingdoms constantly on the verge of ruin. It’s a common refrain throughout the games, and a valuable one.

The main theme for Breath of the Wild. True to the game’s quieter, more exploratory nature, it’s far more low-key than the series’ other main themes.

There’s a few ways Nintendo uses diegetic music – the kind that exists within the world of the story itself – in Zelda. The easiest and most common way this happens is when the music is a tool. The series’ hero Link has an odd fixation on instruments, all of which have magical or special powers. The most famous example comes straight from the title of The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. The Ocarina isn’t even that special in the story; Link plays songs mostly to teleport to certain locations and magic away blocks. But it was definitely iconic from the get-go, from its cerulean (or lavender, depending on the art) color to how it was used. Players had to actually play the songs, pressing buttons in the right order in one go. The songs that warped Link to the game’s sacred temples, like the “Nocturne of Shadow” or “Bolero of Fire,” had styles and tones that enriched the world and characters. And it did lead to neat effects at times; the most memorable was the “Song of Storms,” which tears a windmill apart in exactly the way you’d expect. Altogether, it provided a nicely direct experience; having to play made the performance stronger and more engaging. There’s a reason Nintendo chose it as the first point of advertisement.

Another standout was “Saria’s Song.” Link’s childhood friend teaches it to him as a symbol of their friendship, and it lets the two speak to each other over space and time.

The Ocarina of Time’s uses are far more well known in the sequel Majora’s Mask, when Link uses it to manipulate time and right all manner of cruel wrongs throughout the land of Termina. Link can also transform into three different dead people, and the flute fittingly turns into instruments better fitting of their personalities: pipes, drums, and a guitar. But the principle is the same: no matter which kind, the instrument is something to be played, and playing it causes some great boon. The melancholy “Song of Healing” is the most interesting here, as it’s a catch-all song that’s simply used to bring peace the dead – including the three characters who subsequently give their forms to Link. Other standouts include the chill “New Wave Bossa Nova,” the spooky “Elegy of Emptiness,” and the ominous “Oath to Order,” which calls in the Four Giants at the story’s endgame. The music is comforting and pretty, but also somewhat darker and significantly sadder.

The “Song of Healing” encapsulates the horror, tragedy, and simple kindness of Majora’s Mask.

The element of playing music directly was retained in a couple of games afterwards. In The Wind Waker, Link instead uses a conductor’s baton to control the wind, moving the control stick to simulate turns and flicks of the wrist. The Wind Waker itself was less important in the grand scheme of the plot, but it still had that tactile element. The game takes place on the endless Great Sea, and manipulating the wind is the only way to get around at all on Link’s rinky dink sailboat. Using the Wind Waker to give yourself a better climate for moving felt more empowering and exciting, even if it could feel a bit like a chore by the end of the story. It even had players manually choose different time signatures! And fittingly, at times Link had to conduct performances for important cultural events, like helping people assume the responsibilities of powerful sages. It’s notable that the game’s sequel, Phantom Hourglass, did away with the wind mechanic for accessibility but lacked any of The Wind Waker’s sense of size or tangibility.

All the songs Link plays in The Wind Waker.

The Spirit Flute in Phantom Hourglass’s own followup Spirit Tracks probably hews closest to how the Ocarina of Time was used. It actually goes further, as players have to physically blow into the Nintendo DS microphone to simulate using the woodwind. It’s an interesting mechanic – albeit one that ignores the mic’s unreliability or users who, like Source Gaming writer Cart Boy, have a physical difficulty using it – but it’s less interesting in practice. Songs are mostly played for things like finding hearts or secret treasure, which is kinda basic for such power. The highlights here are the duets Link performs with various sages, which help give the game’s world a more tangible sense of power and history than anything else in the game.

All of the game’s duets.

The Goddess Harp of Skyward Sword had much more narrative importance compared to the last two instruments, as that game’s Link played songs which presented the prequel’s grand story. He strummed the harp, and so did the players; hitting the notes consisted of moving the Wii Remote to sort of simulate playing. There was potential for something great here, with how the songs tell the history of what would become Hyrule, and the events that would lead to the rest of the series. Unfortunately, it suffers the same problems that affect the rest of the game. The Harp isn’t used a ton outside of limited story beats, moving the Wii MotionPlus never gives a strong sensation of playing, and the music is tied to the largely overbearing side character Fi. Still, the orchestrated soundtrack (the first instance of such in the series’ history, and not the last) is quite nice.

The “Ballad of the Goddess” was advertised as Skyward Sword’s main theme more than its counterparts from other Zelda games.

While it didn’t have Link playing instruments in such a direct manner, Ocarina of Time’s predecessor Link’s Awakening orbited partially around the power of music. Instead of saving a kingdom or princess, Link’s goal is simply to get off an island of his subconscious. The dungeons only need to be explored for eight magical instruments – an organ and cello, for instance – to play the “Ballad of the Wind Fish” and break the spell. Neatly, the song gets richer and longer as each instrument is added to it, eventually turning into this powerful, somewhat sad piece that gets so much out of the weak Game Boy speakers. It turns music into a goal and a reward, as well as a point of connection. Link had to play songs, but he also had to learn songs from people he met. That led it to being the series’ first instance of players having multiple songs to sing, though one dwarfed the others in terms of importance.

The performance of “Ballad of the Wind Fish.” Despite its iconography, it’s barely ever been referenced since; the most recent example is the game’s own upcoming remake.

