THE REEL WORLD

THE REEL WORLD
SCORING FOR PICTURES, TELEVISION,
AND VIDEO GAMES
THIRD EDITION
JEFF RONA
Foreword by Peter Golub
ROWMAN & LITTLEFIELD
Lanham • Boulder • New York • London

Edited by Ronny S. Schiff
Acquisitions Editor: Michael Tan
Sales and Marketing Inquiries: textbooks@rowman.com
Credits and acknowledgments for material borrowed from other sources, and
reproduced with permission, appear on the appropriate pages within the text.
Published by Rowman & Littlefield
An imprint of The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc.
4501 Forbes Boulevard, Suite 200, Lanham, Maryland 20706
www.rowman.com
86-90 Paul Street, London EC2A 4NE
Copyright © 2022 by Jeff Rona
Previous edition copyright © 2009 Jeff Rona
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by
any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval
systems, without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who
may quote passages in a review.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Information Available
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Rona, Jeff, 1957– author. | Golub, Peter, writer of foreword.
Title: The reel world : scoring for pictures, television, and video games /
Jeff Rona ; foreword by Peter Golub.
Description: Third edition. | Lanham : Rowman & Littlefield Publishers,
2022. | Series: Music pro guides | Includes index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2022021917 (print) | LCCN 2022021918 (ebook) | ISBN
9781538137758 (cloth) | ISBN 9781538150498 (paperback) | ISBN
9781538137765 (epub)
Subjects: LCSH: Motion picture music—Instruction and study. | Television
music—Instruction and study. | Video game music—Instruction and study.
| Composition (Music)
Classification: LCC MT64.M65 R66 2022 (print) | LCC MT64.M65 (ebook) |
DDC 781.5/4—dc23/eng/20220505
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022021917
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022021918
The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of
American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper
for Printed Library Materials, ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992.

for K

vii
Contents
Acknowledgments and Thank Yous
xv
Foreword by Peter Golub
xvii
Introduction to the Third Edition
1
SECTION ONE • THE CREATIVE PROCESS
5
Introduction
5
CHAPTER ONE • THE MUSIC
7
“The Door”: Shaping the Overall Character of a Score
7
Before the First Note: Thinking about Music and Telling Stories
8
A Few Thoughts on Thematic Writing
10
Sharing Your First Sketches with a Director
13
Hitting the Spot: Putting Music Cues in Their Place
15
Why Is There Music in This Scene?
19
A Deeper Look at Writing Cues
20
Making a Subtle Entrance: Beginning a Cue
20
The Hit: Underscoring Crucial Moments
21
Continuity and Contrast: Sustaining Interest with Variations in Tone
25
Economy: When Less Is More
26
Dramatic Transitions: The Music’s Response to Dramatic Changes
28
Tempo: Setting the Pace of a Scene
30
Graceful Exit: How and When to End a Cue
33
Styles: Is Film Music Different from Other Kinds of Music?
34
Emotional Clarity
35
In Summary
36
My First Film: A Chance to Learn on the Job
37

viii
CONTENTS
CHAPTER TWO • MUSIC FOR EPISODIC TELEVISION
47
Doing a Series: Music for the Smaller Screen
47
Getting Started in Episodic Television: There’s a First Time for Everything
48
The Grind
52
The Interview
52
The First Meeting
53
Spotting the First Session
55
Delivering the First Episode: Demos
56
Delivering the First Episode: Final Mixes
58
Further Episodes
59
Rinse and Repeat
60
Title Music: Intro Music for Series Shows
61
Summary
61
CHAPTER THREE • DEVELOPING A PERSONAL MUSICAL STYLE
63
Ask Yourself . . .
64
Elements of Style
68
Learning by Listening
68
Flexibility
72
Music in Context: Brain Scans, Driving and Texting, Music and Stories
75
Every Note Tells a Story: Following the Emotional Arc of a Story with Music 79
Can I Send You My Demo? What Do Directors Listen for in a
Composer’s Demo?
81
Who Are You?
81
No Excuses
81
General versus Custom Demos
82
How Much Is Enough?
82
Bringing Order
82
Cut to the Chase
82
Technical Specs
83
But Is It “Score”?
83
What Is Style? Cultivating a Unique, Identifiable Sound
87
Modern versus Traditional Scoring
88
CHAPTER FOUR • MUSIC IN PLAY: SCORING GAMES
93
Reading the Map: How Game Scores Are Organized
94
The List
95
Understanding Interactivity
96
Audio Middleware
96
Breaking It Down
97

CONTENTS
ix
Variations and Variability
98
Layers
99
Transitions
100
Music Mixing for Games
102
Virtual Reality (VR) Audio
102
Testing
103
Game Time
103
Game Perspectives
105
Sarah Schachner: Video Game Composer
105
Jack Wall: Composer
108
Wilbert Roget II: Video Game Composer
113
Reality: Scoring Documentaries
116
The Times, They Are (Always) Changing: Scoring into the Future
117
Conclusion
120
Perspectives
121
John Williams: Composer
121
Ludwig Göransson: Composer
122
Carter Burwell: Composer
126
Michael Giacchino: Composer
132
James Newton Howard: Composer
134
Wendy and Lisa: Composers
138
SECTION TWO • TECHNOLOGY
145
Introduction
145
CHAPTER FIVE • SETTING UP A STUDIO
147
How Much Is Enough?
147
OK Computer
147
CPU Speed
147
Cores
148
Memory (RAM)
148
Storage Capacity and Speed
148
Monitor Size and Resolution
149
I/O Ports
150
Operating System Software Compatibility
150
Essential Peripherals: The Add-ons That Make It All Work
151
Audio Interface
151
Speakers
153
Microphones
154

x
CONTENTS
MIDI/USB Keyboard
154
Faders for Automation
155
Audio and MIDI Clip Launchers
156
Headphones
157
Acoustic Treatments
157
Miscellaneous . . .
158
Sequencers: The Creative Hub and Heart of Your Studio
158
Timecode and Synchronization: The Vital Link between Sound, Time,
and Moving Image
169
Music Married to Motion
170
Video File Playback
170
Time
171
Video Frame Rates
173
Sync in Action
173
Organization: The Unique Language of Cue Sheets
174
Mixing: The Art of Balance
176
A Few Tips for Mixing Demos and Sketches
177
Software Needs
178
Putting It All Together
180
In Your Studio: The Importance of a Comfortable, Efficient Workspace
184
CHAPTER SIX • THE WRITTEN NOTE
187
Making Scores and Parts for Recording Live Musicians
187
Conduct Yourself Accordingly: How to Control a Live Orchestra
197
Orchestral Simulation: Making Better Sampled Orchestra Tracks
200
The Character of Orchestral Sounds
201
Express Yourself
205
Mic Positions
206
Timing Accuracy
206
Mixing It All Together
207
CHAPTER SEVEN • SCORE RECORDING AND MIXING
209
Getting Prepared
209
MIDI File Prep
210
Scratch Audio Prep
210
Miscellaneous Prep
211
Recording Musicians
211
How to Find Musicians
212
Estimating the Cost to Record
213
Estimating the Time Needed to Record
214

CONTENTS
xi
Together or Apart: Overdubs
214
The Composer’s Role at a Recording Session
215
Recording the Musicians
216
Recording an Orchestra
217
Recording Order to Save Time and Cost
217
Recording Singers and Choirs
218
Recording Drums and Percussion
219
Working with World Musicians
220
Remote Recording
223
Making Changes During a Session
224
Making Your Home Studio a Good Recording Space
225
In the Mix: From Stereo to Surround
226
Delivering the Final Mixed Music
228
On to the Dub Stage
229
Team Players
230
John Ashton Thomas: Orchestrator
230
Adam Smalley: Music Editor
235
Sounds Good to Me: The Film Score Mixer
242
Alan Meyerson: Recording Engineer
242
James Hill: Recording Engineer
247
Perspectives
253
Hans Zimmer: Composer
253
John Powell: Composer
258
Mark Isham: Composer
263
Joseph Trapanese: Composer
267
Basil Poledouris (1945–2006): Composer
273
Marc Shaiman: Composer
275
SECTION THREE • CAREER
281
Introduction
281
CHAPTER EIGHT • BEGINNING A CAREER
283
How Do I Get Started as a Composer?
283
How Important Is a University Music Degree?
283
Thomas Haines: Media Composition Educator
285
Windows of Opportunity
287
Apprenticing and Assisting with a Successful Composer
289
Ghostwriting
291
Live Where You Work
292

xii
CONTENTS
Your Portfolio: More about Demos
293
How Does It Score?
294
Choosing the Right Material
294
Variety and Track Sequence
295
The Themes: Concise, Focused, and Memorable
296
Plagiarists Need Not Apply
296
Your Demo Reflects All Your Skills
297
A Little About You
297
Judging a Book by Its Cover
298
Sending Demos
299
The Critical List: Advice on Getting a Start
299
Advice on Being a Professional Composer
301
Agents: Someone on Your Side
304
John Tempereau: Composer’s Agent
307
CHAPTER NINE • CHALLENGES
311
Getting a Lot Done in a Very Short Time
311
The Politics and Diplomacy of Scoring
315
The Interview
315
Seeking Approval
317
Conflict Resolution
318
CanYouMakeItSoundMoreLike...?
320
But Are You the Right Person for the Job?
321
New Relationships
323
Someone to Watch Over You: Lawyers
324
Publicity and Visibility
325
Difficult People
326
CHAPTER TEN • MAKING A LIVING
329
What Is Your Worth?
329
Actors versus Composers
330
Composers, on the Other Hand
331
The Composer “Work for Hire” Agreement
333
How Composers Make Money: Fees, Packages, Publishing, Licenses,
and Royalties
340
Sweetening the Deal
342
Royalties and Performing Rights Organizations
343
Paying the Composer
348
How Much Should You Charge?
349
Film
349

CONTENTS
xiii
Episodic Television
350
Video Games
351
Other Income Opportunities
352
Production Music Libraries
352
Advertising
353
Other Options
353
Soundtrack Albums
354
Assembling an Orchestra
354
David Low: Music Contractor
355
Songs in Films
360
Chris Douridas: Music Supervisor
360
The Executive Suite
365
Paul Broucek: Film Music Executive
365
Financial Conclusions
372
Epilogue
373
Glossary
377
Appendix: Instrument Ranges and Transpositions
383
Resources
387
Educational Resources
387
The Society of Composers & Lyricists
388
U.S. Performing Rights Societies
388
Index
391
About the Author
405

xv
Acknowledgments and Thank Yous
A quick moment to thank Dominic Milano, Ernie Rideout, and all the editors at Key-
board Magazine who fostered the beginnings of this book. When I was just starting as
a composer, they generously gave me a forum for my thoughts on the art and craft of
making music. My eternal thanks to Ronny Schiff—editor at large—for introducing
me to the world of publishing. Thanks to James Levine, Robert Daspit, Tobias Enhus,
David Edwards, Gregg Lehrman, Cody Matthew Johnson, Alec Justice, Max Cameron,
Katerina Tolkishevskaya, Benjamin MacDougall, and Brandon Seliga for holding the
pieces together until they dried; the wonderful folks at Backbeat Books, Hal Leonard,
LLC, and Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc. for giving this book its first,
and subsequent, wings. To the many veteran composers who took the time to show
me their craft and, in doing so, helped me to find my own voice. To the amazing Hans
Zimmer and my other dear friends and colleagues (JP, HGW, GG, MI, MM, NGS,
MT, JVT, GZ, HP, RH, KB) from that famous music studio in Santa Monica with
whom I shared so much, and with whom I was able to learn, share, drink, criticize,
inspire, learn to take it on the chin, drink some more, and not take it all so seriously.
Thanks to Cliff Martinez and Mark Isham for showing me the value of simplicity and
courage; the many directors and producers who, along the way, showed me a different
and often better way to hear music and who gave me the chance to bring my music
into the world. To the hundreds of world-class musicians from around the globe who
have patiently and brilliantly performed my scores and brought their inspired ideas
with them; my agents: past, present (and maybe future), who have helped and guided
me and believed that I had a place in this business. To my college roommate Edgardo
Simone, whose vast soundtrack collection sparked my curiosity for the first time. To
my teachers Milcho Leviev and Fred Selden, for showing me how to listen with an
open mind. To Adam Smalley, my dearest friend and brilliant musical ear, who has
listened to me so much over the years. To Jim Hill, Mal Luker, Alan Meyerson, Mark
Needham, Phil McGowan, Alec Justice, and the many other audio engineers who have

xvi
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS AND THANK YOUS
made my music sound better than it really is. To Cody Matthew Johnson for bringing
me into the video game music world and showing me how to create immersive musi-
cal experiences in real time. Cellist and session organizer David Low for keeping me
in shape, musically and otherwise; composer and singer Lisa Gerrard, for sharing her
beautiful heart and voice; all the wonderful people who took time to speak with me
and allow me to share their thoughts and insights here. My beautiful daughters who
remind me every day why I do what I do; and my family and friends, who let me hide
away from the real world in order to make my dreams happen (and to write about
them from time to time). To my amazing and patient wife, Kelly Seal, who insists on
honesty in all things.
And finally, all the wonderful readers of The Reel World, First and Second Editions,
whose feedback helped make this new edition so much bigger and better.

xvii
Foreword
A writer friend of mine once told me he liked listening to film scores while he wrote.
Not understanding how he, or anyone, can concentrate on writing while listening to
anything, I was curious to know why he preferred listening to film music in particular.
I asked him what type of scores he liked: romantic, action, horror, suspense, or maybe
even comedy? He said, “Any great score, because this stuff is so narrative!” Film music,
he went on, tells stories and triggers his imagination for his own writing.
Using music to tell stories goes back centuries, or even millennia, from tribal folk
tales, to the early religious passion plays, and later to symphonic tone poems and
operas. The mother of all orchestral musical settings of a story is probably Berlioz’s
amazing Symphonie Fantastique, for which the composer distributed written sce-
narios. Any music to a text or lyrics is, to one extent or another, narrative—it’s a story
told in and with music.
Today’s film, television, and video game scores are a very particular variety of
musical storytelling. Unlike concert music, jazz, or other instrumental genres, it is not
about music for the sake of music! Soundtracks uniquely find a way to become an effec-
tive, and even vital, part of the totality of image, story, performance, and dialogue. A
great score becomes an almost invisible part of the overall experience for an audience,
and though many people like to listen to their favorite scores without the visuals, that’s
not how this music was originally conceived. Whether enhancing what is already on
screen or providing a more layered juxtaposition, a composer’s task is to provide not
great music, but the right music to fulfill the intent of the project.
After studying classical music and composition, my early musical career was writ-
ing music for live theater. I spent many years sitting at rehearsals and performances
soaking up the ingredients of drama and how music can play a part. Those insights
stayed with me and informed my work later on scoring films. In my twenty-plus years

xviii
FOREWORD
running the Sundance Composers Lab (a program of the highly influential Sundance
Film Festival and Sundance Institute), the students and I take particular care in break-
ing down a scene, so each composer has a full understanding of drama, story, and
character. The core theme running through the many years of the program has been
consistent: write less, leave room for the movie, and always talk to your director in
dramatic, not musical or technical terms.
In this third and highly updated edition of his original book The Reel World, com-
poser Jeff Rona takes on these larger issues. There is something here for anyone with
an interest in the subject, anyone curious about the magic that can result in combining
image and music correctly. But for the aspiring film composer, this book is a veritable
grab bag of useful information. Rona, a very thoughtful musical practitioner, shares
with us some deeper insights into the overall approach to scoring for pictures. But his
thoughts on the myriad of details of a career as a composer make this a must-read for
anyone in the trenches. He gives helpful advice on how to work with directors and em-
phasizes the central importance of listening. He dissects the differences between film
and TV, as well as video game scoring; gives valuable tips on how to make persuasive
demos and how to conduct oneself at meetings; and gives a fair and comprehensive
account of today’s musical trends. There is, as we would expect, a careful breakdown
of the technical side of film composing, as comprehensive as anything out there. He
offers practical suggestions for how to manage the complex logistics and workflow in
the professional arena. In short, he seems to have anticipated any question that could
possibly come up in regard to starting a career in scoring. And there are truly illumi-
nating interviews with a broad range of composers as well as the teams they surround
themselves with—music editors, music supervisors, agents, contractors, and studio
executives—that on their own are worth the price of admission.
I agree completely with his idea that film music has a “literary form” as well as his
concept of every project having a sort of “Front Door,” a unique and consistent way
to get into a project to bring focus and identity. Rona has a knack for having us look
at composing in slow motion, breaking down the composer’s journey, and shedding
light on each important phase of the process. There’s some welcome encouragement:
“invest in yourself,” make demos that are “simple and cohesive, but colorful,” and
especially “our lives are a series of firsts.”
In a very candid chapter about his first substantial scoring job (on director Ridley
Scott’s film White Squall), Rona lets the reader in on his own vulnerability. By re-
vealing details of his meetings with the director and producers, and descriptions of
how the process played out, we come away with a nuanced view of his journey that
will have reverberations for anyone faced with the daunting task of scoring a project,

FOREWORD
xix
whatever the size or scope. This book takes the “daunting” out of the equation and
demystifies the process. He encourages us to roll up our sleeves and get to work, and
he gives us the tools to do so.
—Peter Golub, Film Music Lab
Peter Golub is a composer of film music, as well as works for the theater and concert hall.
He was the director of Film Music at Sundance Institute and the University of Southern
California, and continues to teach at the University of California, Los Angeles, and the
Film Music Lab.

1
Introduction to the Third Edition of
The Reel World
PLEASE READ ME!
Welcome to the Third Edition of The Reel World. The previous editions of this book
have inspired countless people to begin their own journeys as composers for films and
television. What began as a close and personal look at how music is created for mov-
ies, this third edition now covers all aspects of music for film, television, media, and
(finally) video games.
So much has changed in the world of scoring since the last edition of The Reel
World—new technology, new musical directions, new voices, new artistic and busi-
ness opportunities. This edition dives deeply into all the latest and most vital infor-
mation a composer must know and understand in order to have a competitive edge.
The technical side of music production is truly revolutionary. Understanding how
the available tools and platforms can make you a more desirable composer is covered
in detail, including interviews with some of the top figures in music production, like
score mixer Alan Meyerson and music executive Paul Broucek. Film and episodic
TV has also seen many shifts in style and attitude, and this edition features some of
the most important voices in the field, including Academy Award winners Michael
Giacchino and Ludwig Göransson, as well as other important artists such as John
Powell and Joseph Trapanese, and updates with the award-winning composers already
featured, such as John Williams and Hans Zimmer.
The field of video game scoring has exploded as an important musical opportu-
nity for composers. Having a deep understanding of this unique world is critical for
anyone contemplating that musical path. This edition not only covers the unique
challenges and methods of video game scoring (hint: it’s very different from scoring
movies or episodic TV), but also includes interviews with many of gaming’s most in-
demand composers, such as Sarah Schachner, Wilbert Roget, Jack Wall, and others.

2
INTRODUCTION TO THE THIRD EDITION OF THE REEL WORLD
Throughout the book you may see the word “film” or “movie”; be assured that
the topics explained here apply equally whether you are focused on one medium or
another. When there are specifics that apply to only one field particularly, like inter-
active and immersive music for games, it will be very clear. As the field of television
has evolved in the era of streaming services, there is less that separates it from the film
world, except for its episodic format. That too is distinguished here.
Information abounds on the topic of scoring pictures—books, websites, YouTube
channels, pay-for video master classes, or private seminars. Some of those are great,
but much of the information available online is superficial, mere opinions, incom-
plete, or even inaccurate. Choosing to read a book on a topic as broad and unique as
music scoring puts you ahead of many people looking for a quick intro to the topic
and the possibility of a career ahead. So, thank you for taking the time to read this—it
is my hope that it will help you on your journey as well.
The art and craft of putting music to pictures continues to evolve, and so does this
book. There are trends and shifts in scoring pictures, just as there are in pop and other
music genres. New ideas occur that influence even the most traditional and timeless
musical approaches. This book is not a backward look at the history or traditions of
score writing. It is, and has always been, a guide on how music—your music—can best
influence and enhance the world of visual storytelling. It’s also about the tools and
methods used in writing scores, which continue to evolve at a rapid pace. Knowing how
to use the tools of any art or business is vital to your success. And finally, this is also a
glimpse into how things are done in the “real world.” Not just theory or technique, but
what it’s like to really start and sustain a successful career as a composer for pictures.
Ask yourself this: Why are virtually no films, episodic series, or video games made
without music? It’s a simple, but important, question. Music adds a massive amount of
emotional energy to any stories and characters in a way that a project rarely can do on
its own. Music is such a uniquely powerful art form. While every other aspect of a film
is designed to give the illusion of reality—from the sets, costumes, lighting, artwork,
editing, special effects, right down to the actors’ performances and the director’s vi-
sion—music does nothing like that. It’s different. Music actually elevates a film’s sense
of reality, and places it into an almost opera-esque level, where the characters and
stories become larger than life, yet at the same time, are made easier for us to relate
to in our own lives. Music is an emotional amplifier of everything that occurs with it
onscreen. If you’ve ever seen a dramatic scene with its music removed, you will get a
clear idea of the enormous contribution music makes.
My own interest in music and scoring came unexpectedly from a college roommate
who was a devoted film music fanatic with an enormous collection of soundtracks.
Although I was already studying music and composition, I had never paid much atten-
tion to scores. That all changed quite suddenly when I began to listen to scores on their

INTRODUCTION TO THE THIRD EDITION OF THE REEL WORLD
3
own. It transformed how I watched (and listened to) movies and episodic television.
I was transformed. I knew I wanted to get involved in this unique and wonderful art
form. I jumped in as fast as I could, initially by scoring any student films I could get
my hands on. The rest would come a bit later.
A great soundtrack leads the audience through the emotions and actions on the
screen, without letting them know just how much they are being helped along. If that
sounds a little subversive, it’s because, in a way, it is. It adds clarity and focus to every-
thing happening on the screen. Musically, it draws from several elements of musical
history (from the Romantic era to the avant-garde), while still being a very contempo-
rary field. It allows for many kinds of musical explorations and experimentation with
sound, rhythm, emotion, and structure. It differs from conventional musical genres
by its basic form as a storytelling device, being an intrinsic component of the story on
the screen. It is subordinate to that story, but the best scores almost always speak for
themselves to the listener.
Here is a little secret: composing music—the actual themes and melodies—cannot
really be taught nor learned. Music is either inside you or not. However, many vital
skills and methods can be passed from composer to composer, artist to artist. In the
years I’ve been involved in scoring, it has been my good fortune to meet some incred-
ible and thoroughly inspiring fellow composers, musicians, songwriters, engineers,
and others who contributed a great deal not only to the art of scoring, but generously
added to my own knowledge of the craft. The tremendous amount that I’ve learned
from them I put to use every single day in my scoring work. The same is true for all
the fantastic directors, producers, picture editors, and game developers with whom
I’ve had the pleasure to work and grow.
Composing scores for film, episodic series or video games can be a highly technical
process. First, each piece of music must fit the very specific time spans, energy levels,
and transitions created by the director and editor. It requires not only careful thought
but, often, precise calculation as well. The audio you create must be compatible with
the technical formats of movie theaters, video broadcasts, mixing stages, or the specific
software used for games to be interactive. As a savvy media composer, you need to
know as much as possible about the technical processes that link picture and sound
together. You also need to understand the musical aesthetic at the core of your art.
Knowledge of the methods and technology used in media production is more than
just important. Scoring is typically a highly collaborative activity, bringing together
people from a wide range of fields and crafts, and all of their contributions must join
together seamlessly. This is especially true of the marriage of sound and music; there
is no room for errors.
In the process of developing a musical understanding and trust with directors and
producers, it is essential for a composer to create very polished and convincing demos

4
INTRODUCTION TO THE THIRD EDITION OF THE REEL WORLD
of each piece of music created for any project in order to show the filmmakers what
you plan to deliver. Detailed and accurate-sounding demos are now expected. The bar
for good-sounding demos on a project is quite high.
Having a real command of your personal studio has become a requirement for any
working composer. I think of my studio as my instrument, something I have learned
to play well. Just as a musician needs some level of virtuosity in order to express deep
emotions, a composer must use technology and technique to translate musical ideas
into something that a director or producer can grasp fully and understand in the
context of their film, prior to any final recording with (or without) other musicians.
In many cases, there is no longer even a difference between a demo and a finished
score. This is one of the many realities of a composer’s life; one that requires not only
a well-equipped writing setup, but also the knowledge of how to get the most from
it. There’s fierce competition out there, so be ready to bring your “A” game from the
start. A great musical idea that is poorly executed will miss the mark.
There are no absolute rules about what makes any score good, great, or even merely
acceptable. However, there do seem to be certain tried-and-true conventions and con-
cepts (and even some sleight of hand), which enable music to have the best possible
influence on the dramatic content of a scene and the audience watching.
Every composer working to picture brings something new and personal to the craft.
Yet, some musical ideas and vocabularies seem to work better than others. Entire
books have been written on this, and yet they often don’t shed real light. Honestly,
careful listening in a darkened movie theater or in front of your TV can probably teach
you as much about what makes a great score as any book or amount of academic film
music theory. In The Reel World, I’ve written down my personal perspectives and
observations of the key elements that contribute to a successful score. I have collected
my experiences and hard-won lessons here and, additionally, have enlisted the help of
some of today’s most influential composers to describe their own outlook on the art
and craft needed to score pictures.
A successful life composing music for film, series television, video games, commer-
cials, music libraries, or any related musical career is based on talent, knowledge, hard
work, building relationships, and some pure luck. Positive energy put toward any of
these (except for luck, which you can’t do much about) will help to move you forward
toward the goals you’ve set for yourself. The ideas, examples, solutions, techniques,
and perspectives here will hopefully help as you forge a path toward your own career.
Let’s get started, shall we . . .

5
I
THE CREATIVE PROCESS
INTRODUCTION
We humans are story junkies. Movies, episodic TV, and video games are all about tell-
ing compelling stories, with plots and characters we connect with and like . . . or hate.
Every element of movie making, from the scripts to the sets, from the acting to the pic-
ture and sound editing, from the costumes to the special effects, is designed to get an
audience to believe they are experiencing something real. The story can be something
from everyday existence—romance, comedy, personal struggles, or coming-of-age—
or it can be a fantastic, alternate reality like science fiction, crime thrillers, or medieval
dramas. Stories are stories—and the good ones feel like real events happening to real
people in real places, in the ways we are drawn in, care about the outcome, and get
personally involved. Movies and episodic TV create those new realities through the
careful creation and manipulation of images, words, actions, and sounds.
But . . . music is the only real exception to this. Music does not exist in the real
world the way it exists in cinema, TV, or video games. There is no massive symphonic,
electronic, or rock music floating around in everyday life, or in deep space for that
matter. When two people kiss, there is no swell of music in real life, yet without the
music, a romantic onscreen kiss often doesn’t convey anything nearly as emotional.
Life does not come with its own soundtrack. We know this. Yet the audience readily
(and often unknowingly) accepts music in scenes where no music could exist in real-
ity. Music scores are an effective and subversive way to have audiences feel moved.
Music elevates everything. It is an emotional amplifier that makes funny things
funnier and sad things sadder. Music in media takes ordinary stories and raises them
to a higher level in which everything is larger than life. In many cases, it is the music
that conveys the true psychology of a scene and not the sights, words, or natural
sounds in it.

6
PART I
Music is intangible. It has an undeniable emotional effect on the human spe-
cies for reasons that no one has ever fully explained. Music can make us cry, smile,
conjure up mental pictures, and bring up unexpected memories, and make us more
receptive to everything else we see and hear. Music is pure emotion with no physical
connections. It bypasses the intellect and goes straight for the heart. It is the sub-
liminal power of music that makes it so perfect as a companion to the pictures and
stories in movies and more.
Music has been a part of the human experience from the beginning of our existence.
It is an intrinsic part of everyone’s consciousness. We grow up with music, have music
with us most every day, commemorate important events with music, create indelible
memories with music, and become familiar with hundreds, or thousands, of pieces of
music in our lives. Some of us are music addicts and cannot make it through the day
without it. Music has within it tremendous diversity of styles, approaches, moods, and
themes, from ancient rituals, to rigorous classical works, to countless modern styles.
It is part of a universal human experience.
So, what distinguishes cinematic music from other forms? Is there, in fact, such a
thing as “film music,” that is in some way unique? Undeniably yes, it is something dif-
ferent. Many styles and genres of music can enhance an audience’s experience of the
story, characters, and events. There are definitely some musical concepts and conven-
tions that find their way into scores more frequently simply because they work—over
and over again.
Classic film scores are almost always thematic and simple, and have a structure
and flow that closely matches the pictures and editing going by onscreen. Unlike pop
songs, which have a specific structure (verse, chorus, verse, chorus, bridge, etc.), film
or episodic music has a “literary form.” In other words, most scores are not based on
traditional musical forms, but by the pace with which things happen on the screen and
in the story. And while that may seem awkward and unmusical, there are methods
that allow music to be supportive while still retaining its musical integrity. In video
games, themes are often organized in a way to make them available at key moments in
gameplay as determined by the player.
All of music’s traditional organic elements—melody, harmony, rhythm, color, and
even structure, have important roles in most scores. Scores can, and often do, remain
musically satisfying, even on their own (though most soundtrack albums are heavily
edited for a purer listening experience). They are carefully fitted to match images and
actions, so the emotional connection is clear and direct. As flows one, so flows the
other, in a timeline as the story unfolds. That is the challenge of composing music for
pictures. Let’s look at some of the peculiarities of music in The Reel World.

7
1
The Music
“THE DOOR”: SHAPING THE OVERALL CHARACTER OF A SCORE
Every great score has a primary thematic element that makes it unique, and hopefully,
memorable. In most cases, that thematic element is a melody. Many great scores are
identified by their main melodic themes. To dive a little deeper, a theme can be a full-
blown melodic idea (like the classic scores of John Williams, for example, a consum-
mate melodist). Melodic themes can be small musical fragments, such as the famous
shower scene from Bernard Herrmann’s score to Psycho (arguably the most famous
film theme in history), or John Williams’s iconic two-note theme in Jaws.
The themes in scores can be more ephemeral or subtle as well. Many great scores,
in fact, are not traditionally or memorably melodic, but instead it’s the rhythms, har-
monies, or sonic colors that are. Call it vibe—music that imparts a feeling more than a
memorable melody. That doesn’t mean any less thought is put into it. In fact, it may be
the opposite. If you can find a compelling musical idea that can be adapted and used
throughout a score to make your musical point, then you have the makings of a good
theme, even if it is not strictly a melodic one.
A successful score needs a kind of front door, a single, unique and consistent start-
ing point to help create focus and memorable identity. Every composer will approach
this entryway somewhat differently. Some composers will sweat over a memorable
melodic theme because that theme can go a very long way to creating the score as a
whole, reappearing as often as desired to function as a recurring connecting element.
The musical term for this is leitmotif. This can be most anything in terms of musical
style or approach, but it will give something unique to the project and, more impor-
tantly, give it a consistent tone and style.
However, some other composers will come up with interesting sounds, chord
sequences, rhythms, electronic elements, or an unusual choice of instruments and
colors. Many contemporary scores are identifiable by interesting and memorable

8
CHAPTER 1
rhythmic figures that become the major thematic motif for the score rather than a
memorable melody. They rely on elements of ambience or minimalism to convey
moods and emotions. It’s a matter of personal choice between composer and director.
One is not preferred in any way.
Successful pop songs have hooks (a short, catchy, repeated phrase that draws the
listener in quickly) that become their main identifying point. A hook often comes
down to just a few notes. It is an important part of good pop music: to become memo-
rable quickly through a simple, brief, catchy phrase. Successful scores are no different,
though they often add a layer of ambitiousness or complexity to the music in order to
make it work well in a number of programmatic or dramatic situations, or to give a
sense of scope to the creative project.
One key to starting a score is to take the time to pull together a variety of themes
and ideas that will define that score in a unique and memorable way, and to cover the
variety of moods and emotions that may be needed. More can be added, taken away,
or revised and improved throughout. But every score starts with some musical ideas
that make it fresh and memorable.
BEFORE THE FIRST NOTE: THINKING ABOUT MUSIC AND TELLING STORIES
Before you create the first note of a score, there should be a thoughtful process of
discovery and careful consideration in order to ensure that the road you take is the
best and most preferrable road. A great score is not an arbitrary collection of musical
notes or cool phrases. Perhaps the single most important step in creating a score is to
decide what might be the best approach from every musical possibility. A score can
be for a large orchestra, electronics, or voices; it can be jazz, minimal, ambient, heavy
on percussion or guitars; use only small chamber groups or world music ensembles
or soloists. A score can be traditionally melodic, highly experimental, or a hybrid of
styles, textures, or overall approach. The most important first step in creating a score
is to decide on an approach and stick to it.
That decision will come from a few sources. The first, and by far most important,
is to talk with your director (or producer, if they are in charge of music) and see what
musical approach or sound they think is most appropriate and desirable for the proj-
ect. A good director will have ideas. It is vital for any composer to really get inside the
head of the director and get a deep understanding of what they like and dislike musi-
cally. If possible, sit down and ask them about what they hope the music will achieve
for the project. Ask them to explain the project’s story from their personal perspective
and listen carefully to what they say—they will illuminate the story, characters, and
style for you. Perhaps they see the hero as vulnerable, and that might give you musical
ideas. Perhaps the love story is more tragic in their eyes than you might have thought,

THE MUSIC
9
and that will help you decide on more interesting musical choices. Ask questions and
dig as deeply as possible into what they want, and what their overall vision is.
Generally, directors and producers have specific musical tastes, and it is helpful
to find out what sorts of music they like. On one episodic series I scored, I saw the
producer had a lot of blues in his music collection. So, when I suggested adding some
blues to the score, he was ecstatic. It also happened to fit the project very well. Many
directors are huge music fans, and not just of scores. In fact, they usually don’t listen to
scores, but have other interests in classical, pop, hip-hop, R&B, or more esoteric styles.
Getting a sense of your director’s tastes, as well as what they hope the music will bring
to the project, should start to move you in the right direction.
Composers often do research in preparation for writing a score. If the filmmaker is
interested in a highly evolved, avant-garde orchestral score, you will want to familiar-
ize yourself with as much as you can from the top composers of that genre by listen-
ing to albums and, perhaps, checking out some of those scores to see how they were
notated. If you are doing a score for a Chinese historical action film, you might listen
to as many Chinese film scores and folk recordings as possible. Composers frequently
draw inspiration from other scores, albums, or online videos. There is so much great
material in the world, and it’s a wonderful way to gain some insight if you hope to do
something very specific.
The goal of research, of immersing yourself in a particular type of music, isn’t to
copy it or imitate it, but to allow any music you write to have depth and character.
When I was asked to score a movie about Native Americans from various tribes, I lis-
tened to over a hundred recordings of Native American music. From them, I learned
about the rhythms, instruments, scales, and phrases, and even how the style of music
changes dramatically, depending on its geography. I did my best in a short period of
time to become an expert in Native American music. My goal was to serve the film’s
drama and plot without resorting to music that might be shallow or cliché. I had a lot
more to draw from after my research. And it was a lot of fun as well.
I’ve steeped myself in all kinds of music prior to most every creative project I do.
I’ve listened to all sorts of musical styles with which I wasn’t familiar, specific artists
or scores the director especially loved, and music from different historical periods or
from various cultures. Anything that might inspire me to do something personal, but
that draws from these sources. Think of it as the difference between what you compose
and why. Good music (all good art, in fact) knows why. Good music isn’t just a bunch
of notes—no matter how beautiful they may be. Film, episodic, or video game music
has a purpose and a perspective, as it relates to the project you are doing. This doesn’t
just apply to musical oddities. It is as inspiring to listen to great artists as a warm-up
to getting to your personal craft and musical personality.

