The Quartal 90s vs. the Tertian Present

We live in an age of historical eclecticism in music.  In terms of production values and composition in our pop and alternative rock, stylistic influence from any decade is welcomed and celebrated.  That is...any decade except the 90s.

Just like when I was in middle school and the 80s were thought of as ridiculously uncool (the gated snare, the chorussed guitar, the vocals drenched in reverb...used to make us cringe, didn't it?), so now the 90s flavor causes the cringing.

As a music producer and songwriter, this is important for me because my most impressionable years were in the 90s.  My first dance with a girl was in 1998 so some of those songs and sounds have a very special place in my heart.  The problem is, the impressionable generation of today wants nothing to do with it so I had better keep that special place in my heart locked tight, right?

In the studio we have discussed:  How do we avoid the 90s?  What is the binding tie from that decade by which we can identify that dangerous flavor?

I won't attempt to provide a definitive answer, but let's see what we get just from looking at instrumentation and how it affects chord-writing.

The sound of 1980s pop is characterized by ubiquitous use of synthesizers, electronic drums, and heavy processing on guitars and vocals.  Because of the afore-mentioned disdain of the rising generation for the previous decade, in the early 90s there was a shift away from synthesizers and back to the acoustic guitar.

For those of you who play guitar and are near my age, you must remember these riffs here:

Two factors are strongly at work here:
1) Beginner guitarists will favor open strings in their songwriting because, well, it's easier.
2) The open strings of a guitar are tuned mostly in fourths

So, we ended up with a plethora of songs based on common tones/drones in fourths.  Strong examples include Matchbox Twenty's "3 AM" and Green Day's "Good Riddance."  Beginner guitarists loved this stuff because it was very easy to feel like you invented it.  "Hey!  If I keep these two fingers here and move the others around...Look how many new chords I've discovered!"  At the risk of overgeneralizing, I submit that the sound of 90s alternative is largely quartal in nature.

Now, let's jump forward to the 2000s.  Thanks to bands like Coldplay and also the natural tendency of young artists to shy away from whatever was happening ten years ago, songwriters predominantly moved back to the keyboard to write their riffs.  Here's "Clocks:"

Beginner pianists will favor triads, as triads are far more idiomatic than the chord progression of, say, "Wonderwall."  Thus, once again, I'm going to overgeneralize and submit that the 00s were predominantly tertian in terms of pop composition.

Jump forward to today.  We're still definitely riding the wave of synthesizer-heavy, piano-centric 80s revival that we were riding in the 00s.  But 1993 was twenty years ago, not ten.  Will acoustic guitar become the focus once again?  We're already seeing a folk revival in the success of bands like Mumford and Sons and the Lumineers.  It is true that folk guitar embraces triads and avoids the suspensions of 90s guitar-writing.  However, I think it quite probable that within the next ten years pop chord-writing may just become a little more quartal once again.

Top 9 Best Yeahs

I decided a while back that I wanted to compile a list of my favorite “yeahs” from various rock songs. You may wonder: why a top 9 list and not a top 10 list? Well, frankly, I could only think of 9 that I found truly worthy although I'm sure plenty more exist. Please respond with your favorites. I’d like to know what I’m missing. At any rate, I encourage all who aspire to sing killer lead rock vocals to study the following yeahs and include them in your repertoire. Some of them dive, some of them climb, some of them soar, some have melodies of their own, and some of them are just spat out. But they are all awesome.

9. 3 Doors Down - Kryptonite - End of the bridge.
This is a fun song but it got really overplayed way back when. I think the only thing that would keep me listening is the fact that I knew that at the end of their little bridge/breakdown mr. leadsingerman would split the airwaves with a cutting, precise laser-beam of a yeah.

8. Limp Bizkit - My Way - Right before chorus
I can’t say I ever liked this band but I'll admit that this yeah makes it onto my top 9. Percussive and swooping, it leads into a chorus like a drum fill.

7. Live – “I Alone” – End of the bridge.
It’s almost like he wanted to keep singing…the build-up was so intense…but there just weren’t any more words that fit so just… yeah!, etc.

6. Fictionist - Strangers in the Dark - Leading into the guitar solo.
I actually asked the bass player during the months this album was being recorded to make sure they got in a yeah worthy of my top ten list. He smiled and said something along the lines of, "We've got just the thing." And it is quite the thing.

