The animator, director, musician and creator of Over the Garden Wall takes Kayla Sandiford through the songs that have soundtracked his life.
When you look at Patrick McHale’s work, there’s an endearing timelessness that sits at its core.
Whether he’s chronicling the adventures of Finn the Human and Jake the Dog in the post-apocalyptic world of Adventure Time, Wirt and Greg’s journey through the Unknown in Over the Garden Wall, or mapping out the mysterious universe of The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack, he has crafted realms which, despite being fantastical in their narratives - and at times strange, or haunting - manage to land close to home with their ability to balance the weight of humour, whimsy, and emotional resonance.
Back in October, McHale attended the InMotion convention in London to discuss brainstorming, creative collaboration, and how to bring ideas to fruition with Adventure Time co-creator Pendleton Ward. During the panel, they explored a poignant question: “Why make anything?”
To which, McHale shared: “Art is creative investigation. It’s about the investigation of things more than the actual thing that’s created. It’s not about art, it’s about creative intention.”
It’s a necessary thought process for an artist who wears multiple hats, especially when it comes down to using childlike scenes to explore more mature themes of mortality, love, and existentialism. As an animator, storyboard artist, screenwriter, director, and musician, all of McHale’s titles serve as vehicles for intention. This also turned out to be the case when it came down to consuming art, as his Nine Songs selections would reveal.
McHale’s primary Nine Songs selections initially arrived with runner-ups, or alternatives, that existed in the same vein to expand upon the specific feelings and experiences that he looked to touch upon. His visible indecision emphasised how strongly each selection represented an era, a friendship, or a creative awakening that brought him to where he is now.
The songs map out a very clear timeline for McHale, starting with his household influences. He recalls the ‘gentle, nostalgic’ feelings emulated by the sounds of Winnie the Pooh and Robin Hood, the only cartoons his mother could tolerate, his father’s improvised vocal melodies and deep love for The Beach Boys, and the 8-bit electronic themes that soundtracked the games that sparked an early love for animation.
He still speaks with a sense of excitement when he talks about being inspired by the songs that the older, “cool kids” listened to on MTV, which gave him cultural reference points that made him feel older beyond his years, and compelled him to explore his own tastes with Napster as a teen.
Even as he discusses the experience of forming friendships through the experience of listening together with “pinpoint accuracy” or tentatively smiles about the Rick Astley song that he and his wife bond over, you’d believe that he’s recounting events that took place just yesterday.
As he explores the songs that have kept him anchored through childhood, adolescence, and through to adulthood, McHale only asserts his desire to investigate, and utilise this tool as a way to create with intention; taking the influences he absorbs, honouring their origins but still mixing them up enough to become something new, while leaving space for others to find parts of themselves within the final product.
His musical evolution mirrors a process that has propelled him through years of storytelling, ultimately creating some of the most beloved work in contemporary animation.
“In a Fashion” by Frank Luther
BEST FIT: “In a Fashion” appears on an album with two other songs from Winnie the Pooh, “Wind on the Hill" and “The Three Foxes”. What makes “In a Fashion” stand out for you?
PATRICK MCHALE: When I was little, the two movies that I watched over and over again were Disney's Winnie the Pooh and Robin Hood. My mom could only handle those voices and songs, whereas other cartoon stuff was overwhelming. So, those were very deep in me. Then in middle school, my friend and I bonded over Winnie the Pooh. He gave me a tape of Kenny Loggins' “Return to Pooh Corner” on repeat for the entire tape on both sides. And we would both listen to that and bond over that.
And then, when I had a son, which is what the Kenny Loggins song is about, rediscovering Winnie the Pooh with your child, we got into Winnie the Pooh too. We discovered this collection of poems by A.A. Milne that were turned into songs, and we listened to that quite a bit.
“In a Fashion” is one of those songs that really stuck with me in terms of connecting with my son. It reminded me of those early feelings, kind of like a big life circle. And I think the way that the song is written is really charming and inspiring too. The way that it’s structured is great.
Do you feel that the early presence of Winnie the Pooh and the gentle tone of the songs in it influenced the type of animation that you would go on to appreciate later in life?
For sure. It made me think about sound and music a lot more. It’s fifty percent of the audience's experience. It’s why I was able to watch those over and over again, because my mom could handle it. And so that became important to me too.
What draws you to songs that soundtrack more fantastical, childlike worlds?
There’s a gentle, nostalgic feeling. Even if you didn't grow up with them, I think it still has that feeling somehow. Maybe nostalgia is the wrong word, but listening to those songs makes me feel as though I’m in a place of youthfulness, with a more positive, naïve view of the world, probably a better view of the world.