10
CHAPTER 1
After the research, and once you start to actually sketch some preliminary ideas,
you can let go of all that other music and begin to sift through the music you feel is
right for the project. Start sketching without thinking about specific scenes or charac-
ters. Just write. Get into your own musical head space. Sketch as many ideas as you can
to find the stylistic “front door” to the overall score. Hopefully, each will get you closer
and closer to something that works well. You’ll know when you’ve created themes or
sketches that reflect all you hope to achieve musically in the project. Your goal right
now is to fulfill the director’s vision, but do it with music that will inspire and surprise
them. Organize your sketches as best you can, and draw from them as you start to
actually write to picture. You are through the door.
A FEW THOUGHTS ON THEMATIC WRITING
What makes any score memorable? As mentioned earlier, any good score has some-
thing of value that tells a story and also stays with the listener. It might be a melody,
a repeating rhythmic figure, an interesting harmonic progression, some interesting
electronic sound design or instrumentation, or any kind of sonic signature that makes
it stand out as different from other scores, including your own.
It’s valuable to remember that writing a score is first and foremost about emotion,
and less about style, genre, or any intellectual aspects of composition. In other words,
it’s all about the feel and mood that the music creates, and not about any technical or
theoretical aspects of music. Scores are designed to make people feel something, and
not really think about anything. The audience is supposed to be focused on dialogue
or plot points, and the music is there to enhance and amplify that. A good score comes
from the heart and not the head. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t help to have a good
sense of music theory or compositional technique. It assuredly does because it makes
the process that much easier. However, there are plenty of successful composers who
don’t have any formal training and yet are able to evoke emotions flawlessly through
music, and therefore be a valuable asset to any creative project they work on.
Good melodic writing is an art form. A great melody has a shape—an arc—that
makes it feel like it has a beginning, middle, and end that conveys something inevi-
table. Take “Happy Birthday,” a simple melody we all know, for example.
It has the simplest of structures, but it feels cohesive and consistent. It has a perfect
blend of motives (see figures 1.2 and 1.3), repetition, rhythmic, and harmonic lan-
guage that make the end feel very satisfying. It’s like a lot of folk songs in that sense,
and, in fact, folk melodies have frequently been used in all kinds of scores. For good
reason—they are simple, clear, and easily relatable. The lesson you can take away from
all this is that most good themes are most often simple in shape and structure. The
complexity in some scores comes from other factors, such as the arrangements and

THE MUSIC
11
orchestrations. There are, of course, many exceptions. But this carries through in a
substantial majority of projects.
Motivic writing is another more contemporary way to add character and consis-
tency to a score. Instead of focusing on a traditional melody that is several bars in
length, think more about short repeating phrases that can build emotion.
FIGURE 1.1
“Happy Birthday” with annotations.
Author
FIGURE 1.2
Examples of a few motivic phrases.
Author
Another key element of thematic writing is consistency. As a whole, a typical score
may have many themes and a wide range of emotions, depending on the story and
characters. However, something needs to tie a project together and make it feel like
a singular experience for the audience. It might be your choice of sound and instru-
mentation, or it can simply be that all the pieces within the project share a similar
harmonic language. Within any one theme, the best thing to do is keep it very focused.

12
CHAPTER 1
Melodies you conceive can be used in whole or in part in other ways. A melody can
be used as a counter line under another melody, or even be used as a bass line.
A good theme doesn’t meander into multiple territories of harmony or rhythm. Like-
wise, a score may have some range, but it should try to feel like facets of a singular idea.
Rhythm is another powerful way to think of giving a score its unique personality.
Some scores are very rhythm based. Establish a rhythmic pulse either with percussion
or instrumentation, and then anything you put over it still feels connected through
the rhythms themselves.
FIGURE 1.3
Example of a rhythmic motif.
Author
With any melodic material you produce for your scores, you can begin to introduce
different variations to take that theme and move it into other directions. For example,
a fast theme played slowly can become a whole new emotion, but still have that con-
nection. Likewise, changing the harmony of a theme can vary it many different ways.
FIGURE 1.4
Example of a melody with different harmonies.
Author

THE MUSIC
13
FIGURE 1.5
Example of a melody recast as bass.
Author
Themes can be played at different tempos to shift the feel. Changing the instrumen-
tation (for example, a melody played on a piano in one cue, moves to strings or brass
in another) is also a simple way to keep a score feeling connected without becoming
overly repetitious.
Creating variations of themes is a useful way to cover a lot of needs in a given proj-
ect. It’s a common technique in a majority of scores. Some variation techniques are very
noticeable and some are more subtle. Push it too far, and you’ll end up with cues that, to
your ear, may seem related (after all, you know what you did to create the track) but will
not feel unified to the average member of the audience. Variations can be very broad,
but something in the material needs to clearly stand out as being related.
Finally, while thematic writing is a vital part of scoring, every project you do will
be different in its needs and the wishes of the creators. Some directors love hearing
themes and melodies throughout the score. Others prefer a much more sparing use of
themes and for the bulk of a score to be more in the background and not distract the
listener. It always comes down to asking a lot of questions all along the way. Be willing
to try things a few different ways before settling on the final approach; and use your
best instincts to create a score that has balance, cohesiveness, and uniqueness.
SHARING YOUR FIRST SKETCHES WITH A DIRECTOR
Once you’ve created your initial batch of demo material, it’s time to play it for your
director, producer, or whoever on the production is in charge of approving your mu-
sic. Your first playback of demos is the first chance you’ll really find out if you and the
director are truly on the same page. This can often be a nerve-racking experience, and
obviously a lot is riding on it, specifically, whether or not you are going to go forward
or might have to start over. It’s a bit like a first date—you really want it to go well, but
you have no idea what will happen. There are a few things to keep in mind.

14
CHAPTER 1
Before you play any sketches for your director, take as much time as you can to
polish every note of each sketch. Make sure the arrangements, programming, and
mix are all in great shape. Even though it’s only a demo, it needs to reflect the qual-
ity of work that will appear in the project itself. Never assume producers or directors
have a good musical imagination when it comes to demos. Even very experienced
directors or producers don’t understand how things will change between the demo
phase and the final mix. So, do what you can to make this demo sound absolutely
polished. There is no room for excuses or explanations of why it doesn’t sound bet-
ter. It’s okay to preface your playback briefly, to explain whether you’ll be using live
instruments, an orchestra, live guitars or drums, or anything that will improve the
quality of production. Nonetheless, the music has to be the music, and you can’t speak
about it, it must speak for itself.
You might consider playing your sketches for any trusted friends and get their
feedback, on both creative aspects and production quality, to be sure you didn’t miss
anything. Once you have everything ready to your satisfaction, reach out and allow
your director to decide how they wish to hear the sketches. Do they want to come to
you, do they want you to come to them, or do they want you to simply send them
over electronically and not have you there for the playback? If it’s possible to be in the
room for the playback, that seems to help things go better. If you just send your music
without being there in person, be sure everything is organized and titled so there can’t
be any confusion as to what’s what.
Another choice you want to make is just how much music to play at any one meet-
ing. It’s best not to play too much or too little in one sitting. Too little may feel like
a waste of time for a busy director, and too much can be fatiguing for the listeners.
I typically send about four to six sketches at any one time. Once you’re actually sub-
FIGURE 1.6
Screenshot of a well-organized demo folder.
Author

THE MUSIC
15
mitting your final cues, you don’t need to think about it. Sending in batches is still a
good idea, but just keeping up with the deadlines is an accomplishment. My very first
sketches are often in the form of a suite—a single piece of music with as many themes
as I wish to present, created as a single, flowing composition.
I prefer not to tell my director or producers which theme sketches are for which
characters or sections of the project. This way, they have the opportunity to make the
mental connection themselves, and this seems to make them feel more ownership of
the music. On many occasions, I’ve had a director say, “I love the theme you wrote for
the lead female,” when it was actually a theme I’d written with something else entirely
in mind. If they make that connection, that’s the connection that sticks. I organize my
ideas and then start writing the actual cues for the project.
Having all your main ideas laid out in sketch form before actually working to picture
is often a much more “purely musical” way to compose. You’re not thinking about edits
or ascend lengths. You’re not thinking about any transitions or interactive elements to
the score. You’re just creating the musical world the project will live in. Getting those
initial sketches approved makes writing to picture go much, much faster and easier.
HITTING THE SPOT: PUTTING MUSIC CUES IN THEIR PLACE
Just as important as the style of music you may choose for a particular project is decid-
ing exactly where the music will go—the starts and stops of each musical cue. This is
called spotting and it’s the first step in building a score.
The spotting takes place in what is called the spotting session, a meeting between
composer and director to discuss the real specifics of the score. Additionally, produc-
ers may be a part of the meeting, as well as a music editor who can take notes and keep
track of what’s discussed. Also attending may be the music supervisor who is in charge of
placing songs into the soundtrack. Plus, it’s not unusual for the picture editor to sit in on
these meetings in order to discuss any potential changes that might occur in future ed-
its, or to discuss how certain scenes are paced. Spotting sessions on episodic shows often
include even more people. In order to save time on a hurried schedule, the producers
may include the sound and dialogue editors so all sound elements are done at one time.
Whether those other parties are involved or not, this is the time for a director and
composer to carefully discuss detailed thematic ideas on a scene-by-scene basis. Simi-
lar to weaving a tapestry, the spotting session starts to build the relationship between
music and picture, and the story and its characters: some color here, a jolt of energy
there, and a sense of romance in another spot.
Spotting is a significant part of the art and craft of scoring. It has a profound effect
on the feel of the score and on the project itself. Some projects thrive on having a
lot of music, while others, with some careful consideration, get by with far less. The
trend overall has led to an increase in the amount of music in most scores, especially

16
CHAPTER 1
for action or suspense. If you ever watch older films or episodic TV, you may notice
lengthy sections with no music, even when there are action or chase scenes with only
sound effects. Compared to more recent scores, it can make some films feel quite
slow. For the most part, gone are those days with a preference toward music estab-
lishing the pace and feel of those scenes. There are exceptions, and some are genu-
inely wonderful. It really just comes down to how the creators feel about the role of
music in that project. Always be open to their choice of where to place music before
you interject any of your own opinions.
When discussing how to weave music into a scene, you typically want it to enter and
exit without drawing too much attention to itself. Good cues often sneak in without the
audience even noticing until they are well under way. Once a cue is going, you can push
it to the desired level of energy and complexity. Starting a cue at an awkward moment
is a common mistake made by less experienced composers. Importantly, music should
typically enter in response to the actions or words on the screen, and not foreshadow
it by entering right on top of it, or too soon beforehand. The audience needs a brief
moment to absorb a plot twist or line of important dialogue, at which point the music
has become present. Of course, there are exceptions, but this works exceedingly well in
most cases. At times, a scene needs to let the audience in on something that is not di-
rectly depicted. Sometimes a scene may need some sense of emotion, and music will be
the best way for that to occur, even if it leads the audience to feel something in particu-
lar. Good judgment outweighs any supposed rules. It can be an incredibly valuable ex-
perience to watch some films or episodic television and just listen for how carefully the
music comes in and out. You’ll start to see the psychology behind spotting. At times, it’s
absolutely obvious, and at times very subtle, psychological, and even ingenious.
In the spotting of action, you should not only be thinking about entrances and exits,
but also how to shift the tone of the music to match how things are evolving on the
screen. For example, a cue might start on the hero preparing to go into battle. How-
ever, at some point the music may need to shift as you see how the villain is preparing
to outsmart the hero. Once the battle begins, there is often a lot of back-and-forth
between hero and villain, success and failure, setbacks and success. So, the music will
probably need to encompass all of those changes and shifts throughout the scene. A lot
of this will feel obvious. However, a director may not always want to let the audience
know what’s happening ahead of time, or even in the moment. So, while spotting, be
sure you and the director are clear about how the music will make any emotional or
thematic shifts to give the audience hope, concern, disappointment, or joy.
Horror and suspense projects frequently take advantage of music to build tension
and fear. When done well, silence can often be used as a way to up the ante and create
even more terror. And often this is the one type of score that doesn’t sneak in, but can
come in with a shock!

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17
Dialogue-heavy scenes require care, and can be tricky at times. Every director cares
deeply that music enhances dialogue scenes without distracting from what is being
spoken. In storytelling, the word is king. It helps to have music actually weave in and
out between lines. Cues will often start during a pause in a conversation. Watch for
facial expressions that show how the characters are feeling and use those as a guide for
beginning a cue. Once the music has begun, be careful about hitting any loud notes
or heavy accents at the same time as important dialogue, especially with solo instru-
ments, which can be more distracting than a section. Think of music under dialogue as
a kind of “musical counterpoint.” Music should never distract from or get in the way of
what is being said onscreen. They can coexist nicely and with real musical energy. Aim
to write so the music falls, more or less, in between words. There’s room for greater
looseness in scenes where there is no real action.
During a spotting session, someone should be taking careful spotting notes. To help
make this easier, the production video will typically have timecode numbers some-
where on the screen. Timecode (explained in more detail later) is a type of visual clock
that starts at the beginning of the video and then runs continuously to the end.
When the video is paused, so are the numbers. This way, each entrance, transition,
or exit you wish to spot can be done with precision. You can feel free to ask for the
video to be paused in order to take notes and remember to include the timecode num-
ber on the screen. As you’re watching and seeing, you may decide halfway through
that music should have started earlier. Feel free to ask to back up the video to where
you think the music might start, and then note the number.
FIGURE 1.7
Example of a video screen with timecode.
Author

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If a music editor is a part of the project, that’s normally their job. On a smaller proj-
ect, it may just be the composer. Once you’ve gone through the entire project, you’ll
end up with your spotting notes: a concise list of the music to be written; where it will
start, where it will end; any notes from the director or producer as to the nature of the
music; and any other memos you wish to include. Keep in mind that it’s not unusual
for the editors to continue making changes after a spotting session. Scenes may be re-
moved, shortened, lengthened, or move to a different part of the project altogether. It
helps to make notes of what’s happening on screen along with the time code numbers,
so if things change you can easily find what you’re looking for in the new cut.
WHY IS THERE MUSIC IN THIS SCENE?
Before moving on, there is one last aspect of spotting to discuss. It is one of the truly
fundamental aspects of what it is to be a composer. Every cue in every project must
serve a purpose. And before you can write it, you must ask yourself—“why does this
scene need music, and what will the presence of music accomplish?” If you can answer
that question clearly to yourself, then you will know what to write. What are some of
the reasons to have music in a scene?
■ To create the mood and ambience of the project as a whole, or of the scene in
particular
■ To establish the tone of a character
■ To add tension when needed
■ To add dread prior to action
■ To add mystery, romance, joy, or any emotion to a scene that without which it feels
empty
■ To make action more exciting
■ To differentiate between hero and villain
■ To make a scene feel faster or slower as needed
■ To help move a story forward
Finally, it’s not uncommon for a director to simply say, “I think this scene needs
music.” If you didn’t see the need, but you get the request, then you should ask them,
“What would you like the music to do here?” Directors have usually seen a scene,
dozens or hundreds of times before a spotting session, and may simply be bored. They
may feel they did not get a good performance by an actor and want to add some miss-
ing life to the scene. Even if you disagree with the assessment of the director, the best
thing is to simply comply and try music. Sometimes it takes a sketch to show a director
that music isn’t actually needed in a spot, but if they are happy with the concept and
the result, then you are a hero to them. Accept it.

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CHAPTER 1
A DEEPER LOOK AT WRITING CUES
Once your theme demos are written and approved and you have spotted the project,
there’s nothing left but to sit in a chair and write the score! If you’ve already worked
out your main themes, you can actually use them to work more quickly. Find a scene
where you know the theme you’ll use, open your sketch sequence, and start to rework
it to fit the scene in any way needed. Set the sequence to start on the time code number
from the spotting session for the beginning of the cue. Run the sketch in its original
form and see how it looks. You might be surprised that some of your sketches often
simply work. However, invariably you’ll need to structure each cue more carefully to
fit the scene it’s in. So, look now at some of the elements that help make a cue work
the best way possible.
MAKING A SUBTLE ENTRANCE: BEGINNING A CUE
When scoring a scene, think about the moment you want the music to be well estab-
lished, then look backward slightly from there to find a good space to begin to start
it off. Unless you intentionally want a cue to come in suddenly, the goal is typically
to gradually sneak in with some subtlety. This is absolutely a judgment call on your
part, and only you and your director can decide what feels right. Nonetheless, this is a
technique that works the vast majority of times.
Cues often start with a single tone, harmony, the first notes of a melody, or some-
thing equally as simple. When done right, the audience often won’t notice music
starting, but they’ll get the music’s full emotional impact when it is really needed. Not
all cues need to sneak in. Rhythm-heavy action pieces, scenes with no dialogue, or
any time the director asks that the music come in boldly are fine. Generally, though,
bringing music in a bit slowly and carefully is preferred. A good idea is to experiment
with starting the cue a few seconds earlier or later, trying different ways for the cue to
begin, and then settling on the one that sounds and feels best to picture.
If someone in a scene says a line of real importance to the story that triggers the mu-
sic, wait for a brief moment after the line for the audience to take it in and understand
its impact. Don’t rush in. After that brief moment (called a beat in film and theater
jargon, and not to be confused with an actual musical “beat”), the music can begin.
Always give the audience that beat to take in the information on the screen, and then
allow the music to respond. In some cases, a cue might start several seconds prior to a
scene to create a sense of anticipation and curiosity (at the end of a somber scene comes
a happy piece of music, which leads into a scene of a fun event). This is called a prelap.
Cues that are more about energy, shock, or surprise than they are about emotions
or dialogue can start with a bang, sometimes starting on or just before an edit or other
very noticeable visual moment. Finding the perfect moment in the scene to be the
launching point for the music is like musical counterpoint. The audience sees some-

THE MUSIC
21
thing and takes it in. They hear some important dialogue and they take it in, and when
music begins, they take it in as well. You typically don’t want everything starting all at
the same time. It crowds a scene and makes it confusing. It’s better to weave dramatic
elements in one at a time. The result is a much better flow.
THE HIT: UNDERSCORING CRUCIAL MOMENTS
With fast-paced action scenes, music that hits edits or significant moments (like some-
thing—or someone—hitting the ground, a monster appearing, a gun or explosion
going off, or other exciting or vital moments) tends to add a lot to the excitement. It
connects the aural and visual experience for the audience, which is part of the satisfac-
tion of cinema, TV, or video games. These moments where the action and music hit
together are called, appropriately enough, hits.
All of the story elements that go by in a fast-paced action scene can sometimes give
the audience too much to focus on, and they can’t always mentally process it quickly
enough. Fast-paced editing, rapid dialogue and action, unexpected twists and turns
can get a bit overwhelming. Sometimes that’s the point. Directors typically don’t want
the audience to be confused. However, the right music, synchronized and sculpted the
right way, can help lead an audience along, showing them all of what’s happening as
the scene unfolds moment by moment. It elevates a scene into being more emotionally
compelling and exciting. Think of an exciting chase sequence: the music as it careens
and hits with the action, propelling images right off the screen. Is the hero about to
die? Is good about to triumph over evil? Is someone committing an act of true hero-
ism or tremendous evil? Music often conveys emotion far better than images alone.
Musical hits can take many forms:
■ Heavy accents
■ Starting a new melody
■ Recapitulating an important theme
■ Bringing in a new instrument or section
■ Introducing a rhythm or variation
■ Hitting a chord or note with some energy
■ Modulation to another key
■ A sudden tempo change
■ A swell like a cymbal roll or crescendo that peaks on the desired beat
■ Any sudden and noticeable event or change
Sometimes hits can be more subtle—like a shift from a minor to a major key when
the hero gets the upper hand. Even silence can be used as a tool to accent a key mo-
ment in a scene.

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CHAPTER 1
Many times, cues have transitions that fall near but not directly on a transition.
Staggering transitions between image and music can be a more subtle, and even desir-
able, effect.
It takes some practice to figure out how to make a cue feel musical while having
significant moments in the score line up exactly with corresponding moments in the
picture (more on that later). This usually involves a combination of tempo and time
signature changes to make it happen. You may pick a tempo you like for an action
scene, only to find that a key moment you want to hit lands between two beats in the
music. In a situation like this, you have several options to make a downbeat, or any
beat, line up with the picture:
■ First, you can move the start time of the cue forward or backward a few timecode
frames in order to get the hit to be right on a beat
■ Second, you can change the tempo ever so slightly to get the hit to land on the beat.
Sequencers all have tools to make this process fairly painless
■ Third, you can use meter changes to shift the downbeat
And sometimes you can use a combo of these to get the best result. Faster tempos
cause more hits to land naturally than slower tempos. Subtle tempo shifts often can’t
be heard. With action, you want a musical hit to be right on the desired frame, but a
frame or two early is often just as effective. Hits landing even a frame or two late will
usually feel wrong.
FIGURE 1.9
Example of two sequences where the start time is shifted to get a hit to land on a beat.
Author

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THE MUSIC
25
There can be some restraint regarding hitting too many moments in a cue. Too
many hits or transitions can sometimes make a score feel cartoonish. In fact, the
term often given to scores that hit too many moments is cartooning. Classic cartoon
scores would hit absolutely every piece of action, which actually did make them much
funnier. The same applies to any film score, which isn’t always so desirable. A good
composer will find the right balance of hits and non-hit moments in a scene. So, feel
free to try adding or taking them out as you refine a cue.
Some scenes may feel the need for a lot of hits, but with others you can reserve
musical hits for just occasional moments that need some serious extra attention.
Part of spotting is defining the truly important moments in a scene, as decided by
both the composer and the director, and then choosing the best way to accentuate
them. Anything that brings the audience’s awareness to the music will highlight that
moment as important.
CONTINUITY AND CONTRAST: SUSTAINING INTEREST WITH VARIATIONS IN TONE
Another vital aspect of effective scoring is creating music with both continuity and
contrast. Musical shifts and changes at specific times in a cue will have a great deal of
impact on the emotional content of a scene. Music is really the glue that holds a scene,
and even a story, together. Visual perspective typically changes throughout a scene.
That’s the art of picture editing—to keep the visual storytelling from getting boring.
As long as the music remains a constant thread through a scene, the result is a more
cohesive and dramatic experience. On the other hand, when music changes tone, it
often signals to the audience that this is also a shift with the story itself.
For instance, if you are scoring a scene in which a character gets some life-changing
bad news; little may happen visually to show this, but by shifting or modulating the
music in some way by
■ starting or ending a theme
■ adding a few beats of silence
■ going to a B section of the theme
■ changing key
■ introducing a new melody
■ introducing a new rhythm
the weight of the scene shifts much more for the audience. Even a subtle contrast in
the music helps propel a scene to a more dramatic conclusion.
Minimalist- and ambient-style scores also benefit from having cues evolve in one
way or another. Relying too much on sustaining a single tone or chord for too long can
make a scene feel like it’s slowing down. Sustained bass notes or drones are usually not

26
CHAPTER 1
as much of a problem. Contemporary film music often takes advantage of low ped-
als and drones for subtle dramatic effect. Played quietly in the mix, they’re incredibly
effective at adding tension or dread to a scene. Long high notes don’t work as well.
And any sustained sound that is near the vocal register of anyone speaking on screen
is going to stick out after a while.
In more complex, noisier scenes, it’s when a held note finally changes that the audi-
ence suddenly notices what they thought was a sound effect is actually music, which
can be very effective. When a note is simply sustained for long periods of time, it tends
to wear on the listener and gets annoying. By keeping upper lines moving, even very
slowly, music blends with a scene far better than when simply holding a sustained pad
ad nauseam.
It is a very personal choice as to how complex or simple to make a score. A con-
versation with your director and a sense of their musical tastes will make this clearer.
As any composer develops their own style and “voice,” this is a key aspect to consider.
ECONOMY: WHEN LESS IS MORE
Regardless of its underlying musical style, composing for a score often takes what is
organic in any genre and distills and simplifies it. Too much counterpoint or disso-
nance, too many thematic or instrumental entrances or exits or complex rhythms are
often not helpful. Good scores can have moments of complex, interesting, dissonant
harmonies and melodies, but they also tend to keep the overall soundscape relatively
simple. It is easier to overwrite than to underwrite a score. Some of the best, most
well-crafted scores have an economy to them that allows each musical idea to be heard
clearly without causing significant distraction.
When you bog down a cue with a load of musical elements—layers of different
rhythms or counter lines—the end results can weigh down the scene. When music
gets too demanding to the ear for too long, it’s not uncommon for the sound mixers to
simply turn the music down—a lot. At that point, any subtlety you hoped to have will
simply vanish before making it to the screen. Given the need to make room sonically
for the dialogue and sound effects, many of the elements of an overly layered score will
simply not be heard in the final mix.
The best scores invariably limit themselves to just one or two musical elements at
any one moment and allow the power and scope of the materials to make their point.
A well-chosen harmony in just the strings can be more moving than those same
strings also accompanied by additional layers and ideas. Musical economy means get-
ting the most impact with the least amount of sonic material and is one of the main
keys to a great deal of good score writing. Creating music in which each part truly
counts is one of the real challenges within any genre of score.

FIGURE 1.12
Example of an overly complex track and a simpler version of the same.
Author

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CHAPTER 1
DRAMATIC TRANSITIONS: THE MUSIC’S RESPONSE TO DRAMATIC CHANGES
Music helps tell the story. Television and film use plot, dialogue, and editorial mon-
tage to convey that story. The music, when it is part of a scene, must in some way
connect to any shifts or changes, be they emotional or visual. There can be jumps in
time and story, which also need the music to support those transitions—sometimes
called jump cuts or time cuts. For example, if a story shifts from night to the next
morning, the score may want to convey that shift as well. These musical shifts can
be subtle, like adding a new instrumental color (or taking one away), or more overt,
such as: beginning a theme, ending a theme, going to a new section of the theme,
changing key, or changing tempo. Any of these basic music elements will say to
the audience, “Now something is different,” and the audience will then look at the
screen and assume that what they are seeing is now different from before the musical
transition. Transitions become an important tool for creating a score that locks with
the feel and essence of a scene.
Music that moves and alters with the edits or shifts in the actions imparts more
clarity and energy to the story. The more you create musical transitions that align
with edits and actions of the picture, the more energy and connection you impart. It’s
a common part of traditional scoring and can be viewed as a stylistic option, and not a
necessity. Too many transitions or musical hits, on the other hand, make a scene start
to resemble old cartoon scores (such as those of legendary animation composer Carl
Stalling, and classic cartoons from Bugs Bunny to The Simpsons). While significant use
of hits and transitions can sometimes be a distraction, it’s typically more acceptable
when scoring animation, as has been done from the beginning of the genre.
For many more modern live-action projects, a subtler approach to hits and transi-
tions is often preferred. A more contemporary approach to scoring across edits and
transitions is to limit or avoid making significant musical changes at all, if it makes
dramatic sense and the director likes a subtler musical approach. When existing
songs are used over a scene that has many changes, there is no shift in the music that
connects to the edits. (In other cases, songs are actually edited, so at a transition in a
scene, the song transitions from verse to chorus. In some cases, the picture is edited
to fit the music!) The result is a more dramatic sense of the visual montage; that the
various shots within the scene are all part of a greater whole and should not be taken
as separate elements. It’s an effective way to tell stories visually.
Transitions can be one of many things. They can effectively happen either directly
on, just before, or just after an edit. Transitions that are frame-accurate to a cut will
feel more closely tied to the picture. Transitions that occur prior to the edit, by a few
frames or a few seconds, have the effect of drawing us into the next scene, which can be
a very effective form of narrative transition. A scene of violence transitions to a scene
of quiet aftermath, but the music makes that transition earlier by a few seconds. The

THE MUSIC
29
audience can begin to feel the emotions of that aftermath while still steeped in the im-
ages that led to the final emotional resolution. Likewise, a cue can bleed over a transi-
tion before resolving, thus tying the current scene with the previous one. This can be
done by simply putting something like a cymbal roll into the final part of a section that
leads right up to the cut, or a swell in the music that peaks on the cut. As a general rule,
transitions are best executed on or slightly before the cut or hit point desired. Those
placed even a fraction of a second afterward tend to look and sound late.
The vast majority of picture edits are so-called hard cuts, with no optical transition
such as a dissolve or crossfade (where one scene fades into the next). Less professional
productions, YouTube videos, some commercials, or corporate videos, use large
amounts of transitional effects to create more excitement, perhaps because the actual
content has little substance. Crossfades are typically used to indicate that there is a
jump in time or story. That means there is an opportunity for the music to make a
similar significant shift. Dissolves from one scene to the next can last usually from a
fraction of a second up to several seconds. If you feel the music needs to make a tran-
sition over a crossfade, you should start your transition at the beginning of the fade,
or sooner. Audiences are very quick to pick up on the fact that a crossfade has begun.
They may not know what is about to come dramatically—typically crossfades are used
to indicate a jump in time or place—but they instantly know the cinematic transition
has occurred from about the first frame of the crossfade. That is the place to make or
begin your musical transition.
In a fast-paced scene, such as a high-energy chase or action sequence, there are
likely to be dozens of transitions in a short time. The scene may cut between the
good guys and the bad guys, to close-ups of faces or weapons, possibly to another
location of people unaware of the dire goings-on in the main scenario. The musi-
cal underscore will typically want to reflect many of these cuts. The dramatic shifts
can be simple—a key change or the introduction of the theme, maybe bringing in or
taking out the drums. The music need not be afraid to make significant shifts on the
moment-by-moment changes in the scene. Changing themes or keys will make the
whole thing feel more complex, interesting, and compelling to the audience. It is up
to the composer and director to choose just how much contrast to put into a scene
via musical transitions on edits.
However varied a cue may be, or how strong the transitions between scenes or
cuts, cues still need to maintain some continuity. That is, a cue can’t simply be like a
group of short, unrelated cues just glued together. Transitions should be handled in a
way that still gives a sense of unity to the cue as a whole. Perhaps a transition is very
contrasting in color, but the tempo remains constant or near constant. That will tie the
cue together while still allowing a successful and clean transition. Perhaps a percus-
sion part remains through a number of transitions, then a string line carries through

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CHAPTER 1
a few shifts. Themes or motifs that go away and then return will also help to link the
various sections of a cue together. You don’t need a single musical device to make the
cue unified. One of the prime skills of successful film composers is the ability to score
through a scene, drawing out the emotions and energy of the scene moment by mo-
ment without bringing too much attention to the music, while still creating a sense of
flow and continuity to the scene as a whole.
Like so many other aspects of music, it’s a matter of personal taste. The desires of
the director or producers, and some valuable, experimental trial and error, will lead
the way to what will hopefully be the best choice. It may not be the first version, and it
may not be the tenth. Time permitting, try scoring a section of a scene a few different
ways—some that are more reactive to the picture and some less so, and present them
as potential options to the director for their feedback. Perhaps they like music that
doesn’t shift to the picture too much. Or maybe they feel a scene needs more energy,
in which case having some more hits and transitions will help accomplish that. Most
likely, they will be very grateful to have options.
TEMPO: SETTING THE PACE OF A SCENE
Perhaps more important than any other musical choice you make in writing a cue
is the tempo. Much of what a cue does emotionally to a scene is right in the music’s
pace, rhythm, and energy. Change the tempo of the music, and the feel of a scene
changes radically.
Often, before a single note is written, a composer spends a good amount of time
carefully choosing the pace of a cue. Some scenes might organically suggest a tempo by
rhythmic occurrences in the picture: somebody walking boldly into the shot, a scene
with fast-paced edits, a chase or a fight, or an elderly couple on a leisurely stroll. Film
music can have an enormous range of tempos, from barely moving to blisteringly fast.
Sequencers and DAWs all have tools for calculating tempos, so that you can make
a beat hit on a specific frame. It’s not uncommon to add small, often imperceptible
tempo changes within a cue to facilitate perfect alignment between music and picture.
It’s also fairly simple with those tempo tools to add significant tempo changes as part
of how a cue transitions. Either way, a cue can stay at a single, well-chosen tempo, or
can have a tempo map that changes the tempo to accommodate dramatic shifts in the
scene or simply helps the music land on specific frames.
The faster the tempo, the closer together in time the beats become. If you are writ-
ing a cue with a lot of hits or transitions, it becomes easier at faster tempos, since the
beats are closer together. So, the likelihood a beat will hit on or close enough to a
desired frame is very good. If it gets within a few frames, you need only to adjust the
tempo slightly in order to get the beat to hit right on just the right spot.

