NOTE: This post contains score excerpts and video clips for illustration purposes.  If you have trouble seeing or playing the video clips, try Refreshing this page.

After the success of my last analysis of the theme from Final Fantasy VII, I asked VGM Academy Newsletter subscribers what they wanted to see next.  They answered:

Chrono Trigger.

The music of Chrono Trigger is still hailed as some of the best video game music of all time.  With fantastic character design, a great story, and time-traveling shenanigans, the game could’ve had a ‘pretty good’ soundtrack and still been legendary…

But that would never have been good enough for the Dream Team’s Yasunori Mitsuda.

I could ramble for pages about this soundtrack (and probably will at some point), but today we’ll be focusing in on perhaps the most beloved piece of music from the game: Frog’s Theme.

*ribbit* (flexes muscles)

Each character in the cast of Chrono Trigger has their own individual theme music, but Frog’s Theme – in my opinion – beats the rest.  In this analysis, I’ll do my best to pick apart what make’s Frog’s Theme so freakin’ amazing and give you some new tips and tricks to use in your own video game music compositions.  Grab your Hero Medal and the nearest legendary sword forged from prehistoric enchanted rock, and hop in.

See what I did there?  ‘Cause he’s a frog?  Priceless.

Lesson 1: A Lesson in Time (Signatures)

Back to back puns?!  I’m a genius.  Anyways…

When analyzing a piece of music, I like to try tracking down the sheet music first so I don’t have to transcribe the entire thing myself.  In this case, I was surprised to find very few transcriptions and arrangements out there on the ol’ internet.  Of the ones I found, none of them used the correct time signature (yikes!).

So what’s a time signature, anyways?  In a piece of sheet music, the time signature appears before any of the notes, but after the key signature and clef.  See below photo of a wild time signature in its natural habitat:

Those numbers (12/8 in the above example) USUALLY tell you (A) the number of beats per measure, and (B) the rhythmic value of a single beat.  The top number tells you the number of beats, while the bottom number tells you the length of a beat.  For example, a time signature of 3/4 would tell you (A) that there are 3 beats per measure, and (B) each beat is a quarter note’s length (the quarter comes from using the bottom number of 3/4, like a fraction).

Duple vs Triple Meter Music

Most music we hear in our day-to-day Western lives is based on an even count of beats – usually four beats.  If you’re counting along with the beat, you’ll either be counting by even or odd numbers.

For example, the Battle Theme from Chrono Trigger is clearly based on a count of 4.  If you snap/clap along with the music and count out load by 3 or by 4, the choice is obviously 4:

 

A triple meter piece of music, on the other hand, will feel and sound like it’s based on a count of 3 or a multiple of three.  Manoria Cathedral’s is an example of a triple meter song from Chrono Trigger.  Try snapping/clapping along to this piece, and count out loud and you should quickly find that counting by 3 is very natural.  Conversely, trying to count by 4 will make you want to slam your head against a wall:

Compound Meters: Here’s Where Things Get Trickier

A compound meter is kind of where duple and triple meters converge.  In compound meters, the main beat is split into three equal parts so that a dotted note becomes the beat unit.  To count this out loud, you might say: “One-and-a-Two-and-a-Three-and-a-Four-and-a,” clapping on the bolded words.  Here’s a little piano example:

In Frog’s Theme, this becomes super-obvious during this part of the piece:

So, what’s the big deal?  Well, as I said earlier in this post, the time signature USUALLY tells you the number of beats (top number) and the kind of note that gets that beat (1/bottom number).  In a compound meter like 12/8, that’s not the case.  Instead, the top number tells you how many beat divisions (that bottom number) there are in a measure, but that’s not necessarily where the BEAT is or how long it is.  Seems silly, I know, but keep reading.

When dealing with compound meters, you deal time in beat units.  A beat unit is, well… the beat.  It’s what the bottom number usually tells you, except there are not 12 beats per measure in 12/8.  In this case, there are 4 beats per measure (one-and-a-two-and-a-three-and-a-four-and-a) and each of them are the length of a dotted quarter note (which is equal to 3 eighth notes).

