Before 2017, video game soundtracks were largely divided into two camps: the orchestral (heroic, sweeping) and the electronic (atmospheric, pulse-driven). Shoji Meguro, the composer for Persona 5 , looked at both and said, “No. We need acid jazz, funk, and the ghost of a 1970s heist film.”
The reason people still listen to “Layer Cake” (the airy, xylophone-and-bass track for the weapon shop) while working in 2026 is the same reason they loved it in 2017: It implies that even mundane transactions can feel like a covert operation. The soundtrack didn't just score a game; it scored a mindset. Every track says, The system is rigged. You have allies. Move with rhythm. Persona 5 Original Soundtrack -2017-
That scrapped demo, which leaked on a small Japanese forum in late 2017, tells you everything about the soundtrack's secret thesis: Revolution is not a scream. It's a smirk. Before 2017, video game soundtracks were largely divided
In a year defined by surprise—election shocks, corporate scandals, social upheavals—the song wasn't just a battle theme. It was a philosophy. The phantom thieves don't win by overpowering their enemies; they win by outsmarting them, by being a step ahead. The music itself is the ambush: jazzy, disarming, then suddenly explosive. The soundtrack didn't just score a game; it scored a mindset
Because 2017 didn't need another angry record. It had plenty of those. What it needed was a sound that said: You can change the world, but you don't have to lose your cool doing it. The brass stabs in “Rivers in the Desert.” The carnival-organ turned war march in “The Whims of Fate.” The sheer audacity of a final boss theme (“Swear to My Bones”) that is, at its core, a sad, hopeful waltz. Fast-forward to 2024, and the Persona 5 soundtrack saw a deluxe vinyl reissue. It sold out in minutes. Critics called it nostalgia. But it's not nostalgia. Nostalgia is soft, blurry, and comfortable. This music is sharp, clear, and uncomfortable.