Why The Bear serves up one of television's most honest soundtracks

Show about a tight–knit crew running a fine–dining restaurant in Chicago has won 21 Emmy Awards over three seasons

Jeremy Allen White as Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto in The Bear. Photo: FX

There are times when it’s difficult to tell who’s leading the action in modern prestige television drama. Is it the actors on screen? Or some of the stylised music determined to be acknowledged like an overacting performer?

As dramas lean further into flair, their relationship with music followed suit. Succession blends neo‑classical motifs with hip-hop to underscore its signature tension between family, youth and power.

Euphoria’s heady mix of gospel, soul, electronica and melodic house floods scenes with emotional cues. Severance harnesses a pensive, spacious minimalism to heighten emotional distance, while Industry constantly reminds us of its feverish pace through gleaming synths and propulsive beats.

Emmy Award–winning The Bear, returning for its fourth season on Disney+ this Thursday, does something different, however.

The score of the dramatic comedy – about a tight–knit crew running a fine–dining restaurant in Chicago – is the sonic equivalent of a meat and potatoes dish – direct, deceptively plain, but deeply rich when seasoned right.

The music isn’t there as subtext or to subvert. Instead, it hits that rare sweet spot of sitting within the scene. It doesn’t instruct you how to feel. Like a great relish, it simply enhances the brilliant writing and acting on screen. That restraint allows the music, a mix of mostly 90s alternative rock, pop and Chicago blues and roots, to stand out in the best way, not as an add–on, but as something fully enmeshed with the show.

As head chef Carmy (Jeremy Allen White) tells his team: “It’s nearly perfect".

Examples of the approach abound in nearly every episode, where up to four songs feature in extended montages or recur as motifs. Take the season two episode Forks, in which restaurant manager Richie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach) discovers his purpose under the rigours of training in a fine‑dining restaurant. The emotional pay‑off isn’t hinted at or teased by the music - that’s all down to Moss‑Bachrach's superb acting.

Through the use of Taylor Swift’s Love Story (Taylor’s Version), played while Richie drives home with a new contentment, that realisation just unfolds. The song – through the chorus refrain of “It’s a love story, baby just say yes” – carries the feeling as plainly and literally as possible. It’s not a rocket science approach, but the kind of pitch‑perfect placement rarely heard on screen.

From left: Jeremy Allen White as Carmy, Lionel Boyce as the pastry chef Sydney and Ebon Moss-Bachrach as Richie in The Bear. Photo: FX

The same attention to emotional placement is found in The Bear’s use of R.E.M.’s affecting Strange Currencies. First heard in one of the show’s most intense episodes – Review in season one – it is used again in the following season to score the fraying relationships among the staff as they attempt to rehabilitate the once-dilapidated restaurant.

The song simply reinforces what’s already there, deepening what we feel without overstating it.

While The Bear’s licensing of well‑known tracks is not original, it’s the dynamic way it adopts them that’s notable. Songs are not there to keep scenes moving or offer subtle commentary. Certain episodes have extended moments of silence as staff quietly cleaning the restaurant.

Other times, the use of music is so present and long that it stands out, such as Eddie Vedder’s Save It for Later accompanying the restaurant’s morning preparation, or Wilco’s Spiders (Kidsmoke) during a chaotic evening shift that shows the crew’s weariness. These sections, sometimes lasting nearly as long as the track itself, don’t feel overindulgent. Instead, it does a neat thing of absorbing rather than directing the emotions of the scenes.

Succession, the HBO drama exploring power struggles within a wealthy media family. Photo: HBO

Succession, for example, takes a different approach. The music underscores the main themes of power and dysfunction. While the use of music is smart, it can sometimes feel performative. The inclusion of tracks such as KRS-One’s MCs Act Like They Don’t Know, part of a wider hip-hop playlist for media executive Kendall Roy’s 40th birthday party, serves as an extravagant cue – commenting on, or perhaps casting judgment over Kendall’s deluded self-image, rather than offering genuine insight into his emotions.

The Bear’s music isn’t concerned with that kind of cleverness or cultural commentary. It stands out for a kind of emotional honesty that other shows eschewed for better or worse.

The music isn’t used as a ready crutch to elevate tension or punctuate a scene. That restraint is what gives The Bear its unexpected weight that helped it win a total of 21 Emmy Awards over the last three seasons.

Like the premise itself, the music is also not revolutionary. It’s a reminder that great television scoring doesn’t have to push or nudge you. Sometimes, being emotionally on point is more than enough.

Season 4 of The Bear will be available for streaming on Thursday on Disney+