Alex Kidd in Miracle World Theme
The theme to Alex Kidd in Miracle World is another pick associated with animated media, but it’s not quite as calm and collected as “In a Fashion”.
I was an only child, and I was babysat quite a bit because both of my parents worked, so I spent a lot of time with my babysitter and her family. I was almost like a cousin, it felt like. There were these three kids who were siblings, and I was the fourth who was just tagging along.
But they had a Sega Master System, and we would play Alex Kidd and a bunch of other games over there. So, it kind of feels like I had this separate second childhood with a separate family that I was part of. I’ve also had a lot of interest in video games over the years, and I think that’s where it started.
What kinds of games did you find yourself developing interest in over time?
I can’t really remember what the first system I got was. It might have been, because I was inspired by them, the Sega Master System. But I got a Sega Master System two, but it was a consolidated version that came with Alex Kidd in Miracle World built in. So even if you didn't put anything into it, if you just turned it on, it would start playing that game. If you put a different cartridge in wrong and you turned it on, that song would come on. And you’d go, ‘Oh, I put it in wrong.’ So I think I heard that song playing all the time.
You mention being influenced by your babysitter’s family, or your “second family”. Do you feel like that went on to inspire the kind of music you were listening to, and other media that you were consuming at the time?
She had brothers who were older than me. So they were watching MTV, listening to Nirvana, Offspring, Green Day and stuff. And I was a little young. I mean, they were young, too, but they were cool. So I was listening to all of that stuff at their place. We were watching MTV when Aerosmith aired their “Crazy” music video.
I almost feel like I’m older than I am. I have all of these memories of things that I’m not really supposed to, because I can relate to people who are a little bit older than me.
“Paperface” by Weezer
Weezer isn’t exactly known for being a “cool kid” band. How did you get into them?
That is a song that I discovered on Napster. It was a pretty exciting time to be interested in music, because you could just find songs. A lot of them were demos, unreleased, or rare. I was particularly into Weezer, because it was rock, but also relatable to nerds. You know, they were singing songs about Dungeons and Dragons and whatever. But "Paperface" was maybe the hardest song that they did. And I was always looking for more songs that sounded like that. It sounds like “Crackity Jones” by Pixies, the way it starts is almost the same. I think that’s what they were going for. “Paperface” opened my taste in that direction.
Before wanting to expand your taste in a harder direction, what kinds of music were you listening to?
My first three albums that I owned were Thriller, Born in the USA, and Rick Astley's first album. Those were cassette tapes. I remember buying those three tapes at the store, and it was pretty exciting. And then my first CD was Randy Newman's first album. I listened to it so, so, so much. I still can hear all of the orchestration, I can sing through the whole album and hear all the little bits.
And later, years later, my friend introduced me to Van Dyke Parks' music. Which just sounded crazy new, like nothing I had heard before. But I liked it. And then I realised, later, looking at that first album, that the first CD I ever owned was all produced by Van Dyke Parks. All those sounds were something I was looking for. And even though it was kind of odd, it felt right to me.
Do you feel like your changing musical interests at that point is reflective of the period that you were at in your life?
That was in high school, and I was trying to have an identity of some sort. I liked rock music, nerdy stuff, I was interested in Dungeons and Dragons, animation, and film. I’d also hang out with friends who were interested in things like Highlander, vampires, Magic: The Gathering, those kinds of things. Even if I wasn’t into those things, that was my group.
And then, as we got older in high school, we started getting more into music. My high school friends, who I’m still very close with, we really bonded over music. We’d just hang out, listen to music, and react. I think that was another really galvanising thing with music, even though I wasn’t playing music or making music at the time. We were really listening, with pinpoint accuracy and calling out things.
Being so detail-oriented and already having an interest in animation, would you say high school is when that desire to animate for yourself really peaked?
I think so. It sort of became this mystery. I was trying to figure out how to animate. I could animate with my camera by pressing the record button, and then pressing it again, and I had the timing right where it could capture a couple of frames, so I could do stop motion. But then, I didn’t know how to do lip sync. How to get dialogue over a picture. And I was thinking, people did it back in the 30s, how did they do it back then?
I was trying to figure it out then, but the Internet wasn’t what it is now. There was nothing about it online, and I couldn’t really figure it out on my own. So it just kept being this mystery that I wanted to learn about. That was one of my main drives for going to animation school. It was bothering me, and I couldn’t figure it out.