How to Use Compound Meters

At this point, you might be thinking that all we’ve accomplished thus far is overcomplicate something that sounds (musically) rather simple.  Yep, just a little.  But wait!  Using compound meters can be fun and exciting, because they provide a steady beat for the ear to follow while allowing for a rhythmically agile melody or accompaniment without sounding too busy too easily.  They’re also GREAT meters for writing ostinatos (see Lesson IV in this post for an explanation of ostinatos).

Some of the most energetic music out there uses compound meters to sound decidedly epic, and often periodically appropriate.  One of my favorite themes is Hans Zimmer’s “He’s a Pirate,” which uses the compound meter of 12/8 and sounds totally badass.

Interestingly enough, the Pirates of the Caribbean movies take place loosely between 1720-1750 according to scriptwriters.  The baroque era in music ran from 1600-1750; Is it coincidence that Zimmer used a compound meter, common to baroque gigues, throughout the score?  I rather doubt it, mate.  Irish jigs also use compound meters to give the music that mug-swinging feel.

Another enchanting little ditty is the main gameplay theme from Candy Crush Soda Saga:

If you want to give something a solid beat but a severe sense of movement, a compound meter is a great way to go about it.  It also creates a really easy framework for melody writing, because you can right an extremely agile melody without having to overthink the rhythms that you’re writing.  In 12/8, the smallest rhythmic denomination you might use is the 8th note – and it’ll still sound like your phrases are moving fast!  If you find yourself usually writing in 4/4 and 3/4, take a compound meter out for a spin this week.

Lesson 2: Making Minor Keys Sound Epic, Not Sad

Most popular music is written in major keys, which is to say that they are built with notes of a major scale.  As a result, music written with the major scale sounds largely happy or positive.  For a more dramatic, sad, dark, or intense piece of music, you may want to switch it up and compose a tune based on a minor scale.  But what if you want to avoid the piece sounding too sad?

Before diving into composing with a minor scale, it’s important to note that there are more than one minor scale.  There are three: natural minor, harmonic minor, and melodic minor.  The easiest to use/think about for minor newbs is natural minor.  If you were to play the white keys on the keyboard from A to A, that is a natural minor scale.  Another way to think of it is singing Do Re Mi Fa So La Ti Do, but instead of starting and ending on Do, you can start and end on La.  La Ti Do Re Mi Fa So La is a natural minor scale.  Natural minor scales use the same intervals as a major scale (meaning, the notes are the same distances apart from one another), but the 6th note is your starting point instead of the 1st note:

You may remember from the Final Fantasy VII theme analysis that the scale you use determines the primary chords you use in your composition, and that a major scale would yield the following chords:

I – ii – iii – IV – V – vi – vii* – I

Lower case = minor chords, UPPER case = major chords.  So, if we were writing in C major, we would have the following chords at our disposal:

C – Dm – Em – F – G – Am – Bdim – C

If we start on the 6th pitch in the C major scale, using it as our starting pitch, we would be using A minor and we use the same chords in the same order…

Am – Bdim – C – Dm – Em – F – G – Am

…and the Roman numerals would look like this…

i – ii* – III – iv – v – VI – VII – i

If this is confusing for you, refresh your memory with scales and Roman numeral analysis with the Final Fantasy VII theme analysis.

Frog’s theme is written in G# minor, which means the composer had these notes at his disposal…

G# – A# – B – C# – D# – E – F# – G#

…and these chords…

G#min – A#dim – B – C#min – D#min – E – F# – G#min

…and the piece starts and ends on G#minor chords.

Now, writing in minor means that you’ll probably be starting and ending on a minor chord – and minor chords usually sound sad or ominous.  Frog’s Theme does not sound sad OR ominous.  It sounds triumphant and dramatic.  How did this happen?