FIGURE 1.13A
Example of DAW tempo calculator.
Used by Permission, Apple Inc. All Rights Reserved.
FIGURE 1.13B
Example of tempo map.
Used by Permission, Apple Inc. All Rights Reserved.
FIGURE 1.14
Example of a small tempo change to cause a beat to hit a frame.
Author

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CHAPTER 1
The tempo of music can also be more fluid than just a single tempo or quick
tempo change to delineate a cinematic transition. Tempos can also slow down and
speed up gradually, as they do in classical music, to gain more expressivity. A slow
build in tempo adds tension and energy to a scene in which something is gradually
becoming more significant, such as danger. A cue can slow down as a sign of wind-
ing things up, or to simply give the music a sense of phrasing. Not all scores are
done to a rigid metronome (often called a click). A few more traditional composers
still conduct the musicians freely, adding accelerandos (speeding up) and ritardan-
dos (slowing down) for feel and emotion. With practice, they still hit the needed
spots they have chosen. However, working with DAWs and sequencers requires the
building of precise tempo maps that feel musical and evoke emotion, hit the desired
marks, and convey the desired pace.
It is valuable to become very familiar with the tempo-calculating tools of your se-
quencer. Knowing how to work with your sequencer’s tempo functions will help you
to create a score that is more flowing and agile. You can also use your sequencer’s
tempo capabilities to figure out tempos fairly easily that will make beats hit exactly
where you want them (some are better than others).
Some sequencers have the ability to create and record a tempo track via moving a
MIDI fader. Some have the ability to record a tempo simply by tapping a key on the
computer. Using these features can make your sequences feel more alive and human,
even if you quantize all your parts. This may not be a desired effect all the time, but
may be very useful for those more expressive moments. It simply depends on the feel
you are going for. Some styles of music, EDM for example, don’t feel right with no-
ticeable tempo changes. In a case like that, don’t worry about perfectly frame-accurate
hits. Nothing’s wrong with that.
If you plan to record your music with a live ensemble, for ease of playability, be
careful about how you change tempos during a cue. Real musicians, unlike their
synthesizer counterparts, cannot be expected to make a sudden radical shift of tempo
while maintaining any fast rhythms. Gradual tempo changes, however, are not a prob-
lem; neither are subtle changes of only a few BPM. If a significant tempo change is
required, you will need to anticipate it. One way is to end a section at one tempo with
a rest or a held note and begin the new tempo during that note.
FIGURE 1.15
Example of score with a tempo change over a held note.
Author

THE MUSIC
33
No one listening will know that the tempo changed during a note, and the musi-
cians will be able to prepare for the next section at the new tempo.
A variation of this is to begin a new tempo with a briefly held note or slow rhythm.
In either case, the objective is to make it as easy as possible for the players to stay with
the new clicks.
If the tempo of a cue (or a section) is very, very slow, musicians may struggle to
keep accurate time. There are two ways to handle this. One is to just double the tempo,
so instead of 55 BPM you can use 110 and cut all the rhythms in half.
FIGURE 1.16
Example of notating the same line at 55 or 110 BPM, switching from sixteenth to eighth notes.
Author
Or, some sequencers have a function to double time or half time MIDI notes. If you
feel the tempo is so slow as to be difficult to record with a live group, you can double
the tempo and then process the MIDI to half time. The end result will sound identical
and be easier to record.
Some composers create a double-time click, one that ticks eighths instead of quarter
notes. This makes playing rhythmic passages at slow tempos easier for the ensemble or
soloist and can make for a more accurate performance. There are sequencers that have
the ability to do this automatically. If your sequencer can’t, just create an eighth-note
click track with a short dry percussion sound, like a hi-hat or clave, on a track.
It also helps to switch to an eighth click on meters such as 3/8 or 5/8. Clicks can
be accented on the downbeats of bars if you wish. Musicians and conductors are
somewhat divided on their preference for this. Some enjoy it, while others find it
distracting. Ask.
GRACEFUL EXIT: HOW AND WHEN TO END A CUE
Once you’ve begun a cue, established the theme and emotion, moved through the
scene(s) and gotten to the end, you will want to end the music as gracefully as you
started. While there are different means to ending a cue, the most common is to taper
it out somewhat gradually. You can do this by means of a sustained note, chord, or a
repeated ostinato (sometimes called a vamp). It’s a good practice to hold the last note
of a cue slightly longer than needed by a few seconds. This way, the sound mixers at

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CHAPTER 1
the final dub session (where the music, dialogue, and sound effects are mixed into the
final soundtrack) can fade it out as they wish. Directors like having that kind of control.
Always take care not to end a cue too early. You don’t want to give away the fact that a
cue is about to end, as it may tell the audience that the end of a scene is coming before
it actually does, thus spoiling a scene’s dramatic impact. The audience shouldn’t know
that a situation is about to come to an end just because the music has gotten to the last
note or chord. You end up with a cue whose final note just sits there for too long.
STYLES: IS FILM MUSIC DIFFERENT FROM OTHER KINDS OF MUSIC?
There is no such thing as a musical style called film music (or episodic music or video
game music). Good scores draw from, or are inspired by, just about every type of musi-
cal genre and style imaginable. Early movie scores were more consistent in their style,
based predominantly on nineteenth- and early twentieth-century classical symphonic
music, with some early jazz thrown in. The sound of scores has slowly evolved over
the past century and this one, borrowing more and more musical approaches from all
kinds of musical fields.
Contemporary scores are often wildly eclectic and imaginative. Virtually every type
of music from traditional and modern classical to jazz, rock, ambient, minimalist,
electronic, world music, new age and more have found their way into successful proj-
ects. The best scores take what is great about a style or genre and distill it into a simpler
more dramatic version. That distillation is the heart of cinematic scoring.
Many, if not most, successful composers got their musical start in one or another
of those musical genres before they became a composer for pictures. Some composers
stick to what they know best, but many develop the ability to write in a number of
musical styles in order to create scores that will best fit a wide range of projects, which
leads to greater opportunities. That’s a good thing.
Having a distinct musical style is a very personal thing and should not be confused
with musical genre. There are certainly musical genres that will work better for a
western or a science fiction film. Once a desirable musical genre has been chosen for
a project (be it symphonic, jazz, world, techno, avant-garde, or some hybrid), a com-
poser needs to take and apply it to their own musical style and sensibilities, adapt it
into their own version in some way. In scoring a western, for example, many compos-
ers have looked to the music of the twentieth-century classical composer Aaron Cop-
land for inspiration. Some may simply imitate, while others will look at the essence of
what makes a piece of music “Copland-esque” and adapt that approach into a score
that also allows them to make a personal musical statement, all while serving the true
needs of the project. The same model applies to all other musical forms.
It becomes a composer’s mission at the outset of a film to help seek out the best
musical approach that will work itself into the soundtrack, and then adapt it into

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something unique and vital. Once a style or approach has been determined, possibly
by experimentation and possibly by directorial choice, careful listening to recordings
by the masters of that genre can be tremendously inspiring and educational. Even if
the only element is a vague use of a type of harmony and rhythm, or the use of certain
instruments or electronics, the smallest use of an existing genre brings that essence
into a score that can still be unique, personal, and imaginative. This isn’t about “steal-
ing” (or borrowing) musical ideas from other artists. It’s about finding and applying
inspiration that feels like a good fit emotionally and stylistically for a given project.
It’s what virtually every working composer does, and often without it being obvious.
Many directors want to explore a musical approach that has been used in prior
similar projects to theirs. Audiences sometimes even have an expectation of what they
will experience seeing a certain type of film, whether it is romantic, fantasy, historic,
sci-fi, action, or whatever. Directors often want to give an audience what they think
it wants. This can lead to clichéd work, but it happens all the time. Fortunately, other
projects enjoy playing against expectations or stereotypes, allowing for nicely sur-
prising results. Some terrific scores have come about because the director allowed a
composer to try something entirely fresh and surprising. Epic war films with touching
and intimate music is one example. And while this approach doesn’t always lead to a
satisfying result, the attempt is unquestionably worthwhile.
Like every other aspect of creative work, experimentation and reflection can lead
you to the right place. “Failed” attempts can be like a roadmap to lead you to a remark-
able and fresh approach that honors the style of the project as a whole in unexpected
ways. Taking those ideas in genre and approach, and then composing your own music
within them, is really the means to developing great work.
EMOTIONAL CLARITY
Music serves a purpose. It’s not just filler to take up time. It has the singular goal to
create a unique, real-time, emotional experience for the audience. Understanding that
goal helps the composer focus on what is needed and what is not. Movies, episodic
shows or games are, at their core, emotional experiences told as stories. How media
makers create deeply effective experiences is infinitely diverse and broad. Whether it’s
a grand historical drama or a first-person shooter, the goal is to immerse the audience
into a singular, hopefully memorable, experience.
Music, by its nature, enters human consciousness in powerful ways. Music moves
us. And when music is added to a story, the story’s impact is raised. So, the goal of the
story, as created by the storyteller, ends up being the same as the goal of the music.
In every case, clarity is a vital component of the experience. A great storyteller under-
stands how to pull an audience into a story without confusion, and without ambiguity.
Stories are perspectives on a series of events that we find relatable. And that is equally

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true with every aspect of music. The goal is always emotional clarity. That is true for
a score as a whole, but even more true for each scene where it is used. Your goal is
always to serve the story with music that carries the same emotional goals. Stick to that
ambition and avoid anything that dilutes that for even a moment.
IN SUMMARY
Writing music for pictures is both an art and a craft. For each unwritten musical
“rule,” there is usually an excellent example disproving it. Rules can be broken, often
to interesting results. However, many “rules” work far more often than not. None
of them should stop you from working within your own unique and personal style.
Experiment and gradually learn how to adopt, and adapt, these musical and dramatic
“rules” in your own way, which is vital if you want to write music from a distinctive
style. Among the best ways to learn about the unwritten rules of scoring is to just
watch and listen to great scores. Listen and watch critically for the ways in which the
composer gets their music to connect with the story, characters, and action on the
screen. Ask yourself why the music did what it did:
■ Why do you think the film was spotted the way it was?
■ What were the starts and endings like?
■ What were the hits or transitions like?
■ How did the tempos help fuel the story?
■ What was the emotional intent of each cue?

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MY FIRST FILM: A CHANCE TO LEARN ON THE JOB
Prior to working on my own projects, I began my career working with other compos-
ers on film and episodic TV. I was an accomplished synthesist and sampling expert,
and I worked steadily for some years as an uncredited “ghost writer” on numerous
projects, some big, many forgettable (more on that a little later). However, having
those opportunities and experiences were critical when my first solo film, first TV
series, and first game projects came up. Let me describe some of my first solo scoring
projects—the good, the bad, and the ugly.
My first solo project was a big-budget feature film called White Squall, by the leg-
endary director Ridley Scott (Alien, Blade Runner, Gladiator, The Martian)—one of
my favorite film directors of all time. How did a “newbie” like me get hired onto a
multi-million dollar film? It came up as a complete surprise.
The film was in a bit of trouble. In fact, it had already been scored, but the score was
thrown out by the director because of conceptual differences he had with the original
composer. Scores (and composers) do get replaced on occasion, and it’s usually a
tough situation for everyone. Time, money, schedule, and whatever internal politics
lead to the decision, all make the job of re-scoring a difficult process. A new score was
needed very quickly because the film’s release date could not be changed. Director
Scott had worked previously with composer Hans Zimmer and asked if he was avail-
able on short notice. He wasn’t. I was working with Zimmer extensively at the time,
and after a brief discussion, he recommended me, an unknown “new” composer. Scott
hired me based on that recommendation and from a small bit of my music he had
heard. With no time and no fanfare, I was hired. The next day, work started.
Ridley Scott, for those who don’t know, is a brilliant director, and this film was
a significant departure from his previous works. It was an adventure film with a
coming-of-age story inside it. A meeting was arranged the next night to watch a
cut of the film, complete with a temp score, which is temporary music put into the
film while it’s being edited. Temp scores give a director a sense of how the film feels
with different kinds of music and are typically made from bits and pieces of other
suitable film scores. They are then removed when a composer is hired to create the
actual score. At this point, the film was overly long, and still being edited down. It’s
not unheard of for a composer to work to an unfinished cut of a film, even though
it may mean more work down the line to reconfigure music to new cuts. The temp
score was an eclectic musical mix ranging from lush electronic music to sweeping
and grand orchestral scores.
So why was the first composer’s score thrown out? I’ve known of composers to
be taken off a film because they wouldn’t stick closely enough to the director’s temp
score. But the original composer of White Squall was fired for just the opposite
reason—sticking too closely with the temp score! The director expected to be more

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surprised. It is rather amazing that the score got all the way to the final orchestral
recording session without anyone having heard it. While I never heard any of the first
score (only a fragment of it was recorded, and none of it was mixed), if it was anything
like the wondrous temp score, it was most likely great music, but simply not what the
director wanted. The original composer was highly respected and an Academy Award
winner. I was standing in a very imposing shadow, and that did not make me feel too
confident. On top of that, I had just three weeks to write what seemed like a near epic
score. This wasn’t how I pictured getting a career off the ground.
Over dinner with Scott that first night, I played it as cool as I could, made a few jokes,
and started trying to figure out how in the world I was going to pull this off without
getting myself fired. Secretly, I felt I was in way over my head. Could I write this much
music in this amount of time? I never had before. After our meeting, I went straight
to my studio, took a few deep breaths, and got to it. It was time to write some music.
Ultimately, I was recommended because I had put in an enormous amount of work
and built a relationship of trust with someone further along than myself. That was
critical. It was risky, but it wasn’t a “favor.” Before diving in too deeply, Zimmer (who
wrote the scores for Scott’s Black Rain, Thelma & Louise, and later for Black Hawk
Down and Gladiator) gave me two useful bits of advice based on his own experiences
with Scott: The first was to be very melodic and to come up with a theme that Scott
might find memorable and hummable. The second was simply to be myself and not
try to write music in a style that wasn’t my own. Be thematic and be genuine. That
requires a good deal of confidence, which I wasn’t quite feeling right then. As cool as
I was attempting to be on the outside with director Scott, I was just a touch terrified
inside. For many composers that feeling rarely goes away altogether . . . ever.
The movie was based on a true story that followed a group of American teenage
boys aboard a large sailing ship in 1961 designed to teach discipline and teamwork—
a floating boarding school run by a larger-than-life captain. As I started to form a
plan in my head, I decided I didn’t want my score to simply reflect the film’s era, the
boys’ nationality, or their Caribbean destinations. I wanted the music to be about the
boys themselves, about their difficult voyage of discovery, about the beauty they saw,
and about the dangers they encountered during their trip. I saw it as a voyage of self-
discovery. The film’s great cinematography of the sea and the places they visited all
became inspirations for the score.
As this was my first opportunity to prove my worth as a composer, money was the
last thing on my mind. It wasn’t important to me whether I made a profit from this
project. The music had to sound great and very cinematic. I took some of the first
money I got and used it to buy some much-needed gear for my small studio. I have a
very insatiable appetite for gear, and in this case, I felt completely justified. Software
instruments were just emerging and were not up to the task. I added several more
MIDI samplers to handle the scope I intended to bring to this music. This allowed
me to have a greater palette of sounds up, all at once, for demos to sound as good as
possible. As a rule, excuses for mediocre sounding demos are not allowed. The first

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39
composer on the film told the producers he would not be making demos, and to trust
him. Thus, under the circumstances, Scott wasn’t about to let a composer (especially
an unproven one) write anything without his hearing every note and approving it
before the final orchestral recording sessions. I wanted to give him as big a sound as I
could get. That takes at least some investment, and I’m glad I did. Investing in yourself
and your goals has the greatest potential rewards.
I wanted to focus my mind purely on the music. I didn’t look at the video of the
film for a few days. I sat at my computer and sketched themes with nothing more
than a sampled piano. Over those first days, I tossed out a lot of ideas. In trying to
write something sweeping in scope, my first themes didn’t feel genuine enough. I was
subconsciously imitating generic “epic” music, and it sounded cliché. Slowly, I got that
out of my system and started to find ideas that felt like something that would make
this score personal, and it started with the four simple chords shown in figure 1.17.
FIGURE 1.17
White Squall score—Four chords.
Author
Not particularly earth shattering. It’s your basic I-V-IV -I (with a tonic pedal), but it
had a simple and heartfelt feeling. Next, I put this first melody over them (figure 1.18).
FIGURE 1.18
White Squall score—Melody over chords.
Author
I liked the shape of it, but after a few listens I decided it was too syncopated and not
simple enough. I toyed with it some more and came up with my first theme (figure 1.19).
FIGURE 1.19
White Squall score—Simplified for theme.
Author

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I wasn’t going to meet with the director for a few more days, but I wanted to pull
a few more ideas together for him before then. I felt this was a good starting point for
a main theme and continued on by creating some useful variations of it. This process
also gave me a chance to continue to refine my palette, both sonically and emotion-
ally. I created another version of the main theme, this time in 3/4, which comes across
a little jauntier, while the 4/4 version felt better for the more serious moments of the
story. I started to experiment with a palette of interesting world musical instruments—
a fairly new trend at the time, as well as some boldly electronic sounds. All of this on
top of a conventional orchestra of strings and brass. I would provide all the wood-
winds myself (I play a wide range of flutes from just about every place imaginable).
Technology was still a bit primitive at the time—a lot of hardware samplers and synths
alongside my DAW for all MIDI and audio recordings of flute and other solo instru-
ments. It nearly took up an entire wall in my studio; I don’t miss them.
Time was of the essence here, so with this main theme and a few others, I began
some tentative scoring to picture. It’s risky to do any substantial work on a project
without the director’s approval of the themes first, but when the clock is running on a
tight deadline you best keep moving. I’ve never done that since, but it’s always better
to be overprepared. Always.
For my first music to picture, I chose a scene very near the beginning of the film,
right after the (still nonexistent) opening titles—as good as any place to begin a musi-
cal voyage. Though it was a short, simple scene, it gave me a chance to experiment
with some of the more interesting sounds I wanted to use in the film. Most of the film
takes place on the open ocean, which needed it to feel both beautiful and dangerous.
I was eager to tap a range of instruments and sounds from around the world, but not
be identifiable as being from any one place or culture. I used a Balinese gamelan (a
tuned metallic percussion instrument), an Irish pennywhistle, a considerable number
of sampled drums and percussion instruments from around the world (including In-
dia, Hawai’i, Indonesia, Africa, Europe, and South America), Caribbean steel drums,
a sampled male choir, and Tibetan harmonic singing (also exclusively male voices),
and I programmed several unusual synthesizer sounds to move the feel of the score
even further from the comforts of home. All of this on top of a sampled orchestra that
would later be replaced by the real thing (more on that later). This may seem like a
lot, but the key for me was always to keep things simple and cohesive, but colorful.
As this film takes place mostly at sea, I wanted to highlight something special that
would be like a “call to the sea” to use throughout the score. I chose the sound of blown
conch shells (often used in Polynesian music), which sound something like an insane
French horn played by a goat. A brass player friend of mine with an extensive collec-
tion of conch shells spent several hours letting me sample as many different notes and
phrases as I could, which I ended up using a great deal in the final score. They gave the

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41
score a primitive and evocative flavor. This served as an important recurring thematic
element for the score—possibly even a signature thematic element. Themes are not
restricted only to melodies. Themes can be made from anything that is both distinctive
and recurring in a project. They are an essential element to effecting scoring.
After writing a few more cues (just enough to give a sense of the overall style of the
score, but no more), I had my first meeting with the director to play him material. This
is always a big moment in the course of any project. As my first “playback session” on
my first solo project, for a world-famous director, it took all my strength to keep my
cool. I hit “play.” He sat very quietly and watched the video monitor while I played
him the first cue. I knew he liked things loud, so I wasn’t bashful with the volume. At
a spot in the film where we first see a magnificent ocean panorama, I had the music go
from a quiet opening to swell into some massive low-frequency synths, the mysterious
gamelans, and big lush strings. I was keeping my eyes on his face to gauge any sort of
reaction. At the spot where all the big sounds came in, I saw a big smile on his face.
So far, so good.
In the same cue, there came a moment where an Irish pennywhistle entered, repre-
senting the purity and innocence of these young boys. In contrast to the sampled and
electronic elements, I had recorded myself playing a very expressive line on the Irish
pennywhistle onto an audio track in the sequence, and he lit up. The pennywhistle,
it turned out, is one of Scott’s favorite instruments. Go figure. He beamed, gave me
two silent thumbs up. That first cue I played, which was a model for many parts of the
score, was a success. He liked the theme, the textures, and the instrumentation. More
importantly, I had won his trust. At least for now. We were off to a good start.
All that was left was to write the other 99 percent of the score, get it orchestrated,
recorded, and mixed at near breakneck speed, and I was done.
At this point I was also beginning to bring some other people onboard the project.
As a first-time composer, it was vital to work with highly experienced people who
could help guide me through the complex process of delivering a large-scale score in
record time. I already knew most of these people, though had not worked with them.
I brought in an orchestrator to take my sequences and create scores and parts; a music
editor to keep everything organized (and they were still making significant edits to
the film); and an audio engineer to help me deal with the countless tracks that would
be needed. But most of the time, it was me, alone in my room, sequencing MIDI and
recording myself playing the solo parts into my computer.
After getting a few more cues approved, I worked around the clock, seven days
a week to write the score. What began as a panicked “I don’t know if I can do this”
transformed into a slightly more confident “I got the music part nailed, now I just
need to keep it up.” When Scott returned to my studio about a week or so later for our
next playback, I got another batch of cues signed off (approved). We seemed to mesh

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well, with him approving the music either as is or with minimal and simple fixes. Once
approved, they were ready to be sent to my orchestrator. On some projects, there are
multiple people who must approve each cue, but fortunately not in this case. I met a
few of the film’s producers, curious to meet the unknown composer behind the new
score. I knew they were nervous, but I kept my own worries to myself.
I played all the solo woodwind parts myself, straight into the sequencer. Adding
even just a single real instrument to a sequence brings it so much more to life. I played
a number of the instruments on that score, including flutes, ocarinas, a da-ban-di (a
Chinese oboe-like instrument), and a few additional conch shells. I’ve always thought
of music from the perspective of colors. Up until then, I’d been a synth programmer;
however, I wanted the score to be organic and mostly non-electronic. But I wanted a
wide palette of organic colors, which I got from my world solo instruments’ layers on
top of a lush orchestra and simple synthesizer parts.
Although I was doing well creatively and was able to produce a substantial amount
of music each day, I was also being sent updated videos of the film every few days.
They were substantially re-edited large sections of the movie, rendering cue after pre-
cious cue unusable as the timings and structure for the scenes kept changing. This is
often a simple but unfortunate fact of life in the film world. Even very minor changes
can make a cue unusable, especially if you’ve written a complex piece that adheres
strongly to the cut of a scene. One of the more challenging parts of scoring is adapting
finished cues for scenes that are recut. If you have a theme in a scene and just a few
frames are removed, you may need to remove a couple of beats or, worse, fractions
of beats that can throw off the flow of the music. It takes practice to develop the tech-
nique to fix a recut scene’s music while still having it remain as organic and natural
sounding as the original (more on that later).
As I received new cuts, I would go into the sequence and either chop out beats or
bars, adjust tempo, or insert temporary gaps in order to get the bulk of the cue back
in time with the new picture. Then, I would then go back and write new bridging
material as needed. Fortunately, sometimes simply adjusting the tempos would work
to accommodate the revisions, so the “hits” and musical transitions still lined up with
the scene. Some revisions took only a few minutes, while some took the better part of
a day—a day that would be better spent writing new music—but the changes had to
be done. It’s simply part of the job. Also, it is not unheard of for a scene that has been
recut to later be restored to its original version. I never throw away a sequence when I
need to revise it. It may come back.
The clock was ticking, and I had precious little time left. Some scenes changed more
than once. One of my favorite cues was one that the director also liked very much.
The next set of videos had the scene chopped to bits, and it nearly ruined the music I
had done there. A composer’s job is always to support the film as best as possible, and
changes are an inevitable part of the process. My job was to keep my head down, write

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the best music possible, make changes as requested, and prove myself to everyone in-
volved. However, in this particular case, since the scene was absolutely music driven, I
decided to do something risky and ask if the scene could possibly be put back as it was
when I originally scored it. Such requests are a touchy thing, and sometimes it comes
down to choosing one’s battles. As we got more comfortable with each other, Scott
agreed that it was worth restoring the scene in order to save a piece of music we both
liked best in its original form. This was a well-picked battle. The victory didn’t last too
long because, as I later learned, the editor hadn’t kept a log of the version I scored, so
I ended up having to make changes to shorten the cue anyway.
Staying as organized as possible is a vital aspect of working on a large-scale project,
or any project for that matter. As projects are being edited, they are often divided up
into smaller sections called reels (and hence the name of this book). Reels, which are
metal spools that hold the film, go back to the earliest days of filmmaking, when an
entire film could not fit on a movie theater projector or on the editing equipment used
to make the film, so it was divided up into smaller sections that could each fit onto a
reel. The transition to digital has rendered the need for reels somewhat pointless, but
breaking up a large project into smaller sections for postproduction still remains in
use as a way to make some parts of audio editing and mixing easier. An original film
reel could hold anywhere from about ten to twenty minutes of filmstock, depending
on the editor’s work methods.
Back to the project . . . as videos of revised reels were sent to me, my music editor
and I labeled each revision with a version letter. One of a music editor’s most impor-
tant tasks is to help keep every aspect of music organized. We labeled the first batch
of reels with the letter A, the next version a few days later was marked B, and so on.
We kept a log of which version of the video was used for each cue. Some cues were
version B, some D, some F, etcetera. I marked the version letter in the name of each
sequence. Whenever a new version of a scene arrived, I updated it in my system. If you
lose organization, you lose the war.
As I was composing, I was in regular contact with the various people helping to
make the arrangements for the orchestral recordings that were coming up soon. I
needed to specify: the instruments I wanted and how many of each (keeping within a
budget); preferred recording dates; availability of certain soloists, my orchestrator, and
copyists (to create the scores and parts); travel dates if needed (I was in Los Angeles
but the film was being produced in London, where I was expected to record and mix);
shipping of my studio gear (in case I needed to keep writing or revising while away
from home); hard drive formats (there were more back then); rental of other gear; re-
cording and mixing engineers’ availability; recording studio availability (very difficult
on such short notice); along with the mixing dates and other needed information.
This is the part of the job in which a composer must also take on the role of music
producer. Since film mixes often last for several days or even weeks, it’s acceptable to

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deliver the final music mixes to the mix stage in parts, as long as the mixers have the
music they need on the day they are mixing that part of the project. You are in one
studio mixing the music while the producers and the director are elsewhere mixing
the whole film (dialogue, sound effects, as well as the score). Dubs often begin with a
day or more of dialogue and sound effects mixing, called a pre-dub. They don’t need
the music on those days. As you are recording and mixing your scores, you need only
stay ahead of the stage by a day or so. Good thing, too.
With this film, I knew the date by which they needed all the music. So, I worked
backward from there to determine the last possible day to finish writing, in order to
fly out and do the orchestral recordings in London. While it was exciting to be travel-
ing to a different part of the world for work, it also meant losing a day or more that I
could use in writing or prep. Looking at the schedule told me exactly how much time I
had left to sit and write, and that was getting shorter every day. Even though the film’s
production company was against it, I insisted on bringing certain things from my stu-
dio in L.A . (equipment was not as compact and portable then). I wanted my computer
and some hardware synths with me in case there were any problems, or if someone
wanted any last-second music changes. Ridley Scott is known for coming up with
many last-minute ideas that could change the music’s direction. I also wanted to have
my orchestrator present at the recordings, in case of any last-second changes to the
score at the recordings. Plus, I wanted my music editor there with me, since he knew
every note of the music very well. He was a great editor and could make score fixes to
new picture cuts on Pro Tools (the digital, audio editing system used by virtually all
music and sound editors), if needed. Music editors are almost always at all recording
sessions, music mixing sessions, and the final dub mix to maintain organization and
make last-second changes as needed or requested. And it was a good thing he came
along; he turned out to be a lifesaver. When we got to London, we discovered there
were an incredible number of last-minute tweaks to the film’s cut. I’m not sure many
picture editors know how complex it can be to edit a cue to a new version of a scene
and keep it sounding as musical as the original. It’s an art form all to itself.
I was still getting the last handful of cues and revisions approved. With each passing
day, I felt more “in the zone” of creating the score. I felt I could anticipate what Scott
would and wouldn’t like and made decisions accordingly. I covered a lot of ground
musically. Some tracks were big and lush, others tense and electronic. The movie defi-
nitely had a sense of optimism in it, and that gave me space to do some more uplifting
music alongside the darker pieces. I struck a balance between the orchestra, my elec-
tronic and sampled elements, and unusual solo instruments and sounds. Taking extra
time at the beginning to develop strong themes made a massive difference toward the
end of the project. There was just enough good material to draw from over the whole
of the score. The music had a specific harmonic and rhythmic language that stayed
fairly consistent throughout, regardless of a piece being upbeat or tragic.

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As each piece was approved, I would check it off my “to do” list, make audio files
and MIDI files of my demos and give them all to my orchestrator to prepare the scores
and parts for recording. He was incredibly meticulous in orchestrating each piece and
had a hand in getting the best sound possible from the orchestra. He showed me his
work along the way, and occasionally we would discuss possible options. I continued
to stay in close contact with each member of the creative team to ensure that everyone
was moving in the same direction and that there were no misunderstandings or con-
flicts, or any missed opportunities. As he finished orchestrating the cues and I signed
off on them, he would send them to London where copyists were preparing for the
session. Everything on that end went as smoothly as possible. I had someone I knew
in London making all the booking arrangements for studio, orchestra, soloists, and
mixing.
As my last writing day approached, I was sending the final demos on video to
Scott in England and he would call me back with his comments and suggestions. I did
everything in my power to maximize every moment of every day in order to keep up
with a grueling schedule and deadline. At first, it seemed utterly impossible to write
that much music in so short a time. A few times, Scott would disappear for a few days,
leaving me twisting in the wind while awaiting his reply on a critical cue. Clearly,
he was far less nervous than I was. The final piece I wrote was actually for the film’s
opening titles. I was never given anything to look at, and they had no idea how long
the piece needed to be. My time was about up, and I couldn’t wait any longer. I just
wrote something that I thought would work. I decided on doing a piece for strings,
oboe solo, percussion, and a small ensemble of male voices. I had my friend Harry
Gregson-Williams, both a fine composer and a trained singer, come to my studio
where we layered multiple vocal tracks of him. I was very happy with the results, and
thought perhaps I was DONE with all the writing. I sent it off to Scott. While he liked
the feel, he didn’t like the percussion tracks, which he thought made it sound too
Eastern. Since that was all electronic, it was easily fixed. And the score was complete.
I still needed to record click tracks and scratch tracks for the orchestra and other
musicians in London. Toward the last days of writing, I would stop composing around
10:00 or 11:00 p.m ., and my engineer would begin to work on recording all those
tracks, going until dawn. The technology was a lot less efficient and powerful when I
did this, making everything take much longer than it does now. But the overall process
is not all that different.
When I started the job, I had no clue how I could possibly finish. The pressure on
me was enormous. I had no experience in doing this, but I surrounded myself with
talented and experienced people, each of whom kept me on track and on time. I was
grateful to each and every one. I made sure to let Hans Zimmer know I was grateful to
him for the recommendation, and he was pleased (and perhaps a bit surprised) that I
pulled it off so well.