“Engine” by Neutral Milk Hotel
I was listening to this later in high school, into college. That was when I heard their album In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. I felt I had made it, or like, I was supposed to have made it. I was like, ‘Oh, this is mine.’ And I think a lot of people felt that way, in a way, where they felt a weird, personal bond with it. And then using Napster, or whatever I was doing to find other recordings of other songs that were beyond the albums.
“Engine” was an interesting song because in different recordings of the band performing it, Jeff Mangum would change the lyrics slightly. It was sort of a children’s song, but also a surreal one. It just felt nice. Like something to aspire to, I guess.
Would you say that experiencing that depiction of a surreal children’s song went on to inform the way that you would write music for Over the Garden Wall and Adventure Time?
Oh, for sure. What Jeff Mangum and the rest of the band were doing, along with their other projects, was hugely inspiring to me. The whole Elephant 6 Collective hugely inspired how I think about what’s valuable in creating things, the energy you bring to a project. How much of yourself you put into something, and how much you choose to hide. It’s a mix of making it pretty foggy but also making sure you’re really in there somewhere.
I think if your essence is in there and it’s foggy enough, people can project themselves into it. That’s what people did with his music and that album. When I create things, I try to make work that others can connect with in that way.
“Engine” feels the most connected to my own work because I’ve made things for kids. I feel like that song is a children’s song, but not necessarily for children. And I made a children’s show, but it’s not actually just for kids. Kids can watch it, but it also exists for itself.
“I'm Going Home” by Tim Curry
I just love it. Tim Curry is the best. When he sings ‘cards for sorrow, cards for pain’, the way he delivers that line, combined with his acting, shuffling the cards, dealing them out, then suddenly remembering he missed one. It’s just so good.
Do you consider yourself to be a Rocky Horror fan?
When I first saw The Rocky Horror Picture Show, a friend in high school came over and said, ‘Oh, you’ve got to see this movie.’ He put it on in our living room, and those lips came on the screen. I was like, ‘What?’ Then it just keeps going, and it gets weird, especially when you don’t know anything about the movie.
Then Tim Curry’s character shows up, he takes the cape off, and my parents walk through the room. I’m like, ‘Oh no.’ I wasn’t ashamed, just deeply nervous. Then my mom says, ‘Oh, Rocky Horror Picture Show. I love that movie.’
Both of my mom’s parents were in showbusiness. My grandmother was a prima ballerina at Radio City, and my grandfather was an opera singer there. She grew up in New York, immersed in the theatre scene, seeing shows all the time. She was part of that seventies scene and knew Rocky Horror well. Over the years, we bonded over show tunes and musical theatre. That was really my first introduction to that world, outside of listening to my mom’s old records.
It sounds really special for you to have tapped into that bond with your mother. Like if she hadn’t walked in the room, you wouldn’t have known that it was a point you could really connect on. Did opening that door lead you to revisit her showtune albums more?
I would use them to make weird little collages on tape. I would take little bits of songs, like ‘Food, glorious food’ from Oliver, then cut to The Wizard of Oz or something.
Would you say that collaging is an approach to your work that you still maintain?
I think everyone is doing that, whether or not they’re conscious of it. And I try to be conscious of it enough that I can cover it up as much as I can by collaging more. But sometimes, if you’re going fast, you end up being able to tell where things are from. But I try to make it as muddy as possible so it feels new.
And an alternative song that you considered for this pick was “Science Fiction/Double Feature”, what led you to consider this one?
It’s more directly an inspiration for the opening of Over the Garden Wall. The frog coming into view mirrors the lips coming onto the screen, and the song functions as the intro. With that song, it’s just the lips, but it’s telling this whole story, referencing old movies and moments you don’t understand yet.
When you watch the film again, you start to see what’s being reprised. We wanted to do that with Over the Garden Wall, where you watch the intro and it feels like something. Then you watch it again and realise, ‘Oh, those are the characters you saw.’
“Domp” by Shred Flag Mountain (Kenny Tarantino)
Looking into this song and Shred Flag Mountain in general, I could only find a handful of tracks on SoundCloud. Can you tell me a little more about them? How did you go about finding them?
The real song that should be on this list doesn’t exist publicly, so no one can hear it. That song is “Small Time” by my friend Kenny. Also, “Follow Praise”, also by Kenny. “Small Time” is probably my favourite song ever, and Kenny is my favourite songwriter. He passed away last year. Shred Flag Mountain was his last project, and that material is online. “Domp” was a song he sent me in an email, and it was so exciting to hear because it was more produced than the acoustic stuff he usually did.
What would you say makes “Small Time” your true favourite? Does “Domp” contain similar elements that you like about it?
