Lately we've watched the whole world count down to the final episode of “Stranger Things.” A series that became historic even before it ended, perhaps more influential than it was actually good. In the words of Simon Reynolds, it triggered the rampant retromania now sweeping the audiovisual universe.
Among the many weapons the Duffer brothers' show uses to catapult us into a mood inspired by the fantastical coming-of-age stories of the Eighties is, without doubt, its sharp use of a non-original soundtrack, where the songs chosen to underscore the pathos of key moments become protagonists in their own right, on a par with the characters – to the point of living a second life outside the screen, going viral on TikTok, topping the global charts of various streaming platforms, or even resurfacing on the sales charts of certain countries.
Since “Stranger Things,” this use of classic or cult tracks has only increased across the world of TV series. This really just reminds us how inextricably linked the world of TV series is to that of pop music, far more so than cinema – and not just for the past decade, but for at least half a century.
This new OndaRock column is conceived as a journey, admittedly a rather unruly one, through the history of songs most closely tied to the world of TV series. We'll feature five per volume, accompanied by a themed playlist.
Episode 4
No Surprises – The Bear 1*8
With a poignant yet reassuring and conclusive finale, this year saw the farewell of one of the most important and meaningful series of recent years. Though imperfect and repetitive at times, “The Bear” managed to touch, with unusual depth, a whole kaleidoscope of themes ranging from depression to the restaurant business, from fragile family dynamics to gentrification. At least until its final season, deliberately stripped of songs, Christopher Storer's show made its use of indie, rock and singer-songwriter tracks a genuine defining trait. Between conversations debating the best Replacements album, desperate car chases scored by early Taylor Swift, and Wilco and Pearl Jam underscoring shots of the Chicago cityscape, plenty of great music has enriched the story of this ramshackle kitchen crew.
Still, the most moving moment in “The Bear” remains the finale of the first season, when the protagonists discover “that thing” inside the cans of peeled tomatoes in the kitchen. Charged with hope and surprise, the scene is carried by the magical arpeggio of Radiohead's “Let Down,” to which the show has literally given a second life.
Gave It A Name – Show Me A Hero 1*01
It takes six minutes by helicopter, “seven, tops,” to get from Manhattan to the suburb of Yonkers. The Big Apple's skyline seems right there, within reach, and at the same time farther away than ever. In 2015 the master David Simon (need we even mention “The Wire”?) devoted the miniseries “Show Me A Hero” to the story of Nick Wasicsko, the young mayor who led Yonkers in the late Eighties. It's a story of public housing and segregation, a story of coexistence and zoning plans. It's a story of painful, suffering humanity, one that finds its most authentic voice in the music of Bruce Springsteen.
Among all the Springsteen songs scattered across the soundtrack, the one accompanying the opening sequence is one of the least known: it's called “Gave It A Name,” dating roughly from the “Human Touch” era. The master tape of the original recording never surfaced, so Springsteen re-recorded it in 1998 together with Roy Bittan, to include it on the outtakes collection “Tracks.”
The simple, unadorned guitar chords accompany a sweeping shot of empty swings, abandoned bicycles, basketball courts hemmed in by concrete buildings. “Poison snake bites you, you're poison too,” sings Springsteen (quoting a line from Pete Dexter's “Paris Trout”). The poison of the world can, over time, seep into our hearts. Or we can be like Nick Wasicsko: defeated, perhaps, but never poisoned by inhumanity.
Clevor Trevor – Half Man 1*1
For obvious reasons tied to its extremely explicit depiction of sexual perversion and violence, Richard Gadd's “Half Man” never received the audience attention that one of the year's best series would have deserved – unlike his first creation, the far weaker and decidedly crowd-pleasing “Baby Reindeer.”
Especially in a second episode steeped in new wave, “Half Man” is rich with alternative rock classics spanning the three decades it covers. In this case, though, picking the miniseries' best marriage of image and music is fairly straightforward.
We're in the first episode, as Niall watches his stepbrother Ruben dance in his bedroom, shedding for the first time his shell of violent, domineering teenager. He does it to the sound of Ian Dury's “Clevor Trever,” which then continues to underscore the images as the shy Niall returns to school, now protected by Ruben's company and finally respected – even feared – in the eyes of his bullying classmates.
This isn't just a classic musical choice for atmosphere: with its garbled mangling of the words “Clever Trevor,” this track by the London pub-rock genius builds a complex character, indecipherable to most, that perfectly captures the layered nature of young Ruben.
Happy Together – The Umbrella Academy 1*5
That My Chemical Romance were never just another emo-pop band, and that frontman Gerard Way was never merely a poser with a fringe, was something fans had picked up on since the very beginning. With the success of "The Black Parade" in 2006, it became obvious to anyone who followed rock music even casually. But it's with "The Umbrella Academy" that the artist's versatility has truly shone in all its brilliance: first as a comic book series, published by Dark Horse ("Hellboy", "Sin City", "300"), and then with the TV adaptation produced by Netflix.
More linear and epic than the original comic format, the TV series stands out not only for the vivid nature of its characters and storylines – space-time intrigues centered on the young superheroes of a family well beyond dysfunctional – but also for its brazen pairing of pop classics with the narrative's most intense moments. With a flagrantly Tarantino-esque touch, it's not unusual to encounter shootouts set to the rhythm of "Don't Stop Me Now", deaths and resurrections underscored by "Friday I'm In Love", or nuclear apocalypses soundtracked by Sinatra's "My Way".
Gerard Way himself even gets in on the game, with a faithful cover of the Turtles' "Happy Together" placed at a pivotal moment in the first season, where the show's usual overflowing tangle of ice cream trucks, chases, explosions, frozen time and romance reaches a point of no return. The song offers a natural hook in the transition between verse and chorus, when the brooding minor key gives way to a major-key sunshine pop jubilation: an opportunity far too perfect to pass up, especially right as the plot kicks into high gear.
Bad Boys Get Spanked – The Shards 1*1
In a series based on Bret Easton Ellis's latest novel, adapted for the small screen by the author himself alongside Ryan Murphy, a postmodern storm of musical references was inevitable. And so, in just two episodes, we've already heard The Cars, Duran Duran, Stranglers, Joan Jett, Human League, Al Stewart and many others, laid over an equally inevitable parade of butts, breasts, male six-packs, lines of cocaine, sex scenes and bodies penetrated by a serial killer with animal inserts. There's one standout musical moment, the one where the series' dazzling, strongly vintage-flavored visuals truly dance with the music: the car chase through the streets of Los Angeles between young Brett and newcomer-to-town Robert, set to the adrenaline-and-sex-fueled sounds of the Pretenders' "Bad Boys Get Spanked".
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06/09/2026
This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Michele Corrado, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.