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Tired but happy, I got on a plane and took off. I spent four days recording various
ensembles and soloists at the amazing Air-Edel and Angel Recording Studios with
engineer Haydn Bendall—engineer at Abbey Road studios and with Kate Bush. We
mixed the music there as well. The film editorial and sound were being completed at
Shepperton Studios, a couple of hours by train from London. I stayed there for a week
while the film was mixed, and we continued to make small changes and tweaks along
the way. At one point, we came to a major scene in the film we had always felt needed
no music, so none was written for it. Scott was unhappy and wanted to find some-
thing. My music editor took elements of the score from various other scenes and tried
to get them to work, but nothing did. Something was needed, and I had an odd idea.
The studio had a very high-end digital delay from a company called Eventide Audio. It
was capable of looping and processing audio in really strange ways. I fed a two-second
clip from a cue into the device and captured it as a loop that I could pitch shift and
add reverb with some knobs. I had the mixers play the scene, as I literally performed
on the device in real time while they recorded the results. Everyone was thrilled with
this on-the-spot improvisation. Not only did it make it into the film, but many people
have since told me it was their favorite music from the film. Thanks.
This was the first notch in my belt as a film composer. It was very much a trial
by fire. The film came out and wasn’t much of a commercial success. But Scott was
happy, and while he went on to work with other composers (I helped out on a few
other scores for his films), the project opened a lot of doors for me.
And the lessons it taught me were invaluable:
■ Be ready. You never know when opportunity may come.
■ Create a sound palette and musical themes you can use as much as possible.
■ Get help as needed with people who are great at what they do.
■ Establish a rapport and good communication with your director or producers.
■ Sweat the details.
■ Stay organized.
■ Budget your time carefully, and keep an eye on the deadlines.
■ Be as objective as possible of your music, and be prepared to rewrite as many times
as possible.
■ Know your tools.
■ Be as bold as the project will allow. Don’t be afraid to try things, and don’t be afraid
to fail along the way to success.
■ Be yourself.
As legendary film composer Henry Mancini once said,
“God, it’s an empty feeling watching a movie without any music!”

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2
Music for Episodic Television
DOING A SERIES: MUSIC FOR THE SMALLER SCREEN
Composing for feature films and composing for an episodic series are close cousins.
Your musical choices and methods are remarkably similar, but many of the details of
working in these two media are often quite different. As time goes on, the distinction
blurs more and more, but there are enough differences still worth discussing. I’ve
scored hundreds of television episodes over many different series. Some were good
and some not so much. Some projects were nearly effortless and some were hope-
lessly and needlessly complicated. Perhaps, that’s to be expected in any situation where
you are working for a limited time with a team of people brought together to try and
achieve something great, often with very tight budgets, deadlines, and expectations.
The important differences between working on a film versus a series tend to be more
about the logistics than the actual music. With episodic projects typically on tighter
budgets and shorter deadlines, you need to learn how to use your resources more ef-
ficiently. You are also mixing your music for a different environment. Home surround
systems have gotten popular and better over the years, but are still very different, and
more diverse in specs, than movie theater sound. Movie theaters are big and more
reverberant than the average living room or bedroom, and that can make a difference
in your work. Here’s a look at the process of scoring a series, in contrast to a single
feature film or game score.
A noticeable difference in most episodic work is in the working relationships be-
tween a composer and the rest of the production team. Typical film projects have the
composer answer first or only to the director before all others. The director gives the
orders, and the director approves the music. Depending on the power structure in a
given situation (who put up the money in exchange for a say in these matters), it’s up
to each production to vary from that or not. However, on a typical series, a composer
rarely, if ever, even meets a director. Directors on a series are hired on an episode-by-

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episode basis to do pre-production prep work, be on set to direct the actors, oversee
an initial rough cut of the picture, and then leave. Episodic series producers handle the
rest. There are usually many producers on a series, some that oversee writing, some
that oversee finances, and some that oversee post-production, including sound, music,
and mixing. The key producer or producers for a composer are called the showrun-
ners. They oversee the overseers and have final word on everything. They typically hire
the composer, brief the composer on musical direction, attend all spotting sessions,
and approve every note before it goes to the final sound mix. Composers need to navi-
gate this chain of command smartly.
See figures 2.1 and 2.2 for a comparison of the chain of command in film versus
episodic production.
GETTING STARTED IN EPISODIC TELEVISION: THERE’S A FIRST TIME
FOR EVERYTHING
Our lives are a long series of firsts: our first day of school, first best friend, first music
lesson, first music recital, first day of college in a new city, first serious relationship,
first job, perhaps first child, first serious illness or injury, first award of recognition,
first trip to a new country, first taste of a new food. With curiosity, comes a life filled
with firsts. And for a musician, there are other firsts: our first instrument, first teacher,
first ensemble performance, first solo performance, and our first round of applause.
My first solo series was an exciting and terrifying, but incredibly satisfying, experi-
ence. It came about from having contributed some additional music on a film score,
and the director, who was extremely successful in film, went on to produce the new
series and remembered my work (this is what’s referred to as “luck,” but I’d been hon-
ing my craft as a writer for a long time before the opportunity to do something with it
came about). It was his first foray into doing episodic work (at the time, successful film
directors would never dream of getting into TV) and was keen to do something unique.
He set out to create an episodic show with a look and feel that was distinctly excep-
tional from the vast majority of episodic shows on the air at the time. It was a police
drama that, in retrospect, was the groundbreaking series that changed TV’s approach
to drama, from well-lit formulaic material to a more raw, gritty, and documentary-style
look. It was called “Homicide: Life on the Street” and was my introduction to scoring
an episodic show. It went on to win multiple awards, and is exceptionally influential
to series dramas to this day. Along with a new look came the desire for a new sound. I
was thrilled at the opportunity to have that much creative freedom. Mostly, however, it
was where I took my first steps as a composer for episodic TV, and the lessons learned
have continued on to now. Some aspects of episodic production have changed, and
much has not. There was a lot to learn then that applies equally to the job today. We
each need to start somewhere. Better to go in armed with some idea of what the job is.

FIGURE 2.1
Film chain of command.
Author
FIGURE 2.2
TV chain of command.
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In my first conversation with the producer, he said, “We’re thinking about do-
ing the entire show without music, which has never been done. It should feel like a
documentary . . . very raw and emotional. But there are a couple of scenes that need
something. Could you have a look?” Wow. His hope was to possibly do something
that straddled the line between recognizable musical and somewhat experimental
sound design.
Briefly, the series was a gritty drama that followed a group of homicide detec-
tives as they solved crimes and dealt with their own human weaknesses and emo-
tions along the way. There were no chases, gunfights, killings, or graphic violence
depicted in the show. A homicide detective is only called upon after a crime has
been committed. It’s about the mystery of what has so obviously happened. It was
a novel premise at the time that’s been copied countless times since. It had an ex-
perimental look and feel in many ways, from the shaky handheld cinematography to
the hyper-realistic directing and editing. Hopefully, the concept of purely ambient,
atmospheric music would be as well.
I met with the director to watch an unfinished edit of the pilot episode. I was ner-
vous, excited, but hopefully keeping my cool. This was a huge opportunity, and I was
treading new waters, both as a relatively inexperienced composer and in being asked
to try something really bold musically. But every project should be thought of the
same—a unique opportunity to do something great.
There were only three scenes in the episode that appeared to be in need of some
added tension, enough to need a soundtrack of some kind. Once again, the director
made clear that he was unsure that anything was needed, but was open-minded to
hearing something, as long as it wasn’t traditional episodic or film music. This was
strictly an experiment. If he liked it, maybe it would only be for that one episode, or
maybe there would be a few other spots to add a few more somethings. We scheduled
another meeting for two days later.
The first scene I looked at was during a rain-drenched night, as we hover over the
traffic scene of the lifeless body of an eleven-year-old girl, illuminated only by a police
flashlight. Normally, this would be a scene with some kind of eerie score. However, the
assignment was to create something that enhanced the upsetting and dark mood of the
scene without presenting itself as music—making it close to feeling like a documentary
or news video and not like a polished episodic show. A creative challenge for sure.
I started by sampling bits of police radio and car and traffic noises. So many of the
everyday sounds around us have pitch, rhythm, and harmonic content—we just don’t
notice it. I sequenced a very sparse performance using those sounds, running them
through a harmonizer plug-in to pitch them down a few semitones. When blended
with the original, this layered interval gives many sounds a strange musical quality.
I used some filters to make it even less recognizable. My first thought was to stop

MUSIC FOR EPISODIC TELEVISION
51
there. I’d taken some common city sounds and made them moody, haunting, and
oddly musical. After listening to it a few more times, I didn’t feel they gave the scene
anything sufficiently emotional. I added a barely noticeable, undulating low tone to it
for a little more drama and tension. The end result still felt more like a sound effects
track than music, but a very other-worldly and ambient one. It gave the scene a sur-
realistic mood without intruding, which seemed to be exactly what the director said
he was looking for.
I played the track for him the next day, and thankfully, he was very happy. While
I was playing back the demo to picture, I accidentally leaned on a synth keyboard in
the studio, emitting a sound much like a wine glass being rubbed. I apologized, but
the director’s eyes lit up. He loved the combination of complex, strange sound design
coupled with the simplest and sparsest of musical material. With this added inspira-
tion and approach, I put together a new demo. I structured it to fit the scene and
dialogue better.
The sparse melodies needed to stay away from the dialogue at very precise mo-
ments and return on certain cuts. I took my original weird sound montages and com-
posed a few more tracks around it, using just three sounds: one low, one mid-range,
and one high.
At the next meeting, I played a video demo with the scene scored and now mixed
the way I thought the real mix should sound. The experiment was successful enough
for the director to have me take a look at all the other episodes that were being edited.
So began several weeks of unrelenting work to grind out my first episodic television
efforts. For many years, I didn’t even own a television (I was trying to prove something
to myself, and to be more creative and productive), but this became a great opportu-
nity to work with a great director and team on an innovating, risk-taking, well-crafted
series project. It was a lot of hard work, but every project we do has its opportunities
and challenges, both creatively and logistically.
Over the first weeks of working on the show, the music I wrote underwent a
metamorphosis through my adding more and more traditional musical elements of
rhythm, melody, harmony, and instrumentation, though I never strayed fully from
my initial concept, themes, and sonic textures. In order to make a score cohesive
throughout a television series, it’s essential to maintain a limited, set palette of sounds
and musical motives. In a word—style.
As my first experience in network series television, I had to learn what was expected
of me by simply jumping in and doing it. I knew nothing about the process and con-
ventions of producing a weekly show. I think my naïveté helped me. Had I known
what I was getting myself into, I probably would have abandoned half my ideas and
approaches before the first episode. I didn’t know the first thing about how an epi-
sodic score was put together or delivered. Each episode must be planned, composed,

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recorded, mixed, and delivered in a timely and technically perfect way. I didn’t know
how others were doing them because I simply didn’t know anybody in that line of
work, yet. Fortunately for me, I learned quickly. On my second series project, I wrote
an all-acoustic, very traditional-style score. And since then, I’ve tended to work some-
where in between.
The Grind
When you are scoring a film or a video game, you’re doing a single project. You get
hired, you start, you write, you finish, you deliver, and it’s on to the next. A television
series is different: You get hired, you start, you work, you finish, and then you do it
again. And again. And again. For weeks, months, or years if the show is successful.
An episodic series can be as few as four or five shows or as many as fifteen to twenty.
The pace can be brutal at times. It’s a “marathon” compared to the “sprint” of film
scoring. However, the rigors of scoring a series are also an opportunity to work more
effectively and efficiently.
Once you get the post-production schedule, you’ll have a sense of the time you will
have to spot, write, fix, record, mix, and deliver. It can be fairly brutal at times, often
with only a few days to create and deliver an entire score before jumping right into the
next episode. There’s an ebb and flow to the schedule on most shows, where you will
do two or three episodes back-to-back, and get a small bit of breathing space before
doing another cluster of episodes. I’ve found sometimes that schedules can get tougher
toward the end of a season. On average, a series will try to complete about three epi-
sodes per month. Depending on the amount of music in an episode—and it does vary
wildly from show to show—it can be challenging. Buckle up.
The Interview
What lands you a chance at a scoring job? Demos? Referrals? An agent? Social me-
dia posts? (trick question . . . no!) Previous projects? Meeting a filmmaker at a social
event or online? Usually, it’s one of these.
Regardless of how you got there, you will undoubtedly have to meet with the pro-
ducers of any series project before you get hired. If you are asked to come and meet
them, that means they’ve already heard something in your music that caught their
attention. At least, enough to want to meet you in person.
These introductory meetings are often less about the music or the project and are
really more about you. Since a series goes on for weeks, months, and even years, if the
show is renewed, the goal for the producers is to assemble a team that can do great
work, meet every deadline, and feel confident that everyone on the project is someone
they can be around for a long time. After all, a successful series can run for years.

MUSIC FOR EPISODIC TELEVISION
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I’ve been in many such meetings, and they have many similarities to each other.
They are often a bit awkward, usually a bit rushed, and often end very abruptly—with
an assistant running in to tell the producers, “Your 1 p.m . meeting is here” (which is
usually code for the next composer meeting).
So, how to conduct yourself at these “audition” meetings? Here are a few ideas:
■ Be a listener. Producers and directors need to feel heard.
■ Ask questions. Show your interest in them and the project.
■ Keep answers short and on topic. If they ask you about a particular project you’ve
done, don’t go into a lengthy personal history.
■ Don’t recite your résumé. They already know.
■ Express enthusiasm for the job. Don’t go crazy, but make it clear that you are excited
to work with them and intend to give them the best work possible.
■ Show confidence, but check your ego at the door. Produces want to feel confident in
you, and that means being confident in yourself. At the same time, don’t put on fake
airs to be seen as a rock star. They will sniff that out quickly. It’s a turn-off.
■ Don’t talk about other projects possibly going on at the same time as the project for
which you’re meeting. Producers need to feel they are your first, and maybe only,
priority.
■ Be respectful of the people considering hiring you.
■ Be reflective of the mood of the meeting, as long as it’s sincere. If the producers are
making jokes and keeping things light, feel free to do the same (just don’t try to “one
up” them). If the meeting feels more business-like, then keep the jokes to yourself.
■ Finally, be your authentic self. That may seem like it counters the above do’s and
don’ts, but it doesn’t. You can be you, but still use some of these strategies to make
a great first impression in what is usually a short amount of time.
The First Meeting
Once the job is yours (congratulations—business advice for making a deal is
found later on in the book), you will get a schedule of meetings. It looks like the one
in figure 2.3 .
While many productions have moved from in-person meetings to online meetings,
we’ll discuss working in a room together. It’s not a big stretch going from that to on-
line meetings, so most of this applies in both cases.
The first meeting of a production team is exciting, but sometimes it can be a little
difficult to know what’s going on. In television, more so than film or games, these
meetings are not just about music but about all sound post-production. You’ll prob-
ably find yourself in a room with one or more producers; possibly the writer; on rare

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occasions, a director, the picture editor, and any number of other people involved
with sound, such as the dialogue editor, the sound designer, and possibly a music su-
pervisor. Often, you’ll be meeting most of these people for the first time. For all the
movies, episodic shows, or games that have ever been produced, each one feels like
it’s happening for the very first time ever. The protocol is fairly simple: introduce
yourself to everybody, ask them who they are and what they do. This is a team with
whom you’ll be spending a lot of time, so now is the time to build some trust and
some bonds, and make everybody know that you are you there to be supportive and
a team player. There’s usually a contact list, so you’ll have everyone’s email address
and perhaps a phone number.
In many cases, there will be a music editor there, often one that you’ve helped
pick, and you should stay close to them. They will be there to take notes for you
and be your partner and advocate along the way. Composers often have a very
close working relationship with their music editor, often playing cues and getting
first impressions and feedback. Often, music editors are able to see the big picture
in ways that composers, especially under the gun of a difficult deadline, may miss
(more on all that later).
FIGURE 2.3
Example of a production schedule.
Author

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55
Spotting the First Session
The concept of music spotting can be found on page [XX], but it’s the spotting ses-
sions where this work gets done. Whether you’re scoring a film or television series,
specific members of the production team will gather, and you will begin the process
together. Some spotting sessions are only for music. In that case, the meeting consists
of the director and/or producer, possibly the editor, the music editor who will take
notes on the spotting session in regard to score and songs, and perhaps a music su-
pervisor to discuss the song possibilities.
Someone will be in charge of running the video: starting and stopping it as needed
to discuss the sound and music requirements of the scene. As the video runs, people
will speak up about various issues or ideas—add music, don’t add music; try a song;
fix a line of dialogue; or redo some sound effects. In some cases, it’s the director or
producer doing most of the talking. In some cases, other people may throw out sug-
gestions for ways to improve a scene. As a general rule, stay in your lane and don’t
discuss elements other than the music. On occasion, producers and directors may
welcome comments of a general nature, such as pointing out when a line of dialogue is
difficult to understand, or something is confusing. Generally, you are there to discuss
which scenes might need music, and what the music is setting out to achieve.
Producers and directors are usually very open to creative suggestions. However,
you need to gauge the openness and receptivity on a case-by-case basis. It might work
something like this:
YOU: “Could you pause the video, please?”
DIRECTOR: “Did you have something in mind? I don’t think this scene needs music.”
YOU: “Perhaps not. But I’d like to suggest we come in very quietly when she walks in, so by
the time she reveals the truth, we can push hard on how surprised everyone is.”
DIRECTOR: “Well, I don’t want to give anything away before that line so we have the
full effect.”
YOU (version 1): “That makes sense. (To your music editor) Let’s start the music at
01:32:07, right after she says that line.”
YOU (version 2): “Okay, that makes sense. Maybe I could try an experiment. I can start
the music at the beginning of the scene, but make it feel like this is just another normal day.
I can put a small pause just where she says the line, and we can edit the music to start on
the line as you suggested. This way you will have a choice when we mix.”

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This is the idea of respect and diplomacy. You are not disagreeing or arguing but
suggesting an alternative that might help. They need to know you are open to doing
things their way, and that you are a team player. Here’s how it might conclude:
DIRECTOR (version 1): “That sounds good. Let’s move on.”
DIRECTOR (version 2): “I like that idea. Let’s try it and we can always edit out the first
part of the music and start it right on that line.”
DIRECTOR (version 3): “No, I really don’t want any music before her line. Let’s just go
with that.”
YOU: “Sounds good. Let’s move on.”
This is what it means to be a part of a team working together to create something
good. Some directors and producers are far more opinionated about music than oth-
ers. It’s an exchange of ideas that provides respect to the director or producer, but
you are still there fulfilling your role as a creative collaborator to discuss musical ideas
and options. Offering options is good. However, if a director or producer cannot be
swayed to one of your ideas, even if you explain your logic for it, the best thing is to
drop it. You will have more chances to try things in later episodes.
Producers and directors need to feel heard, and they need to feel trusted. There is
no time to waste in episodic productions. Pick your battles carefully if you disagree
with what they are asking you to do.
Delivering the First Episode: Demos
Now, you got the job, and you’ve spotted the first episode—the pilot. It’s time to go
back to your studio and get started writing. The music editor will type up notes from
the meeting, giving you a document called spotting notes that is a sort of to-do list of
your musical goals.
The spotting notes are a list of each cue that was discussed in the spotting session—
each with a number (often preceded with the letter M), perhaps a name, the timecode
at which it begins and ends, and any of the ideas mentioned in the meeting. As you
compose each piece, it’s good to check it off the list to keep track of your progress. A
shared online document is a great way for a composer and music editor to stay in sync
with each other.
On a film score, the process is often to write a suite of themes and ideas and
present them on their own before writing to picture. In a series, there is rarely time
for that. Your first work will likely be heard right inside the episode, though that is
dependent on what the producers want. Therefore, before diving in, ask if they want

MUSIC FOR EPISODIC TELEVISION
57
to hear your sketches by themselves. It’s rare, but it’s a great opportunity to give
options if they are open to them. At the very least, it’s a nice offer. Assuming you’ll
just go ahead and score the episode, do what you can to present your themes and
approach as clearly as possible.
The first step is delivering demos of your cues:
■ These will be individual cues, each written to picture, and usually delivered as short
video files.
∘ Ask the postproduction supervisor how to deliver demos. The production may
have a file transfer system, or you may need to do it yourself.
■ They may ask for video files with dialogue that you rough mix yourself (most DAWs
have a function for this), or just WAV audio files.
∘ WAV files have a time stamp code embedded in them to let the production know
the correct placement of the audio in the editor’s timeline.
FIGURE 2.4
Spotting notes.
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■ Also ask the producers if they want the entire episode’s music at once, or in batches
as you create them.
■ In films, you will typically deliver small batches of cues as you go, but in a series it’s
far more common to deliver an entire episode’s score. This helps avoid confusion,
as producers are usually working simultaneously on multiple episodes at different
stages. Again, just ask.
Once you’ve delivered the demos, you’ll usually get some notes. It’s fairly rare for
an entire episode’s score to be accepted as is. Even after many seasons of working
together, there are invariably tweaks. These are usually in a phone call or email, or
they will discuss them directly with the music editor, who will organize and pass their
notes on to you. The final question now is whether the producers want to hear the
fixes before you mix, or if they trust you sufficiently to execute their notes and deliver
the final mix to the production. In my experience it’s often mixed. Small changes are
okay to mix without approval, but more substantial changes, or the dreaded rewrites,
may need to go for a second round of demos.
Delivering the First Episode: Final Mixes
Once you’ve written the score, sent demos to the producers for approval, gotten
everything approved, you are ready to complete and deliver the score. There’s no su-
pervision or help on this—you are on your own to complete everything. Stay in touch
with your music editor, in the event there are any last minute changes to the picture
cut. Unlikely, but not impossible. They will be the person to whom you deliver your
recordings in a format that has been agreed upon in advance.
Record any live instruments, singers, soloists, or ensembles, and it’s time to mix. If
you feel confident in your mixing skills, then go ahead. If not, then hire a good mixing
engineer, preferably with some episodic series experience. It’s helpful to have someone
who understands the format and the schedule. Episodic mixes are somewhat different
from film or video game scores. The use of reverbs, compression, EQ, and how the
score’s elements are broken out on separate tracks are slightly different. The details of
this usually come from a conversation you should have with the mixers who will be
doing the final audio mix of the show.
The final result is a set of audio files, properly named and organized in folders, to
send to the music editor. If there isn’t a music editor, then the files will typically go to
the postproduction coordinator, or in rare cases, directly to the picture editor.

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FURTHER EPISODES
Think of each episode of a television series like chapters of a novel. A series is often
mostly a premise: a set of characters, a unique situation, and a style of storytelling that
tries to make it unique. Each episode within the series has its own storyline. There
may be new characters and situations that come and go, but the story as a whole is the
series, not any single episode.
Music is one of the first things television producers look to as stylistic “glue” to
make all the episodes of the series feel more unified. You don’t want to score each
FIGURE 2.5
A Mac finder showing folder and file hierarchy for stem delivery.
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episode from scratch, but you don’t want to be predictable and repetitious either.
There’s a balance of new and reused. That balance is on a case-by-case basis and
should be mutually agreed upon with composer and producers. Although, this tends
to be an unspoken agreement, as producers don’t really want to hear about recycled
music—but do appreciate thematic coherence.
Just as with any score, it is invaluable to begin the process of starting a new series by
building a useful instrumental template in your DAW that will hopefully satisfy most
of the creative needs of the project as a whole. It’s good to create a complete template
that has the elements of each potential musical need—tension, action, drama, charac-
ter themes, etcetera. It saves a lot of time to work from the same template for every cue.
You can always introduce new ideas and sounds as needed for special situations. A
series may introduce a new villain for a few episodes, so you add a new color or theme
for that. There might be a piece of inspiring temp music an editor has cut in, and you
might find a way to bring a sense of that—though in an original way.
In practice, most episodes of a series draw from a core of themes and colors, adding
new ideas as needed dramatically. And find clever ways to reuse ideas and themes heard
in previous episodes. Some television producers like to keep the music very consistent,
episode to episode, while others are more interested in fresh ideas coming and going.
Again, stay in close contact to see if they are satisfied with the range of the music.
RINSE AND REPEAT
Working in television is challenging, but ultimately enjoyable and rewarding work. It
is your job to create the feel of the project, and producers really appreciate the notion
of music as a defining character of most series. Many series rely on a very small num-
ber of signature sounds or musical themes to define the series as a whole. Creating
music that is distinctive in sound and theme really helps.
The tough part is keeping it all fresh and interesting week after week. As has been
mentioned, episodic and film scoring are musically similar.
Since television is not a movie theater experience by definition, you can assume that
most people are listening through small speakers or even earphones. Don’t depend on
too many massive low deep sounds for the emotion or excitement in the score. It’s
likely those sounds won’t translate well. Plus, with the other elements of the scene,
dialogue, and sound design, all coming through a humbler sound system, simplicity
is really helpful. Often, television scores are mixed more softly than films or games, so
adding too much musical detail or intricacies is frequently wasted.
Though many series are done on an unusually hectic schedule that gives a com-
poser very little time to score any given episode, the power of live musicians can be
vital. Even a soloist or two can breathe life into a score for the smaller screen. When
the budget allows for more musicians, and the music warrants it, some shows use any-
thing from a string quartet to a full orchestra. It all depends on the circumstances of

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the producer’s expectations for the musical approach, time, and budget. It’s something
to ask about from the start, if it seems an option.
Being successful in episodic TV comes down to efficiency, staying organized, find-
ing the best balance of fresh and adapted materials, never delivering late, keeping qual-
ity consistent from beginning to end, and giving the series part of its distinctive feel. A
composer able to do this over and over for a period of weeks and months can achieve
a level of success that producers come back to again and again.
TITLE MUSIC: INTRO MUSIC FOR SERIES SHOWS
Many episodic shows use a piece of main title music at the beginning of each episode
to create a sonic logo, which gives the show part of its identity. Main titles come either
at the very start of the program or, more often, after some sort of opening prologue or
scene, sometimes called a cold opening. The same main title music is used in perpetuity
and can be anywhere from a few seconds to a minute or so in length. Some shows also
have another end title piece used every week as well.
In some cases, the visuals will be created to the music, but more likely, you will be
asked to score to picture, often one still in progress.
Main title music often goes through a lot of revision, and a lot more people are
involved in approving them. It’s a good approach to come up with a few options and
put in some added effort to make the demos as polished as possible. Be prepared
to go through a lot of changes, both in terms of the initial concept as well as fitting
it to whatever visuals are being designed. Television producers may also choose to
license an existing track from a well-known musical artist or even ask a well-known
artist to do a main theme. This is not for a lack of trust with a series’ composer to
do a good main theme, but might be a desire of the production to add some star
power to the project.
A lot of series open with a recap—a montage of what has come before to catch up
the viewer with all the plot twists. It’s almost like a trailer for the series. These often get
longer with each week of the show, since there are more twists and turns about which
to remind to viewer. The producers may ask for a track to be written for the recap.
You can usually write a special recap piece and reuse it—with or without any rewrites.
Oftentimes, a music editor can repurpose the recap music to fit each variation.
SUMMARY
Scoring episodic television takes all the music elements and musical language of film
scoring and repeats them on a tight schedule and a tight budget. Some argue that
episodic television often surpasses film in creative potential. It has become far more
diverse in approach and opportunity than in any time previously. If you are the kind
of composer that can thrive well under the pressure of the schedule and longer time
commitment, it’s a thriving market.

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Developing a Personal Musical Style
Music is unfathomable and magical. Why virtually all human beings respond to
sounds structured in musical forms in such deeply emotional ways is nearly impos-
sible to describe in words. However, not all music is the same when it comes to writing
a score. When it comes to creating music for media of any type, some musical ideas
simply work better than others. Scoring is a unique artform, separate from concert,
jazz, rock, or pop music. What are the elements of a good score? Sometimes, describ-
ing the musical elements that don’t work can help to narrow your focus on the more
successful options, while leaving the widest range of musical possibilities. Most suc-
cessful composers develop their craft from a combination of intuition, talent, obser-
vation, and a lot of practice. While formal academic training in music is never a bad
thing, there are quite a number of highly successful composers who had no significant
formal musical studies.
Composers just getting started with scoring can avoid some of the potential begin-
ner misjudgments that can rob a score of dramatic impact. It is of value to look at a
few of the potential pitfalls and errors to help see what approaches might work better.
There is no question of how wonderfully important music is, how dramatically and
profoundly music enhances the emotional experience of an audience. In the right
context, music speaks reams of subliminal information that no other sensory or dra-
matic element can. There are no mistakes in art, but when music is used in service to a
specific project, there are some subjective choices that can help or hinder the way any
music supports the moment.
Along the way, a composer might have a few “glorious failures” that leave them
wanting to do it better next time. Every musical artist needs to start somewhere and
hopefully will grow their craft from there. A composer’s best tool for growth is simple
objectivity—the ability to step back and ask yourself if something is or isn’t working,
and what can be done to make it better. All successful composers have the ability to
sense when they have taken the wrong path on a new work and will adjust it as needed.

