Analyzing The Music Of ‘Fargo’: There Was A Crooked Man (And No Songs)


Most weeks, writing about the music of Fargo is relatively easy — the songs are usually interesting, eclectic and freighted with significance. Moreover, there’s also quantity of songs — it’s pretty rare for an episode of Fargo to be virtually devoid of music. Alas, this week’s episode was as close to being music-free as Fargo has ever been. There was that treacle-y version of “The First Noel” that plays over the opening titles as Varga menacingly opens Christmas presents. And that … is pretty much it.

Nevertheless, as someone who has committed to studying the musical subtext of Fargo this season, there were two things that caught my ear. One, toward the end of the episode, we see Nikki loaded into a prison bus and placed next to none other than Mr. Wrench, the deaf hitman from season one. The significance of this cameo is underscored by a reprisal of the percussive score that acted as a recurring fanfare that season.

As of now, anyway, Mr. Wrench’s appearance appears to be an Easter egg for long-time viewers rather than a major plot point. (Unless we can expect Mr. Wrench to rescue Nikki from Yuri Gurka at the start of the next episode.) However, it does serve as a reminder that this season of Fargo (contrary to the accusations of some critics early on) is hardly “more of the same” from this series. Back in season one, Mr. Wrench was a colorful though ultimately minor character in a season filled to the brim with colorful though ultimately minor characters. Outside of the core cast there was Keith Carradine, Kate Walsh, Stephen Root, Adam Goldberg, Jordan Peele and Keegan Michael-Key populating the Fargo universe. This season, Fargo has scarcely wandered from the principals: Ray, Emmit, Nikki, Varga, Sy, and Gloria. And two of those characters are played by the same people.

Whereas the first two seasons of Fargo were expansive, this season started out relatively miniaturist and has only grown more claustrophobic. And that has translated musically as well — the audacious setpieces set to flashy classic-rock songs that were a mainstay of season two have almost entirely fallen by the wayside (episode three being an exception). Instead, the new norm are choral pieces and folk songs that will sound alien to most ears.

The first two seasons of Fargo induced dread by showing explosive acts of violence and then letting the threat of continued carnage hang in the air. This season, however, the threat is harder to pin down or define. It’s unseen yet constantly felt, unspoken yet close and omnipresent. It’s a feeling that comes from seeing everything you have being slowly stripped away, and knowing there’s nothing you can do to stop it. This exists in the text of the show, particularly in relation to Emmit. But it’s also there in the stylistic elements of Fargo. Is Fargo now creating discomfort in the viewer by taking away something that’s always been key to enjoying this show, the music? I’m curious to see what next week’s soundtrack is like.

The other musical bit from this week’s Fargo that was meaningful to me wasn’t actually musical — it was Varga reciting the old English nursery rhyme, “There Was A Crooked Man.” As the father of two young children, I was familiar with “There Was A Crooked Man,” though I’m used to it sounding like this.

But here, again, Fargo removed the salve of music from “There Was A Crooked Man,” leaving only a rather chilling story about a crooked (corrupt?) person who lives in a crooked house (because it’s a product of corruption?), along with a cat who eats a mouse, a well-worn metaphor for Darwinistic capitalism. (Also recall that Nikki was the cat in the Peter and the Wolf episode, though I doubt there’s any real connection.)

On Fargo, music plays an essential part of the storytelling. But music can also be a distraction, a spoonful of sugar that makes violence or other dastardly deeds go down a little easier. This week, Fargo turned the volume down to let the accumulated awfulness of what we’ve seen soak in a little deeper, and make the fear of lies ahead a little harder to shake off.

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