5. Weezer - Say it Aint So - "The son is drowning in the flood! Yeah yeah!"
Epic and well placed, these successive yeahs are a perfect climax to this song.

4. Tenacious D - Wonder Boy - end of the first verse.
"Not much to say when you're high above the mucky muck." It would appear the thing to do high above the mucky muck is to unleash an epic yeah in all your Jack Black glory.

3. Red Hot Chili Peppers - Soul to Squeeze - right before the big bridge breakdown.
This yeah is similar to the Limp Bizkit one, but better executed and placed in a better song by a better band. The yeah falls like a bomb that explodes on the and of 2 in the bridge with a big hit on the china cymbal as the lead guitar sails up into the atmosphere. The descending yeah followed by the ascending guitar line is an awesome moment of tension and release.

2. Jet - Be My Girl - "With another man...yeah!"
This guy's voice is just hard core. This yeah is everything good about rock n' roll.

1. Pearl Jam - Even Flow - Right before the first guitar solo.
Ok. This takes the cake for me. The yeah rips up through the sonic space like a kitana blade. Kitana.  Blade.  Gritty and strained, yet perfectly controlled, this yeah rocks as hard as a guitar bend. Eddie Vedder wins.

Book Review: The Darkest Lie

From what others have told me, and of course from my own experience, I have learned that everyone, without exception, has a hard time in middle school. And for many, high school is not much better. As the years go by, you look back at those years of insecurity, terrifying change, and seemingly relentless unkindness from others and for a moment you feel so grateful that you are not in that situation anymore. But there is another truth that I'll bet we all share. When you got out of that emotionally turbulent state, and learned that there was kindness in the world, and a sense of belonging, and a lot of fun to be had, you owed it all to one person, didn't you? It started with one friend that saw and loved you for who you were, regardless of all those parts of your soul and body you were sure made you a loser. One friend saved you first. At least I know that's what happened to me.

As I read the first act of Angela Day's debut novel The Darkest Lie, I saw a bit of my young self in Thane Whitaker, a high schooler in the fictionalized town of Payson. Thane's one rule for himself, his personal Magna Carta, is to never draw attention to himself, to move as silently and invisibly as possible between his abusive home and his clique-centered high school. This all changes when Remi, the pretty and infectiously spunky new girl in town, befriends him. And her timing couldn't be better because Thane, in a freak accident, discovers he possesses magical abilities he cannot control. Before long he is awakened to the existence of elves and dragons and fairies in the world and he is soon whisked off to a military unit in charge of magical control and peace-keeping called Sanctum.

The Darkest Lie is an engaging, fun, and action-packed read that holds its own in the stylistic and structural ballpark of many popular young adult franchises of recent years. The novel alternates between witty dialogue and fast-paced action as Thane is hurled from his dismal adolescence into a hurricane of new information. Day paints a vivid picture of Sanctum as a sort of mix between Rowling's Diagon Alley and Charles Xavier's school for the gifted, full of strange mythic creatures but also commandos, hackers, and spies. Not all of the characters we meet get a lot of paperback real estate, but I think we can safely assume that many of them will be developed later in the trilogy. A lot of the fun of the book springs from the diversity of races (real and imaginary), dialects, character ticks, and backstories. It is a rich and highly detailed world that Thane stumbles into.

The sincere and entertaining friendship between Thane and Remi is the glue of this story, much in the same way that the Harry/Ron/Hermione dynamic was the anchor of the Harry Potter universe. But lest you think there's too much Harry Potter comparison going on here, I should mention that Thane and Remi are unique and individual creations and make for relatable and interesting protagonists very much in their own right. Remi, in particular, immediately won my love as she stirred up memories in my heart of old school friends who never thought themselves too cool or too pretty to hang out with me.

At the core of this fantasy is Thane's coming-of-age story, and I think it's a timely variation on the classic hero's journey. Rather than proving himself to others, or defeating an Evil Something, Thane becomes a hero as he learns to accept the light as well as the darkness within himself, thereby learning to accept the good in the world around him.

I imagine that young readers who come from difficult homes will identify acutely with this book and find solace and encouragement in its pages. Day does not shy away from the heaviness of what a rough family life can be like, but doesn't make it hard to read either. The central message of the novel is one of hope, and it is conveyed in a very uplifting way. Highly recommended.