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It’s an important habit to always ask yourself what elements of your work can be im-
proved creatively or technically. Every great artist does this for their entire career, but
it’s never more important than at the very beginning.
The more you practice putting music to picture, the more you can see that music
never stands alone as part of the total project. The success of a score can only be
judged by how well it serves and supports whatever it accompanies, and the project as
a whole. It’s the relationship of score to story, and not just the music itself.
As you write more and more of a project, occasionally take time to stop writing, sit
down and simply watch the project from beginning to end. It can make clear what prob-
lems may arise. Make a mental checklist of possible issues and be as honest as possible.
ASK YOURSELF . . .
■ Does the music serve the scene?
■ Does the music serve the character, mood, or emotion at the moment?
■ Do you think this is what the director or producer wanted from the music?
■ Do all the cues feel stylistically cohesive (does the whole score hold together)?
■ Does the music draw the audience in, or possibly distract them?
■ Is the music elegant, or could it be overwritten in any way?
■ Does the music enter and end at the best moments, or could those be improved?
■ Does any element of the music cover the dialogue?
■ Is the music sufficiently creative and well crafted?
■ Does the music sound dated or cliché?
■ Does the music lift up the scene emotionally?
■ Could anything make the music more exciting, dramatic, tense, violent, mysterious,
romantic, comedic (or whatever the emotional intent is)?
■ Are there musical transitions to the edits that don’t work?
■ Have you connected the score to the pace of the scene sufficiently?
■ Are you using your themes enough?
■ Have you used the harmonic, melodic, timbral, or rhythmic language of your score
enough?
■ Is there any musical element of the arrangement or orchestration that could be taken
out without anyone missing it?
■ Is every element of the music well mixed—nothing sticking out and nothing buried?
■ Is the music giving away what is happening next (aka “telegraphing”)?
Let’s turn to some of the important elements of effective and stylish score writing:
While any given score may cover a wide expanse of ground to support all the action
and moods of a project, there needs to be a strong bond that links all the music together
into a cohesive whole. There are a few ways to achieve this. The most common bonding

DEVELOPING A PERSONAL MUSICAL STYLE
65
element are the themes. Remember that the term “theme” has more than one possible
definition. A theme can be a distinctive melody, a brief phrase, a unique sound or in-
strument, a repeating rhythmic figure, musical riff, or just a unique set of chords. The
most memorable film scores are those with strong melodic themes. John Williams’s
theme in Jaws was only two notes, but everyone remembers it because of how well, and
often, it was used throughout the film. One of the most famous and memorable themes
in movie history is Bernard Herrmann’s amazing score to Alfred Hitchcock’s film Psy-
cho and is actually just one note! But a very unique and memorable one.
Cohesive, thematic writing is just one element that goes into creating scores that
are unique and personal. There are other factors that distinguish a new composer as
a fresh voice. For one, composers do not get a sustained career by how good they are
at sounding like another composer, or simply being all-purpose. Even if a composer is
hired to write a score that began as a temp from a prominent composer or a popular
score, they need to view that as only a basic musical direction while finding ways to
make it original.
Themes are often linked to specific characters in a story, with each major character
getting their own unique theme. As the characters in a story come and go, or interact,
so do their themes. A musical theme tells the audience more about a character than
can be seen on the screen. You can suggest the nearby presence of a character even
if they aren’t in the scene, just by reprising or subtly suggesting their theme. For ex-
ample, a theme normally played by high strings is instead played at half speed by the
celli or basses to create a subliminal connection to the character. There are many ways
to suggest a theme without simply repeating it to get the effect of invoking something
about a character’s situation or state of mind.
If a well-liked character is in a tragic situation or dies, a tender version of their
theme is a way for the audience to connect to the situation with full emotion. Hear-
ing that familiar theme again makes us miss them that much more. If a film is driven
primarily on the strength of the characters, then strong themes for the main roles can
be very enriching.
If a film is less character oriented, a main theme introduced at the beginning that
reprises throughout the film lends significant continuity to the story. Each time a
memorable main theme comes back, it says, “This is an important moment,” in a
subtle but emotionally satisfying way. Main themes can be used to reinforce bravery,
heroism, romance, tension, humor, or danger without attachment to any specific
character. This approach makes any project a more cohesive whole. Even an emotion-
ally complex film with many characters may come down to just a single theme that
resonates throughout.
In addition to a main theme, there may be space for a significant secondary theme
to express another aspect of the project, be it danger, mystery, or conflict—whatever

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major emotion is in that segment that may benefit from repeated musical support. A
secondary theme should feel linked to the main theme. They are two unique elements,
but of the same score—think of them as two facets of the same gem.
While a project can have multiple themes to support different characters or situ-
ations, having too many themes in a single project becomes too complicated for an
audience to recognize and feel emotionally attached. Another approach is to develop
musical or emotional variations of your main theme or themes. For example, a theme
can have a main version, a fast version for excitement, a slow version for drama, a
bolder version for heroism, a quiet version, an all-string version, a simpler piano and
guitar version, a brighter and higher version, a darker and more bass version, and so
forth. By having a number of variations of the same theme, you not only tie the project
together but also complement a larger range of scenes from the core element of the
score. The key is to make the variations be clearly from the same initial theme.
Beyond a score’s main theme (or themes), there is room for less important music
for those moments that are of lower prominence in the plot. This is often called
underscore —simpler music that supports a moment in the project without calling
much attention to itself through a recognizable theme.
Most scores go back and forth between thematic moments and non-thematic un-
derscore, sometimes even within the same cue. During those simple moments where
music must help support the scene but also stay out of the way of distracting the
FIGURE 3.1
Example of a theme and an underscore variation.
Author

DEVELOPING A PERSONAL MUSICAL STYLE
67
audience, the challenge is writing simpler, unobtrusive music to let whatever else is
happening onscreen come through. This is the nature and purpose of underscore—to
create an emotional response with a more subtle musical effort.
It’s entirely up to a composer and their director to decide what percentage of a
score should use the main themes. Just as some things in life can be “too much of a
good thing,” it is also possible to overuse a theme. Often, the success is in finding the
best balance that works for the project. One project may work well with a theme that
stays in the foreground, while another may want to use it sparsely and have more of
the score be underscore. This is completely independent of the media involved: Film,
episodic work, and games all need to have the same level of careful consideration for
balance. Most effective scores bring back the themes at the important moments in the
story, thereby connecting and reconnecting the audience to those moments and to the
main characters. Like everything else in this cinematic art, there are no musical rules.
There is only trial and error, experimentation, collaboration, and intuition.
Beyond the use of memorable themes, an effective score typically has a consistent
use of musical style and a harmonic or rhythmic vocabulary, which keeps a score feel-
ing like a single entity, as opposed to many small moments. You can define a score as
much by what you didn’t do, as what you do. Good artists self-impose limits on a given
work by deciding on elements to include and those to leave out. Otherwise, every score
you do can sound more or less the same. The more focused the work, the more its style
and emotion will come out.
Whether a score is done with orchestra, electronics, guitars, or scratching nails on a
chalkboard in waltz tempo, keeping some sonic cohesion throughout the score allows
the music to keep a stronger bond with the audience. It also enhances and strengthens
the sense of style of the score. There can be exceptions and nice surprises—don’t bring
in the loud electric guitars until the main battle or save the violin solo until the sad and
unexpected breakup. As a general rule (where there are no rules), the main elements
of a given score should keep to a limited number of instruments and colors. With the
limitless number of sounds available with synths and samplers, it is easy to want to
try out all the cool ones in the same score. However, every score needs to have its own
unique personality.
More experienced composers have learned not to try to say everything in a single
score. The way to do that is by imposing some limits in choosing instruments, sounds,
rhythms, tonalities, or thematic melodies. A memorable score stands out because of one
or perhaps two things within it that people remember. It’s the same as with visual art: too
many colors on a canvas start to merge into a muddy gray. This is the concept of econ-
omy, getting the most from a limited number of resources—both thematic and sonic.
A summary of musical concepts to consider can be found in the “Elements of Style”
box.

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LEARNING BY LISTENING
Many painters fear the blank canvas. Many writers fear the blank first page. What
about composers and the blank screen? Just how does a composer decide exactly what
kind of music to write for any given project? Or even a specific scene or character?
Every score begins the same way: an empty score page or sequence, and a looming
deadline. Something needs to happen and happen fairly quickly. Some very funda-
mental, stylistic, and even philosophical choices need to be made before the first note
or melody is conceived. How do composers learn to make those vital choices?
Should the music be . . .
■ orchestral
■ electronic
■ ambient
■ jazz
■ edgy
■ soft
■ epic
■ fast
■ slow
■ romantic
■ weird
■ dense
■ sparse
■ tonal
■ indie
■ world
■ choral
■ traditional
■ avant-garde
■ a hybrid of these
Everything is possible . . . until the first note is written. Then you want a score that
not only matches the project perfectly but feels unified within itself as well. How does
that process begin?
ELEMENTS OF STYLE
■ Am I writing clichéd music?
■ Does anything about this score sound just like another, better-known composer’s?
■ Have I created a sonic template that will be able to carry all the emotional elements needed?
■ Have I stuck too closely to the temp music?
■ Have I put together some unique and fresh elements I can return to whenever needed?
■ Have I stated my ideas simply and clearly?
■ What do I hope people will remember from this score?
■ Does the style of the music match the style of the project?
■ Can I develop some unique and notable sound design or samples?
■ Am I using my themes and materials to their best advantage?
■ Have I maintained consistency in the style and musical language I’ve chosen from start to finish?
■ Can I add surprises for good effect?
■ Is there something about this score to which I can point as sounding like “me”?

DEVELOPING A PERSONAL MUSICAL STYLE
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Some composers are simply inspired. They have creative ideas that flow out of them
like water—there’s no holding it back. Others are more experimental in their approach
to composing. They will try something, and if it doesn’t work (or lead to something
that does), they’ll toss it and start again—trial and error. Experienced composers
develop an intuitive sense of what is going to work (or not) on any given project. It
doesn’t guarantee the project’s director will approve those pieces—often, they don’t.
That’s part of the process. But a composer should do everything they can to bring a
vision to the project. Based on a dialogue with the director, every composer must go
back to their studio and create something they believe in, and something they hope
will be approved. Some go for the obvious, while others look for surprising ways to
tell the story in music.
But how?
It could be said that composing music can’t really be taught, nor can it be learned—
at least not in the traditional sense of learning—like learning to play an instrument.
While academic training can provide the theoretical and technical tools needed to
create music of specific form and style, knowing how to create great music is not an
academic pursuit. To some extent, you either have musical ideas come into your head,
or you don’t. It’s part of what makes someone a true composer—an almost physiologi-
cal sensation when something is working out well. It comes more naturally to some
than others. So, composers need to rely on gut feelings that help them to make good
choices every step of the way, from choosing style, to writing themes and melodies, as
well as the entire method of approach to any specific project. And they get better the
more they do it.
Regardless of natural talent and ability, every composer can, and needs to, im-
prove themselves technically and artistically. The best way you can develop your
intuitions is by simply sitting and watching films or a series, or playing video games
as much as you possibly can. Become a serious film buff. Read books on screenwrit-
ing. Watch “making of” documentaries on YouTube. Look at yourself as a storyteller,
not just a composer. You’re already reading a book on scoring, so good for you.
Become a soundtrack aficionado. Watch interviews of your favorite composers. Add
soundtracks of every kind to your playlists.
As an exercise, whenever you watch something, listen very, very carefully to the
score. Every director, producer, editor, and composer of every project ever made is
your teacher. When you listen deeply, they will impart to you all that is vital about the
art of storytelling through music. Much of what you need to know is right there in all
the great films, episodic shows, video games, or soundtrack albums. Watch an inspiring
scene, then close your eyes and play it again. Your musical development can start in a
classroom, network, or workshop. However, to go deeper, you need to go to the source.
It’s all there in the actual goods—the movie, series, or game scores created by the best.

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Great painters spend their early lives in museums looking closely at great works of
art. Great authors read every book on which they can get their hands. Directors grow
up in movie theaters or playhouses. Game developers spend thousands of hours play-
ing games and picking apart everything that makes them a great experience. Creative
people spend their early years observing and imitating other more established artists,
or simply experimenting with possibilities before they establish their own true voice.
By observing and then practicing, you can learn to watch things more critically and
gain further insight into the process. Listen carefully to how the arc of a score comes
together. For example, on one viewing, just look for each entrance and exit of score.
If you missed it the first time, rewind if needed to confirm when, and how, the music
entered and ended. As you listen more analytically, ask yourself some questions:
■ Did the music enter slowly or suddenly?
■ Did it come in loudly or quietly?
■ Did the music begin on a cut, on an onscreen action, during some kind of dramatic
pause in the scene, or did it prelap (begin slightly ahead of) one of these?
■ Did you notice it the first time?
■ Do you agree with the choice of entrance points?
■ What would you have done differently, and why?
■ What reason do you think the composer or director has for choosing that exact
moment?
■ Why do you think the scene needed music?
■ Was the music thematically cohesive or something more eclectic?
■ Did that cue bring in one of the main themes, or something more underscore?
Understanding how and why music enters and leaves, as well as the emotional
nature of each cue, begins to reveal the dramatic fabric of the project, is an important
lesson in understanding how music lends structure and support to the story.
Most scores cover a wide gamut of emotions and intensity. You will find scores
that speak softly while others are incredibly bold and attention grabbing. It’s not un-
intentional to make the choice as to how overt a score is in the context of the project.
Some composers choose to write heavy and dramatic music while others write with
a far more simple and subliminal approach. Both have their place, and a director will
hopefully have chosen a composer whose style and approach best fits the needs of the
project. So, as you apply a critical ear to any soundtrack, take careful notice of how
bold, unique, or stylish the music is:
■ Does a score rely primarily on slow or sustained notes or chords, instead of on driv-
ing melodies and fast-paced rhythm?

DEVELOPING A PERSONAL MUSICAL STYLE
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■ How effective is the use of complexity or simplicity?
■ Is the music more or less wall-to-wall or used more sparsely?
■ Is the music used to its best advantage, or is there perhaps too much or too little of it?
Most importantly, think about the style of the music itself:
■ Would you make the same stylistic choices?
■ Why is there an orchestra, or why not?
■ Why are any unusual or world instruments used in a project not set in an exotic
location or time period?
■ What about the use of voices or songs?
■ What does each sonic element bring to the experience?
■ What is the overall emotional impact that the score makes on you, and what does it
say about the story, characters, plot line, or overall feel?
■ How often do themes repeat?
■ And when?
■ And why!?
■ Does the composer repeat themes in many ways, or are they the same each time?
As you listen, pick apart every element and aspect of every cue that you can. Now,
put yourself in the composer’s shoes for a moment, and the director’s as well. Try to
imagine the conversations they had about each cue. Why did they decide on what is
there? Why did they agree? What, in your opinion, might have been better? Or, why
was it a great idea?
It’s helpful to think about the director’s previous works and choice of composers.
Is there a similarity, or did the director go for something new? Creative artists almost
always reach back to previous works to get inspiration for their current projects, but
it isn’t always obvious. This is the basis of artistic style—those musical elements that
span from project to project.
Ultimately, the choice of stylistic approach is made by a combination of the com-
poser, the director (in films), the producer (in episodic work), an audio director (in
video games) and experiments made during editing by the editor. If you are working
with a director for the first time, you should be familiar, hopefully, with their previous
projects, and their overall musical tastes.
To be a successful, professional composer, you need to have a deep knowledge of the
scores of the best work out there—old and new. Film, episodic, and even video games
all have a tremendous history and evolution that you should know, and know as well
as possible. Which scores are the greatest or most notable? Naturally, that’s a matter
of opinion. There are many such “best of” lists online. Know your art’s history while

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staying aware of what is happening with the most current trends. Listen to soundtracks,
binge episodic shows, and go to the movies as often as possible. It’s part of your job and
your ongoing, lifelong growth. It is the greatest school on the planet.
And try not to eat too much popcorn.
FLEXIBILITY
What are some of the essential, fundamental musical assets a composer for media
needs in order to be successful? Is it strong orchestral composing capabilities, ad-
vanced harmonic sophistication, astute melodic writing, knowledge of synthesis or
sampled orchestra, or pure music-technology knowhow? These are all important in
varying amounts. However, none can help you if you lack the one thing that truly puts
these all to their best possible use. What is possibly the most valuable asset a composer
needs in order to thrive artistically and professionally?
In a word—flexibility.
All music has style and structure. These primarily come from a history and tradi-
tion of musical rules created long before you ever write a note. Throughout their his-
tory, pop songs usually have had an intro, some verses, choruses, and a bridge. They
draw from a harmonic language that emphasizes simple chords leaning on dominant
and subdominant chords. Any songwriter, from rap to country, hoping to get their
music on the radio or influential playlists knows it’s best to stay within some fairly
rigid parameters of structure, style, instrumentation, and duration. Conversely, jazz
relies mainly on a range of more sophisticated harmonic, rhythmic, and melodic ideas
that come out of a tradition spanning decades. Most classical music styles (baroque,
classical, romantic, twelve-tone, impressionist, even post-classical) throughout their
history have had a multitude of rules and traditions that define them. Composing
music in a chosen genre means using those “rules” and traditions to guide you as you
add in new elements of your own, and perhaps leave some behind. That is artistic
evolution. No artist, no matter how radical, really starts from scratch.
What, if any, are the “rules” of film, episodic TV, or game music? Writing music
for picture is fundamentally different from composing for any given musical genre,
tradition, or style. For the most part, scores are not based on any single traditional
musical structure or style. The structure and essence of scores comes from a blend of
emotional intent, musical genre, and storytelling in real time. As stories, dialogue, and
action unfold, so does the music. So what structure is that? Call it “literary structure.”
It’s not unusual for even a well-trained composition student to struggle to let go
of traditional musical “rules” in order for their music to tell the onscreen story. Many
come to it with difficulties grasping the essential elements of effective score writing.
Composers well versed in modern concert music are, on occasion, overly restricted
by the ideas and rules that came from those genres (and long-dead composers). As

DEVELOPING A PERSONAL MUSICAL STYLE
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mentioned earlier, open-mindedness is an essential ingredient in good score writ-
ing. There is little room for a conservative musical approach, even for writing a score
with orchestra and other classical conventions. Scoring is far more experimental and
adventurous in a number of ways, but ultimately a composer does what they must to
serve the story and emotion of the project.
Songwriters and pop producers come to scoring from a very different perspec-
tive, and there are a significant number of successful score composers coming from
those worlds (Mark Mothersbaugh, Trent Reznor, Junkie XL, Wendy and Lisa, David
Holmes, Cliff Martinez, M83, Alex Heffes, Jonny Greenwood, Danny Elfman, Stewart
Copeland, Hans Zimmer, Anne Dudley, Michael Kamen, Daft Punk, James Newton
Howard, Ryuichi Sakamoto, to name just a few!).
So, where does flexibility come in? Generally speaking, scores can be viewed as their
own unique genre and approach, but one that imaginatively draws from many (if not
all) other musical forms. It is not the same as modern classical music written to fit in-
side a scene. It is not a jazz composition, or a pop song. Well-crafted scores have their
own sensibilities that musically connect to the images, characters, and stories they par-
allel. A score tells an emotional story in real time, using whatever instruments, sounds,
and musical structures make sense to the composer and the director of the project.
At some point at the outset of every project, the director or producer must decide:
“What sort of music do we think will best suit this?”
A score is crafted to fit the emotional nuances of a scene, as well as the project’s
overall feel from beginning to end. Every score comes into being by someone deciding
the most effective and stylish way for the music to fit the style and feel of the project,
and to fit all the moments within it that have any kind of emotional value. The flow
of the music has nothing to do with the rules of traditional musical structure. The
timing and pace of the music are determined more by the visuals than by anything
traditionally musical. A score may draw from classical orchestral music but does not
have the expected structures of concert music. It may draw from EDM but would not
work in a dance club. It may draw from world music, but it isn’t traditional from the
perspective of that culture. Scoring is a lot like acting—it feels like real life but is art-
fully constructed by taking elements from musical worlds and bending them to fit the
needs of the project.
There are ways composers can improve their musical flexibility in order to ap-
proach scoring without feeling shackled by the rules of other genres:
■ In order to compose music to fit the very specific duration of a scene and all the
transitions within it, there are no rules that say a phrase must be four bars, or that
every bar must be four beats. An effective underscore should flow along with the
edits, dialogue, and action. If there is a hard transition between scenes or a specific

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action within a shot to hit musically, it will not bother the listener if you drop a beat,
or even a half a beat, in order to stay in sync with it. With practice, more experienced
composers learn to hide these small musical “seams” under dialogue or push them
earlier in the phrases so the odd bars aren’t in the most obvious places.
■ Orchestral film scores often do borrow from the style of contemporary classical
music. However, the resemblance is only skin deep. Extended use of highly com-
plex counterpoint, dissonance, atonality, minimalism, or the bombast of genuine
concert music often don’t fit the needs of a score—though there are times when
they all do very well. A well-written score can draw attention to itself at certain mo-
ments, but then will carefully make room for other elements like dialogue, sound
effects, or simply quiet. Even more minimalist contemporary concert music tends
to fill its time somewhat fully. Scores need to leave some room sonically for other
things. There is a simplicity and economy that reigns in virtually all good scores. So
many scores may inherit some characteristics of contemporary concert music, but
with adaptations for the medium in which it resides. Scores can use the dissonance,
atonality, microtonality, repetitive patterns, clusters, and advanced performance
techniques found in modern concert music. However, taken as a whole, these ele-
ments are used as musical effects in context to telling the story and blending with
the needs of the overall project.
■ Producers of electronica, trance, techno, or any kind of electronic music have found
a lot of interest in their music for film, series and game scores. Some have learned
how to adapt their original style to the world of scoring. Some work directly to pic-
ture, timing out and structuring their music to work as score. Others have found a
different working method. Their music, though written for the specific project, is
not done to picture at all. They simply write a collection of themes and variations
they hope cover all the project’s needs, and then these are restructured or adapted
by a music editor to have more flow and picture-specific transitions. Other non-
scoring artists have teamed up with more experienced scoring composers to help
them adapt their style to the screen.
Any existing style of music can be the basis of a score. Exceptions? Always. The
ability to adapt and remain flexible will save the day when it comes time to take what
you do as a composer and make it work to picture.
Simply being good at creating music to carefully fit a specific scene isn’t the only
type of flexibility needed. Composers are constantly required to rethink, redo, modify,
and restructure their music. Directors, producers, and editors all ask for changes that
range from small tweaks to full rewrites from scratch. Scenes get recut after they are
scored. Directors change their minds about what is working and what needs to be re-
done. Music gets dropped from scenes, and scenes previously without music suddenly

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need something. Change is simply part of the process. While it’s not the fun part of
the job (it can be exhausting), it is a normal and expected part. Being asked to rewrite
a piece of music you’ve worked hard to create is never enjoyable. Rewrites are often
the most demanding, emotional, and difficult part of the process. It can shake even a
veteran composer’s confidence and be a source of ego-shattering humiliation for oth-
ers. Composers pour their hearts and souls into their music, and having it rejected out
of hand is challenging. A flexible composer can take a moment, access why the music
wasn’t approved, and use that direction to create something that is more closely in line
with the director’s wishes and needs.
All of this is simply to say that composers for media work in a very different envi-
ronment from those in any specific musical genre. It’s a different job with a different
mindset, different skills, and a unique end goal. Having the ability to make interest-
ing musical choices and adapt those choices into each project, work in harmony with
the creators of the project, be willing to make substantial changes as called for, and
helping to fulfill the vision of the director, all call for the highest level of musical and
personal flexibility.
MUSIC IN CONTEXT: BRAIN SCANS, DRIVING AND TEXTING, MUSIC AND STORIES
While a wide variety of musical styles can work perfectly well, there are specific elements
that are valuable to making music as effective as possible. One of the “secrets” to writ-
ing good scores unexpectedly comes from some deep scientific experiments on how the
brain works when presented with more than one kind of information at the same time.
FIGURE 3.2
Example of a brain scan.
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Numerous scientists have carefully studied the brain’s ability to process more than
one thing at a time, called multitasking. What does this have to do with scoring pic-
tures? Those scientists found that even the most intelligent among us can only pay
effective attention to one thing at a time, more or less. One study used a PET imaging
scanner to measure brain activity. The test found that a typical cognitive task, such
as driving a car or listening carefully to someone speaking, activated 37 spots (called
voxels) in the brain. However, when a second task was introduced, such as attempting
to listen to two simultaneous conversations, something unexpected happened. Instead
of doubling the number of active brain points (from 37 to 74 voxels), only 42 were
seen. What this means (in addition to never texting while driving) is that there are real
limits to the number of different simultaneous mental tasks our brains can perform.
So, what happens when you watch a movie? There are visual images you need to
think about and understand, there is dialogue you need to listen to and comprehend.
Everyone’s brains are already highly stimulated just to make sense of what is on the
screen. Then, on top of that comes music, which you often listen to with deep inter-
est and care. How much brainpower does an average audience member have left for
comprehending music after figuring out what is happening onscreen? A composer
can make this assumption: not much. This is not advocating dumbing down the mu-
sic, but a skilled composer writing almost any type of underscore knows to boil the
music down to its essence. Even music with harmonic or textural complexity should
still not push complexity so far as to distract the audience from the more important
elements of the story—plot twists, vital dialogue, or major story points. When music
is the featured element in a scene with little or no dialogue, you have more latitude to
be more complex, but for the sake of consistency, you don’t want to change things too
much with the rest of the score. This is the key principle of musical economy—saying
the most with the minimum amount of complexity.
Most well-regarded scores in every genre have music that is rhythmically straight-
forward with only modest amounts of overt counterpoint. Musical counterpoint heard
in traditional classical music, in which various instruments are regularly coming in
and out, tends to create an attention-grabbing, multilayered sound. It is musically
satisfying but requires a lot of voxels. Well-crafted scores simplify this as much as pos-
sible. The orchestra is more often simply tutti (all playing together), creating a lush big
sound relying more on the use of counterlines over counterpoint.
The most effective scores create as much emotional impact as possible with the few-
est separate lines as possible until it is the main element of the scene. Effective scores
also pace things and spread things out, not introducing too many new ideas too close
together; nor are any ideas too brief or undeveloped.
For the most part, classical and modern concert music wants to connect with an au-
dience’s intellect, as well as emotions with its form, complexity, and level of conceptual

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sophistication. In contrast, music for film, episodic shows, or games must somehow
reach its audience through the subconscious. In some ways, this is more challenging.
Audiences rarely really listen to the music while watching a film. They hear it and pro-
cess it more subliminally. Film music is as much a psychological as cerebral art form.
Generally speaking, the academic institutions that offer studies in contemporary
composition embrace and encourage more complex and intellectual musical ideas. It
is a particular type of academic musical tradition. Budding composition students are
FIGURE 3.3
Example of counterline vs. counterpoint.
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shown the wide variety of musical tools that have come along over the decades and
centuries, and are encouraged to do a “brave exploration” of those modern techniques
to give the student a goal to carry on those avant-garde methods. In most cases, those
tenets of intellectual music making (atonality, serialism, stochastic methods, and com-
plex rhythmic or heavily contrapuntal writing) take precedence over less academic
approaches such as minimalism, post-classical simplicity, or overtly tonal writing that
sets a simple emotional intent. If the goal is to write for the concert hall stage, then
this is the best approach. It can be more difficult, however, to make the transition from
that intellectualism to writing for the unconscious mind.
Simply put, the lesson from the scientific brain studies is that the human mind is
amazing in what it can do, but is constantly making decisions about what is important
right now and filters out the rest. Creating music that can move an audience emotion-
ally and not get filtered, is a challenge in economy, simplicity, viewing music as a sto-
rytelling medium and not an opportunity to flex one’s intellectualism over the needs
of the story as a whole. A few major points to keep in mind are:
■ stay to as simple a harmonic language as needed to express the emotion of the story
■ avoid unnecessary rhythmic complexity
■ avoid too many instrumental entrances in a single scene
■ use complexity as an effect and not as the overall musical language
■ remember to tell the story
■ sudden shifts in tempo, key, tonality, or rhythmic style should usually be tied to the
editing and story unfolding
■ use musical ornamentation (glisses, runs, grace notes, and so forth) to convey the
style of the music as needed when there is space away from dialogue, but otherwise
keep to a minimum
The best practice can be summarized with KISS—Keep It Simple, Scorer.

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EVERY NOTE TELLS A STORY: FOLLOWING THE EMOTIONAL ARC OF A STORY
WITH MUSIC
Musical soundtracks exist to enhance and amplify the emotional content of the story
onscreen. Music has the ability to miraculously elicit strong feelings and emotional
responses, from joy and laughter to fear and dread. It has been the secret weapon of
virtually every producer and director wanting to connect deeply with an audience.
However, there are limits to this, and it can be used to go too far.
Along with the straightforward simplicity discussed early, a score can benefit from
pace and nuance—the choice to use subtlety in the level of emotion in any specific cue,
or the score as a whole. You can probably think of some comedians who try too hard
to get a laugh, to the point it starts to feel desperate. It can get tiring very quickly. Gen-
erally, audiences don’t want to be hit over the head by plot points, dialogue, or music
for that matter, that forces them to feel a certain way. Music functions to enhance the
emotional quality of the story. But it’s not the primary goal of scoring to turn up the
emotional level of a scene to 11, over and over again. Yes, there will be times in a typi-
cal project when the music can open up and be highly cathartic. Those are memorable
moments, and usually only occur for relatively brief times in most projects. Even the
most over-the-top superhero movie takes breaks from the amped-up action and plot.
A well-crafted story has a deliberate pace. It has an introduction where the audience
meets the characters and gets a glimpse into the situation at hand. It develops from
there to deepen their understanding of the characters and plot. At some point, the
stakes of the situation increase—an unexpected twist or a serious dilemma that must
be solved to save a life . . . or the planet. It builds to a hopefully satisfying climax where
the problems get resolved, villains get their comeuppance (or not), the hero achieves
a goal, even if at a deep personal cost.
In a way, a well-written screenplay is like a piece of music, and vice versa. It doesn’t
start at the climax, it starts somewhere, builds emotion, builds tension—piece by piece,
scene by scene, level by level, just like a good symphony or pop song does—making
each verse or chorus a bit more developed than the last until it reaches an emotional
peak just before ending.
Scores, usually made up of dozens of individual cues, need to do the same. They
start somewhere, just like the story itself, before taking us on a journey with ups and
downs, twists and problems, answers and a final resolution. Scores tell the story just
like the dialogue and action. You don’t want to skip ahead in the story, so as you are
writing the score, bear in mind that you need to give yourself room to grow emotion-
ally along with the rest of the project.
In addition to paying attention to the emotional and energy arc of the story, there
is also the need to be careful to avoid writing something that directly and overtly tries
to manipulate the audience. Call it “over the top” music, call it “corny,” “cliché,” or

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simply call it “melodrama.” Melodrama doesn’t just mean sappy or emotionally over
the top. It can be any emotion that is being thrown at the audience too hard, especially
when there isn’t enough going on onscreen to warrant massively emotional music. For
example, imagine a scene of a random person (you don’t know anything about them
yet) walking down a street, turning the corner, and walking into a dark alley. Without
more information about the person, or the possibly treacherous alley, the audience still
can know that this might be a somewhat dangerous situation, and the person could be
getting into jeopardy. As composers, you can express some concern for the situation
or the character in the music. Tension and suspense work that way—nothing is really
happening on the screen. Nevertheless, you must convey some sense of impending
danger or foreboding. Without more information from the story itself, such as seeing
a suspicious character waiting in the alley, an alien spacecraft flying overhead, or the
barrel of a gun, you want to be careful of going overboard and scoring a scene into the
ground with overly heavy, ominous, scary music that shrieks, “Oh no! Get out of that
alley now! There’s a murderer there! Run for your life!”
Even very well-made films have a hard time building tension without using music.
There are moments when a whisper can speak louder than a scream. This is especially
true if a scene is just getting under way. It’s not your job to tell the audience something
that they may wish to figure out on their own. There is a word for this in the scor-
ing world—it’s called telegraphing. It’s when you tell the audience with music what is
going to happen well before it does. Generally, it is to be avoided, except if it is for a
very specific effect. Unless you are going for a real shock, it is best to start slowly and
wind things up gradually, as they go along in the story. Try to stay in the moment and
not jump ahead. Build musical tension slowly as a scene unfolds. Certainly, there are
times when you really want to “go for it,” with nothing held back. However, you don’t
want to tip your hat by getting the message across too quickly, too early, or too obvi-
ously. It can be annoying to an audience when whatever they’re watching bludgeons
them with music that just speaks to the obvious—“They are so in love!” or “He’s a real
hero!”—that sort of thing. It works for movie trailers, some types of projects, and in
some occasional scenes. In most cases, it doesn’t work.
If you ever notice any of these musical transgressions in any scores, don’t be too
quick to blame the composer. These choices ultimately come from the wishes of the
director or producers. Whenever you hear something over the top in a score, re-
member that each of those cues was approved by the director and/or producer. It’s
common for a director who is not happy with a scene to want to “fix it” with musical
excess. Music can make a scene better, but it can’t fix a bad performance by an actor.
A composer should help find the best level of emotion for each moment that balances
the score with the needs of that specific scene. Every score is the product of collabora-
tion. Perhaps, the composer argued against it and lost. Maybe the composer argued for
it and won. Either way, it comes down to what the director wants.

