One Battle After Another: The Pulse of Dissonance

Today’s episode is a very, very interesting one — we’re talking about the long-awaited and much-discussed One Battle After Another.This might be one of the longest episodes, so consider yourself warned.

We know that the film was directed by Paul Thomas Anderson — we know it well.On the music side, which is our main focus here, we have Jonny Greenwood.

This director–composer duo has been solid since 2007 with There Will Be Blood, though they’re probably best known for Licorice Pizza (2021). And honestly, that brings up mixed feelings for me.On one hand, I see it as an advantage: two creatives who understand each other deeply, who communicate and build together — harmoniously, powerfully. I admire that, and as an audience member, I’m grateful for it.But on the other hand, I can’t help wondering if this limits space for other voices…Anyway, as I always say, that’s part of the social capital and networks behind productions.Nothing against Greenwood — I truly love his work — but in this podcast, you know we question everything that gives birth to and shapes the music.

So, let’s dive into this soundtrack.We have 48 minutes of music for a political thriller that navigates moments of radical activism and social polarization.

To score it all, we have Jonny Greenwood, guitarist of Radiohead — and yes, that matters.Why? Because, whether we like it or not, musicians who come from rock often carry an inherently rebellious and experimental spirit. His trajectory with Radiohead already gives him a certain position of relevance — but his solo work holds its own weight too.

Greenwood studied music academically, and although the album was recorded by the London Contemporary Orchestra, Greenwood himself performs many of the instruments — guitar, drums, piano, and even some violin passages.Among all these instruments, one stands out: the ondes Martenot.

This peculiar electronic instrument, created in 1928, works as a kind of vibrato keyboard with a speaker that’s played using a ring attached to a wire.Its timbres and dynamics — that is, intensity and shape — are adjusted through a small control box on its side.(If you’ve never seen it, I’ll share photos and videos on social media — it’s fascinating.)

Within these layers, it’s important to highlight the constant dissonances, syncopations, and irregular rhythms Greenwood draws.This score, I think, beautifully illustrates the power of music — how we perceive it socially, and how that perception ultimately lands in our experience of the final film.

I want to focus on three elements, so let’s go block by block.

1. The Spiral of Dissonance

Spoiler alert.There’s one scene that absolutely captivated me.Somewhere between satire and anguish, when the main character, Bob, is caught between his damaged memory and a reality that forces him to remember, a piano begins to play — simple, sometimes a single pedal note held for long stretches; sometimes dissonant intervals; sometimes a short phrase built from the same unstable material.

These three “characters” — the pedal, the dissonance, and the phrase — hover through the entire sequence (about 20–25 minutes). At first, I thought it was just one continuous piece, but no — Greenwood uses it as a recurring motif, turning it into a kind of emotional pulse, a spiral of tension — and, paradoxically, of anxiety relief.

Where does all this come from? The concept of dissonance itself works as a trigger for the human ear: it creates tension because our perceptual system seeks “complete” chords or harmonic resolutions.We inevitably look for balance — as traditional theory teaches us: chords of “rest.”Greenwood uses that very search as a device — introducing unfinished elements, harmonic “failures,” to heighten uncertainty and anxiety, as if we were trapped in a perpetual loop of unresolved expectation.

More than music, Greenwood is conducting our internal balance.

2. The Guitar as Humanity

Now, the second element: the guitar.It appears subtly, yet it marks a clear contrast within those cycles of tension and the textures that unfold.The guitar stands here as an element of calm and reflection.

Historically and socially, the guitar is one of the instruments most associated with creativity and accessibility — one of the easiest doors into music-making.Because of that cultural role, we tend to perceive it as an organic texture — especially compared to the synthetic vibrations of the ondes Martenot.

Here, the guitar’s sound is fractured, almost lamenting, yet still alive — as if it regulated the characters’ emotions amid the shocks of dissonance.It preserves a sense of humanity.The strings voice what soothes irrationality — reminding us that there’s still tenderness in the chaos.

So, if anyone tells me music isn’t political… come, let’s talk.

3. The Martenot and the Political Pulse

Finally, the third block: the ondes Martenot, which Greenwood often uses for its ability to oscillate between sensory poles.You can especially hear it in Baktan Cross and Trust Device — both crucial for the film’s plot.

The sound of this instrument is peculiar — almost like the presence of a teenager being chased by a past she didn’t choose.Through it, the music gives body and voice to the clash between vulnerability and the malice of reality — two opposite poles, if you think about it.The result is something unstable, almost floating — but also processual.

Why do I call it a process?Because, just like Greenwood’s earlier motifs and ruptures, the waves of the Martenot gradually dissolve, finding equilibrium — and that’s where the film ends.

So what do we get from this?That the music here is not background — it’s discourse.A discourse that holds, shapes, and modulates realities in tension; a sonic framework for the emotional and political experience this film builds.

In One Battle After Another, music doesn’t just depict political struggle or the tension of its causes —it sustains and amplifies them from its own sonic fabric.Here, music doesn’t follow politics —it creates it.

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