What's the Moon Made Of: Éalu Original Game Soundtrack Review
- Leila Lucas
- 18 hours ago
- 6 min read
Is there cheese in the great beyond? This is a thought imperative to the life of a mouse, though we may not regularly concern ourselves with the nuances of rodential emotions. In fact, we treat them as pests, regardless of their complex nature. To explore the thought process of a mouse is rare, and to devote an entire album to it is even rarer. Yet, singer-songwriter Will Wood, known for his emotional, zany, alternative, and folksy music with a gargantuan following, has devoted the entirety of his latest album to a mouse.
When I first encountered the music of Will Wood, I described it as, and I quote, a mixture of The Crane Wives, The Magnus Archives, and the Haunted Mansion ride at Disneyland with the energy of “I Am a Major Model of Modern Major General” and an insane squirrel. If that means nothing to you, don’t fret. The best way to fully experience his discography is to listen. However, that’s not to say that any track will fully encapsulate the essence of Will Wood. In fact, each release has its own distinct sound and energy, which brings us to the microcosm of “Tomcat Disposables,” but more on that later.
Wood has gone through a plethora of stages, and bands, throughout his career. Beginning as a part of the group A Verbal Equinox, he quickly gained popularity and left to headline with his own group, Will Wood and the Tapeworms. There, he released a handful of singles and albums, including his first studio album, Everything is a Lot. This, along with Self-ish, another studio album released with the Tapeworms, are typically chaotic, fast paced and hectic, with just a touch of manic energy. Think insane squirrels. The Normal Album, however, Will Wood’s pandemic release and first album under his name only, is entirely different. Filled with punny doo wop influences, it still carries the quick-witted, manic thought process, but in a more streamlined, upbeat way. That’s not to say that it's all sunshine and rainbows. Wood’s music can become very dark indeed.
There is far more to say about Will Wood’s immense discography and the variation in it, but the author would have graduated from high school before that were to be finished. Regardless, all of his music has a certain something within it that makes the listener nod and say “Yep, that’s Will Wood.” The same is true of the Éalu Soundtrack, though it is completely different from the albums mentioned above. Before one can understand Éalu and the universe it inhabits, however, there is more to be said about Wood’s previous discography. One must first be familiar with Wood’s 2022 album, In Case I Make It.
In Case I Make It is wholeheartedly different from the wild, excited nature of Everything is A Lot and Self-ish, and is a far cry from the satirical, nostalgic craziness of The Normal Album. While it retains that je ne sais quoi typical of Wood’s music, In Case I Make It is subdued, mournful, and deeply personal. Moreover, it carries with it questions about life, mental health, and human nature. Loss, uncertainty, and more than one song featuring rodents are all present on the album. Wood is widely known for his love of his pet rats, and In Case I Make It’s fourth track, “Euthanasia,” is a tear-jerking tribute to his late furry friends. The second song featuring rodents, “Tomcat Disposables,” is the jumping off point for Éalu and its soundtrack.
It is here that we depart from In Case I Make It as a whole and focus solely on “Tomcat Disposables.” The song centers on a small mouse living inside a human house and follows its journey through life. The mouse is blissfully innocent throughout the whole song, never once doubting its safety or the human inhabitants’ welcome. Even at the climax of the song, where it finds a bountiful feast and feels truly welcomed by its “friends” in the household, the mouse never once suspects foul play. While accepting its death, it still asks for its friends to meet it in the “great beyond” and says farewell to “mice in homes,” attributing the tragedy to nature. Wood displays an incredible emotional connection with this mouse, providing a stark difference from the typical representation of rodents. The mouse is neither a nuisance nor something inanimate, but is instead the main character (pun intended).