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CAN I SEND YOU MY DEMO? WHAT DO DIRECTORS LISTEN FOR IN A
COMPOSER’S DEMO?
Demo reels are for composers what a headshot photo is for actors. No one will hire
you until they’ve heard your music and get a sense of whether you are good and,
more importantly, the right person for the job. I’ve been sent countless demos by
young composers hoping to get started in scoring, asking for any useful feedback or
advice. Even as a more experienced composer myself, it feels far beyond my place
to tell anyone whether they are or are not cut out for being a professional composer
based solely on listening to a handful of tracks. My personal opinions about other
people’s music are just that—my opinions. Even if I have a very strong reaction to
someone’s music, positive or negative, who am I to tell them whether or not their
music is “good enough”?
The goal of a demo is to give the listener a taste of who you are as a composer.
Your musical talent and your craft are on display. There are some do’s and don’ts that
should be considered.
WHO ARE YOU?
Scenario: Someone you know sends you a mystery album (you don’t know anything
about the artist or the music) and asks you to listen. Though you have no idea what’s
on it, you like your friend, and so you press play. Some heavy, distorted guitars blast
through your speakers, followed by smashing drums and ear-bleeding vocals. You
know in a near instant that it’s a heavy metal album by your friend’s new band, and it’s
really well done—even though you’re not much of a metal fan. You forward it to the
second track. It’s a slower tempo but has the same loud, ass-kicking feel, and a string
section in the middle! A really cool metal rock project. Clearly your friend is exploring
and experimenting inside a familiar musical genre.
The point here is that the music you send to other people must represent who you
are as an artist. It needs to show your style, your creativity, and the quality of your
craft. Plus, it needs to do it from the very first track. So, the first rule of demos is be
yourself. Think of your demo as the trailer for the movie that is you.
NO EXCUSES
When you audition for a project, you will be competing with any number of other
composers also interested in that job. Competition is just a fact of life, unless you
are being hired by a friend or relative, or someone that knows and loves your music
already. So, you need to bring your “A” game. There can be no excuses for the qual-
ity of the material you are presenting. You will be compared to every other composer
trying out for the project and, in all likelihood, be compared to every composer ever!
Tracks with any flaws—tuning problems, timing issues, bad mixing, or just mediocre
production quality—should never be sent out. You need to be proud of all your work,

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and if you’re not sure whether a track is up to par, get a second opinion. Just not from
your mother, who loves all your music.
GENERAL VERSUS CUSTOM DEMOS
Depending upon circumstances, you may be asked for a general demo of your
music, or a demo specific to a single project. General demos are rarely asked for—
producers and directors are almost always looking for a composer when there is a
specific project needing a specific style of music. Be prepared to organize music for
the project on hand. Is it a horror movie? Send music that represents all the ways
you would score a horror movie. If you do get asked for a general demo, put your
best tracks first, and fill out the demo in a way to show at least some stylistic range,
but not to be seen as a composer who “can do anything.” Again, be yourself.
HOW MUCH IS ENOUGH?
How many tracks would a producer or director expect from your demo? Is it better to
send three amazing tracks or twelve tracks, but some may be a little off the mark? Will
they listen to every track—and all the way through? It’s good to send as many tracks
as you feel you have that show your talent and skill and how you would fit into the
project. Therefore, a demo could be as little as 3 to 4 tracks but can get as big as 15 to
20. Occasionally, a producer or director will specify to send a lot of music in case they
want to use it for their temp music. That’s a great thing. Having your music used for
the temp track gives you a serious advantage at getting the actual job. Again, only send
music of which you are proud and that fits the brief they’ve given you.
BRINGING ORDER
However you decide to send your demo (more on that below), it’s a good practice to
make the playlist as entertaining and engaging as possible. A well-organized music
demo should feel like a story unfolding, and not just a bunch of tracks in no particular
order. Always lead with your best work, and from there, choose an order that makes
each subsequent track have a fresh perspective on your music. Don’t drop three chase-
music tracks in a row, followed by four dramatic themes. Mix them up a bit. Try to tell
a story with the order of the tracks.
CUT TO THE CHASE
An important element of good demos is simply “never keep them waiting.” It’s a good
idea to have versions of your music with introductions and repetitions shortened, so
as to get to the main ideas as quickly as possible. You only have a few moments of
their time, and they likely have their finger hovering over the skip button. That doesn’t
mean to chop a track down to utter essentials with no flow or build. Again, you have

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a handful of seconds to prove to the listener who you are, what you are good at, and
whether you are the right person for the project. You don’t want to waste time with
lengthy introductions, drones, ambient sections (even if it’s a project looking for an
ambient-style score), repeated sections or themes, lengthy ostinatos, or other musical
effects that might require some patience from the listener. While remaining as musical
as possible, demos should sound more like trailers than a score. They should be the
essence of the music and not a thoughtfully developed or nuanced track. If you get a
sense from the director that this is the main thing they are looking for, then of course
give them what they want. Otherwise, it is best to re-edit your music for the purposes
of demos and keep them in a separate folder intended for this purpose.
TECHNICAL SPECS
What is the best format for sending demos? The basic answer is “whatever makes it
easiest for the intended listener to be able to hit play.” Currently, the easiest method
is some form of private streaming playlist. There are several services that provide this,
including Dropbox, Disco, SoundCloud, MixTape, ReelCrafter, and even Google.
These services provide a way to upload compressed audio files (such as mp3 or
mp4) and organize them to your liking. The tracks are played directly from the service
through the listener’s web browser. No special apps or downloads needed.
From time to time, you may be asked to make your demo tracks downloadable.
This comes up when the director or producers want to provide the picture editor with
tracks to be placed into a temp score. In that case, there are numerous file transfer
services that permit downloading of tracks. If you do make your music downloadable,
it’s smart to rename the tracks to start with their track number, otherwise the listener
may likely listen in alphabetical order, which may not be desirable.
BUT IS IT “SCORE”?
A bit of artistic philosophy here . . . .
The kinds of music that usually work best to picture fall into an eclectic and wide
category, and it gets wider all the time; however, it does have some boundaries. Film
music has a lengthy history that has shaped and defined what many audiences expect,
and thus what composers are expected to write. This applies to scores in film, games,
or an episodic series. Artistic innovation does not ignore its history, predecessors, and
influences. You don’t start from scratch to compose music for an audience.
This touches closely to the nature of art and art history. In the study of your cho-
sen art form (aural, visual, or literary), the basic lessons are to first observe what has
come before, and then use that as inspiration for your own work. Music students may
study the works of Bach or Mozart all the way to modern twentieth- and twenty-first-
century masters to come to some kind of understanding of how these exemplary art-

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ists did what they did. Studying the art of the past helps to see the art and artists of the
present in a clearer light. It also can show why some forms of music are more desirable
than others for use in any storytelling medium.
For those who desire to become artists or composers, studying the art and artists
of the past also helps to avoid reinventing the wheel (or its close cousin, plagiarism).
Fortunately, you have an amazing resource at your disposal—just watch as many mov-
ies, episodic shows, or video games as possible, and listen carefully to the soundtracks,
both in context and on their own. There’s so much to be learned just by observation
and personal analysis. If you want to know more about how these pieces are made,
there are countless online resources for analysis and critique.
The state of any art is often defined by the most successful figures currently engaged
in it. In the world of scoring, that would include (but not be limited to) such estab-
lished and influential people as John Williams, James Newton Howard, David Arnold,
Alexandre Desplat, Trent Reznor, Hildur Guðnadóttir, Danny Elfman, Hans Zimmer,
Michael Giacchino, and the lengthy and ever-changing list of others in the prime of
their careers. If you look at the entire field of successful working composers, you see a
huge range of stylistic, sonic, and dramatic approaches. Today’s best scores range from
serious symphonic music all the way to EDM, ambient, minimalism, world music,
and other unique influences. Several successful songwriters have been tapped to create
scores that bring some of their pop sensibilities to a project. No single style or composer
defines contemporary scoring. However, every artist comes from some kind of perspec-
tive or awareness of the scores of the past and applies that to their own approach.
Though there is tremendous musical diversity in today’s scoring world (certainly
compared to the past), some musical elements don’t fit into the scoring genre as eas-
ily. Contemporary and complex avant-garde music share many facets with film scores:
they both can be very abstract and textural. Whereas “art” music can be as demanding,
dense, and difficult as the composer wishes, the vast majority of scores cannot go as far
in any direction that takes the listener’s attention away from the action on the screen.
Few avant-garde composers have made a significant inroad into film score. One such
composer whose music has been successfully adapted to film is Hungarian master
György Ligeti, whose music is textural and evocative but still relies on a great deal of
economy and focus. Surprisingly, he never worked directly on any film but has been
copied and imitated countless times. Well-known composers such as John Corigliano,
Max Richter, Tan Dun, Elliot Goldenthal, and Philip Glass have all had success as
composers of serious concert music as well as film scores. Much of their music, while
adventurous, contains those elements of economy and focus that are so important in
almost all scoring work. With all of these figures, their scoring efforts sound noticeably
different from their concert work. They get it.

DEVELOPING A PERSONAL MUSICAL STYLE
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The vast majority of successful scores leave some room in the audience’s atten-
tion for the rest of the cinematic experience. They are highly linear, frequently emo-
tional, and often unabashedly melodic. Well-crafted scores flow in rhythmic waves
that blend with the action of the story and the editing of the picture. A good score
supports the picture and makes it look better than it really is by not making extra
demands on the listener’s already engaged attention. Though there are some fan-
tastic exceptions, most scores reside within a somewhat narrow range of colors and
themes in order to lend cohesion while they explore whatever new sonic or musical
territory the composer and director wishes.
It comes back to this once again: A simple and memorable theme is still the most
important element of scoring. Theme, whether melodic or not, is the basis and foun-
dation for most scores. Returning to the main topic here—that’s what producers and
directors usually listen for when listening to a composer’s demo.
Jazz has also had tremendous influence in scoring, and elements of jazz harmony
can be heard in a large number of scores. In its purest form, jazz does not typically find
its way into the scores of most projects. The same can be said of genuine EDM, various
forms of rock music, pop music, or songwriting. They all have tremendous musical va-
lidity and have been used as inspirations for many, many scores. However, they rarely
convey the sense that the composer is a good match for most original scoring projects.
The goal of a good demo is to show how well you understand the distinction between
scores and other music genres, and how you personally might take any musical influ-
ences and make them more cinematic and evocative. This goes a long way toward
convincing any producer or director that you would be a great musical collaborator
for the project you are submitting your demo to.
Finally, it’s important to not only show your skills as a composer and producer of
music, but also some degree of passion and originality. One way to ruin a presentation
is to send a demo that clearly and obviously copies or directly imitates another com-
poser, and especially any specific score. Many beginning composers (especially those
who have just studied composing at school and have analyzed their favorite scores)
write knock-offs of those popular composers and well-known scores. You will not be
seen as a qualified composer if your demo has anything vaguely plagiarized. If it’s a
well-known or well-liked score, most filmmakers will likely be as familiar with it as
you are. While scoring, composers are frequently asked to imitate or “borrow” ideas
from other scores. And it’s bound to happen that some of those “borrowed” elements
will make it into a demo. Showing influences is different from recreating a popular
musical work. The only exception would be if the director asks for a demo that sounds
exactly like a given work. Even then, it’s a good goal to show how you can take what
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Remember, the word “demo” is short for “demonstration.” It’s not the music being
showcased as much as it is you, the composer, in whom they will be most interested.
The music is there to demonstrate who you are and your musical capabilities. Here’s
a quick summary of good demo making:
■ Show what is unique about your music and you.
■ Tailor your demos to the style and genre of the project.
■ Include as many pieces as needed to show your range and skill for the project.
■ If need be, edit any tracks with long intros—keep it engaging.
■ Don’t include multiple pieces that sound very similar.
■ Choose “cinematic” music over tracks that don’t feel score-like.
■ Only send tracks you feel truly represent you.
■ Only send tracks that sound and feel fully produced and polished.
■ Use a music or file transfer service; don’t attach audio to an email.

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WHAT IS STYLE? CULTIVATING A UNIQUE, IDENTIFIABLE SOUND
Pop stars have it easy. You hear a famous voice and can usually recognize it immedi-
ately. If a notable singer like Billie Eilish sings a cover of a song from the 1950s, within
a few words, you’d still know it’s her and can enjoy her unique spin on a standard.
Instrumental composers have it a bit tougher. In most cases, other musicians are play-
ing your music, or you may be using the same synthesizer patches or sample libraries
as everyone else. Some scoring composers are easily identifiable, and others less so. So
how do you make your music your own, able to truly stand out from the rest? How
important is it to have a unique and identifiable style, as opposed to simply being able
to evoke the emotions of a project and do it well?
One of the most basic rules of economics says that the value of something is related
to its scarcity. Diamonds are far more expensive than wood because there is far less of
them on the planet. The same idea applies to all types of artists. There is probably no
greater asset in one’s musical career than having a unique sound or style that makes
you distinctive and sets you apart from others. No matter how musically eclectic or
versatile you are, there will always be the question: “Why should we hire this particular
composer over another?” The answer will be: “Because we like their musical vision,
and we can only get it by hiring them and no one else.” Some composers are far more
versatile than others, but even the least versatile ones who maintain a very distinct style
are more in demand. Look at Trent Reznor (dark, aggressive drones), Max Richter
(ethereal strings), or Philip Glass (pattern-oriented minimalism), for example: They
essentially only do one thing musically, but they do it better than most anyone else
around. Their name is synonymous with one particular style of music. A composer
needs technique, of course, as well as savvy about the business of scoring. But on top
of all that is style—that’s what makes each composer unique and, therefore, of greater
value to others, especially the others who might hire you.
Academy Award–winning and iconic film composer, Jerry Goldsmith once
described himself as being a “musical chameleon,” meaning his sound essentially
changed from film to film. You certainly need to have some amount of diversity and
range if you want to score a wide range of projects. Goldsmith had done just about
every genre of film and carefully adapted his composing style accordingly. Yet he
never lost touch with his own unique brand of “Goldsmith-ness” in any of them. He
was a very versatile composer. The brilliant Carter Burwell is, intentionally, a far less
versatile composer. Like Glass, he only accepts projects that allow him to do what he
wants and that match his unique and quirky style. Nevertheless, being versatile does
not mean you lack a recognizable style.
Composers look for projects that they feel are a good match. If you like writing
happy upbeat music, you look for comedy or animation. If you enjoy making dark
textural music, you look for dramas, thrillers, or horror projects to give you the op-

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portunity to do what you like. Many savvy composers turn down projects they are
offered for which they feel they are not well suited. There is no point in taking on a
project and not doing a good job or writing something that doesn’t feel at all personal.
Ultimately, it is the composer’s job to create music in collaboration with the leaders
of any project in the style and approach for which they ask. If the request is “make it
epic,” then make it epic. If the job calls for something quirky and intimate, then that
becomes the goal. In any circumstance, the music you write should be done from your
perspective, and your heart. Technical skill and craft can help with making a score’s
sound suit a project. However, without some degree of unique style or approach, it will
become clear that this was as much an exercise, or worse—just be generic. In which
case, it’s irrelevant who was hired for the job. Make it yours, and there is only one
person right for the job.
On a personal note, I recall one of my early opportunities to score a big-budget fea-
ture film. It was an exciting challenge, and I wanted to do something epic. I assumed
they wanted a big sound to match the epic quality of the film, so as I did my sketches,
I felt I needed to go for a very traditional kind of big “Hollywood” cinematic sound.
But as it turned out, they didn’t want that at all. What they wanted was something
more personal and unique with just enough feeling on an emotional scale to match
the nature of the story. In my desire to “get it right” by simply imitating many of the
traditional scores, I began to abandon what would make the score sound personal,
like “my music.” Fortunately, after some initial poor feedback, I refocused my musical
efforts on doing something that embraced a cinematic experience while also retaining
much or all of my own unique ideas. Having range does not mean leaving your best
ideas behind. It simply means applying them in the way that is most appropriate.
MODERN VERSUS TRADITIONAL SCORING
Scoring pictures is an evolving art. There are trends that come and go, and there are
elements of style that stick around year after year, and score after score. Some new
composers find their deepest inspiration in the scores and styles of the past, and there
is always a place for that. Scores based on the traditional elements of orchestra, emo-
tion, strong themes, and an avoidance or only minor use of contemporary sound and
electronics find their way into a large number of scores for film, episodic shows, and
games. However, there is also the hunger for new ideas, new approaches, and new
sounds. Producers and directors often want something fresh to help them define their
own style and vision and that makes a statement that separates them from projects of
the past. Many composers take a middle path of blending the traditional with the con-
temporary to create a hybrid that touches on the emotion of tried-and-true methods
with somewhat more experimental approaches. What follows is a look at what goes into
contemporary scoring—a love of the past can fuel what we do now and into the future.

DEVELOPING A PERSONAL MUSICAL STYLE
89
Electronic sounds and instruments have been used in scores for decades. The
score to the 1951 film The Day the Earth Stood Still by Bernard Herrmann promi-
nently featured the haunting electronic sounds of the theremin, a unique synthesizer
played without actually touching it, but by waving one’s hands in the air near the
instrument. A few years later, came Forbidden Planet with possibly the first all-elec-
tronic score in a feature film (by wife and husband team, Bebe and Louis Barron).
Many notable films and episodic series have made significant use of electronics in
subtle and not-so -subtle ways. The use of electronics and other modern audio tech-
nology has exploded, starting in the 1980s, and every decade since has brought more
innovation and reliance on new sounds and music forms. As computing hardware
has grown exponentially more powerful, so has the sophistication of software sam-
plers, synthesizers, digital processing, and remarkable audio and musical effects—all
tools to create a new sound for scoring.
What makes music work emotionally remains the same, whether coming from a
violin section or a synthesizer. Creating music that evokes emotion comes not just
from the nature of the sounds and instruments, but how well they are employed for
best effect. With the incredible power of software-based instruments and a renaissance
of hardware synthesizers has come an explosion of possibilities. They require their
own approach for composition, unique from the methods of writing for traditional
instruments and ensembles. Composers have always drawn inspiration from the in-
struments they write for, whether traditional or electronic.
Other than the use of electronic instruments and plug-ins, scores that are electronic
in nature typically use abstract sounds as a vital component of the overall score. Savvy
electronic artists use this as an opportunity to create music and sounds that are fresh
and unique. There’s a wide range of methods to making electronic music. There is a
higher level of experimentation and exploration that is different from hunting for just
the right note on a piano.
Some think of electronic music production as simply sorting through the near in-
finite number of presets and samples available today. And that works in many cases.
Just as you wouldn’t want to use preexisting melodic ideas from someone else (though
also available in abundance online), if you want to feel a sense of true ownership of
the music you make electronically, then spending some time and energy in creating
your own sound ideas is valuable. Like learning to play any musical instrument, gain-
ing some familiarity with any piece of technology and putting in some “practice time”
pays off in the end.
For composers who create music with electronics, many of the really interesting
and potentially useful musical ideas that emerge are often the result of “happy acci-
dents” that occur while experimenting, playing around, tinkering, and just exploring
whatever technology you have. When programming synthesizers, samples, or audio

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effects, you may not always end up with the sound you had in mind when you started.
That’s perfectly okay. You begin with a synthesizer, a plug-in, or even a sound record-
ing you find interesting. You try out the various components or parameters available
to see how the sonic outcome begins to alter. Something you hear that you like may
then lead you on a tangent of discovery. The more willing you are to try things out,
the better the possibility of something unique and interesting coming of it. It’s good
to spend unstructured time with electronic instruments and software, just goofing
around to see if something wonderful happens.
Such tangents are no less important compositionally. Looking back, the great inno-
vator and “sound designer” Igor Stravinsky called composing “frozen improvisation.”
Improvising with instruments, samples and audio effects may help you stumble upon
fresh sounds that aren’t rooted in a specific sonic objective. Of course, the more you
know about the technology you use, the more controlled and directed you can be.
That’s a good thing as well and can save time if you are focused on creating an atmo-
sphere or a rhythmic motif. If you are creating a drone or some type of atmospheric
sound, it is helpful to know the capabilities of your hardware or software. The combi-
nation of careful planning along with “what does this knob do?” is an invaluable path
to fresh musical ideas.
As you play with various instruments or effects, when you hear something you like,
save it immediately, then continue on to see where the process continues to take you.
You may come up with a lot of useful sonic variations from a single experiment. When
you begin to actually compose music, it’s with those ideas you could specifically show-
case your new timbres. This process brings about music that is potentially interesting,
and very personal as well. The same thing can be done with samples, once you learn a
bit of how your samplers or audio editing software work.
For example, take just about any sampled sound (you create yourself or from an
existing source), retune or transpose it far out of its original range, apply filters, delays,
reverb, or other digital effects and see what you come up with. With a single sample
spread over the range of a keyboard, try playing various harmonies or patterns to see
the effect. Experiment with reverbs, delays, harmonizers and “crystallizers” (a com-
bination delay and pitch shifter that creates shimmering cascades of sound), filters,
granular effects, distortion, glitch effects, guitar amp simulators, or any audio proces-
sor that strikes you as interesting. The possibilities are truly endless, and potentially
very inspiring. There is a world of sonic possibilities using the capabilities of most any
music system.
With electronic music, programming, performing, and composing are not that
far apart from each other. All art should come from inspired and inspiring places. A
single synthesizer, even by itself, can be just fine if you find a patch that inspires you,
but you can also think of them as just the beginning. The same filters, delays, reverbs,

DEVELOPING A PERSONAL MUSICAL STYLE
91
tremolos, distortion, pitch shifters, chorus and phase shifting, ring modulation, and
compression used in interesting combinations can bring a lot of life to an otherwise
simple or basic sound.
Samplers and synthesizers often give themselves away by being overly static; at
some point in the sound, that can get monotonous. However, when a sound is con-
tinuously evolving in time, your ears won’t get a chance to become bored. Acoustic in-
struments and natural sounds are never static, they are always changing and evolving
from moment to moment. There’s an important lesson from this—sweeping filters,
crossfading timbres, bending pitch, adding elements or taking them away during the
course of a sound can breathe needed life into synthetic colors. Good synthesizers and
samplers are very adept at creating such sounds when programmed to do so. Some of
this can also be done in the sequencer as well.
While using overly steady sounds can become dull, it is also possible to go too far
and create sounds that are too complex or overwhelming or do not blend with what is
happening in the music or on screen for a score. That’s where taste comes in. Complex
electronic elements can be distracting. It’s a very personal call. The majority of scores
with electronics are typically hybrids of electronics and other instruments—from solo-
ists to full orchestras. Too many elements, especially ones that grab the attention, can
lead to the desire by a director to scale everything back.
Ultimately, scoring with electronic instruments uses many of the same rules and
concepts as working with traditional ensembles.

FIGURE 3.4
“Defeated Clown” from Joker. Written by Hildur Guðnadóttir.
Published by Warner-Barham Music LLC (BMI). Courtesy of Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.

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Music in Play: Scoring Games
Video games are, under the hood, sophisticated pieces of computer software that
create moving images and sounds in real time. Whether you are trying to get three
pieces of pink candy to line up in a row, or are trying to save a medieval castle from
enemy hordes and monsters, every game has a set of rules that determine how a player
may win or lose. As a player hits the buttons on a controller or taps on a screen or
keyboard, the game software takes that input and changes what appears on the screen
and through the speakers, based on the rules and situations of the game. Games have
grown radically in sophistication and capability over the years. What started off as
crude stick figures moving sideways and jumping over obstacles are now capable of
deep story plots, photorealistic characters, cinematic motion, and special effects. Plus,
they are able to learn from the players’ playing style in order to present bigger chal-
lenges at just the right pace and time.
Video game music began decades ago with nothing more than a few beeps and
chirps. From there, it began to forge its own unique style based on the primitive sound
capabilities found in the early game consoles. So-called chiptune music still can be
heard as homage to the influential games of the past. Massively popular games such
as Mario Brothers or Donkey Kong were played on a new generation of game consoles
with far better, though still all-electronic, music engines. Video game music was be-
ginning to emerge as a vital part of gameplay.
Along the way, games continued to push creative and technical boundaries for the
music to become more engaging and more interactive. Games such as The Legend of
Zelda, Myst, and Final Fantasy brought new levels of sophistication, further cement-
ing the value and importance of music into the video game experience. A bit later,
games such as Doom and Halo were revered as much for their innovative hard rock
scores as for their graphics and gameplay. Modern video game scores now cover a
range from fully orchestral to heavy metal, from ambient to EDM. Once scorned by

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composers in other fields, music for video games is now on par as a creative field with
movie and episodic series scoring.
While there is much creative commonality between scoring films and series, and
scoring video games, there are some unique challenges and opportunities as well.
Unlike scoring for other media in which the musical structure is predetermined by
the composer to match each scene, music for games is often structurally flexible and
can be made interactive to the players’ skill and wishes. Games are world building
and immersive, and that carries over into the score. Not all games have interactive
music, but the relationship of music to overall experience is different: it is, in some
ways, more immersive than the linearity of film and episodic shows. The audience is
in control to some extent. Music starts and changes by the actions and choices of the
player. Players often have no idea that they are responsible for triggering and shift-
ing the music. Below are some of the unique aspects of scoring games in contrast to
film or episodic television projects.
READING THE MAP: HOW GAME SCORES ARE ORGANIZED
The process of creating and developing a game is fundamentally quite different from
film production. A film starts with a screenplay—it lays out the plot scene by scene,
and from beginning to end. It places the dialogue and action along the way. It is a lin-
ear story with a beginning, middle, and end. Once edited, it is locked in time and pace.
Games are not simple linear narratives. They are “worlds” that immerse the player
or players in situations to which they must respond with increasingly dire conse-
quences for failure. Games are puzzles as well as stories, and they are created as such.
Games often begin with a premise and a map of their world. Within the map are
all the challenges to be laid out for the players. However, within the mapped world of
a game are storylines, characters, dialogue, action, choices, winning, and losing. The
sequence of these is often different for each player, based on skill and choices.
Games are created by teams called developers. Like a film, there is a director who
oversees and coordinates the groups responsible for graphics, animation, actors
and dialogue, motion capture, visual effects, battle choreography, strategies, audio,
and finally, music. Audio and music are often overseen by the same person, called
an audio director. The audio director is responsible for all sound—dialogue, sound
design, music, and mixing. While the game’s director will have final say, the audio
director often has full control and power to direct the composer’s efforts. In many
cases, they recommend and help in the choice of composer or composers. And it is
not unusual for games to have multiple composers, each responsible for a different
section of the game.
A large-scale game (referred to as a “Triple A” or “AAA” game) can take years to
develop. Unlike film or a series, where the composer is only brought onboard as the
picture is near completion, games often bring a composer in at fairly early stages.
Composers may be asked to write some amount of music, stop working while the mu-
sic is tested by the developers, and then continue on some weeks or even months later.

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Some larger game developers have an in-house music team, including composers.
There are a number of games scored by a combination of in-house and contracted
composers.
When spotting a film, each piece of music is given a start time, a duration, and a
musical or dramatic shape based on the content of the scene. However, video game
scores are organized very differently. There is no fixed structure or duration to most
of the music. Games fall into a number of styles and categories, so thinking about the
musical components changes based on whether the game is a simple puzzle, a basic
mobile game, a battle or sports game, an online multiplayer war game, a mystery sto-
rytelling game or an epic fighting/shooting game with a large cast of characters and
challenges. With each style or genre of game comes an emotional approach to the
music that fits best, as decided by the game developers.
THE LIST
As a game is being designed, its musical components are put into a “to-do list,” much
like a spreadsheet. A game may have just a small handful of musical components, or
a massive list of elements to cover all the areas of the project from beginning to end.
The composer or composers on a game work from these “asset lists,” which are
designed to make sure every need is covered. They are not necessarily linear in
nature—music can be reused and adapted across an entire game or used only in one
specific moment.
The example in figure 4.1 is of a game score layout. It shows all the various sections
of the game requiring music and describes what the music needs to do. Menus, explora-
FIGURE 4.1
Video Game Score Asset List.
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tions, battles, wins and losses may each have one or more pieces of music. The music
director and composer can decide how various pieces relate to one another. Certain
themes may show up in more than one place, either identically or in variations. So,
while this musical asset list may seem long, upon discussion it may be based on a much
smaller number of musical ideas. Those ideas can then be adapted as needed.
UNDERSTANDING INTERACTIVITY
One of the most important differences in scoring video games is in the degree to which
the music can adapt and interact with the player—all in real time. Unlike a traditional
linear score, where you know the music should begin at 01:18:05 and will change
when the monster appears at 01:23:05 into the scene, in the game world, the monster
(or whatever challenge) can appear at any moment. It’s not a fixed timing. Music
needs to be able to ramp up in excitement, support action or dialogue, and finish up
based entirely on how the player plays. To understand better how to write music for
interactive media, it helps to understand the technology behind the scenes that makes
everything possible. When you understand the system, you will have a much better
idea of how to write for it.
AUDIO MIDDLEWARE
The software that makes up video games is designed specifically to be immersive and
interactive with the players. During gameplay, anything can change as needed to in-
teract with the player’s control. Press a button to fire a weapon, and the game software
instantly generates the needed graphics, animation, sound, and (if you’re a good shot)
a desired result. It may also choose to shift the music in some way. Focusing on audio,
the software that controls all the sound and music either will be a music and sound
“engine” designed by the game developers or may be a separate but integrated audio
system. There is a small handful of these interactive sound engines that fall into the
category called “middleware”—an invisible app that links the game visuals and sound.
Either way, these sound and music engines trigger dialogue when needed, along with
sound effects and music. The sound engine is integrated into the game and responds
to triggers from the game itself. The user cannot see or interact with a game’s sound
engine—only the game itself. Some game developers have their own custom sound
engines, while others seek out readily available middleware. They all work on the same
basic principles. And understanding those principles will help you to compose music
in a way that can take full advantage of the engine’s adaptive technology.

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BREAKING IT DOWN
In essence, music is broken down into smaller blocks or score sections. A block may be
only a few bars or can be a much longer and more complex piece of music. See figure
4.3 for one example of the structure.
To get the mood started, the music usually begins with an introduction, as most any
cue typically would. This could be as little as a bar or two, or as long as needed. It will
play only once when the music is first started, perhaps at the beginning of a game level.
From there it flows into a second block that not only creates the necessary mood but
has the ability to be looped indefinitely. A looped block, regardless of duration, should
be able to play repeatedly without anyone hearing where the loop begins or ends. A
looped block typically loops from the end of the last bar to the beginning of the first
FIGURE 4.2
Image of a Wwise screen.
Courtesy of Audiokinetic.
FIGURE 4.3
Example of game music structure.
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bar; however, in some cases, it is possible to be able to pick any loop points you want
with the middleware system.
Writing loopable music, or loopable sections, requires a bit of extra thought. The
last bar of the section should seamlessly be able to jump back to the first bar without
being noticeable. Just as with any music that repeats a section or phrase, creating mu-
sic that is loopable requires writing an end that can naturally lead back to the begin-
ning, as though it was the next part of the piece. The audio mixes of your score in the
game are carefully edited for the loop, so you need to take care that any sounds with a
tail or reverb don’t get cut off. In that case, they may be heard as a glitch if looping an
overly long sound such as a harp gliss, cymbal roll, or any very reverberant or lingering
sounds. The software does crossfade the beginnings and ends of audio loops, so there
is some forgiveness, but care must be taken to not extend past the typically brief fade.
Also, if you have a block that starts with some bars of a single chord, you may not want
to end on that same chord, as it will sound redundant when it loops.
It’s fairly simple to test your musical blocks inside your DAW to see how well a
section will loop. Once you’ve written a section, make it into an audio file by bounc-
ing the exact number of bars of the section (no space at the beginning or end), and
then add it to a track twice in succession. If the loop is obvious, you’ll hear it straight
away, even with middleware audio crossfades. Your goal is to write the music with a
seamless loop in mind. Crossfades help, however, keep those lingering elements for
other bars of the music.
Once the music is mixed and put into the middleware system, the middleware goes
into the actual game system, where it then triggers all the musical events based on the
actions of the player. It’s the role of the game development team to create the connec-
tions between game play and music. Thus, you need to be in close contact with the
developers to be sure every possible gameplay event has a musical component.
VARIATIONS AND VARIABILITY
Another way video game scores avoid repetitious sounding music is to create multiple
variations of a piece or section. Through middleware, any variations of a section can
be triggered in either a predetermined way, or by random selection. Variations would
typically remain in the same key and tempo as the initial version, so as to be seamless
substitutes. There are many ways to create simple but distinct variations of a track:
■ Change the lead melodic instrument—e .g., change from strings to brass.
■ Alter some parts of the harmony—e .g ., some basic chord substitutions or voicing.
■ Rework the rhythm—more complex or less complex.
■ Add or remove elements—version with no melody, no drums, or add an arpeggio.
■ Swap out electronic or guitar sounds with new ones, but keep the actual part.