But even before music had this kind of narrative importance for the series, it still had thematic importance. An optional item from the very first Zelda game from 1986 was the Recorder. It was just a generic magical flute; each use would warp Link to the dungeons he had already completed. It was also absolutely essential for players who wanted to traverse the game’s dangerous and punishing overworld with even some ease. But it was also, well, music, fitting in with the stepladder and raft as uniquely non-combative tools. It was also at least iconic enough that the mechanic and leitmotif were reused for Super Mario Bros. 3. The series’ first ocarina was used for the same purpose in A Link to the Past, and years later in The Minish Cap. On the other end of things was Twilight Princess, which eight years after Ocarina included a mechanic where Link’s wolf form could howl sections of songs to summon a mysterious golden wolf guide.

Getting the ocarina (then called “flute”) in A Link to the Past; you have to play it to bring its implicitly deceased owner peace.

And the series’ most recent standard bearer Breath of the Wild doesn’t ignore this; in fact, it’s greatly interested in the importance of music. This primarily comes from the character Kass, a bird minstrel who Link can meet many times across the land. Kass’s job is to sing the songs of the royal family, all of which are elaborate puzzles hiding great treasures or shrines. These rarely have a direct connection to Hyrule’s history, but it’s telling that Nintendo developed a recurring character to be part of several of their more memorable puzzles, and that his involvement came through song. A major theme of the game is in the way people deal with an overwhelming cultural loss – Ganon’s reign of terror has devastated the entire kingdom for a whole century – and Kass is one of the most prominent characters who spends his life preserving the history of his culture. When you actually solve all his puzzles and hear the full version of “Kass’s Theme,” and the story of Hyrule it tells, it’s an indelible reward.

The full version, though its lyrics are only in writing due to the game’s limited voice acting.

Kass is the most overt but far from the only talented musician of the series. Medli and Makar from The Wind Waker play songs conducted by Link to commune with long passed sages; their themes together make up the game’s main theme. There’s the Zora Band, the punny Indigo-Go’s, from Majora’s Mask. There’s the aforementioned Saria, whose song manages to comfort the wily and erratic Skull Kid, or that dead flute boy from A Link to the Past. One of the Capcom-produced games, Oracle of Seasons, got in on the action with Link having to rescue a season-controlling dancer (and its counterpart, Oracle of Ages, was another game with a magical harp). The action spinoff Hyrule Warriors has characters who wield two unique harps, a bell, and the Wind Waker. And alongside all the musically inclined enemies, including bosses fused with instruments, Cadence does include a lute for warping around the map.

Using Sheik’s harp involves playing many of the songs from Ocarina of Time as attacks.

Beyond these uses, some of these tracks constantly return over time with reprises and remixes. The original “Overworld” theme from the first Zelda has been called back to in almost every sequel and prequel. The dramatic Hyrule Castle theme from A Link to the Past has a tendency to come up as a refrain for some of the castle’s later appearances. The songs from Ocarina reappear all the time, like how the Zora race’s “Serenade of Water” was part of the theme of Twilight Princess’s deceased Zora queen. So many of the songs from this series have an unbelievable iconography; even ones just associated with spinoffs, like a Super Smash Bros. Melee remix of Zelda 2’s temple theme that is one of that series’ most memorable pieces.

And it’s worth noting that Zelda 2 itself is one of the less popular games in the entire series in spite of that.

Why is music so fundamental to The Legend of Zelda? Why does Link constantly wind up stretching his musical range, while fantasy heroes like Geralt and the Dragonborn show little interest in doing so? It could be due to the series having enough musically inclined creative people to have formed an in-house orchestral band called the “Wind Wakers” (longtime series producer Eiji Aonuma played percussion, bongos, and congas). It could be due to music being so central to fantasy and mythology; think of classic poetry, or magic incantations. The series is riddled with those, from Kass’s accordion songs to the way exposition at the start of some of the games sounds almost like grandiose recitations. Maybe it has to do with music being a nonviolent act, a way for Link to interact with and explore the world beyond stabbing or bombing it.

Breath of the Wild’s increasingly complex and satisfying “Tarrey Town” themes. A new instrument gets added with each newcomer Link invites to the village, making the piece richer.

But to a greater extent, I think it has to do with music carrying a sense of true power, no matter how fantastical the setting. Games are a special medium to explore that given the interactive element, and playing these fictional instruments can feel exciting, especially the Ocarina of Time. A number of games explore wielding fundamental forces of the world, but doing so through music feels special. The performance, the attempt to hit each note, the way a correctly played song bursts into a richer form after getting it right; it just feels special. It’s that classic Nintendo feel; playing songs directly is no different than chucking food into a pot in Breath of the Wild or bouncing off a Goomba in the Super Mario games. And stylistically, the leitmotifs and themes are catchy from the start, like a lot of Nintendo’s most iconic elements; while I don’t think was ever a plan on any sort of aural “branding,” the tracks stick with you.

And whenever Zelda crops up in another Nintendo series, so many of its themes and jingles and the link get brought over.

I suppose that in that case, the music is ultimately just an extension of Nintendo’s design philosophy: emphasize interaction with the world in ways that are tactile, direct, and immediately rewarding. Having music to play feels right in the way Mario’s jump feels right not just because it’s fun, but because it’s something a lot of games should have. And having the playing of that music be manual also feels right, because it gives us the power to do so. You can see the importance of this in some of their other games; Mario Paint and WarioWare had their music editors, Smash Bros. its smorgasbord of songs, and other games their singers like K.K. Slider and Off the Hook. Music is important for Nintendo, but in The Legend of Zelda the relationship between the two often finds itself at its most intense. It’s overt and constant, and constantly played with, too. I harbor no assumptions that Zelda is one of video games’ preeminent series solely because of its music, but music is part and parcel of what makes Zelda what it is, what makes it special. It’s as irreplaceable to the games as Link’s instruments are to him – and all parties are the better off for that.