OVATION: Conversation with Akira Yamaoka
In 1945, during the Cold War, Dynamo Moscow’s tour of Great Britain triggered violent clashes in stadiums. As a result of these incidents, Orwell wrote an ironically titled article, The Sporting Spirit, in which he described international competitions as “orgies of hatred” and “war minus the shooting”: “In the village square, where one picks a side and no sense of local patriotism is at stake, it is possible to play simply for fun and exercise; but as soon as the question of prestige arises, as soon as one feels that both oneself and a greater unit will be disgraced if one loses, the most savage combative instincts are awakened. Anyone who has played even in a school football match knows this. At the international level, sport is frankly an imitation of war.” Perhaps it was a circumstantial truth—our respects to Orwell—but it has become one of the clichés that has always accompanied football, particularly among intellectuals. Not all of them, of course. On the other side of the pitch, British writer J. B. Priestley countered the clichés that trivialise football: “To say that they paid to watch 22 mercenaries kicking a ball is like saying that a violin is wood and gut, and Hamlet, paper and ink.”
More than half a century later, it is evident that football has become a cultural, political, and economic phenomenon, studied by sociologists such as Pierre Bourdieu. Art has not remained on the sidelines either. Harun Farocki—a great football enthusiast—explored the world of football in his 2007 piece Deep Play: twelve screens depict the 2006 World Cup final between France and Italy, each offering a different perspective of the match (both on and off the pitch), alongside statistical elements such as movement diagrams or player tracking data, CCTV footage from inside the stadium, and a fixed exterior shot of the stadium throughout the match. Farocki, of course, goes beyond the spectacle, transforming this installation into a political work and football into a game of power relations. There are even geopolitical essays that analyse football as soft power, a term referring to the ability to attract and shape preferences in other countries, achieving strategic political goals through cultural appeal. The controversial Qatar World Cup is a clear example of football’s legitimising power.
The fact is, fans experience football as if they themselves were on the pitch; they grieve its sorrows and celebrate its joys as their own. They identify with the players, who become projections of themselves. Beyond that, football is skill and chance, aesthetics, ritual, and epic. This is the vision that Douglas Gordon and Philippe Parreno sought to capture in Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait (2006): 17 synchronised cameras, from every possible angle, followed the Real Madrid player during a match against Villarreal in 2005. The fan is the key figure in football; they need to identify with their idol but also with their badge and colours, which connect them to a national and European heraldic tradition, adding a veneer of nobility to fanaticism. Clad in these symbols, the fan surrenders to the epic of the duel during that unique, exceptional time that is the match. With luck, the emotional hangover will last a few hours, a few days, on the way home, back to work, perhaps to misery or even to war. Certainly, football is something more than just kicking a ball around.
This interview takes place on the occasion of a piece created by Darío Alva and Diego V. Navarro for Concreta in the form of a classic football scarf. The artists express their interest in the sporting imaginary, particularly in the iconography and mythology associated with football. Beyond the hegemonic narrative surrounding the sport, their work invites reflection on the sociological conditions of football and its mystical dimensions through the lens of heraldic tradition—framed within a unique creative space. Their perspective is shaped by their focus on image-time studies, attention economies, video game aesthetics, and fantasy. They themselves highlight their distinctive point of view: “The symbols and patterns present in the scarf recreate the role of these creatures and icons in shaping an almost universal imagery—a set of cultural traces that have either transformed or lost their original function.”
One of the avenues of research that this sport invites is the realm of sound, a particularly well-developed aspect in the aforementioned documentary on Zidane, where “the sound of noise” generated by the stadium crowd plays a crucial role. It is in this context that the artists have posed a series of questions to Akira Yamaoka, the Japanese composer, producer, and sound designer renowned for his work in the video game industry and his influence on contemporary sound aesthetics, particularly in the Silent Hill psychological horror series.
Born in Niigata in 1968, Yamaoka studied industrial design before joining Konami in 1993, where he fused atmospheric sounds with genres such as rock and ambient music. Some of the questions in this interview focus on his musical work in the Winning Eleven football game series, which would later become known in Europe as Pro Evolution Soccer.
During a visit to Granada in 2017 for FicZone, Yamaoka stated that the most important part—the central theme in a video game—is the start menu: “That’s where the player spends the longest and most reflective time before what’s to come; that’s where they make decisions, and it’s crucial for the music to set the right tone.”
*Introduction by Julia Castelló, asocciate editor at Concreta.
J. League Jikkyou Winning Eleven 3 (Japan) OST, PS1 OST
Darío Alva and Diego V. Navarro: You’ve spoken about valuing creativity and freshness in music—the notion of the “new.” When working on Winning Eleven, did you feel there was room for innovation in sports games, whose music often leans heavily towards functionality?
Akira Yamaoka: Yes, I believe it’s also possible to create interactive music in sports games that evolves with the progress of the match.