“Small Time” is the one that I connected with first, but you can see it in “Domp” too. It’s like what I was saying about Neutral Milk Hotel, there’s so much in the lyrics and melodies that I can put myself into and reinterpret. On different days, it means different things. And he does it on purpose. Sometimes he’d pronounce words, and you’re not sure which one he’s saying, for example, a word that could sound like ‘king’ or ‘kind’. He’d land right in the middle, so you could interpret it either way. Kendrick Lamar does that too, but Kenny was the first person I knew who did it. It opened up a whole world of meaning.
This was in college. My friend Andrew, who’s a fantastic musician in the band Lake, was my roommate and was great friends with Kenny. I met him through Andrew. Andrew, Kenny, and my friend Asheley were part of this group of music friends. And I wasn’t a musician, but they accepted me as one of their own. I could sometimes make music with them. I would record their stuff, maybe tap on stuff. And slowly, I gained more confidence about writing songs and doing music.
It sounds really valuable to have had a circle of musicians who accepted you and supported you to create with them at your own pace.
Kenny was particularly interested in the job of inspiring people to make music. The drummer in his band, Walk, Dan, wasn’t even a drummer at first. I didn’t even realise. Kenny just said, ‘You’d be good at drums. You should play drums.’ Dan said, ‘I don’t know how,’ and Kenny replied, ‘You’ll be good.’ And then he was the drummer in the band, and he was fantastic. Kenny just loved inspiring people.
“Good Storm” by Ashley Eriksson
You mentioned that Ashley was in that group of musician friends in college.
She’s another person who is one of my favourite songwriters ever. And she has this huge catalogue of songs, some released, some unreleased. She did the end title sequence for Adventure Time. And “Good Storm” was a song that was a little later.
I mean, she had all this wonderful music that really changed my whole view of music in college. She would try so many things, and she was really making music that felt like it was in the spirit of the experimentation that was being done in the ‘60s, with different kinds of sounds and rhythms. “Good Storm” is one that stands out as a really beautiful song to me.
It’s awesome to hear how you were able to maintain that creative relationship with Ashley over the years, from being inspired by her to eventually collaborating with her.
Yeah!
“She Wants to Dance with Me” by Rick Astley
This one has a long history. As I mentioned before, one of my first three tapes that I owned was Rick Astley. And then I rediscovered him with my friends when we went on a trip to Italy. I had Rick Astley’s Greatest Hits playing over and over again for the whole trip.
My wife, who was my girlfriend at the time, was a Rick Astley fan. She’s Korean and “She Wants to Dance with Me” was more popular in Korea than it was in the United States. I didn’t know that song, and she introduced me to that song. So it became a song that I associated with her in some way. She might not be happy with that, I don’t know.
But it's just a fun, nice song. I think it's funny, but lyrically, it's just the joy of being like, 'She wants to dance with me!’ And then that's my feeling about that relationship in some way, it just captures something, like a sweetness sort of thing.
So it captures a sweetness, an excitement.
Yes, and I mean, I don’t hear it that often. But when I do, it feels good. And also, Rick Astley did a Rickroll thing with Cartoon Network at the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade. They had a Cartoon Network float that was all like goofy, like Cartoon Network characters and costumes. And then in the middle of it, Rick Astley pops up and Rickrolls everybody. And that was when I was working there, so it was another connection.
“Watch the Party Die” by Kendrick Lamar
You mentioned an appreciation for Kendrick Lamar being an artist who uses words in a way that allows them to be widely interpreted as something else. But “Watch the Party Die” is a particularly interesting pick; it wasn’t an official release and is quite heavy on music industry critique. What inspired this choice?
That song is probably a representation of where my head is at more now. It’s about something kind of specific, but it’s written in a way that applies to a lot of industries that maybe need to be burned down and started up again.
I think a lot of people are feeling that way about a lot of different things. It’s a menacing sort of feeling in the song, but it’s also uplifting in a weird way. Like, let’s just redo it, let’s rework everything. It feels good as a reset to listen to that song for me; it’s getting angry in the right way.
As someone who has spent a number of years working in a creative industry, does it inspire you to think about what you would want to do to reset things?
Well, it’s a long, long list. But there’s a lot of uncertainty about the future of entertainment. I think it’s maybe less about changing but starting over with a different mindset of people first, rather than people trying to climb up this ladder or something.
Maybe I’m not as brave to say the things that Kendrick Lamar is saying, which is why it feels so good to listen to that song. I think if you want to hear my thoughts, just listen to that song! And also, Tyler, the Creator’s album DON’T TAP THE GLASS is another example of joyously angry music that feels like, ‘Yeah, just make stuff!’
Forget about this convoluted system that doesn’t work and is collapsing. Let’s just make our things for each other.
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