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One track can become many, each with something unique about it. As they are
variations, they wouldn’t necessarily shift the basic emotion of the music. If the music
needs to shift gears completely—like jumping from exploration to battle—think of
that as a new track altogether. However, in some cases, even a timbral shift like this
can be made from variations of the same material by adding layers.
LAYERS
Most music has layers, for example:
■ Pop and Rock Music: Vocals+Guitar+Bass+Drums
■ Orchestral Music: Winds+Strings+Brass+Percussion
■ Electronic Music: Lead+Rhythm+Pads+Beats
These examples are simplified. Most music contains even more layers and sounds,
and it isn’t always just about the instruments being utilized. More complex music has
melodies, harmonies, counter lines, vocals, guitars, transitional elements, rhythms, beats,
high strings, low strings, high brass, low brass, and more. At its most complex, a piece
of music can have dozens of layers, each that contribute a vital part to the composition.
Video game audio engines can harness the power of layers to make music dynamic,
immersive, and interactive. See figure 4.4 for a simple example.
The example in figure 4.4 has a number of elements that can be played at the same
time, to make up the layers of the track. This is one possible way to conceive, compose,
arrange and mix a track for a game to create countless variations in sound and energy
level. Played all together, it would be of the highest energy and a complete musical
idea. If you strip away either of the upper layers, the music still works, just with much
FIGURE 4.4
Chart showing musical layers for added intensity.
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less energy. So, the “Basic Simple Layer” might be no more than drones and chords,
with little or no extra rhythms or melodies. It creates mystery and perhaps a bit of ten-
sion, but minimally. The upper layers add increasingly more energy through rhythm,
additional melodic elements, and percussion hits.
Scenario: You are in an exploration mode in a game. Music enters with only the
“Basic Simple Layer” being heard. As the potential for danger grows, the game engine
can add (or gradually fade in) the second “More Energy Layer” to give the music more
tension. Now the music has some more structure and energy, but just enough to in-
dicate potential harm for the character. All the layers are always aligned in time, even
if you don’t hear them.
Suddenly, an enemy pops out from somewhere, and you must run to stay alive!
Now the game engine adds the “Highest Layer,” also in sync with the other layers.
By itself, it may not make sense, but added to the initial layers it gives the composi-
tion a blast of energy to provide the needed excitement. This is how a relatively small
amount of music can lead to long sections with a lot of variability and breadth.
So, why not just switch to a different piece when the enemy suddenly appears,
instead of adding another layer to a track already playing? Both are completely valid
methods and technically just as easy. If the game allows for the option of returning
to a lower-energy music, having layers come in and out will be likely more cohesive.
However, if the energy isn’t going to diminish once the enemy is present, then starting
a new piece usually makes more sense. It’s up to you, alongside the game’s developers
and audio director on a case-by-case basis. The game’s structure and emotional goals
help inform which decision is the best.
TRANSITIONS
In some cases, a developer may ask for a track to have several sections to cover all the
action of a scene or level. While these could be created as separate pieces, thinking of
them as parts of a bigger whole can give the music far more cohesion and drama. As
the dangers and risk of an action or battle game level continue to rise, the music must
be able to match the energy. A single piece of music that gets bigger and more intense
will get broken down into smaller tracks by the developers. It’s just a choice they make
for technical reasons. For example, you could be asked to compose a piece with four
loopable sections, each with an increasing level of energy. Instead of adding layers as
described above, the game will jump from one loopable section to another, as needed
for the action. It’s a more structural approach with a deep sense of musical form. It
feels very cinematic and score-like while remaining completely interactive once imple-
mented into the game audio engine.
Regardless of the length of any section you create, the gameplay may call for a sud-
den change in energy at any moment, even right in the middle of a musical section or
melody. A game might trigger a change in the middle of a section to jump to another
section with higher energy. This can be accomplished in a couple of ways: The audio
engine can be set to leap to a new section on the next beat, next bar, or not until a sec-

MUSIC IN PLAY: SCORING GAMES
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tion ends in full. At higher tempos, it’s fine to have the system wait and jump on the next
bar line to keep the transition from feeling like a hiccup. Slower tracks might need to
transition on the next beat, so it doesn’t feel too far behind the shift in the action. Usu-
ally, this approach will be decided by the game developers before the project begins. In
some cases, pieces can play out to the segment end and a transitional segment can play
before the next section enters, helping to create a more organic and musical atmosphere.
In order to create the most musically possible transitions, game scores use short
transition pieces created and mixed as separate pieces, then used to bridge the cur-
rently playing section and the next section. Often, they are just a couple of beats, or
a bar or two in length. A transition track can play on top of the outgoing piece or be
inserted between two sections. As a transition, it can accomplish a few different goals:
the main one is to make a transition from one mood to another as musically sounding
as possible. For example, if you have written a looping section like the one in figure
4.5 for a more exploratory or mystery section.
FIGURE 4.5
Example of lower energy section.
Author
It plays and loops well. It has low to medium energy. Then, you write another piece
for when an enemy appears, as shown in figure 4.6.
FIGURE 4.6
Example of higher energy section.
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Having the game audio engine jump from the first example to the second example
ups the energy as desired, but it will likely be jerky and not very smooth musically.
To get around that, you can write a small transitional section to be triggered to play
between the two main sections, in order to make the transition seem more composed
(figure 4.7).
FIGURE 4.7
Example of transition section.
Author
The first section loops until some action in the game triggers the transition, which
will only play once. The transition then leads directly into the next higher energy sec-
tion. The end result sounds like a well-crafted piece of music that starts quieter and
ends more exciting.
MUSIC MIXING FOR GAMES
Just like film and episodic music, the technical aspects of mixing music for video
games is dependent upon the unique specifics that each developer requests. A conver-
sation with the game developer’s audio director is essential before preparing to mix.
Music is typically mixed in stems (an audio file that contains a mix of all the tracks
from a particular category, such as just the orchestra, just the drums, just melodies,
etcetera), either stereo or surround, and loudness levels are very carefully monitored.
It’s not unusual for a developer to ask for the music to be averaged at a very specific
level, and no louder.
Generally, developers like the option of multiple stems in order to create the inter-
active musical variations mentioned above.
VIRTUAL REALITY (VR) AUDIO
Mixing for VR games adds a few new challenges and possibilities—the position of
a player’s head is used to determine the placement of certain sounds. This is called
“Head Related Transfer Functions” (HRTF). As a player turns their head to one side
or another, HRTF creates the illusion of objects in the game either moving or holding
still. If you are looking right at something making a sound, and then you turn your
head to the left, the sound will now be coming predominantly into your right ear. VR

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uses this normal phenomenon to simulate a more realistic sound space. It has brought
about a new style of mixing called ambisonic, or spatial audio, mixing depending on
the audio environment used for the game or immersive experience.
Special audio software is used to place sounds or music in a virtual 360-degree
space as opposed to the more traditional stereo or 5.1 surround. Sounds can be desig-
nated to follow and track the player’s head position or remain in their original place.
These are options decided by the developer and passed on to the composer, who can
decide how to handle this with their mixing engineer. Ambisonic or spatial mixing is
primarily used more for sound effects and dialogue than for music. Most people find
it distracting if elements of the score move around their head. One exception would
be for any diegetic music, which is music coming from a source seen in the game itself,
like an onscreen musician, video screen, radio, or music coming from inside a build-
ing. Then, the game would want the audio to move as the player looks around. There
could also be a case to use music to assist a player’s choice of movement direction.
Video game and interactive technology has far more range and choices than feature
films or a TV series audio. Delivering your score in a structure and format that gives
the developers the most flexibility and options will be appreciated.
TESTING
Game scores can be anything from a handful of loops to dozens of tracks to cover a
complex map of possibilities. As a score is being composed, it is very useful to test out
the score to hear how well the loops and transitions are working. The easiest way to
do this is to download some of the available audio middleware software. Fortunately,
most middleware is free for personal use. Feed your rough mixes into it and then test
it out to confirm that everything sounds as expected. It’s valuable for aspiring game
composers to learn the bare minimum of middleware in order to test each section
interactively and deliver basic middleware files with the music embedded.
GAME TIME
There is a rich diversity of music styles in video game soundtracks. Games tap into the
musical worlds of fantasy, drama, epic action, rock, pop, punk, retro, and all the way to
ambient, chill, folk, world, and comedic. There’s not much left out. Without the need
to carefully follow dialogue and picture edits, there is a level of musical “purity” that a
composer can really enjoy when scoring video games. Music is free to follow its own
organic structure—at least to a point. There is a desire on the part of many video game
developers to allow music to push some boundaries and be a bit more experimental
and bolder. You can’t underestimate the intensity desirable for combat game scores.
Game genres cover a broad range as well—from simple matching puzzles to mystery
adventures, to sports arenas and racing, to fighting monsters, and all the way to out-

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and-out warfare. With such a broad range of gaming styles, it’s not unexpected that the
range of potential musical options is also broad and interesting. Scoring a video game,
just like composing on a film or series project, is a close collaboration between musical
artist and the creators, in this case, the video game developers. It’s just as vital to keep
very open and clear communication to determine needs, desires, and feedback.
It’s not surprising that video game developers look for musical collaborators with a
high level of stylistic integrity and who are capable of very high production quality. The
added layers of technology that make game music fully interactive isn’t complex at its
core. However, it involves some degree of practice and insight to take advantage of fully,
while still maintaining the highest level of musical emotion. Making a transition from
film or episodic works to video games isn’t as big a leap as many people make it out to be,
and you shouldn’t feel any amount of intimidation on your part. Take what you know as
a composer and apply it to the opportunities given by interactive audio. Video games are
still about storytelling, plot, characters, and a dramatic arc of some kind. It may be more
convoluted and complex than a movie script, but good music is always good music.

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GAME PERSPECTIVES
Sarah Schachner
Video Game Composer
Sarah Schachner is a composer, producer, and multi-
instrumentalist based in Los Angeles. Her credits in-
clude Assassin’s Creed Valhalla, Call of Duty: Modern
Warfare, Anthem, Assassin’s Creed Origins, Call of
Duty: Infinite Warfare, Assassin’s Creed Unity, and the
series “Chef’s Table.”
Jeff Rona: What’s your musical background, and how
well did it prepare you for a career as a composer? What
did it omit?
Sarah Schachner: I grew up playing in a family band
and learned piano and violin at a very young age. I started with classical music and
branched out into jazz, rock, and other genres, playing in a wide variety of bands and
ensembles. I gravitated more towards improvisational styles, but I spent the first half
of my life playing in orchestras, so that gave me some intuitive, experiential knowledge
to draw from when later writing for orchestra.
In retrospect, having a background as a musician and performer has been the single
most helpful thing in my composing career. The piano and violin foundation made it
easier to learn other instruments along the way, as I became more interested in writing
and production. Early on in my career when there were limitations with recording and
budgets and I had to produce mockups very quickly, I utilized my own performances
on live instruments and even vocals, wherever I could to enhance the samples and add
depth. What started out as a solution to a limitation has actually become the defining
characteristic of my process and how I developed my own personal sound.
JR: How did you find your way into composing professionally? Were there any people or
situations that helped you along the way?
SS: When I first moved to Los Angeles, I initially went down the common path of
finding work helping other composers in any way possible, as that seemed like the
thing you had to do. It began with running errands, getting coffee, and eventually led
to writing full time on their projects. I got experience on everything from trailers to
television, to big film and video game projects. After a few years of that, there was a
FIGURE 4.8
Sarah Schachner
Author

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turning point and I made the decision to stop writing music for other people. It was
scary to turn down paying work on big projects when the alternative was unemploy-
ment, but I knew I needed to figure out my own path and protect my creative voice if
I had any hope of having my own career.
I learned a lot during those early years, and discovered, to my surprise, that I loved
scoring video games. There was a level of artistic freedom that I hadn’t yet experienced
in film or TV and that excited me. Having previously worked on a number of Ubisoft
games, there eventually was an opportunity to submit my own demo for the next As-
sassin’s Creed. I’m forever thankful to Bénédicte Ouimet, a Ubisoft music supervisor
who believed in me early on and had the audio team judge the demos blindly, which
is rare. I was hired for the game, and that was really the start to everything. I learned
a valuable lesson that defining your own boundaries and knowing when to step away
and say “no” can be just as important as saying “yes.”
JR: What do you feel is unique about composing for video games versus linear media,
and how does it affect the way you approach it?
SS: I like to describe game music as “nuanced emotional states.” It’s generally not
linear in the way that film and TV music is, although parts of the game may call for
that. You can be writing a two-minute piece of music, but it might need to loop and
play for three minutes, or maybe only the first thirty seconds depending on what the
player does. It’s a different headspace to create music that functions as an emotional
and/or energetic state untethered from the linear passage of time.
Action/combat-driven music often requires a certain vertical density and struc-
ture that differs from narrative/harmonically driven film or TV music. For games,
you must create music with stems in mind so that different intensity versions of the
piece can be triggered and match what the player does in real time, particularly in
big open world games. Game music and implementation is complicated and techni-
cal, but it’s also very freeing to create away from picture and dialogue. When writing
hours of music for a single project, there is a lot of room for experimentation and
it’s been a great exercise in loosening up and learning to think more conceptually.
Ironically, scoring games has given me a lot of insight into how to more effectively
score film and TV.
JR: How do you personally tell a story with music?
SS: I’m always amazed at how infinite the possibilities are at expressing emotion through
sound, frequencies, textures, and even mixing. I’m usually trying to elicit a visceral
response with sound to create emotional states from which melodies, rhythms, and
gestures can arise, like how our fleeting thoughts and feelings arise out of consciousness.

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I’m a big fan of stripping melodies down to their simplest form and I’ll spend crazy
amounts of time editing down, iterating, simplifying and deleting things. When work-
ing with analog synths, or a blend of electro-acoustic sounds, I think about frequency
ranges as story narrators in addition to melody and harmony. Something simple like
strategically omitting and bringing in sub-bass at just the right moments for instance,
can completely change or punctuate the story without having to write anything else.
Playing with how defined and close something is recorded, or how filtered and far
back something sits in the mix is a great way to gently draw the listener in, or sonically
smack them in the face. Production/mix choices give a whole other layer of control
over how the story unfolds.
JR: How do you decide on the approach of a new score—sound design, unique instru-
ments, style, and themes? How would you define a “Sarah Schachner score”?
SS: I start with broad strokes exploring textures and moods to capture the essence of the
project, and I’m always gathering kernels of inspiration from all types of music and art.
I’m looking for distinctive sounds or instruments that have character and convey the
right emotions. Once I’ve honed in on a starting palette, I’ll begin recording source ma-
terial with myself, as well as other soloists, to essentially create my own library of perfor-
mances and audio to work with throughout the score. In this phase, I’m experimenting
with textures, rhythms, and melodic gestures that can work in many different contexts.
I’ve even traveled to Scotland to record one of the few people in the world who play an
ancient Celtic horn called the carnyx. I put a lot of thought and effort upfront into find-
ing interesting evocative sound sources that become an integral part of the score.
From there, I start developing melodic themes and harmonic language that set the
right tone for the project. Sound design and composing merge together into one fluid
process and I enjoy blurring the lines between synthetic and organic/acoustic ele-
ments. A common thread throughout all of my scores is the use of improvisation and
my own instrumental performances. I often will resample pieces of my performances
and transform them into something totally new.
JR: What advice would you give to an aspiring composer who is interested in scoring games?
SS: Find that thing that’s unique to you. Having a distinctive sound is ultimately more
valuable than being a chameleon, so follow what excites you. Be mindful of becoming
too reliant on the endless sample libraries that everyone has access to. A bit of human
imperfection in your music can be a good thing. If you play instruments, utilize those
skills and develop a personal sound with your production as well as your writing be-
cause composers today are expected to compose, produce, and mix their music at a
professional level.

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And just so you know, it’s totally normal to feel like you have no idea what you’re
doing every time you start a new project. Getting past that blank slate phase into the
creative flow is just as much a part of the process and totally okay! Most importantly,
find joy in learning and incrementally improving, and the rest will follow. And don’t
beanasshole...
Jack Wall
Composer
Jack Wall is one of the pioneers of video game music,
whose credits include Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold
War, II, III & IV, Lost Planet 3, Mass Effect 1 & 2, Jade
Empire, Splinter Cell, Myst, III and IV.
Jeff Rona: Did you study music formally?
Jack Wall: I never went to school for music. I actually
have a bachelor of science degree in civil engineering.
After I got out, I became a bartender while I gathered
my thoughts about what the next step in my career
would be. I decided to move to Boston to go to school for Music Production and En-
gineering. While I was bartending, I had a band. We went into a studio for a weekend
and cut a demo. I just fell in love with the process of recording. I knew that’s what I
wanted to do with my time. Over the next eight years, I became a recording and mix
engineer, and moved to Manhattan to test the waters there.
I was a mix engineer recording at a number of different studios in Manhattan. Sky-
line Studios was where [producer] Nile Rodgers was set up for many years, producing
the B-52’s, Madonna, David Bowie, and tons more. It was a beautiful place.
JR: So, you were working in pop music?
JW: Yeah. Whatever came through the door really. Before I worked there, I was at a
studio mostly known for dance music, hip-hop, and rap. RuPaul had a room there! I
remember he used to do a lot of dance records before he went into being a successful
TV host.
But through connections I made over many years, I started working with engineer
Tony Maserati. He had a network of engineers that he would call on to work with differ-
ent artists. Through him, I worked with Sean Puffy Combs, Biggie Smalls, and Notorious
B.I .G . It was a fascinating world. It wasn’t my world, but it was totally fascinating.
FIGURE 4.9
Jack Wall
Author

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Eventually I moved to Los Angeles. But at the time, recording studios were going
out of business and people would only hire me to be an assistant engineer. I had al-
ready done that and didn’t want to fight my way back into something better. At the
same time, I had an opportunity to write some music for a video game. I’d just gotten
married, and my new wife was in a band at night, and during the day she was a game
designer. She had some contacts, and we got asked to write some music for a game.
So, she and I wrote our first score together.
She went off to do other things—writing for theater and opera. And I’m here still
doing video games, as well as some TV and film.
JR: How many video games would you say you’ve worked on?
JW: It’s so funny, I hear some guys say, “I’ve done 900 games.” I maybe do two or three
a year and I’m good. I’ve been doing it for twenty years, so I would say somewhere
between forty and sixty that I’ve touched. I mean it’s not necessarily that I’m doing
three hours of music for everyone, but some I’ll do a couple minutes for it. But most
of the stuff I do, I do the whole score.
JR: What is unique about the process of writing, producing, and delivering a game score?
JW: At the end of the day, it’s all about story. We’re storytellers, musical storytellers.
Sounds a little bit contrived to say that, but that’s really what we’re doing. To tell the
story in a game, it really depends on the game. Every game is different. How you tell
that story. I feel if I’m doing a game like Mass Effect, that’s a very story-driven, it’s an
RPG—a role-playing game. So, there are a lot of story elements. BioWare, the company
that made those games, they invented this thing called the conversation wheel. With your
game controller you respond, almost like a multiple-choice question. Every time some-
body says something, you have a multiple-choice answer to that. It’s not telling you what
to say, it’s telling you the gist of what you’re going to say. Then once you select that, you’ll
hear what the next line of dialogue is without really knowing what it is. It drives the story
forward and informs how you’re going to answer the next question. So, there’s a real
story, a narrative going on that you are creating as you go along, you’re led to create.
Those are my favorite kind of games to write for. Because, when you’re in those
conversation moments, you’re really creating an underscore that tells the story of
what is happening in that conversation, and where that conversation is going to next.
And the musical transition to the next thing makes it feel really cinematic! If you can
nail the transition to what happens next—whether it’s an action, event, a place you’re
going to explore—you’re figuring out the next bit of this puzzle you’re trying to solve.
You’re really underscoring that.

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JR: So, you’re writing music in a modular, “cellular” way. You’re writing a lot of little
pieces that connect. How do you do those connections? How do those important transi-
tions happen?
JW: I’ve heard a lot of different philosophies on how that happens. Some people are
really concerned about what key it is in. How do we go from one key to another? In
my first ten years of my career, transitions were just abysmal. The technology didn’t
really exist to make those transitions in the game engine software. You had to really
suffer to get that right. Now you can use a tool like Wwise, which is a powerful interac-
tive software tool that allows the game engine to work closely together with the game
audio and music.
JR: Do you feel it’s critical as a composer to have a tool like Wwise in your studio and
use it as part of the writing process?
JW: No, I do not. I think it’s really critical that there is a team of people working with
that tool who are really talented. It is a full-time job to do that. I can write the score
and I can do that, but it’s going to take twice as long. Because it’s really a very time-
consuming process, but I’ve done it.
JR: Do you have somebody who puts your music into the Wwise engine as a way to
preview your transitions so you could make adjustments?
JW: By 2007, Wwise became a really viable thing. I learned it and implemented all
the music in Mass Effect 2. I swore I would never do that again, because it’s such a big
job. The video game industry has matured to the point now where it has created a job
just for that aspect of implementing music into a game. To the point where there are
people who, that’s all they do. So, I don’t have to do that anymore. Unless you’re work-
ing on an indie title, then you might have to it yourself. But a large game developer will
have their own staff that will handle that.
JR: With themes or melodies in film or TV, there’s already a pace. The dialogue and
picture edits are all there. It’s a purely reactive process for a composer to shape melodies
or other material around everything onscreen. Is it the same or different in video games,
when you don’t know how that’s going to be timed out?
JW: I think writing for film and TV is so much easier than video games. Video games
have this unknown aspect. The player can do anything they want at any time. There

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are so many different things that can happen, and you can’t necessarily write music for
every single thing that happens. And if you did, it would sound disjointed and weird
and choppy and stupid. So, we craft moments for melody, and usually those are the
important moments. Maybe it’s a “cinematic” [a preset, non-interactive transitional
scene within a game], which is basically the same as writing for a linear piece of film.
That’s why they call them “cinematics.” It’s a little film. We treat those with a lot of
importance. They’re often scored like a trailer or film.
When I’m writing a game, I will do everything I can at the beginning of the process.
This can take a couple of months, because it’s not easy to get these, but I’ll ask for a script
or the story treatment, or the dialogue—even just an outline about how the gameplay is
supposed to flow. I’ll get these story and gameplay diagrams just to get a sense of how
it will go. I always try to distill that experience into a linear musical concept because it’s
always linear at the end. So, I distill all this into a linear musical form from beginning
to end of the game. I think about the sections where you’ve beaten the game, where the
high story points are, the “11th-hour” moment where things look really grim and there’s
no possible way you’re coming back. All the key dramatic points in the gameplay.
Just like a film, basically everything’s a three-act play, no matter what. You can dis-
till it into that, and I try to do that right at the beginning. I can write the theme for this
high point or another. Once I get all my themes done, like the beginning theme, the
11th-hour theme, etc., I do all that and the rest writes itself because I have my melodies
and themes. That’s the glue that keeps it all as one score to me.
JR: Is there a way for a theme to come in at those exact moments you want them to?
JW: I use different compositional techniques in the final gameplay. I’ll fragment or in-
vert the melody or not use melody at all. I may use the basis from a cinematic perhaps.
One of the biggest things that always concerns me about scoring a game is that
you never know when you’re done writing. A big game can be a twenty-to-forty-hour
playing experience, depending on the game. You’re not writing twenty to forty hours
of music certainly. So, you need to figure out what is the optimal amount of music to
write to fill that time. How do you fit two to three hours of music into a forty-hour
experience? A lot of it has to do with the implementation. When I write for film and
television, I’m delivering audio stems—separate tracks for each element of the music,
for each piece I write. My stems might be:
■ orchestra long
■ orchestra short
■ choir
■ percussion high
■ percussion low

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When you add them all up, it’s the final mix. In games it’s no different. I deliver all
my music as stems. The audio directors say, “Wow, there’s gold in there. We love this
big piece of music you wrote, but this one pad is perfect for this one spot over here.”
That helps glue things together even more. It’s very unique in that you can just use
elements of a piece of music to create a longer score.
It’s weird sometimes. They will release a game with my score, and, for example,
somebody will reach out and say, “When we’re in Lara’s world in Mass Effect, there’s
this one piece of music in this one spot that’s amazing.” The truth is I have no idea
what’s in there because I didn’t put it in there. Or maybe I did, but I can’t remember
I put it in there. I’ll listen to it and it’s actually just the pad stem from a piece I wrote
for elsewhere in the game.
JR: What are the necessary tools that a new composer needs to really be “desirable” and
ready for scoring games?
JW: The most important thing is to be a problem solver, not a problem creator. There are
so many stories of people who are super talented but are just not easy to get along with.
So, I put that at the top. Developers and producers just won’t work with a composer if
they’re hard to deal with. You are there to solve problems. Their problem is simple. They
need good music that works in their game. That’s what they need. That’s your job, to
help their vision. Understanding that is going to help your career immensely.
The second thing is to just be really good at your job. Keep learning new things
every single day. Every day I get up and the first thing I do is spend one hour learn-
ing something new. If you continually do that, each year you will spend 365 hours
just learning new things. It’s amazing what it does in terms of the overall quality of
your work. It just keeps going up. Just anything that you’re interested in learning. For
example, I’m pretty terrible at synthesis. I’m spending time right now taking online
classes about the Minimoog, and different things I’ll be working on this year. I did
that many years ago for Mass Effect, but I’m a little rusty at it. I’m starting to relearn
a lot of that stuff.
So, keep learning new things. If you’re not on a heavy deadline, spend more than an
hour a day learning new stuff, because you have the time. Don’t waste it.

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Wilbert Roget II
Video Game Composer
Wilbert Roget II is an award-winning veteran video
game composer. He joined LucasArts as a staff com-
poser in 2008, where he scored several games in the
Star Wars universe, including Star Wars: The Old
Republic and Star Wars: First Assault. As a freelance
writer, he scored AAA and indie video games such
as Mortal Kombat 11, Call of Duty: WWII, the Emmy
Award-winning Star Wars: Vader Immortal, Guild
Wars 2: Path of Fire, Lara Croft and the Temple of
Osiris, Destiny 2: Forsaken, Anew: The Distant Light.
Jeff Rona: What was your musical upbringing, and
what most helped you form your musical character?
Wilbert Roget: I started taking piano lessons at age four and continued with clas-
sical instruction throughout high school. Around that time, I discovered two video
games that changed my life—Mortal Kombat and Final Fantasy 7. The former was
my first gaming obsession, and the latter was the score that convinced me to become
a game composer.
My composition “training” was in the form of transcribing game scores of the era,
mainly Japanese roleplaying games on the Super Nintendo and Playstation 1. This
experience taught me not only the construction of the music in these classic Japanese
scores, but also gave insights into why they wrote scores this way. For the rest of high
school and college, I wrote original music for dozens of indie games and films, and
taught myself several instruments (flute, clarinet, trumpet, trombone, and violin) to
better understand orchestration. I also developed a strong appreciation of world music
around this time, particularly Bulgarian and Irish folk music.
JR: Looking at a video game score as a whole, how do you organize your ideas and de-
cide what goes where?
WR: Generally speaking, higher-profile games have teams dedicated to implementa-
tion, supervision, and music editing. So, the details of implementation usually aren’t
up to the composer—these specifics can be iterated upon long after my involvement
is complete. But before I write, I like to consider the “journey” of the player from a
bird’s-eye view of the entire game’s narrative, building a progression from start to end.
FIGURE 4.10
Wilbert Roget II
Author

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I always begin by brainstorming lists of random ideas, which I compile into an
online accessible document that allows me to jot down new ideas anywhere and have
access later on when I’m back in my studio. For example, I might hear an interest-
ing rhythm in a pop song or an evocative harmonic texture in a grunge track, while
working out at the gym, and I can take note to study these songs later using an app
on my phone. Or maybe I’ll think of other more abstract concepts while researching
the game itself; for example, “This faction should sound grey and blue, whereas this
other one is red and yellow.” Or sometimes I’ll do detailed analyses of various songs
or cues, or perhaps entire film scores. And when studying new genres, I always begin
by transcribing passages of other music in the style.
Either way, my pre-composition and research culminates in these types of brain-
storms, analyses, and transcriptions. Once I’m ready for the composition stage, I begin
with paper sketches, before finally producing the music in my DAW.
JR: What do you find the most challenging about scoring games—technically, logisti-
cally, or creatively?
WR: The technical and logistic challenges of every game project vary greatly, and
in some cases, wrapping my head around the musical restraints of a complicated
implementation system has been the most difficult aspect. But I think the greatest
fundamental challenge of any media composer is interpreting what each project re-
ally needs from the music. We have to balance several forces: what the client asks for,
what we want to do, and what we think the player wants to hear. Each of these aspects
are important, and when they contradict each other it can be difficult to satisfy them
all. Add to that the reality that music direction can change due to shifts in the game’s
development, and the fact that clients don’t always ask for what they actually want,
and it becomes apparent that defining and interpreting the music direction is the most
important and difficult aspect.
JR: What are the vital elements of a great game score? How do you see them as different
from good scores for films or a series?
WR: Much like film and television, a great game score must elevate the work and bring
a new dimension to the storytelling, going beyond what’s visually obvious and creating
a unique identity for the project as a whole. I also personally believe that great scores
should hold up on their own, separate from the visuals—I don’t necessarily agree with
the opinion that scores should be “invisible,” or that the best soundtracks are the ones
players/viewers don’t notice. Each of our mediums requires a carefully planned ebb

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and flow between score, sound, voice, and visuals, with each element having a moment
to take center stage.
Perhaps the main difference is in the way this balance is achieved with an inter-
active medium. Because gameplay determines the pacing, we need to use different
techniques to plan for and execute changes in musical intensity. The greatest scores
are the ones that achieve this seamlessly while providing a satisfying, memorable
musical experience.
JR: What advice can you give to an aspiring composer looking to work in video games?
What do you wish someone told you when you were just getting started?
WR: In terms of the business aspect, my advice is to simply surround yourself in the
work and the industry. Read development articles and blogs across all disciplines
of game development—the art, engineering, design, and audio—and nurture real
friendships with as many talented developers as possible across all disciplines and
experience levels. These friendships may eventually translate into potential work
partnerships later on, but more importantly, they will serve as your inspiration and
support along the way.
Creatively, I think it’s important to be versatile, self-aware, but also self-forgiving.
A composer should never write the same piece twice. So, with that in mind, be com-
fortable with the fact that the first piece of every score will undoubtedly be the most
difficult to write, often to an absurd degree. It may even feel like you’ve lost the ability
to write music! But once you finish those early cues, questions will be answered, and a
workflow will develop. By the end of a production, writing new pieces will be second
nature. And as you finish score after score, this initial feeling at the beginning of each
project will become familiar and welcome. Unique challenges always result in the most
interesting music!

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REALITY: SCORING DOCUMENTARIES
Documentaries are often a labor of love. They are an important contribution to cul-
ture and society. Injustices and human rights abuses are brought to light. Innocent
lives have been saved, criminals have been brought to justice, and vital environmental
problems have been addressed, all because of their exposure to the public through
documentary films and series. Not to be confused with news, they bring more than
just facts or information about a subject, and typically reflect the passions and curi-
osity of the filmmaker. Most documentaries are not designed to be purely objective.
They have a definite perspective that the filmmaker wants to impart to the audience.
Simply choosing to point a camera at a subject lends credibility and importance.
Further refining the message to bring the filmmaker’s own opinions or response is
elemental to documentaries, short and long.
With that in mind, the role of music is just as important in documentaries as in fic-
tional dramatic work. Having scored numerous documentaries, I can say they’ve been
some of the most enjoyable and satisfying experiences in my scoring career. The same
basic principles of scoring drama count; there is the knowledge that these projects help
connect an audience to the real world in unexpected ways.
Taking everything you know about writing music with clear-cut emotional impact,
apply these few simple principles to scoring in the documentary format:
■ Make it entertaining.
■ Stay out of the way when the audience needs to listen carefully.
■ Don’t give away the ending.
■ Immerse the audience in the emotions of the subject without telling them what to
think by making the score too “on the nose.”
While the purpose of any documentary is to educate and inform the audience,
it is also media, and so it needs to engage the attention of the viewers by being as
entertaining as possible. In order to bring a complex or difficult topic to life, many
documentary filmmakers go out of their way to add as much visual appeal as possible.
Often, documentaries may spend time delivering background information vital to
understanding the situations being presented. In order to bring the viewer up to speed
before delving into the specifics of the main topic, projects may cover complex themes
such as the history of human rights, scientific topics, nature topics, medical and health
topics, environmental topics, and fairly substantial history or science lessons. Music is
an important element of these sections that might otherwise be fairly dry.
Like their fictional counterparts, a documentary may have a leading character or
characters, heroes, villains, twists and surprises, comedy, tension and drama, and an

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emotionally cathartic ending. So, documentaries have many of the same opportunities
for score to help amplify all those emotional elements and character themes.
As a general (though unwritten) rule, documentary scores typically take a lower
key role than fictional dramas to avoid the sense of overindulgence in trying too hard
to sway the audience’s opinions with something other than the facts of the situation.
Good documentary scores are persuasive, but in subtler ways. Most documentaries
lean heavily on talking, both on camera and with narration. So, music that brings emo-
tion without distraction is the goal. There is a reason that minimalism in the style of a
Philip Glass or a similar style is so evocative for documentaries.
There is a tremendous sense of satisfaction in working on a film that can help
raise awareness of a problem facing humankind. Documentaries have freed innocent
people from prison, saved animal habitats, and brought an end to dishonest institu-
tions. They show us the beauty of the planet and remind us of what we might lose if
we ignore it. Documentaries also introduce us to truly inspiring people from the past
and present. It is an uplifting part of being a composer. On the downside, few docu-
mentaries pay a decent fee for music—they simply don’t have access to enough funds
to pay people what they are worth.
THE TIMES, THEY ARE (ALWAYS) CHANGING: SCORING INTO THE FUTURE
Call it trends, call it evolution, call it experimentation, or just call it what it is . . .
change. Where are scores going, and how is the field changing? Does the future of
style and music production for visual media look substantially different in the next
few years than it does now? Of course. How much more will the approach, process, or
technology of scoring evolve?
There are always experiments and developments with new forms of entertainment
for the web, computers, video game consoles, mobile devices, 3D, VR (virtual reality)
or AR (augmented reality) headsets and elaborate immersive and interactive site-
based experiences.
At the heart of people’s desire to be entertained, is the insatiable appetite every-
one has for stories and experiences. Whether through the written word, songs and
melodies, paintings, movies, episodic projects, video games, poetry, gossiping on the
phone, social media, DMs, or even graffiti, all people crave stories and experiences.
This is so basic to human nature. Creative artists spend their entire careers engaged
in creating works to satisfy that primary urge for stories. Even the most emotionally
repressed among us gets pleasure out of experiencing deep feelings. Those pleasures
can come from a love story as well as from a bloody, violent good-guys-versus-bad-
guys story. It doesn’t matter. We cheer for the hero and relate to them. We hope for
the villain’s demise, since it connects us to our sense of morality and fairness. Most
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It has been said that there are really only seven basic storylines:
1. Overcoming the Monster
2. Rags to Riches
3. The Quest
4. Voyage and Return
5. Comedy
6. Tragedy
7. Rebirth
Just about every movie, series, and video game will likely fit into one of these seven
archetypes. Yet the ability to retell these stories countless times with a fresh perspec-
tive and style is a testament to what creativity is all about—continuing to tell stories in
exciting and interesting new ways. Music fits into that paradigm nicely.
As music makers, we bring something special and unique to the world of media and
entertainment. No one truly understands what it is about music that makes it the most
emotional of all arts. What is it about making air vibrate in a specific way (the compos-
er’s canvas) that can make people laugh or cry, or simply feel things more deeply? We all
know it is true, but no one can truly explain why (though many have tried). Music plays
such a pivotal role in giving an emotional kick to everything it surrounds. Ultimately, it
makes little or no difference why. A scientific understanding of the power of music will
not help to create a single note or sound more beautiful than the ones we have.
Technology has always played a vital role in the arts. Going as far back as the crude
pigments used in cave paintings, visual arts have continually connected to the evolu-
tion of the available technology. New colors came about through advances in paint
chemistry. The advent of electricity gave life to theater in new ways. The creation of
the motion picture has probably had a more profound impact on the evolution of art
and culture than any other single creation in history, and continues to advance, year
after year. With the advent of digital technology advancing at such a rapid pace, the
ability for artists to express themselves in newer ways has never been more exciting.
And, that’s not likely to change anytime soon. AI (artificial intelligence) is starting to
find its way into music creation, not to replace composers (although there is some of
that) but to assist composers with tools to create fresh ideas in fresh ways.
The important thing to recognize is that with new technology comes new ap-
proaches to creating art. In the case of music, the creation of audio recordings put
music onto an entirely new path. After that came multi-track recording, which was,
itself, a substantial game-changer. Today, even a mobile phone has more power than
the best recording studios of fifty years ago. Technology has brought down the cost
of music production while, at the same time, boosting every aspect of creativity and
quality to new heights. Music production gets better, faster, and cheaper all at the same
time. It’s a profound shift, and it can’t help but influence creativity. Every stylistic

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option from abstract ambient soundscapes to epic orchestral scores is achievable to
a large majority of composers now. The ability to synchronize video and music has
become simple and inexpensive. The ability to collaborate with other artists online is
extremely advanced compared to how it was. Affordable computing hardware is in
orders of magnitude more powerful than it was just a few years ago. New generations
of hardware will always up the game.
The quality of DAWs, samplers, synthesis plug-ins, and advanced audio processing
is profoundly better than it ever has been. There is an entire industry built around
sampling what seems like every noise and musical instrument in the world for release
as a “sample library.” There are online shops with hundreds of thousands of loops and
other sounds from vintage drum kits to highly processed voices. There are companies
that only sell presets for all of the most popular audio plug-ins, making electronic
composition far easier and faster. Artificial intelligence algorithms are being used to
create more and more interesting sounds, rhythms, and patterns for use by any com-
poser or music producer.
The key point here is that artistic tools always influence artists creatively, and that’s
not a bad thing. It’s an inevitable part of the relationship between art and science.
New tools bring about new ways of working, and new ways of working bring about
new ideas, styles, and even genres. While there remain classic styles of orchestral and
electronic music that have been with us for a very long time, a lot of the music we now
hear in films, on a series, and in video games is markedly different than it was just a
few years ago. It’s not just the technology, it’s what the technology inspires in artists.
The technology does not create music, but it does empower creative artists to do new
and very exciting things. Modern technology has made our jobs easier, faster and less
expensive. Having a grasp of new technology is the single best thing an artist can do to
remain relevant and desirable in the eyes of those directors and producers looking for
fresh ideas to match up with their own fresh ways of telling even very archetypal stories.
It wasn’t all that long ago that the creation of MIDI and digital audio were radical
new tools for composers to use in making music. The technology has since exploded,
with the power to change how composers work. There will always be developments
that will improve our creative experiences continually.
In the meantime, we continue to make stories. We score moving images (the great-
est advance in storytelling technology history, even over the invention of the printed
book), write songs, jazz, musicals, operas, and symphonies. Anything we want.
We look for better technology with which to make our music, and for ways to send
that music out into the world for people to hear (and hopefully pay for). As new fo-
rums for our music come along, some of us will adapt to those methods. Others will
not. As someone once said, the song remains the same.