The Darkest Lie is available at Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/Darkest-Lie-Angela-D-Day/dp/0615724957/ref=la_B00A3AOW2O_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1362971414&sr=1-1

Theater Review: Fontanelle

According to Wikipedia, fontanelles are "soft spots on a baby's head which, during birth, enable the bony plates of the skull to flex, allowing the child's head to pass through the birth canal." That this fact provides the basis for the emotional arc of a play which is neither about babies or skulls is one of the many impressive features of Ted Bushman's Fontanelle, a new play directed by Scott Eckern and produced by Andrew Joy.

The setting is Pittsburgh, 2008. April Wellington is on spring break during her first year of college and she decides to bring her boyfriend Kyle home with her to meet her mother. As April shows Kyle her childhood home, they look through old family photographs and we, the audience, watch the family backstory unfold onstage around them. At the outset of their marriage, April's mother Caroline and father Patrick were a happy young couple and Patrick had a promising career ahead of him in architecture. When Patrick received a handsome employment offer in Paris, he was thrilled, but Caroline wanted to stay in the city where she grew up. Their decision has great importance for their baby daughter April, and the family photos give us snapshots from various moments in her life as she grows up.

The play deals with themes of emotional safety and the capacity of the human body and spirit to move through times of hardship. It largely takes place in a family kitchen and gives us a realistic and moving glimpse into the lives of a family struggling with fear and uncertainty.

One life event of particular moment to the family takes place in 2001, and the play gives deft allusions to popular songs and films of the time. I felt transported back to that year, as if I were watching a period piece, particularly in a scene involving two family members watching TV on Sept. 11th. "The buildings just keep falling and falling," the daughter says. It was very evocative of my experience that week as the TV was dominated for days by endless replays of the towers collapsing. The significance of that day and its use as a symbol for the fear and loss we all experience are woven into the writing of Fontanelle in a gripping way.

The acting in this production was admirable on all fronts, but the truly majestic performance of the evening was given by Becca Ingram as April's mother Caroline. She was mesmerizingly believable and conveyed a mother at different ages in various circumstances with great skill. She was the emotional anchor of the production and was absolutely captivating. Each member of the small cast contributed greatly and I loved each performance.

The writing shows remarkable depth and insight into the lives of others. I happen to know the play-write personally and knowing that he was eighteen years old when he wrote this piece makes his brilliance doubly impressive. And while the mood of the play is often somber, it is tempered with just the right amount of good humor and kindness. The play's conclusion was very uplifting. It was a gift to feel so moved.

When the play was over and I turned to chat with my fellow audience goers, I felt that there was more love in the room for this play having been performed, and that is the highest compliment that I can give it.

Fontanelle runs through Saturday March 8th at the Covey Center in Provo.

4 Kinds of Great Music Videos

When I was a boy, the concept of a music video was completely foreign to me. I was dimly aware they existed on MTV but such programming never made it into my house. Then one fateful day in a hotel room on vacation with my cousins, I was finally introduced to the wonders of Rob Thomas getting hit by a car during the video for Bent and Scott Stapp walking Meaningfully between falling meteorites with his arms wide open during the video for With Arms Wide Open.  Oh yeah.  The experience was magical.  It was not until much later when music videos became available for viewing on youtube that the magic began to fade and I began to discover one of the most colossal wastes of money imaginable in the entertainment industry.

What boggles me about music videos is that 90% of them are terrible. I don't mean to be too negative here, but this is a serious problem. You've seen plenty of music videos like this, right? The lead singer emotes at the camera. People around them dance. Don't forget to include a model who is almost acting and/or almost wearing clothes. Concoct some sort of story loosely connected with the song, edit it like a Jason Bourne movie and there you go. A gargantuan amount of money has been spent over the years on producing short form films that are not worth watching twice, if they're worth watching at all.

But every once in a while, a music video can be pure gold. When done well, a music video not only entertains but actually enhances the lyric and sound of a song. It can add new depth and insight. Or it can be innovative in its use of dance, physical performance, animation, or it could just blow your mind with cool-lookin' stuff. Here are four categories of music video that tend to leave the mind at least a little blown.

1. The One-Take Wonder

This approach to music-video-making is almost guaranteed to be a cut above the rest, mostly because an elaborately staged one-take film like this requires a great deal of fore-thought, planning, rehearsal and originality. OK Go has done quite a few of these but none so epic and Guinness-worthy as Needing/Getting. Check it out below along with Jack Johnson's reverse spin on this process. Also, if you're in the mood for more of these, check out a couple fun ones from Feist and Ingrid Michaelson.

