The song that accompanies this scene is “DLZ” by the American indie band TV on the Radio. Released as a track (not a single) on the album Dear Science, it reached No. 12 on the US Billboard chart and received a very positive critical response. Yet, “DLZ” in itself can hardly be considered a widely popular song. Here it is not so much the individual song but its genre and sound, mixing punk and electronica, that the viewer can link to other familiar cases. This suggests that, although “DLZ” can also work analogously to the compiled score, it most probably works in a hybrid way, fostering affiliating as well as assimilating identification. Other elements support this hypothesis, starting from the heavy editing on the song.[6] Specifically, only the lyrics adding interpretive depth to the story have been preserved: we have the entire first stanza, containing the verse “Congratulations on the mess you made of things” and the word “Oxidation,” followed, as in the original, by a wordless refrain in which Walt says his line, and an edited collage of verses, including “Never you mind, death professor,” “Your victim flies so high,” and “It’s crystallized, so am I.” These images fit so well that it is almost surprising that “DLZ” was not composed specially for the series.[7] Moreover, the music, which is mixed exceptionally loud in the soundtrack, reaches a dynamic peak, first intensifying the tension of the confrontation and then granting release, as the antagonists surrender. In fact, the song, like dramatic scoring, involves the spectator in an emotional climax that is calculated to function as a means of empathizing with Walt’s rancorous feelings and his overdue gratification.
There are also directorial and performance elements that emphasize Walt’s line, like the low-angle shot on Walt while he faces his more threatening rivals, and Bryan Cranston’s minimalist acting—a stiff walk, a subtle twist of his neck and a murmured utterance—reminiscent here of Clint Eastwood’s classic macho characters. It is also this set of elements that fosters identification with the antihero. Nonetheless, I want to stress the role of music in mediating both Walt’s desire for revenge and his newly acknowledged identity, while establishing a dual process of identification that is mainly rooted in what Kassabian (2001) calls “assimilating identification” but does not preclude affiliating identification as welclass="underline" on one hand, the song, working as dramatic scoring, draws the viewers into “socially… unfamiliar positions” (2); on the other, it can enable those who know the song or are familiar with its genre to identify positively with the main character’s feelings. Identification is also assisted by narrative development. On a moral level, Walt’s recognized excellence as a meth cook and the trials and tribulations he has undergone to reach this status, may justify his territorial claim. At the same time, the shift in the viewer’s attention from the wider frame of the drug business to a dispute between the central character and two thugs may favor moral disengagement by inhibiting moral sanctioning (Bandura 2002) of Walt’s aggressive behavior, hence understating his role in causing harm.
The ambiguity of this process of identification has an advantage, in that it singles out any positive affinities with the fictional character while ignoring his most troubling features; the disadvantage is that viewers might “excuse” Walt “through music” (see MacRory 1999). In other words, as we are invited to step into Walt’s shoes based on an emotional affiliation, reflecting on the moral propriety of his actions appears not only unimportant but also very challenging.
FROM SYMPATHY TO NOSTALGIA
Unlike mood music, which communicates emotions, and identification music, which communicates details about characters, period, or place, commentary music is used to contradict the visuals, challenge the narrative, or expose the means of representation. If “mood is more often associated with (unconscious) identification processes… commentary often requests reflective evaluation” (Kassabian 2001, 59). Commentary includes the use of music for comedic purposes, “one that comments on the situation depicted in a film either through its lyrical content or through an extramusical system of pop culture references”[8] (Smith 2001, 408). This effect is achieved not through preexisting emotional bonds but by means of musical and verbal intertextuality at the level of individual work, artist, period, music style, or genre. Intertextuality produces pleasure in many ways, first of all by engaging the spectator in a gratifying game of interpretation. Moreover, screen music can itself be a source of pleasure; hence, it is not necessarily subordinated to the story[9] or the visuals. This is especially true for music videos, which, rather than being “non-narrative” (Vernallis 2008), show “extraordinary degrees of repetition and stability at the aural level” (Goodwin 1993, 42), imposing a musical order on the visuals (38).
