REVIEW: Soundtrack, Myst / Riven (Virgin)
- Joe Silva
I've spent too many late nights flicking small bugs away from my monitor while I click obtusely through the spectacular panoramas of either the Myst or Riven games. The sounds are welded to the experience and there's almost no room for skirting that certainty. For those of you who don't know what Myst and its sequel Riven are (and I guess that's vaguely possible), just go ahead and skip what follows. I can assume no further guilt for exposing reasonably intelligent people to the most severe of digital fixations.
As for the rest, I'll make my case. Truthfully, I'm pretty certain that I would have a cocked a healthy sneer and fired repeatedly at Robyn Miller's music had it simply been handed to me as just another CD. At best I might have even looked through the pretty booklet for the thirty seconds it would have sat in my player. New Age ramblings? Pah! Into the pile for the second hand shop! But since I've already gone ahead and confessed to trading potential quality with some big name author for hours of head-scratching moments at the Myst altar, I'll go further to say that I practically begged the people involved for my copy of this music. New Age ramblings? Yeah, I'll take ten. Miller did more than contribute a bit of utilitarian synth noodling to the already elaborate project he and his brother concocted - he upped the resident anxiety to levee breaking proportions. Nothing jumps out and shouts "BOO!" at you in the Myst realm, but until you find this out on your own, the music constructs that expectation as you press ahead. With 20+ minor chord vignettes in the original soundtrack (that generally don't seem to last for more than two and a half minutes a piece), Miller effectively established a running despondency that kept the participant fully aware that no matter how handsome and exquisite were the surroundings, he was tramping through a place of true dread and melancholy. But more importantly, he was providing your whereabouts with a kind of requisite articulation, which is the primary motive for sketching out a soundtrack. The Stoneship Age had the continual rattle of far-off echoing claves that sounded like the clanking innards of an old sub. The timpanis of the Fortress were true jungle fare (Goldie take note). And the spare, cosmic synth-oboe that carries the Planetarium theme is hauntingly and filled with a cheerless wonder.
Having not spent as much time wandering Riven, the sounds aren't yet quite as ingrained in the psyche, but they share the same underpinnings - moody, foreboding, and bathed in a general uneasiness. The tracks are longer, and as a result don't seem to go for looking for too many particular hooks for the ear to latch on to since they are probably looped less during actual playing time. And while Miller may never carry on to Vangelis-like notoriety, he's on to something. Maybe. If nothing else, should he ever choose to combine forces with any of the known quantities in the ambient dance arena, his music would certainly have the potential to be just as viable. After all, a trance is as good as a dub to an all-night raver.