DA & DVN: Do you have any specific memories of the synthesizers, samplers, or software you used at the time? Was there any tool or technique in particular that stood out as essential in shaping those sounds?
AY: Back then, I was using Sample Cell, the KORG Prophecy, and the Ensoniq VFX.
DA & DVN: Some of your later works, such as the Silent Hill soundtracks, seem to emerge organically from the use of samples. Would you say you feel more comfortable starting with sampled material or synthesising specific sounds? Was this also your approach in Winning Eleven?
AY: Using samples and drawing inspiration from the imagination they evoke is my ideal way of creating music. I applied the same approach in Winning Eleven.
Darío Alva and Diego V. Navarro: Do you feel nostalgic for the tools and methods you used back then? Was there something particularly cool or exciting about making music in that era of video games compared to today?
AY: I don’t feel too much nostalgia, but I do remember the memory and sound resolution limitations of that time, which made it difficult to achieve the sounds I wanted. However, tied to this was a certain sense of satisfaction in having to use imagination to create music within those restrictions—something quite different from how things are today.
DA & DVN: Tracks like PLAY DEMO, RESULT, or STAFFROLL serve a very specific practical role in the game, setting the atmosphere for certain moments such as menu navigation. How do you feel about composing music for more functional purposes (openings, titles, results, credits…) rather than narrative ones?
AY: This is quite common in video games. Creating music that fits a specific scene is similar to composing for a film soundtrack. So rather than requiring any special or extraordinary effort, I approached it as a typical part of our work.
ISS PRO ’98 – PLAY DEMO – AKIRA YAMAOKA, VG Junk
Darío Alva and Diego V. Navarro: A track like OVATION contains quite a few atmospheric details. Did you feel that you already had an interest in exploring that more atmospheric side, which would later dominate your work in projects like Silent Hill? Did you have creative freedom to do so?
AY: From the beginning of my work in video game music, I already had my own approach to composing. It’s possible that the methods that later became prominent in Silent Hill were subtly present in this game as well.
08 OVATION World Soccer Jikkyou Winning Eleven 3 ~ AKIRA YAMAOKA, x600
DA & DVN: Brian Eno described the idea of ambient music as creating “an atmosphere or an all-encompassing influence: a tint.” When composing soundtracks, did you think of your compositions as something to be actively listened to, or as a subtle enhancement of the game’s emotional and psychological space?
AY: I don’t normally listen to ambient music or similar genres in my daily life. However, while playing and exploring the most suitable sound design, my vision naturally evolved into something that might resemble those styles. I think that rather than intentionally incorporating ambient or drone music as genre references, the optimal musical solution for the game simply ended up aligning with that type of music.
DA & DVN: As a creator, did you prefer working from reference tracks or starting from scratch? Have you had the opportunity to experience both workflows in different projects?
AY: It depends on the title. If the director already has a clear musical vision for the project, having reference tracks makes things easier. On the other hand, if there isn’t a specific musical image, I propose ideas myself. It’s something that varies from case to case.
DA & DVN: When listening to your work, it’s clear that you’ve been influenced both by the energy and dynamics of rock and by the atmospheric and cinematic qualities of ambient music. How do you personally relate to these two different yet complementary musical languages in your daily life?
AY: Exactly. I didn’t create rock music with the intention of making “Rock” itself—it simply turned out to be the most suitable style for the game. Rock certainly has an energy that ambient music doesn’t. Ambient, with its calm atmosphere, also possesses a particular type of energy. I think it’s about finding the right balance and using those different types of energy appropriately.
DA & DVN: Were you ever interested in the Japanese artists influenced by ambient and synthesizer music, later known as the Kankyō Ongaku movement? Do you feel they influenced your approach to atmospheric and spatial music, or were you more influenced by other styles?
AY: They didn’t influence me at all. In fact, I almost never listen to it.
DA & DVN: In video games, players interact with music in a non-linear way, unlike in traditional media. How do you approach creating ambient music that feels cohesive and immersive, even when experienced out of sequence or in a loop?
AY: When working on sound design—which is often described as ambient—I focus less on musical interpretation and more on expressing elements like temperature, humidity, distance, or height—things unrelated to sound itself. This approach comes to life only when combined with visuals, so listening to the sound component alone might not be as impactful.
DA & DVN: What do you think of the general trend in sports and football games to use licensed songs instead of original compositions?
AY: I think it’s a very positive thing. Licensed songs often have recognizable sounds that provide users with a sense of comfort and familiarity.
DA y DVN: If you had the opportunity to reimagine the Winning Eleven soundtrack (or any sports game) using today’s technology and your evolved musical perspective, what would you do differently?
AY: I’d like to create music that is more interactive and directly aligned with the game’s content and outcomes.
DA & DVN: What personal connection did you have with football (or sports in general) when working on Winning Eleven? Are you interested in it now, and would you consider yourself a fan of any specific team?
AY: Personally, I wasn’t particularly interested in any specific sports team. However, I find the energy and passion that sports generate among people truly fascinating.
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