The two sequences that I shall consider display remarkable creativity and a conscious engagement with the aesthetics of music videos. Both sequences consist of a montage glued together by a theme and an extradiegetic song[10] that contrasts with that theme. More precisely, in both instances, a dramatic situation is ironically juxtaposed with a cheerful song that references, among other things, youth and hippie culture. The ironic effect is created by a formal conflict between the visual track, which has primacy at the level of realistic representation, and the sound track, which, by calling attention to itself rather than being “unheard” and by imposing its structure and rhythm on the visuals, allows music to act as a commentary on the visual track.[11] The resulting ambiguity, I argue, will demand either critical reflection or condition temporary disengagement, according not only to character liking and expectations but also to the capacity to tolerate cognitive dissonance and the willingness to invest energy in moral monitoring.
The first of the two sequences, from the episode “Full Measure” (6/13/10), uses the song “Windy” to play on the assonance with Wendy, the name of a secondary character, a drug addict and prostitute. Smith (2001) borrows from Arthur Koestler the concept of bisociation to indicate “…the movement between two associative chains of logic, each of which represents a distinct interpretive frame. According to Koestler, humor arises from the juxtaposition of these two associative chains to create two incongruous ways of seeing something, such as a person, sentence, or situation” (416). Similarly, “Windy” is at once congruous and incongruous with the visuals: by way of illustration, the verse “Who’s bending down to give me a rainbow” is juxtaposed to images of Wendy bending down to give oral sex to her customers. On the other hand, it is clear that the song’s character does not have the same tragic traits associated with Wendy. At the same time, any humor arising from this juxtaposition is challenged by the chance that viewers might sympathize with Wendy, especially after her courageous resolution to help Jesse take revenge on a young boy’s killers. However, her secondary role and the nature of her character, including her being portrayed as a victim, complicate identification processes. Consequently, while this sequence can still be understood as a one-off spectacle to be enjoyed for its stylistic and thematic wit, irony might possibly trigger a critical reflection capable of tracking sentiments like sympathy or compassion.
6
This hybrid characteristic also arises because an existing song is recomposed to fit into the audiovisual text. This suggests, among other things, that the concept of musical scoring should be revised to include editing and mixing.
7
In an interview, Thomas Golubić describes the moment he found the song: “It was one of the key scenes in Walt’s transformation from teacher to meth cook, and I found TV On The Radio’s ‘DLZ’ at like 3 a.m. There was nobody to celebrate with but my cat who had no idea why I was so deliriously happy at that hour. I can’t imagine another song in that scene, and thankfully we were able to beg, borrow, and steal to afford it” (Ray 2012).
8
As Smith (2001) continues, “…the use of popular music in such ironic modes has become an ever more important part of cinematic signification. In fact, within the film industry, music supervisors commonly refer to such locutions as ‘joke cues’, and they must be identified as such when requesting copyright clearance from the song’s publisher or the recording artist’s record label” (408).
9
Indeed, as Gorbman (1987) writes: “The organizing structure of [classical Hollywood] films… is, precisely, a classical narrative with its own demands for pacing, development, spatiotemporal structure, and so on. Music is subordinated to the narrative’s demands” (2). The influence of Gorbman’s theory—which referred explicitly to classical Hollywood films—on subsequent studies of screen music should not make us forget that music does not function in the same way in every audiovisual text, especially those in which music is supposed to be in the foreground.
10
I shall use the term extradiegetic for music that apparently does not issue from the fictional world inhabited by the characters. The term is somewhat misleading, however, as all the music helps to construct the diegesis. I shall return to this point later.
11
Neither scene has source sound; this choice can be understood not only as a means to lend continuity to the montage but also as a way to amplify the separation between the visual track (realism) and the sound track (commentary).