HBO’s “Succession” reached its grand conclusion on May 28, 2023, wrapping up four seasons filled with awards, sharp insults, dark humor, and frantic power struggles. This series follows the narrative of Logan Roy, an ailing media mogul, and his four unpleasant children vying for control of his empire. Personally, I was captivated by how it portrayed powerful yet deplorable individuals in a relatable manner—funny, pitiable, capable of deep emotions—without ever trying to redeem them. However, from the perspective of a music historian, what I will miss the most about the series is its use of music and sound. Many critics have highlighted that one of the outstanding features of the series is its soundtrack, which is as intricate and driving as the drama it complements. In my view, the show’s inventive sound design, paired with composer Nicholas Britell’s delightfully dark score, demonstrates a level of emotional sophistication unmatched on television.
The theme song for “Succession,” crafted by Nicholas Britell, exemplifies Britell’s talent. Generally, modern political dramas revolve around corruption, and music effectively transforms something seemingly pure into something sour. Traditionally, this transformation is achieved by introducing chromaticism—those black keys on a piano—into the chords and melody, resulting in a sense of darkness and dissonance. However, nowadays, anything that sounds unusual—an offbeat rhythm, an unexpected sound—can achieve the same effect. The composer’s expertise in intricately weaving strangeness into their work makes the difference. Britell has mentioned being influenced by European late-18th-century music. The theme for “Succession” takes inspiration from a few forgettable bars of Beethoven’s “Pathétique Sonata,” just slowed down with a few altered notes. Nonetheless, I believe the theme song’s sound is more closely aligned with the opening dance of Sergei Prokofiev’s 1935 ballet “Romeo and Juliet” or Sergei Rachmaninov’s well-known 1892 piano prelude in C Sharp minor. These are grand romantic pieces that alternate between bass notes and solid block chords reminiscent of a church bell’s chime. Yet, Britell then incorporates details that create a striking tension with the romantic musical style he employs. For instance, the theme song’s piano is deliberately out of tune. This is intentional. Meanwhile, the melody, held at a high pitch, awkwardly attempts, yet ultimately fails, to shift to a brighter key. Throughout the series, there are numerous reality-show-style shots of characters exclaiming things like “I am excited.” This is their signature music. The rhythm is sprinkled with small dissonant tones in the piano’s upper register, reminiscent of a playful version of the “low battery” sound on a cellphone. The resulting effect is startling—perfectly suited for a story about a corrupt media conglomerate. Lastly, Britell, who is also a hip-hop beat maker, embellishes the theme song with a playful 1990s synthesizer beat. This adds a bounce and a touch of irony to the romantic somberness of the chords and melody. In his very modern method, Britell adorns sincere Romantic music with features that embarrass it with glee, drawing viewers directly into the show’s characters’ psychological dynamics: a yearning for power, overshadowed by self-contempt that swings between comedy and tragedy. Comparatively, other shows like “House of Cards,” about a corrupt political figure’s pursuit of the U.S. presidency, and “Yellowstone,” about a Montana landowning family’s struggle against developers, Indigenous leaders, and environmental activists, try to convey a grim atmosphere and crookedness through their music. Both series have deservedly attracted notice and praise. Yet, unlike “Succession,” their scores are, in my opinion, less impactful.
The title theme for “House of Cards,” composed by Jeff Beal, is delivered in a symphonic style, fitting the topics’ grandeur and the characters’ excessive privilege; the melodies reside in a lower range, contrary to the more typical bright, high register. Both theme songs prominently feature the lower strings of violas, cellos, and double basses, further deepening the sonic palette.
The title theme for “Yellowstone,” composed by Brian Tyler, uses similar techniques. The composers also attempt to signal corruption through occasional discordant chords or notes. At the conclusion of the opening credits of “House of Cards,” this can be heard in the electric guitar’s twang. In “Yellowstone,” Tyler employs chromatic scales to decorate the melody. However, these techniques do not quite hit the mark. For corruption’s musical presence to stand out, it needs to be contrasted against a relatively pure backdrop. The scores for both “House of Cards” and “Yellowstone” begin with a dark and twisty tone, which makes achieving the “staining” effect more challenging. This is where Britell’s adept blending of lightness and darkness in “Succession’s” music sets it apart. “Succession’s” distinctive sound design further reimagines the series’ psychological depth. Sound design encompasses the combination and mixing of all audio elements, from noises to dialogue and music, within the soundtrack. In the first episode, viewers meet Kendall Roy, an eminently slappable finance bro and potential heir to his father’s company. He is being chauffeured to a business meeting while bouncing around in the back seat to the tune of the Beastie Boys’ “An Open Letter to New York.” This moment is utterly awkward: a privileged white man using hip-hop for emotional flattery. The Beastie Boys, as Britell and the showrunners are undoubtedly aware, have faced criticism for being white Jewish musicians adopting a white working-class persona, in turn emulating Black hip-hop artists. Initially, the Beastie Boys’ music blasts out over the soundtrack; moments later, their sound becomes confined to Kendall’s headphones, allowing viewers to hear his whiny voice rapping the lyrics. Suddenly, one suspects he might despise himself even more than we already do.
Film scholar Claudia Gorbman first theorized the effect explored here by “Succession’s” award-winning sound designers, Nicholas Renbeck and Andy Kris. Gorbman highlights the distinction between “diegetic music”—the kind that characters within the film can hear, like background music at a party or ambient sounds such as clinking cutlery—and “non-diegetic music,” which is only heard by the film’s audience, not the characters. Balancing these two types of music and sounds lays the psychological foundation of the story: Diegetic cues imply that the characters’ world differs from what the audience perceives as reality. Non-diegetic cues suggest that the filmmakers are conveying the characters’ emotions to the audience, akin to the music swelling when two romantic protagonists kiss. The transition from non-diegetic to diegetic in Kendall’s introduction provides a sense of eavesdropping on his fragile self-delusion. He is slippery, erratic, and unknown—even to himself. Britell’s music, coupled with the show’s interplay between diegetic and non-diegetic sounds, might be one reason why, even after four seasons, none of the show’s fans could confidently predict who would inherit the family’s patriarch’s position. Appropriately, the series, which commences with Kendall, also concludes with him as he wanders, dazed, along the Hudson River. The non-diegetic theme song plays in the background once more. Then, for one brief moment—prior to a sharp transition to a black screen—the sound becomes diegetic: viewers, along with Kendall, can hear the sound of the river flowing. This is a startling moment. The show’s sound designers intentionally avoided ambient noises to underscore how the Roy siblings are too privileged and too engrossed in their schemes to notice their surroundings.