2. The Dance Revolution

Music and dance are the fraternal twins of art. And the only thing better than getting your own groove on to your favorite jam is watching someone else do it way better than you (that's how I feel anyway). Michael Jackson's Thriller is the seminal example of a music video that entertains with innovative dance, but I also like the following examples from Janelle Monae and Fatboy Slim.

3. The Visual Masterpiece

Steering away from more mainstream pop and into the realm of indie and alternative, the appeal of music is often in unique sounds, timbres, textures, and instrumentation. One of my favorite approaches to music videos involves taking those unique sound ideas and combining them with creative, artful visuals, as in the Niki & the Dove example below. Another similar approach is to use innovative animation or film techniques to create something that presents you with a nonstop series of wows, like the wonderful video for Coldplay's Strawberry Swing.

4. The Plot Thickener

My personal favorite approach is when the video tells a story that expands upon the themes of the song. I've seen a lot of story videos that depict the lyric of the song literally and, to me, that's like painting a picture of an apple and writing the word Apple on it. It might not be bad, but it's not very moving. What's better is to strip the song down to its basic themes and expand on them. Take The Only Exception, by Paramore. Essentially the lyric of the song gives us the history of Hayley's love life, beginning with her parents' divorce, meandering through years of self-imposed loneliness and safety, then ending with the ability of one man (the only exception) to make the risk finally worth it. The video, rather than telling a linear story like that, uses a sitcom-style set to give us an abstract representation of Hayley's compartmentalized mind. I love the beautiful ending in which her man has benignly infiltrated every safe and lonely place in her head and we return to reality. Very well done.

I also love the Kimbra video below for its combination of unique dance style, symbolic storytelling, and interesting visuals (kids playing house rather convincingly with a mannequin man who's not really a mannequin. And who doesn't like to watch things light on fire, right?). Both the Kimbra and the Paramore examples also do a great job of accompanying the narrative structure and flow of the song. Great songs often have a big climactic hit as the bridge falls back into the final chorus and whether the set bursts into flames or a blinding light shines through the doorway or the Foo Fighters do this thing, it's a satisfying moment when the music video follows suit.

I want more of this stuff. I wish the music industry would invest a little more in making their music videos live up to the potential of the medium, rather than making shallow fluff. I guess that's also what I want from Hollywood, music itself, and the world in general so there you go. Hit me up in the comments below. Please share with me your favorite music videos and why you love them.

Soul and Soldier: The Rebirth of Brandon Flowers

I am not usually one to follow the personal lives of celebrities. If the existence of tabloids is any indication, we humans have some sort of need for role models--a need to exalt people, scrutinize them, judge them, celebrate them, and condemn them. And, yeah, I was disappointed when Christian Bale was so mean to that one guy on a movie set and I was pleased when Christian Bale showed up discretely at that hospital in Aurora to comfort the shooting victims. But I try to avoid expecting great artists to be great people. As a Mormon, I cannot rationally expect musicians, movie stars, authors, etc. to uphold the same values I do.

However, there is the occasional success story that just makes me proud of certain people. In this case, I want to take you on a little journey through a few years in the life of Brandon Flowers, lead singer of the Killers.


2004. The Killers release their debut album Hot Fuss through British indie label Lizard King Records. They're a hip new rock band. They've got several hit singles. They've got scantily clad babes in their music videos. You know, the usual. Track 5 on the album becomes a popular radio hit, and is reportedly written by Flowers alone. Consider these lyrics:

"I got soul but I'm not a soldier"

Such catchy assonance and alliteration repeated abundantly by a gospel choir = winning hook. But let's look deeper. Around this time, I heard through the grapevine that Brandon Flowers was a Mormon. A famous Mormon? That's always good news, right? Maybe not this time. This is an exchange from Spin Magazine from November of that year:


Spin: (We) once described you as an ex-Mormon. Is religion important in your life?

Flowers: It's very important. I mean, it's important in everyone's life. Basic religion is the reason we have morals. I am actually a Mormon, not an ex-Mormon. I occasionally drink and smoke, but I'm trying-I'm human.


