Method (and Madness)
People often ask me "so how do you go about writing music for a film?" My mother often asks me "could you please do that more quietly?" Both are valid questions... but only one do I care to address here.
The short answer is "I watch the film over and over again until I know the feeling I want to convey and how best to do it." The long (and most realistic) answer is "No matter how much I prepare and think I know what I'm doing, every situation is different and more often than not it's a monumental struggle that teeters on the verge of ending in bloodshed"... not anybody else's mind you - just mine. That may sound like hyperbole, but trust me, it can be a grueling experience. And yet I can't think of a more engaging, rewarding and enjoyable way to spend my time and energy. I love everything about it... eventually.
Every film composer has a method that works for him/her and I've read enough interviews to know that I'm not crazy in my own approach and not alone in my failures and victories. What makes my situation pretty unique is I am often also the editor and sound designer (even director), which allows me the freedom to explore any musical direction I choose. I'm not just watching somebody else's completed work and trying to live up to what they envisioned - I am putting all the elements together as one organic whole. That's the goal anyway. By the time I'm done with the hours it takes to edit a particular scene, I have a pretty good idea of where the music is going to fit and what it is going to sound like. I also have the freedom, while composing, to go back and re-edit any moments in the film that I feel will benefit from what I am writing. To emphasize pacing or emotion, for example. It's a luxury I certainly don't take for granted.
But ah, the best laid plans....
Take the current film I am working on. I finished the edit about a month ago and have been focusing on the score. I knew from the outset that there would be, as usual, some tough scenes and some easy ones to write music for... that's par for the course and a challenge I love to sink my teeth into. The funny thing is, there will always be a scene that sucker-punches you like a short guy in a bar. Scene 52-53 is that short guy.
Now, I like to listen to my favorite composers' work on my off-hours for inspiration. I also pay a lot of attention to the music in any film or TV show I'm watching - it's the only way to learn and get better at what I do. It's not just about writing notes - it's also about the sound mix, musical dynamics, instrumentation, pacing - all the things that apply directly to what I need to do when putting a score and film together. All this stuff is bouncing around in my head when I'm staring at the images and blank music template of a new scene I am starting to work on. And no matter how well I know that scene, it's always a giant step into the unknown when I hit the RECORD button and hit that first note.
I've learned over the years that I work best when I work quickly. I dial up a generic sound like Strings or Brass and play along with the scene until something hits me as good or at least "good enough" as a starting point. If I'm deep into a film or working on a sequel to a previous film I scored (as is the case with this one) I have a lot of material I can draw upon as a starting point. It's important to keep things unified without becoming repetitive - think John Williams and Star Wars. If it's a good day, things can snowball pretty quickly and after a few hours I'll have a solid nugget of a musical cue that will survive further inspection. Because that's the goal for me working quickly - get the music onto the page in it's rawest form while it's fresh and new without spending hours lost in the weeds trying to micro-manage it. After a day or two, I'll go back to revisit it and hopefully everything will still sound good to me and I can roll up the sleeves and do the necessary (and totally fun) work of orchestrating it with all the detail it requires. Splitting myself into separate Composer and Orchestrator roles is the only way to keep myself from going crazy. The big successful folks have teams to help them with this and that's awesome - but I only have me. And to be honest, I wouldn't have it any other way... I love both roles too much to give either up.
Scene 52-53 started that way. I spent a solid day mapping out the entire thing in a very macro kind of way - minimal instrumentation in long sequences to convey what my intentions were. Simple, rudimentary even, but that's the goal. It still sounded good the next morning over coffee so with a satisfied pat on my back I got to work digging into the details. Headphones on, lost in the soundscapes, another bunch of hours rolled by and I called it done and dusted.
The next morning over coffee, ready to move on, I gave it just one more listen and...
Yep, those damn best-laid plans...
So this is the agony and ecstasy of film composing - you never know what a fresh perspective will have on what you've spent so much time and energy doing. In just one listen I realized what I failed to notice when I was deep in those weeds getting lost in sound - the music didn't convey anything that the Scene was trying to say. That is absolute failure for a composer. Yes, it sounded cool and it was certainly interesting from a musical and production standpoint. But it did nothing to enhance what I was watching - the exact opposite in fact. It was a complete mess. When things go wrong they don't always go THIS wrong - you can feel when you are working too hard to make something work and instinctively know you're on the wrong path and stop to regroup. But this... this was total musical myopia, like being several minutes into telling a story you think is hysterical only to pause and realize nobody is laughing.
I didn't even try to salvage anything I'd done. Into the bin of orphaned music this abomination went and I started again with a blank slate. Fresh cup of coffee in hand, I slapped myself for good measure then focused on the scene as a whole with fresh eyes. No trying to be clever or impress myself - what did the film really need at this point?
Apparently it needed a simple violin ostinato.
Yeah, that's about as butt-simple as things can get. Not clever or complicated but it was the essential starting point I needed to get the ball rolling. A pulsing rhythmic color that I could weave in and out as needed over the course of a 3 minute scene with escalating tension. A simple phrase like that can also be tweaked and expanded as needed - add some harmony and counterpoint and suddenly you have an infinite number of fun combinations to get excited about.
Things were fast and easy after that, although I made damn sure to step away and come back with fresh ears to make sure I wasn't fooling myself again. Thankfully I wasn't. By the end of the day I had a fairly detailed sketch I was continually happy with.
Gone were the layers of electronic mayhem in nanosecond intervals, replaced with orchestral cornerstones that properly conveyed the emotion and energy of the scene. It felt good to write and it feels even better knowing I get to dive back in later and add all the colors I love. I let the film tell me what it needed and that led me to some surprising and interesting phrasing and happy accidents. I try to never regret the hours wasted on any particular project. There is always value in failure and if you become too precious about what you are doing, you'll never let it go and move onto something bigger and better. It's a theory anyway.
So there you have it - a few days in the life of a film composer. Fun and frustration - not always in equal measure but rewarding all the same. Thanks for letting me indulge myself here with some much-needed therapy!