Well, Mitsuda makes a point to avoid hanging on too many minor chords in this song.  Despite the piece being built with a minor scale, 80% of the chords used in the song are the major chords derived from the natural minor scale or harmonic minor scale.  If 80% of your chords sound positive/happy, it’s going to be tough to produce a piece that sounds sad or ominous overall.  By focusing the melody and harmony around major chords 80% of the time, the piece sounds dramatic and positive.  Not overly happy, but not overly sad or dramatic either; an excellent balance!

How to Use This Lesson:

If you usually write in major, it’s time to try a more dramatic musical palette.  Write your next piece using the minor scale and the chords therein.  While there are different types of minor scales, unless you feel comfortable with music theory already I would highly recommend starting by writing with a Natural Minor scale to begin.  Specifically, use the A minor scale/key and you can just stick to the white keys on the piano to know you’re in the right place.  Finally, do a quick analysis of your own chord progressions and see how many minor chords you have.  If you want it to sound sad, use more minor than major.  If you want it to sound epic or triumphant, you’ll need to throw in more major chords – like the III, VI, VII of natural minor or the IV and V of harmonic minor.  Or both, like Mistuda did.

Lesson 3: The (mostly) Four-Chord Song

EDIT: I made a couple errors in this lesson, and will fix this ASAP.  Sorry about that, and thanks to Joshua Taipale of Ongaku Concept for catching them!

When being creative, most of us will have a natural inclination to overcomplicate things.  Sometimes, this creates a paralysis where we might stare at a blank page (or screen) for hours without moving the pen/cursor much – if at all.  The crushing task of creating something profound can stop us in our tracks, so it’s nice to be reminded that many of the greatest songs are really, really simple.

Here’s your reminder, via a funny video that illustrates how many hit songs have been built on the same harmonic chord progression over and over again:

The reason I’m bringing this up is because Frog’s Theme, as epic and dramatic as it is, is also almost entirely made up of four-chords.  The minor i, and Major III, VI, and VII chords.  That’s pretty much it.  Nothing fancy.

The “intro” section that somehow persists over the years despite never actually being in-game:

i – VII – VI -VII, i -VII – VI -VII – i

The “A” Section, which introduces the main melody, is:

i – III – VI – VII

i – VII – VI – Vsus4 – V

The “B” Section, which continues the melody until the repeat of the piece, is:

VI – VII – VI – i

VI – VII – IV – V

VI – VII – VI – i

VI – VII – i

If you’ll notice, about 85% of the song is made of the same four chords: i, III, VI, and VII.

How to Use This Lesson

Making great video game music doesn’t have to be rocket science.  Take four chords, mix em up in a few different combinations, and write a bitchin’ melody.  Done.  The key takeaway here is to not overthink what you’re doing.  Does Mitsuda throw in a major V chord and a major IV chord once each?  Sure, but the melody can be harmonized beautifully by sticking to the same 4 chords that most of the song is built off of.

Lesson 4: The Boom-Chick Accompaniment

This term may only be familiar to guitarists and piano players who have actually taken formal lessons before (or gone through one of those dreadful teach-yourself-to-play books), but I’ll explain for the rest of us.

First, let’s define what I mean by “accompaniment”.

Accompaniment: A musical part that supports or partners a solo instrument, voice, or group.

Example: I sang a song with a guitar accompaniment (meaning, I sang the melody and the guitar was the background).

This, essentially, is the “background” music to support the main focus – or the melody.  When writing an accompaniment, it’s often helpful (and simpler) to use a pattern or style that’s easy to work with or complimentary to the kind of music you’re trying to write.  Piano players are usually the ones who talk about accompaniment patterns when referring to the left-hand part in a piece of music, and there are a handful of very common and easily-repeatable patterns you can use to fit the piece.

In Frog’s Theme, Mitsuda uses what’s called a boom-chick accompaniment pattern.  This pattern alternates between the bass note of a chord and the other chord tones, like this:

If you’ve seen any of the piano arrangements of Frog’s theme, like this one by Zohar, you can watch the player’s left hand at 0:22-0:53 and 2:57-3:30 to see/hear this prominent boom-chick rhythmic pattern:

Now, in the actual in-game version of Frog’s, the boom is played by the Timpani (or, as close as the SNES could get to a Timpani), and the chick is played by the trumpets.  This is a great way to incorporate two very different instruments – a low, resonant Timpani and a handful of bright SNES trumpets – without creating too much noise in either part because you’re essentially using two instruments to play the left-hand piano part.  It’s a healthy balance of the work.