So in 2004 he's a Mormon but not quite the shining example we might have hoped.  If the story ended there it would be an unremarkable, common tale. A young LDS person joins a rock band, dabbles in the rock and roll lifestyle but still believes the church is good. He's got soul or, in other words, he feels the goodness of the gospel and feels regret when he doesn't live up to it, but he's not a soldier. He's not fighting the good fight and following orders from the commander. To me, these lyrics aren't just catchy; they're insightful into the state of mind of a lot of wishy-washy-Mormon celebrities such as Amy Adams, Aaron Eckhart, and Will Swenson. Soul, yes; soldiers, no.

What is remarkable to me is that the story takes a dramatic turn not too many years later when Brandon and his childhood sweetheart/now wife Tana celebrate the birth of their first child Ammon. Let's get something straight. Ammon is a soldier's name, not just a name with soul.

Now let's jump to 2012. Brandon Flowers is a family man. He and Tana now have three kids, and from what Tana has to say about him, he's a very faithful husband and very active in church.  Now contrast that Spin Magazine article from 2004 with this lively debate on Norwegian TV:

He's not just bearing his testimony of Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon; he's putting the naysayer in his place.  And, I might add, he's doing an admirable job at keeping his cool in a rather intense situation.   In 2012, Brandon Flowers is such a good example of family life and church service, he's even featured on Mormon.org. No matter how many times he will yet sing that lyric, Brandon knows...he's a soldier.

Now here are some lyrics from his 2010 solo album Flamingo:

Tell the Devil that he can go back from where he came

His fiery arrows drew their bead in vain

And when when the hardest part is over, we'll be here

And our dreams will break the boundaries of our fear

Now, once again I feel the need to voice some caution in regard to celebrity role models. Brandon could slip up. As could I. As could you. But as I look back at these past few years I feel so proud of Brandon Flowers for the great public figure and good example that he has become. And what was the catalyst for this change? I believe it was having children and the responsibility that entails. When you get right down to it, that's the missing ingredient in our western society and culture today: responsibility, accountability, commitment. If we could all set aside our feelings of entitlement and take up the mantle of responsibility, I believe many of our social problems would be largely reduced. When you hold yourself accountable to a family and accountable to God, you just behave differently. We need more famous artists infusing these values back into society. We need soul. And we need soldiers.

Movie Review: Warm Bodies

You might not think that a zombie flick would make the perfect Valentine's weekend date but in this case you'd be surprisingly wrong. In Warm Bodies, director Jonathan Levine gives us as light-hearted and romantic a zombie movie as mankind is most-likely capable of making.

Meet R (Nicholas Hoult), a shuffling reanimated corpse living at an airport in the aftermath of the zombie apocalypse. He is a zombie of few words but many thoughts and as he meanders aimlessly amongst hundreds of other zombies, we hear his inner monologue. R (he can't remember the rest of his name) has recently been feeling the need to connect more with people. He has almost-conversations with a sort of zombie best friend and vaguely wishes there were more to life than eating brains.  He tries to imagine what kind of life each zombie around him led before they were infected.  He knows, however, that it's only a matter of time before he's so far gone that he starts eating his own flesh and becomes a creepy skeleton creature. In the tragically limited zombie vernacular, these things are called Bonies.

Elsewhere, meet Julie (Teresa Palmer), a real live girl in a walled-off section of the city. Her father is the military leader of the rag tag human survivors and one day he sends her on a supply run outside the walls. Leading zombie and leading lady meet when R's shuffling horde attacks Julie's machine-gun wielding young friends. During the ensuing deadly struggle, Julie catches R's eye. Something about the way her hair falls as she blows the head off his fellow zombies stops his already-stopped heart. Ah, young love. Somehow, R manages to save Julie from the fray and convince her he's not going to eat her. He takes her to his zombie hideout on an abandoned 747 and promises to keep her safe. As they bond, it doesn't take long for them to realize that R is becoming less dead and soon the effect begins to spread to the other infected zombies.

There's a lot to like here. Between R's hilarious narration and the well-executed humor of zombies trying to act like living people, I laughed plenty. R and Julie are likable, relatable protagonists. Rob Corddry and Analeigh Tipton as R's and Julie's respective best friends bring a lot of heart and humor to the story. Julie's father's character arc may have felt a little rushed, and the Bonies' unconvincing motion was a little distracting, but these complaints are easily forgivable in the midst of so much good fun. I should also mention that, while there is some obligatory zombie gore, it's about as family friendly as zombie gore can be.

