When I started Apple TV+’s Severance three years ago, two things struck me most: The first was its primary setting—Lumon’s headquarters—which happened to be a familiar and frequent study spot 20 minutes from my home in Jersey. The second, and perhaps more universally relatable, was its music. The opening theme is immediately engrossing, strange, and cinematic, introduced with eerie keys and crescendoing into swelling strings and electronics. Paired with the title sequence’s trippy visuals, it’s one of the strongest hooks I’ve ever encountered in television.
A few years later, and Season 2 has blown up massively: Street has covered it more extensively than any other piece of TV in the last decade, my X feed is flooded with insanely entertaining week–to–week theorizing, and, most telling, Youtube has begun recommending to me hardcore analyses of the show’s every detail, more than a few of which are about its music.
As it turns out, you could get deep into analyzing the craft behind the main theme’s striking chords. There’s thematic meaning baked into its dissonance, with clashing keys set at a distant tritone apart, symbolically assigned to the show’s “innie” and “outie” cast. According to a few sharp–eared Youtubers out there, this ends up forming the basis of the show’s soundtrack: characters and ideas are represented by keys (eg. C minor for outies and G–flat major for innies), and they subtly morph in accordance with the narrative.
The show marks a pivot for its composer, Theodore Shapiro, whose career has primarily been defined by comedic output. Severance, instead, belongs to a crop of shows known as “prestige” TV, a title applied to straight–faced episodic dramas, with no time for filler or fluff. It’s meticulously produced from every angle, from world building to cinematography to costume design and so on.
As such, it’s no surprise that Severance’s soundtrack is the way it is. Beyond acting as any strong background music should, adjusting its timbre to abet the scenes on–screen, Severance’s music is so attuned to the show’s themes and characters that it can provide insight into the narrative itself. Even Lumon’s elevator tones provide hints: a G is chimed at the outie floor, and a D–flat is chimed at the innie floor—each of these is a fifth interval from its respective outie or innie key as suggested by the main theme. But, spoiler warning, when the elevator doesn’t chime the D–flat, we know a character isn’t actually switching from their outie.
All of this is cool on the surface, but the technicality with which Severance uses these musical ideas begs the question: how much does it all actually matter? Is this level of detail even worth including when only those with perfect pitch and the energy to care will notice it? At what point does something subconsciously powerful turn into something gimmicky, just trinkets to uncover by diehard fans?
It’s a fair ask, especially considering that the best music is often not intentionally dictated by music theory at all: some of the best composers today aren’t prescribing any of it to their work. There exist entire genres and musical cultures built off of whatever simply “sounds good”; theory can be applied descriptively after the fact, but it might not play a role in an artist’s process.
There’s even a popular notion that an artist’s best work is produced naively, without any formal music training. And while I don’t fully agree, there’s absolutely some truth to it: a majority of rockstar “greats” aren’t familiar with theory jargon, and this is doubly true for rap and pop stars. A recent viral clip of Benny Blanco comes to mind: his technical experience starting off was so limited that a majority of his hits, including Kesha’s “TiK ToK” and Taio Cruz’s “Dynamite,” were made before he knew how to change the BPM in Pro Tools. Furthermore, it’s no surprise that virtually all pop music is written in the 4/4 time signature, and the same chord progressions get reused over and over. Why put in the extra effort to change what already works?
But as much as we can argue that having a deep understanding of theory isn’t important for good music, we should instead consider this agnostically: There are far more factors at play here. Genre, intention, and context play a huge role in how effectively music theory can be applied.
Importantly, Severance’s score is just that—a score. Intuitively, its intense reliance on harmonic relationships and chord shifting makes sense: anyone making musical accompaniments should be well studied enough to know what to pair with any scene of the on–screen narrative. This is especially true for a show like Severance. In a mystery designed to be overanalyzed in every frame, why shouldn’t its soundtrack have musical clues too?
But still, there’s the issue of acknowledgement. The average viewer isn’t doing this kind of overanalysis; they’re never going to know or care what key represents Mark and Gemma’s relationship in the show. Music theory isn’t an especially accessible topic, and that’s why it has a home in the relatively niche sphere of “music theory Youtube,” a space for people to nerd out over the specific contexts and cases when complex harmonic choices indeed play a massive, unsung role. Unsurprisingly, soundtracks are especially popular here, with multiple channels specifically dedicated to analyzing video game and film scores.
While speaking to Jinhyung Kim of the Tone Glow newsletter, Keith Rankin of plunderphonics outfit Death’s Dynamic Shroud brought this topic up while referencing the same guy who first analyzed the Severance main theme: “It’s funny—I’ll watch some YouTubers who are music theory people, and they’ll be flipping out over an Earth, Wind & Fire chord change or something.” In response, Kim aptly likened these creators to interpreters: “It’s kind of like describing the same thing in different languages—something may be a simple word in one language, but to describe the same thing in another language could require more complexity, because you’re coming at it from a different angle.”
When framed like this, we end up with a pretty important insight: whether or not we pay attention to the craft, the end result is still the same. Understanding or even just acknowledging the theoretical complexities of a track is merely a matter of perspective, one that can only add merit to the original music.
With all this in mind, our original question is more or less answered: Yes, the details and technical precision of Severance’s score absolutely matter. Whether or not the average viewer can consciously identify a tritone or name a key, they still feel the tension, dualities, and emotional shifts embedded in the soundtrack—all aspects immediately apparent in just the opening sequence. And just as Severance's viewers can indulge however deeply they'd like with the show's mysteries, they can feel rewarded for every level of engagement with its music: casual watchers get a compelling emotional ride, and the obsessives get another rabbit hole to plunge into.