“Tomcat Disposables” opens the listener’s mind to a completely different perspective, and Éalu expands it into a full length album. With a collective runtime of 29 minutes, the Éalu soundtrack nearly quintuples the length of the original song. However, there is more nuance than simply embellishing the story already told in “Tomcat Disposables.” After all, there is an entirely new player in the story of the mouse, one that gives it a physical representation: Beyond the Bark – not to be confused with the countless luxury dog clothing companies. Beyond the Bark is a puppetry company that created the official music video for “Tomcat Disposables” and recently released their first full length game, Éalu. Éalu is an entirely stop motion point and click game, with a small wooden mouse as the playable character. Incidentally, the same mouse was featured in the “Tomcat Disposables” music video, with the new game’s soundtrack expanding upon original themes from the song.
The album is composed of seven tracks, all telling the story of the mouse. Unlike previous Will Wood releases, it is entirely instrumental. However, what it lacks in vocals, it makes up in storytelling. The album begins sweet and faithful to the main theme of “Tomcat Disposables,” gradually getting darker and glitching, themes typical of Wood’s music. For the first track, “Disposed,” and the last, “Nature,” I could just about hear the lyrics in my head despite only actually having piano and strings. However, the Éalu soundtrack is not an instrumental copy and paste of “Tomcat Disposables.” In fact, the end of the third track is reminiscent of “You Liked This (Okay Computer),” another track from In Case I Make It. Both have continuous glitching noises and darker undertones, acting as a segue into the tumultuous nature of the mouse’s journey. Track two, “Is There Cheese,” begins very similarly to “Disposed,” with a soft piano line that is inquisitive and innocent. Moreover, it is a waltz. The carousel-like, dancing melody is everything that the mouse is: sweet, gentle, and most certainly not afraid. It sweeps you into its arms, lulling you to sleep as it slowly shifts into a minor key.
“What’s the Moon Made Of” is a jarring difference. It is no longer the easy lullaby, but instead begins with abrupt, mechanical taps. The theme, repeated throughout the album, is now fully in a minor key, and is now played entirely on a keyboard with lots of reverb. The drumline taps in the background, its regular, funky beat stripping away the innocence of the mouse and introducing a burning curiosity. Without even playing the game, the listener can feel the mouse’s journey play out. By the fourth track, we are now in the middle of Éalu. Now, the drums are front and center, and the original theme has been distorted so as to provide an entirely different feel – and fear. It quite literally induces anxiety. The mouse has gotten itself into trouble, and the listener’s mounting apprehension is paired with the distinctiveness of “Life Gets Shorter.” By the end, the tempo is extremely fast, and the mouse is running. It ends with the ominous piano line, now restored slightly, the cawing of crows, and dissonant piano chords. The mouse is no longer safe.
Track five, “What’s for the Best,” is once again a waltz. Yet, this time, it is haunting. The remnants of the mouse’s life hang in the balance, and the listener can feel the break from the chaos that is “Life Gets Shorter.” The slowness of the dance, as well as the restoration of the piano and major chords, should act as a relief. Instead, however, the audience can feel something has changed. Wood is masterful at conveying emotions through instruments and chord changes alone, with the ominous normalcy of “What’s for the Best” being even more plaintive than the firestorm of the previous tracks. The piano trills are evocative and, while not menacing, induce a nostalgia for a time that was mere minutes ago. The creaking stillness at its end says it all. Track six, “Right and Wrong,” is frantic and dark. It is the shortest of all of the tracks, lasting a little under a minute. However, it is nothing short of terrifying.
Track seven, “Nature,” is entirely faithful to “Tomcat Disposables.” Specifically, it is the final verse, where the mouse has died, and is saying farewell. The swelling, final melody of “nature I guess” permeates everything, with the ghostly echo of lyrics not said blasting through my ears. We know what has happened, and there is nothing that we can do to stop it. If you aren’t crying for the mouse yet, then you should be. Even if you’re not a fan of Will Wood, I would still highly recommend listening to the Éalu soundtrack. It is wildly different from his previous works but yet so distinctly Will Wood. The storytelling and emotional journey are masterful, and, for an artist renowned for his sporadic releases, this is a triumph and a tragedy. There is something about the soundtrack that is so fulfilling narrative-wise, and is a joy to listen to, despite the sobbing that comes with it. And please, spare some thought for the next mouse you see.