Essentially we're dealing with a classic star-crossed lovers' tale mixed with an Awkward Boy Wins Over Confident Girl story. But what really makes the film work so well is that it isn't just a story about a zombie falling in love with a non-zombie girl; it's a story about humanity learning to forgive itself and heal in the face of tragedy and violence. The film's conclusion is beautiful. There is an iconic image at the end of the movie that gave me a rush of hope for our troubled world and that alone made Warm Bodies one of my favorite moviegoing experiences of the past year.

Grade: A
Rating: PG-13 for language, some zombie gore

Reboots vs. Sequels

Over the holidays, I was treated by my very kind and generous aunt and uncle to a matinee of the first installment of the Hobbit trilogy.  I was also treated to an enormous tub of popcorn, far larger than I would ever be able to justify buying for myself.  I knew I was in trouble when it was thrust lovingly into my arms, but I was also naturally excited for some over-indulgence.  However, as the very entertaining film wore on, I realized I was being treated to much more over-indulgence than I had, at first, realized.  The Hobbit part 1 is a very fun and nostalgic return to Peter Jackson's Middle Earth, but in many ways it felt a lot like my stomach after ingesting that tub of popcorn: bloated and over-stuffed.

You see, I look at the LOTR trilogy like a crescendo symbol.

The Fellowship of the Ring presented a very intimate tale of relatively few characters.  The scope of the story felt grand but it proved to be rather small compared to the behemoth that was to come, like the left side of that crescendo mark.  Two films later, the story had exploded onto a never-before-imagined scale.  Armies of hundreds of thousands of orcs crowded around office-building-sized elephants and stormed a giant CGI city, etc.  Don't get me wrong.  I love that whole trilogy dearly.  But, to me, the Hobbit should have been further back along that crescendo, more intimate and simple than the Fellowship of the Ring, not blown up beyond the scale of the Return of the King.

Alas, that's the nature of the Hollywood movie Franchise.  The name of the game is "Outdo Yourself."  It begins when a successful film (usually based off some previously existing fiction) proves to be a seemingly limitless diamond mine.  Then the screenwriters begin the long process of milking the cash cow for every conceivable story and special effect, constantly inflating a giant balloon of characters and subplots and such until it bursts.  Hollywood used to favor the trilogy (The Matrix, Spider-Man) but they have since left that idea behind, choosing instead to let their franchises grow and churn out sequels and prequels (Pirates of the Carribbean, the Bourne Whathaveyou) until they sputter and die and a reboot is necessary.

Ah, the reboot.  In the mid 1990s I used to watch a CGI cartoon show called Reboot.  I will not be writing about it.  However, that was how I first learned the term "reboot."  Since then it has come to be a very dear term to me.  It brings to my mind fond memories of such films as Batman Begins, Casino Royale, Rise of the Planet of the Apes, and J.J. Abrams' Star Trek.  In a reboot, the now-deflated balloon is thrown away and the series dramatically returns to the core themes of the source material.  A new director is called in.  New breath is drawn.  This is almost always a very good business move resulting in a very good film.  Why is that?  I believe one reason is that before the screenplay is even written the producers discuss the question "what made this popular in the first place?" rather than "where else could we take this?"  They take it home and home is good.  George Clooney's nipple-suit is tossed out in favor of a functional Kevlar suit of armor.  James Bond stops making puns and ridiculous gadgets and starts having real relationships with people.

In a way, the concept of a reboot is more like what happens in theater.  You can see ten different productions of Les Mis and you'll always have your favorites but you'll also always be interested in seeing how the latest production interprets the source material.  I would rather see more of that in film.

In The Hobbit, I was more interested in the beginnings of the Bilbo-Gandalf friendship than I was in the Pale Orc and I got way more Pale Orc than Bilbo-Gandalf.  I think Hollywood producers and everyday moviegoers would both be better served if we had fewer sequels and more reboots.  If more directors rotated in and out of the chair for a single franchise (as they did in Harry Potter) I think the audience would enjoy more of the soul of the characters, more of the central themes of stories, and better movies in general.

Granted there are exceptions.  Sometimes a good sequel like the Empire Strikes Back or Spider-Man 2 or the Dark Knight can knock it out of the park.  But more often than not, I think the small size tub of popcorn is plenty.  Let's get back to the heart of these stories.