Okay, so if you care about game music, Donkey Kong, or just the way Nintendo keeps turning old series into weird little masterpieces, this one’s worth your time. Let’s talk about what Pitchfork heard, what the soundtrack is doing, and why this matters more than a simple score review.
Donkey Kong Bananza soundtrack review: the big takeaway
Guess what? The Pitchfork review of Donkey Kong Bananza isn’t treating this as throwaway game music, which is already a win in my book. The Nintendo Sound Team’s work gets read as part of the game’s whole identity, not just background noise while you smash barrels and bounce through chaos like a maniac.
Pitchfork’s basic point is pretty clear: Bananza’s score may not be at the same level as David Wise at his absolute peak, but it absolutely earns its place. For a game built as a playable love letter to Donkey Kong’s long relationship with music, that matters. A lot. And yes, I’ll die on this hill, because when a Nintendo game makes the soundtrack feel like part of the level design, that’s not decoration, that’s the whole bit. Sounds good, right?
What many overlook is that Donkey Kong has always had music baked into its identity, from jungle percussion to those melody lines that stick in your head for no reason at all and then ruin your sleep. So when a review starts measuring Bananza against that lineage, it’s not being precious, it’s just acknowledging the franchise’s weird, long-running musical soul. Wait, there’s more.
Why Pitchfork’s angle matters for Nintendo Sound Team
Let’s be honest: most game soundtrack reviews still treat the score like garnish, especially if the game is from Nintendo. Pitchfork doing a full review of Donkey Kong Bananza under the Nintendo Sound Team name is a signal that this music is being heard as music, not as bonus content for people who collect OSTs and own too many vinyl sleeves, which is absolutely a category I’ve somehow become part of.
That brings us to the interesting part, because Nintendo’s sound teams don’t always operate like a single signature composer brand. Sometimes the credit is the point. Sometimes the team identity is the point. Here, that collective tag matters because Bananza is clearly trying to sound like a modern Nintendo production, polished and tightly directed, while still leaving room for riffs, jungle bounce, and the kind of heroic brass that makes your shoulders straighten up for no good reason. From my experience, that’s where Nintendo games tend to hit hardest, when the sound feels designed, not just written. Sounds weird, but it’s true.
And here’s where it gets interesting: Bananza is also part of a very specific Tokyo development lineage. According to the game’s background, Wataru Tanaka, who had been a lead programmer on Super Mario Odyssey, served as co-director and programming director, while Naoto Kubo, who was the lead composer on Super Mario Odyssey, served as sound director. That means this isn’t some random side project, it’s coming from a team that already knows how to make Nintendo worlds feel physical, musical, and just a little bit mischievous. The whole thing is carried by that EPD Tokyo energy. Wait, there’s more.
What the soundtrack seems to be doing inside Donkey Kong Bananza
What most people don't know is that the strongest Nintendo game scores often work because they keep changing shape as you move, explore, and break things. Bananza sounds like it follows that logic. From the description in the review, tracks like Lagoon Layer apparently start with a jaunty tropical feel, then open up into softer guitars, fluttering woodwinds, and brass that pushes the whole thing into something bigger and more triumphant. That is exactly the kind of arrangement I love, because it respects the player’s movement instead of flattening it into loop soup.
And yes, I’m biased towards soundtracks that know how to breathe. A good Donkey Kong score should feel like motion, not wallpaper. If Bananza is giving you layers, shifts, and those little musical escalations that match the game’s momentum, then the Nintendo Sound Team is doing more than meeting expectations, it’s helping the game feel alive. My tip: if you want to hear whether a soundtrack is actually doing narrative work, listen for how it handles transitions, not just the big themes.
Connection to Japanese learning and fandom culture
While we’re at it: game soundtrack talk is actually a nice little entry point for Japanese learners. Words like 音楽 (ongaku, music) (music), harmony in borrowed form, or 作品 (sakuhin, work; piece) (work) show up all over fan discussion, and Nintendo fans in Japan are no different when they start arguing about whether a score is a banger or a 名作 (meisaku, masterpiece; classic work) feeling in disguise. Okay, that last one is my shorthand, not a formal label, but you get me.
The first time I went to Japan, I remember how often game music drifted out of stores, arcades, train stations, basically everywhere, and it made the whole culture around sound feel a little more public than it does back home. That’s part of why these Nintendo soundtrack conversations matter to me. They aren’t just about audio files, they’re about how Japanese media treats sound as atmosphere, memory, and identity. Genuinely, that’s the good stuff. From my experience...
How to read this review if you care about game music
Here’s the catch: Pitchfork’s review isn’t saying Bananza replaces the classic Donkey Kong sound era, and that would be a silly standard anyway. David Wise is David Wise. That legacy is huge. But the point here is that Bananza appears to extend the franchise’s musical tradition instead of lazily copying it, and that’s the more interesting, less boring move. Nintendo could have phoned this in. It didn’t. Love that for us.
And if you are the kind of person who listens to game OSTs outside the game, this is probably the part you’ll care about most. A soundtrack review like this tells you whether the album stands on its own, whether it has shape, whether it earns repeat listens, whether it’s just “nice” or actually a quiet little monster. Based on Pitchfork’s framing, Bananza sounds like it lives in that sweet spot between accessible and weirdly ambitious, which is exactly where Nintendo is at its best when it stops playing it safe and gets a little unhinged. I mean that as praise.
Oh, almost forgot: for Japanese learners, this is also a reminder that media vocabulary is easier to absorb when you already care about the thing being discussed. If you read soundtrack writeups, watch Japanese game commentary, or follow Nintendo news in both English and romaji-heavy fan spaces, you’ll keep seeing terms for theme, arrangement, direction, and performance. That repetition is gold. It’s how vocab sticks without feeling like homework. My absolute hidden gem!
Frequently Asked Questions
Is Donkey Kong Bananza mainly known for its music?
It looks like the music is a major part of its identity, yes. The Pitchfork review treats the soundtrack as central to how the game expresses itself.
Who is behind the Donkey Kong Bananza soundtrack?
The soundtrack is credited to the Nintendo Sound Team, with Naoto Kubo serving as sound director for the game.
Why are people comparing it to David Wise?
Because David Wise set a high bar for Donkey Kong music, and any new score in this series gets measured against that legacy.
