Clara & Twelve's Musical Legacy In 5 Tracks 

Clara & Twelve’s Musical Legacy in 5 Tracks

Guest contributor Anna Rinaldi picks 5 tracks that best characterise the star-charted saga of Clara and 12.

As I rattle away at the keyboard, hearing a syncopated rhythm of satisfying clicks, my foot taps to a different tune. I often complete even the most menial of tasks with musical accompaniment, following the steady pace of percussive harmonies, tempestuous horns, and swelling strings in almost everything I do. While scrolling through my play list, however, I see only four distinct genres: Murray Gold, Doctor Who, Murray Gold, and Doctor Who. Music is indeed another medium by which Doctor Who successfully infiltrates my life. Even during the preeminent arrival of Christmas last month, when I should have been humming a few Jingle Bells; a couple of Deck the Halls; and a myriad of sugar-coated, icing-dolloped favorites, Doctor Who prevailed. A Lonely Decision, This is Gallifrey, and Vale Decem are just a few of my commercial holiday equivalents, infusing the air with saccharine nostalgia.

However annoyingly catchy or familiar, it’s not the music itself that promulgates the spirit of Christmas, but the listeners and their recollections of this festive time of year. Music encapsulates a swarm of emotions, rearranging them in a complex series of notes and chord progressions, yet retaining their inherent simplicity. And so, when I listen to the Doctor Who Series 8 soundtrack, I am greeted with a flood of memories and warm affection for the most indomitable pair of interstellar adventurers in the galaxy.

From heated banter to diffident hugs, these five standout tracks capture the highs and lows, all of the accelerated adrenaline and slow-tempo exchanges, that characterise the star-charted saga of Clara and Twelve’s deeply rooted bond. After all, some stories become songs. Even as the final notes reverberate with melodic clarity, there exists an infinite amount of time and blank chapters to be filled between one beat and the next. The stories never truly end…

Although the title may conjure up some disturbing imagery from the depths of your demented mind, Pudding Brains is really quite a thrilling listen. Resounding throughout the Doctor’s valiant rescue mission toward a dinosaur in distress and intensifying Clara’s ardent backlash against Madame Vastra, the music is a feisty blast of fun. It hosts the frequent fighting matches between a pair of hopeless egomaniacs grappling for control. Thus, as the seeds of a timeless friendship are sprouting, tension is rising — both participants’ fiery, independent personalities make the chances of a pleasant interaction slim. The music illustrates this dynamic perfectly with a playful refrain riddled with sudden crescendos that spiral into haphazard phrases.

Clara’s past trepidation and wariness toward Twelve seem disconcerting alongside her easygoing attitude throughout Series 9. While Clara and the Doctor’s lackadaisical demeanor and facetious tradeoffs are good fun to watch in episodes like Under the Lake or Sleep No More, I do miss that classic bickering from the cafe scene in Deep Breath. In retrospect, Clara’s rapport with her Time Lord accomplice has truly evolved. It may have been mottled with a little drama and a few infuriated confrontations, but realistic relationships always encounter some jolts and jostles, amplified all the more by a bumpy ride through the time vortex.

Personally, I don’t consider “Listen” to be a definitive masterstroke. Before fireworks ignite in the comments section, allow me to clarify. My main qualm stems from the portrayal of Clara and Danny’s budding romance. Although Clara’s slew of fiasco dates with Mr. Pink is patched with amusing miscommunications, the chemistry between them is very uncomfortable. Clara’s cheap attempts at sardonic humour combined with Danny’s insecurity make for a disastrous spectacle, and one begins to wonder how the two make amends so rapidly.

For me, the soothing undertones drifting along the instrumental currents of “Fear” are not symbolic of Danny and Clara surmounting barriers in their relationship. Instead, the muffled ballad wafts through the fluid substance of years past, emanating from a lost planet and lonely boy. The trembling strings surge and abate, following a young Time Lord’s conflicting emotions as he cowers from responsibility and impossible expectations. He can’t be a Doctor every day, and it takes a certain Clara Oswald to remind him that, on some days, it’s okay to be afraid. The melody arrives at its apex, a shimmering dissonance, as the Doctor reconciles with the shadow chasing after his restless life, the constant companion from which he always runs yet never deserts — fear (and Clara Oswald’s hugs).

Whimsical and dreamy, this meandering tune cued what we expected to be Clara’s final farewell (Pfft… The audacity!). And what better way to reflect on the duo’s glory years than onboard an opulent space locomotive chugging away toward a new future? Fittingly, Clara’s theme ambles along, carrying a cathartic atmosphere and retro twang, like an old record revolving listlessly in continuous cycles.

Mirroring her wistful gaze, this song communicates a poignant sadness tucked neatly beneath a forced smile. Clara is walking away from a life of running and saving, and this estranged man — whom she once considered a close friend — wears only a detached expression. As Clara and the Doctor are about to continue their separate ways, only then do they look back and recognise missed opportunities being swept away on the wings of cruel fate. It’s an incurable addiction, really. And Clara is relapsing into the hectic lifestyle she sorely and unwittingly missed.

This somber arrangement precedes the Doctor as he reunites with a Clara rendered worn and feeble by the passage of time. Suffused with regret and dwindling hope over lost years, the song wells tears and reflects on the delicate brevity of human life. Any Christmas could be someone’s last, and it seems as if the Doctor and Clara have reached the end.

“Clara Oswald, you will never look any different to me” was the point of no return, blurring my vision as tears trickled down. This emotionally powerful scene is what comes to mind whenever I make a terrible misjudgment and decide to listen to its musical counterpart. Through beautiful cinematography flitting from a young, exuberant Clara to a cheerful elderly woman; a contemplative theme; and a display of tender devotion from the Doctor, I’m left with a bittersweet epilogue and relevant message: even though appearances can wither away, a friendship endures across time and space, reality and dreams.

But for Christmas, the Doctor is offered a second chance. And the sonorous ringing of horns followed by an orchestral sweep into his theme thrust Clara and the Doctor toward new prospects of adventure. The TARDIS whirs into action, fading away along with Christmas’ newly fallen snow.

Ending on an uplifting note, we wrap up our countdown with this jaunty, memorable beat. It is an innovative take on one of Queen’s legendary hits, complemented by a steady drum line, a jubilant refrain, and a casual saxophone coasting across a teased melody. I can’t help but sway back and forth as the tune unravels and eventually find myself all out dancing (dancing, for me, resembles bobbing back and forth while spinning in a swivel chair — it’s certainly an embarrassing sight to behold).

Clara’s departure in Face the Raven was a poetic tragedy, irony at its bleakest, and when Hell Bent stubbornly resurrected her, a tirade of some particularly livid expletives may have slipped across my tongue. As the episode progressed, however, I found that the two successive goodbyes need not clash but enhance each other. Hell Bent acted as a buffer, blunting the sharp edge that painstakingly pierced through the viewer’s resolve and bid its time as the Raven deftly swooped toward its victim. Clara deserved her happy ending. It’s not an indefinite reprieve, but, as River Song so elegantly phrased it, a little extra time. Clara is taking the long way around.

Don’t Stop Me Now’s hazy intro reminisces on past adventures; then, the veil lifts, careening into new, energetic escapades. The impossible girl has embarked on a fresh, crisp chapter, and so has the Doctor. The pages persist — filling, turning, flying, and never stopping, not even for a moment.

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Andrew Stunell, Daniel Drew, Donald Pettyjohn, Earl Ecklund III, Katherine King, Lorna Robinson, Mark Truman, Mart McDonald, Rob Kubasko, Sam R.

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