The boom-chick pattern is useful for creating very strong rhythmic feel to a piece of music.  Here another example of boom-chick accompaniment patterns used in Kingdom Hearts:

The Kingdom Hearts soundtrack actually has this accompaniment pattern littered throughout the entire score.

More often than not, some of the most memorable video game music tracks are ones that are built upon a solid tune.  The Super Mario Bros. theme song, the main theme from Final Fantasy VII, Frog’s Theme from Chrono Trigger, Dearly Beloved from Kingdom Hearts, Casino Nights from Sonic the Hedgehog: if you stripped them all down to a piano-only piece, they would still be amazing.  More atmospheric-sounding music, on the other hand, may not fair so well as a piano solo.

How to Use This Lesson

Try taking an existing melody or chord progression, and rearranging it to use the boom-chick accompaniment pattern.  Depending on which instruments you’re using, you can have the same instrument do the “boom,” and “chick,” or you can divide the labor across multiple instruments like Mitsuda does in Frog’s theme, having the Timpani play the “boom,” and the Trumpets play the “chick.”

Lesson 5: Melodic Repetition

No, I’m not talking about the fact that most video game music loops indefinitely.  I’m talking about a device used in writing great melodies, ya dig?

When writing a melody, there are several ways to make it sound more pleasing and familiar to the listener.  One way is to repeat rhythms or pitches that have already been used.  Frog’s Theme uses a lot of repetition in the most memorable parts of the melody, repeating both the rhythms and pitches.

To prepare for this post, I created a simplified piano arrangement of Frog’s theme.  Take a look at the screenshot below, and notice how much repetition is going on.  The whole piece (in-game version, which excludes the intro found on the soundtrack) is 16 bars long.  Of those 16 bars, 7 of those contain material that is repeated somewhere else in the piece.  That’s almost half of the piece!  On top of that, the same rhythmic motif appears 8 times: a quarter note followed by 4 eighth notes.  I’ve used three different colored ovals to point out melodic sections that are exact matches, and I’ve changed the note heads to red every time the same rhythmic pattern appears:

On paper, this may seem like there isn’t a whole lot of originality here, but you’d be wrong!  While the melody and the rhythmic patterns often repeat, contrast is created by what comes next, what chords are used underneath the melody, etc.  Having said that, giving the listener familiar pieces of musical material over and over again makes your piece more predictable in a good way, meaning that it’s pleasant to the ear because you aren’t constantly bombarding the listener with new information that it hasn’t encountered yet.  By giving the player a few musical anchors to keep them grounded, they can enjoy all the other changes you have going on in the piece.

How to Use This Lesson

When writing your next melody, choose a catchy bit of it to reuse a few times throughout the piece.  It doesn’t have to be anything too fancy, or even very long – the rhythmic motif used over and over in Frog’s Theme is 2 beats long (5 notes).  You can start each phrase with the same rhythm, and in the same sections you can use the same rhythm and pitches to create even more familiarity, creating contrast through the material that immediately follows.

Conclusion

Share with Friends!

Boy, this one took me way longer than it should have.  Battling a newborn baby and a serious case of perfectionism can really slow you down!  Either way, if you found any part of this post useful it would be AMAZING if you used the social sharing buttons at the top or bottom of this post to share it on your desired social media network.

Got questions?

Got questions about anything I went over in this post, or feedback?  Ask in the comments below, or give me a holler via Twitter (@VGMAcademy) or e-mail (subscribers have my email address).

What Do YOU Want Next?!

Do you have a piece or composer you’d really like to learn from, or do you have any “How did they do that…?” moment you’d like help with?  Drop a suggestion in the comments or on Twitter!