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CONCLUSION
In this section, you’ve taken a look at some of the basic creative elements of scoring.
Little has been said of the actual notes, harmony, instrumentation, and orchestration.
Those are for you to fill in for yourself. When you become a good listener, much of
what makes music effective is revealed. You’ve looked at those concepts that can help
or hinder a score from working. You’ve looked at examples of both to see how music
is shaped to work with pictures. You’ve also had a look at the work schedule that com-
posers go through on projects.
No two creative projects are the same. Some go smoothly, some are more difficult.
You put the bad experiences behind you and look forward to the next.
In section 2, you will look closer at the tools that you need to create your scores,
see how important they are, and how they can help you achieve the best possible
musical results.

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PERSPECTIVES
John Williams
Composer
John Williams’s contribution to scoring is simply in-
calculable. He has scored some of the most iconic films
of all times, such as the Star Wars trilogy, the Indiana
Jones films, the Harry Potter series, Superman, ET,
and Schindler’s List, along with virtually every Steven
Spielberg film ever made, and over one hundred other
films. Every score brims with style, authenticity, and
pure mastery. He is the most Oscar-nominated person
in history. He has inspired at least two generations of
young composers.
Jeff Rona: What do you feel makes a great film score?
For that matter, what makes a musically successful composer?
John Williams: A great film score could be defined as being one that supports the film
in a way that aids the drama, atmosphere, and story of the film, and the characters
within it. If, in addition to aiding the structure, the score can also develop melodic
identification for the characters, or for the locale of the story, it can make a significant
contribution. I think a film composer would be deemed successful if he or she can
serve the musical needs of the film, and also enjoy the benefit of being able to take the
music out of the film and have it stand on its own merit. Obviously not all film music
can accomplish this, since much of it is “accompaniment” in nature, but I think the
greatest film scores are the ones that, in addition to serving the film well, can have a
musical life of their own.
JR: What kind of advice have you received along the way?
JW: I obviously have been the beneficiary of a lot of advice from many wonderful
people. One of my earliest mentors was Stanley Wilson, who was the music director
at Universal Studios. During a very heated and rushed schedule, his advice to me was
“Get hold of a good tune and develop it throughout the film.” This may sound a bit
crude, but it’s actually good, solid advice.
FIGURE 4.11
John Williams
Author

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JR: What are the mistakes you have learned the most from?
JW: Fortunately, we all make mistakes! It is from our mistakes that we learn, by devel-
oping and applying a keen and objective sense of self-criticism.
JR: What words of advice do you have for a composer just starting out or interested in
becoming a film composer?
JW: My advice to beginners would be to develop craft. I think one should, if at all pos-
sible, write something every day, even if it’s only a few bars. Another suggestion would
be to examine and study the great works in the concert repertoire.
The business associated with film composition is something that I believe is at-
tached to the rewards of success. This field can offer a very gratifying career.
The essential key to success is being able to do the work well. And, I would go back
to my basic advice to composers (beginners and advanced alike), which is to make
composing a daily habit. Discipline in the craft is what pays off.
Ludwig Göransson
Composer
Ludwig Göransson is from Linköping, Östergötlands
län, Sweden. He is known for his scores to “The Man-
dalorian,” “The Book of Boba Fett,” “Community,”
Tenet, Venom, and Black Panther, for which he won
an Academy Award. As a producer, he has frequently
collaborated with Childish Gambino. His producing
work on Gambino’s single “This Is America“ earned
him two Grammy Awards for Record of the Year and
Song of the Year.
Jeff Rona: What was your background before you were scoring?
Ludwig Göransson: Growing up in Sweden, I was a guitar player. I started with listen-
ing to instrumental rock music, like Joe Satriani, Steve Vai, and Metallica. That was
the music that got me wanting to play and write music. I got into playing with some
progressive rock bands and that transitioned into jazz—thanks to discovering Pat
Metheny. I studied jazz and improvisation, starting in high school. I wanted to learn
to play fast and play those rock solos. It was all about practicing your instrument. In
FIGURE 4.12
Ludwig Göransson
Author

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my school, we also had music harmony and theory lessons every day. The high school
music education system is really great in Sweden, and you don’t pay to go to college.
You get paid from the government to go to college. For me, that was studying jazz
improvisation in Stockholm and at the Royal College of Music in London. When I
got there, everyone was a little older than me, and everyone was a lot better than me.
I’d never been in that position before. That was a difficult time. It took me one or two
years of practice, but then I was thriving.
But all through high school and college I knew I wanted to do film scoring. I just
didn’t know the path to get there. I could study film scoring and production in Swe-
den, but I knew that wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I knew that L.A. was the place
to be. And I bought The Reel World—that was my first introduction to the business. It
was very educational, explaining about how the business works.
JR: Was scoring different than you expected?
LG: I only thought about the creativeness of film scoring. I thought a composer gets
the picture, goes to his cabin and writes for six months, shows up at the scoring stage,
and they record everything, and then it’s done! That’s what I thought the business
looked like.
So, I went to the University of Southern California, and it was amazing. We had
access to everyone in the film music business, and they explained what it’s about. It’s
about the creative output, but it’s also about being organized, being on time, and being
open to criticism. If someone has a note, you learn to say, “Oh, that’s a great idea.”
One of the things that I found very useful from my earlier education was my train-
ing in improvisation. It’s a skill I use every day in my work. It gave me a bigger toolbox
in terms of finding different tools—sometimes it can be rhythmical, sometimes it’s
harmonic, sometimes it’s more about melody improvisation. Just finding new ways to
never be bored with yourself.
I was also one of the only people in my class that was really into production and
technology. I was pretty prepared.
JR: What is your writing process?
LG: When I start on something, I need to really focus and think about what I’m do-
ing. I have to take a couple of weeks or months, read the script, and try to hone in on
what I want to do. I start to build my own kind of sound world, kind of how a writer
or director makes choices in terms of colors or story. I need to find different fun ways
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Then I may get in front of my computer and load up a template with synths and
instruments and think to myself, “Okay, here we go.” Or I’ll sit at the piano and force
myself to do a little bit. But after a couple of days, if I’m not having fun, then I need
to get away from the computer. I need to get creative in terms of making new sounds
that inspire me. Sometimes, I may hire three or four musicians, get them into a room,
set a tempo, set a couple of chord changes, and have people jamming out. I do that on
every project. I’m creating my own sample library, my own palette. I love that part.
It’s all about improvisation. I like to be part of it, be one of the musicians. We’re all
playing together. That’s really a fun part for me. Just finding different sounds, like
whatever is in the script, or talking to the director. Find what the environments are,
where the characters are, or where the story takes place. I take that into consideration
when creating new sounds.
If I’m recording a world musician, we do some four or eight bar loops. I take some
of my favorite loops of that, and give them to Anthony Baldino, my sound designer,
and he runs it through his modular synth and makes sounds I wouldn’t think of.
JR: Did you have a mentor as part of your development?
LG: Oh, yes. On the plane over when I was moving to L.A., I watched a comedy called
Blades of Glory. It’s a great movie! And a year later I got my first job—working for
the composer who scored that movie, Theodore Shapiro. So much of the knowledge I
needed was through Theodore. Like I said, I knew music, and now I started learning
the business, and how you actually score a film. There is a lot of value in shadowing
someone that has experience and who’s also closer to the whole process. I worked for
him for about five years, being part of every step, where he thinks music comes in, all
the way to the revisions.
A lot of my work in the beginning was for comedies like “Community,” “New Girl,”
and “Happy Endings.” That was my intro to the business. I would never have been able
to score those TV shows if it wasn’t for my training with Teddy.
JR: You are a somewhat unconventional composer. People come to you looking for sur-
prises. How do you collaborate on a project?
LG: This is a very, very lonely job. You’re spending most of the time by yourself. How-
ever, I’ve been very fortunate to feel extremely close to the directors or other artists
with whom I work. We develop close friendships and a close connection. When we’re
spending time together, and I am working, it doesn’t feel like a job. It feels like hang-
ing out with friends. Director Ryan Coogler (Fruitvale Station, Black Panther) was
one of the first people I got to know in the US, and is one of my absolute best friends.

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Another collaborator, Donald Glover (“Atlanta,” Childish Gambino) is also one of my
earliest friends here in the States. When we’re creating together now, we still have the
same excitement we did when we were twenty-five years old, sitting in our dorms, and
me trying to score student films. It’s so special when you have collaborators you can
grow with. We’ve been together for ten years—since we were kids, really. More recent
collaborators, too. It’s important that you really get to know someone when you work
together. I try to get as much time as I can with a director. The more you get to know
each other, the more they can trust you. You want to work with people that make you
feel safe. You want to work with people that watch your back, dealing with the studios.
You want to work with people you feel trust you, and you feel you can trust them.
They’re not going to throw you under the bus. It’s been a privilege for me.
JR: Do you handle stress well? Do you ever feel overwhelmed?
LG: One of the things I noticed in my time at USC was that I was one of the few in my
class not freaking out every day. There was a lot of pressure, and other students didn’t
handle it well. I was the opposite. I would finish my assignments and then I went out
in the evenings to concerts or whatever. I didn’t dwell on things. It is very valuable in
this business to not be stressed. Working on TV shows, you may have to write thirty
minutes a week, and you can’t be stressed about it.
JR: Did you have any formal training in music production or mixing?
LG: No, I didn’t get any training in that. It was just my own passion. I bought my first
4-track tape recorder when I was about ten. When I was thirteen, my dad got me an
8-track digital multi-track recorder. Then I got my first DAW and a computer. They
were pretty crude back then. In high school, I got into listening to producers like Max
Martin, and I tried to learn that style of producing music. I would say I am a self-
taught producer and mixer.
JR: What’s the advice you give to somebody who’s thinking about going down this
career path?
LG: In school, I was always hanging out with all these different people. People playing
classical music, folk music, jazz, or even metal. And I was producing pop songs. I was
always interested in every kind of genre and style of music. I was excited to work with
as many people with completely different backgrounds to me. Even people who didn’t
have any education in music, but wow, they had a really interesting take on it.

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You have to find your own voice! I would say your voice is just whatever makes you
happy. As long as you’re having fun, you’re doing the right thing. I stop myself every
once in a while, and say to myself, “I’m writing this piece of music, but I’m not hav-
ing fun. I’m doing something wrong. This is not how it’s supposed to be.” So, I stop
what I’m doing and find a way to have fun while am creating. And the way I was able
to hone in on my own voice, whatever that is, was through being extremely open and
through being excited and open to always leaving myself open to different collabora-
tors, different musicians, different music styles. Depending on the project, you could
decide to do a jazz score for one movie, or a classical string quartet score for another
movie. But I wanted to score films so I could do a project and combine all these styles
and instruments, and glue it all together with modern production. Like the series
“The Mandalorian,” where I take all kinds of instruments and different musical styles
and from all different genres. You can put it together and through careful production
make it sound cohesive.
Carter Burwell
Composer
Carter Burwell is a New York-based composer whose
projects include No Country for Old Men, Adaptation,
Being John Malkovich, Fargo, Rob Roy, Raising Ari-
zona, The Founder, The Tragedy of Macbeth, Goodbye
Christopher Robin, Wonderstruck, Three Billboards
Outside Ebbing, Missouri, and many other films.
Jeff Rona: What were you studying in school?
Carter Burwell: I began in mathematics and ended up
in fine art. In my last year of school, I was avidly doing hand-drawn animations, but de-
veloping an interest in music. If I had been in school for another year, I probably would
have taken some music classes. Every year my interest changed fairly dramatically.
JR: What did you do before you were scoring film?
CB: I did a variety of things. Immediately upon leaving college, I was an animator; I
worked at a biology laboratory, and I was playing in a band. It was playing in a band
(not the animation or the laboratory) that got me into film scoring. The band was
called The Same, and we played around all of the usual clubs in New York from the
late ’70s to the early ’80s.
FIGURE 4.13
Carter Burwell
Author

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JR: What in all your background has contributed most to your musical style?
CB: Well, it might well be naïveté—lack of musical education. So that, compared to
many of the things I’ve done, which are cognitive functions, music is by far the most
intuitive thing that I do.
JR: Do you think that functioning from a “naïve” perspective has helped your process
and your style, or do you get frustrated?
CB: Well, I’ve always known that I could go off and take courses in music theory or
orchestration if I wanted to, and I have made an informed decision not to. That deci-
sion has been informed by the fact that I’ve been well educated in other things. So, I
know what education is, and I feel that it’s got pluses and minuses. Twenty years ago,
I made an arbitrary decision not to let education impinge on this one area of my life.
At that time, I had no idea that this one area of my life would become a career. At the
time, I was just keeping it safe from educational harm, and it just so happened that it
became a lot of my lifetime.
JR: Tell me your process of scoring for film.
CB: I’ll try to describe it in as chronological an order as I can. The first step is usually
reading the script in order to decide whether or not the film is worth pursuing. If I
decide to pursue it, and I do get the job, the next step is to actually watch a cut of the
film, sometimes with the director and sometimes on my own. I’ll discuss it with the
director in entirely verbal terms, what I think the score could lend to the film, and
what the director wants the score to do, which are often very different things.
JR: Do you hear music when you’re reading a script?
CB: Never . . . almost never . . . [laughs]
JR: Do you hear music when you watch the film’s rough cut?
CB: I don’t hear music, no, but I often have an immediate reaction in terms of the con-
tribution that the music could make to the film. I don’t hear notes when I watch a film;
that never happens. But I often have a strong feeling that there’s something the music
could bring to the film that’s not already there. Usually, then I sit at the piano and start
investigating themes. The piano is where I do most of my melodic/harmonic work.
I’m also doing sound design work, in terms of putting together a palette of sounds in
my synthesizers and samplers that will be appropriate for the film.

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Those two efforts go on simultaneously because, of course, they inform each other.
Sometimes the writing is more traditional, and it really can be done just at a piano. But
sometimes you really need to be coming up with sounds, and out of those sounds comes
harmonic structure or something suggesting melody. So, I try to do both of those things
at the same time. And I develop sketches of individual cues based on what I come up
with in terms of compositions and sounds, and play those sketches for the director.
JR: Is any of this done to picture at this point?
CB: That last stage is done to picture; when I say “individual cues,” I’m doing it to
picture. I will do all of this “free association” at the piano by myself. But when I play
things for the director, I find that it’s best for it to be synced to picture. That’s what
really interests the director; they want to hear the music synced to picture. They’re not
really interested in music just for music’s sake; they have to hear to picture. So, before
I play anything for the director, I will have it put it in some sort of sync to picture.
JR: And what typically happens from there for you?
CB: Either I’m fired, or we talk about what is or isn’t working with those sketches and
try to zero in on the things that the director and I agree on. Then I broaden out so I’m
writing more different parts for the film. There are a couple of possible ways I choose
that first cue. There is usually one scene in the movie that sets the tone for the whole
film musically. So, I’ll write that one first. Sometimes I just tackle the most difficult
area first; and think that if I’ve got a piece of music that works there, I know it’s going
to work everywhere else. Sometimes I’ll just start with the opening title because it’s
easier and I can go to town in terms of developing a full arrangement and a theme and
variation. It gives me more latitude in terms of tapping into the picture.
JR: Do you feel that you work in a way that is counter to that of other mainstream
composers?
CB: In terms of working process, I have no idea, because I don’t know what other
people do. I wouldn’t think that it would be that different, but I really don’t know.
In terms of how I approach the score and the function of the score, I think that it’s
different than that of some composers. I’ve sort of narrowed down that difference to
my interest in having music contribute something that is not already present in the
picture, as opposed to an interest in music supporting what is already present in the
picture. These are two perfectly valid approaches, and of course different movies will

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require different things. Sometimes I’ve worked on a film in which the subject matter
is so sincere and so free of irony that sometimes the music does need to simply support
what is being said. But, generally speaking, I don’t choose to work on those pictures
because that’s just not what interests me. So, I think that’s the distinction between
what I choose to do in film and what some other people decide to do, but I’m certainly
not alone in looking at it that way.
JR: Over the years that you’ve been scoring films, has your process or approach changed?
What have you learned “on the job”?
CB: Well, this is actually very much like the question of education we discussed ear-
lier, and my feeling about it is very similar. I think it’s terribly important for me to be
aware of what I don’t want to learn on the job. It’s easily as important as the things I
do learn, because there are a lot of aspects of this business and this work that defeats
imagination, innovation, and experimentation. These are just not qualities that are
valued in a huge business like this where the budget can grow so large. The costs of
many feature films demand a certain conservatism from the people making them.
“Demand” maybe isn’t the right word, but they certainly create a conservative and
sometimes fearful environment.
JR: And I’m sure you’ve scared a certain number of people over the years?
CB: I sure have! And they scare me back! I think it’s very important if you work on
a film and you have a disaster, like someone throwing your music out, or firing you
halfway through and rewriting your music, or taking your music and cutting it up
and completely rearranging it. All these things have happened to me, by the way,
though fortunately not often. These are all obviously disasters, and they hurt a lot.
To know what lessons should and shouldn’t be learned from them is very valuable.
You could easily take away the lesson that one must always listen to the directors and
producers and always do what they tell you to do. But that would be the wrong les-
son. You must try really hard to not learn that because, after all, what’s the real point
in trying to do what we try to do as composers. When I hear a film score that I don’t
like, it is almost always because the music is predictable—it’s not telling me anything
I wouldn’t have known anyway. It’s just rote film score that does nothing more than
support every moment of the film, and that’s not interesting to me as a viewer, lis-
tener, or composer. So, I choose not to learn all the technical and musical lessons that
make film score turn out that way. That’s not to say they’re not valid lessons. They’re
just not lessons I want to learn.

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JR: Do you ever find film scores that are inspiring?
CB: Yes.
JR: What do you think makes a great film score?
CB: For me there are two things: one is when you can sense that you’re in the pres-
ence of imagination. That’s exciting in any situation; it can be true if you walk into a
great building, read a book, or use a piece of well-written software. It’s very exciting to
just know that someone’s really made the effort of imagination. The other thing that’s
exciting to me is when a score is also musically stimulating. That’s much harder. Let’s
face it, they’re both diffuse concepts and they’re both very personal. I hear pieces that
are musically stimulating to me, and someone else wouldn’t find them so. But those are
the things that excite me about a film score, and that’s what we should all be aspiring
toward—to make efforts of imagination, and at the same time, write great new music.
JR: What’s your relationship with technology?
CB: I actually come to music from technology. I don’t think that I’d be doing this if
it weren’t for the technology. If I had had to write music with pencil on paper right
from my first score, I doubt I’d be doing it today. It would have been so slow, and the
resulting work would have been so half-done, I just wouldn’t be doing this. I had much
more of a background in computers and electronics than I had in music. When I de-
cided to do music, I came to it from a technological point of view. I started by studying
electronic music, computer music, and so I find technology to be an essential part of
this process. Now I also love just sitting and playing the piano. I did that before I got
involved in technology. I played piano when I was in high school, and I play piano
pretty much every day, as I have done all my life. When I play the piano, I don’t play
sheet music, I just sit and play. That is low tech! It’s still a technology of course, but it’s
important for me to have somewhere I can go and not have to turn a switch to make
music. To do film scoring, the technology is absolutely essential to me because of the
schedules involved, the logistics, and the orchestra. There’s no way I could write charts
for a large orchestra without technology and without the kind of tools that we have
now. So, it’s absolutely at the heart of what I do.
JR: What advice do you ever give to composers or musicians—people interested in get-
ting involved in film music?

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CB: The first question people usually ask when they’re looking for advice is: How
do they get work? And the first piece of advice I give them is that I’m a very poor
source for that information because I did not aspire to be a film composer. I had no
particular interest in it. I was asked to do my first film, Blood Simple, and when it
was released, people called and asked me to do other films. So, unfortunately, I’m
not a good source of information on how to get into the business, although my story
is similar to a lot of the other successful feature film composers that I know. This is
sad because it suggests that the very notion of wanting to be a film composer may
somehow even handicap you. That sounds a little absurd, and yet it may actually be
true. It relates to what we were speaking of earlier, as to what you should learn and
what you should refuse to learn.
I think that if you want to be a film composer because you’ve heard all these great
film scores and you love them or because you like working in the Hollywood milieu
with big stars and producers and directors—if those things attract you to it—that
may prevent you from writing interesting film scores because you’re being drawn
to a tradition rather than being drawn to a musical aspiration of finding your own
individual artistic voice and sound as a musician and composer. So, while I tell
young composers that I am not able to help them get a job, the one thing that may be
learned from my example is this: I was out there making music, regardless of having
a commission or having a job. I was out there making music because I just enjoyed
making music, I enjoyed playing in bands, and it was the fact that I was performing
my music that allowed people to hear it and then ultimately offer me this type of
work in film.
I think that people who wait for a commission or wait for the film industry to call
are perhaps making a big mistake. The opportunity is to just go out and play, put
together your own ensemble or work on student films, but those will always be the
best choices. We are so lucky to be able to be musicians. It’s something we can do by
ourselves. We’re not directors who need a crew and millions of dollars. Musicians and
performers can just write and perform themselves. When I first came to New York,
that’s what people were doing; that’s what guys like Philip Glass, Steve Reich, and all
the bands I knew were doing. They were just putting together their own ensembles,
doing their work, and not waiting for an industry to take notice.

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Michael Giacchino
Composer
Composer Michael Giacchino (pronounced “Juh-
key-no”) has credits that feature some of the most
popular and acclaimed film projects in recent his-
tory, including The Incredibles, Coco, Jojo Rabbit,
Ratatouille, Star Trek, Jurassic World, Rogue One:
A Star Wars Story, Mission: Impossible, Spider-Man:
Homecoming, Lightyear, War for the Planet of the
Apes, Spider-Man: No Way Home, The Batman, and
Jurassic World: Dominion. Giacchino’s 2009 score for
Pixar’s hit Up earned him an Oscar, a Golden Globe,
the BAFTA, the Broadcast Film Critics’ Choice
Award and two GRAMMY Awards.
Jeff Rona: Tell me a bit about your musical upbring-
ing and education. What are your musical memories, and how did any of your musi-
cal studies help, or not help, you become a composer for film, TV or games? Can you
look back on any “aha” moments in your life or career that helped shape your style
and approach to music?
Michael Giacchino: I grew up in the ’70s on Star Wars and Indiana Jones. It was then
that I realized how much the music in these films excited me, and how integral the
music was to the films as a whole. I remember devouring the liner notes of my Star
Wars album, wanting to know which instrument made which sound. Back then, the
only way you could relive a film was by listening to its soundtrack, so I began collect-
ing them. Everything from Jerry Goldsmith, to Bernard Herrmann, to Max Steiner (his
1933 score for King Kong is one of my favorites)—I would listen to them all and have
them playing as I’d fall asleep. And of course, John Williams. In addition to that, my
dad had a great collection of albums, and through him I discovered John Philip Sousa,
Peter Nero, Louis Prima, and classical music, too. My dad also had a wide variety of
international albums: Irish, Mexican, South American. I loved all the different colors
in these styles of music, and I was obsessed with the huge diversity among my dad’s
records. I could never have known that, later in my life, all of this music would serve
as a point of reference for the films I would work on. To this day, I am inspired by a
multitude of musical genres and love exploring anything I can get my hands on. But
originally, it was film music that I loved most, and that inspired me to make movies.
FIGURE 4.14
Michael Giacchino
Author

MUSIC IN PLAY: SCORING GAMES
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I ended up majoring in filmmaking at the School of Visual Arts in New York City. I
was the only student in a class of filmmakers who raised their hand when my professor
asked if anyone wanted to apply for an unpaid marketing internship at Universal Pic-
tures. I guess most students thought that marketing was totally unrelated to actual film-
making, but I figured it didn’t matter what position I had—as long as I was working in
the business, I would learn something about making movies. After graduating, I stayed in
New York City, working for Disney Marketing, and I began studying composition at Juil-
liard. It was the perfect time to revisit the original impetus for my interest in filmmaking.
When Disney transferred me to Los Angeles, I continued to study music at UCLA
night school. Before long, a producing position opened up in the newly formed Dis-
ney Interactive division, and through that I was able to write music for the early video
games they were developing. Later, working in a similar position at Interactive, my
boss asked me to write some music for a meeting he was having with Steven Spielberg
to discuss a new game: The Lost World: Jurassic Park. Steven happened to really like
what I wrote, and he hired me to compose the music for the game itself. It ended up
being the first video game to have a live orchestra record the score. I continued work-
ing with Spielberg on his Medal of Honor series, which led to me getting a random
email from J.J . Abrams, who played those games and liked the music. At the time, he
was looking for a composer to work on his new show, “Alias,” and the rest is history.
All along, no matter what position I held, I was always trying to do the best job that
I could, to learn as much about filmmaking and storytelling as possible. I think my
early experiences in marketing allowed me to learn about the different aspects of the
film industry, which has benefited me greatly in my relationships with various mem-
bers of the crew, directors, and studio executives.
JR: You’ve been a passionate advocate for the use of the orchestra for all your scores in
an era where electronics has been a major influence and factor. What drives that? What
do you feel is lost in electronic scores?
MG: I suppose it relates to the time I grew up, but I have always loved the lush tones
of a full orchestra—a room full of great musicians playing together. While I greatly
admire electronic scores as well, and many times incorporate synths into my own
work, there is something very exciting about a human performance. I always say that
it is only black dots on paper until a musician puts it on their stand and brings it to
life with their individual musical talents.
JR: Technical things aside, as someone who has worked in games, TV, live action and
animated films, how do you see the musical similarities and differences? And does it af-
fect the way you do the writing?

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MG: For me, these different musical assignments are quite similar when it comes
to the scoring process. Obviously, there are budget differences that affect you as a
composer, but the creative process remains the same. I try to get into the heads of
the characters in order to translate their thoughts, fears, and emotions into music. As
the composer, it is always about the story that needs to be told. This is true across all
genres of entertainment.
JR: What advice do you give aspiring composers interested in scoring?
MG: My advice for students is: make friends with film production students. Don’t stay
inside your room, only focused on music. Take classes in filmmaking, film history—
even a screenwriting class. Composing for film is storytelling. You’ll need to learn how
to speak the director’s language, be able to work hand in hand with them and the other
members of the crew. Filmmaking is one of the most collaborative art forms, and it is
important to understand that your music is just one piece of the gigantic puzzle.
James Newton Howard
Composer
James Newton Howard started in pop music as a
keyboard player and musical director for artists like
Elton John and Toto before making a transition to
film. Some of his credits include The Dark Knight,
King Kong, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,
Michael Clayton, Collateral, Batman Begins, Snow
Falling on Cedars, Runaway Bride, The Fugitive, Pretty
Woman, The Sixth Sense, and The Hunger Games.
Jeff Rona: What were you doing before you started
scoring films?
James Newton Howard: I was doing a lot of sessions
as a keyboard player and arranger. I was also doing a
lot of string arrangements for records with artists like Earth Wind and Fire, Toto, and
Barbra Streisand . . . lots of people. In the ’70s I toured with people like Elton John,
Crosby, Stills and Nash, and then started doing session work in the ’80s and producing
records. I produced an album with Ricky Lee Jones called The Magazine. I produced
FIGURE 4.15
James Newton Howard
Author

MUSIC IN PLAY: SCORING GAMES
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things with the Brothers Johnson, Chaka Khan, and Cher. And though I was produc-
ing records, my leaning was decidedly more esoteric and not very mainstream.
JR: Are you formally schooled? Did you study?
JNH: I started with classic piano when I was four. Did a couple of years at the Music
Academy of the West in Santa Barbara. I was a piano performance major at Univer-
sity of Southern California. A couple of years after leaving USC, I was in rock ’n’ roll
bands. That’s where I was for a long time until ’85, when I started doing films.
JR: How do you see your pre-film experience helping you with your first scores musically?
JNH: Well, I think my time in the record industry was hugely valuable. First of all,
learning studio technique, recording technique, which has a lot to do with the way I
write. I started off as a synthesist very early on. I own an Ionic monophonic synthesizer
from ’73 and an ARP 2600. I was really into synthesizers early in their development.
At one point, I visited Robert Moog in New York, and he was going to build me a big
modular system, but that fell through. I learned synthesis recording techniques, and
then when I joined Elton, I had my first opportunity to work with orchestras. It was
a wonderful experience, melding orchestral components with rhythm tracks. It was a
style I used for a long time that I don’t use so much now; I’ve gotten a little bored with
it. So, I learned just a lot of the aspects of the [composing] trade.
JR: That’s interesting because you’re describing the role of a music producer as much as
you’re describing the role of a composer as part of what you do. Just the way a producer
works on an album, part of what you do is to compose, but part of what you do is to
actually produce the score as well.
JNH: Absolutely. I tend to approach these things as a record producer, especially the
multi-layered arrangements with a lot of synths and rhythm tracks and choral and
orchestral stuff. My ears are kind of tuned to it on that level. I like to approach it
that way as far as details are concerned. A lot of times the magic for me (I suppose I
shouldn’t say magic because I don’t know if there’s any magic in it), the best part that
has intrigued me over the years is the attention to detail and how all those different
elements are related to each other. That has a lot to do with production.
JR: Absolutely. Having been a studio musician and arranger for so many years, what
did your first film feel like?

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JNH: It felt terrifying! I had no sense of the technology involved in terms of synchro-
nizing from music to picture. I didn’t know tempo, spotting, or what anything was. I
had written quite a bit of instrumental music at that point, but I didn’t know whether
I could write any more or whether it would be good or if I could write it with time
constraints. I was talking to a friend who used to be a keyboard player. This was 1985,
and he was doing a movie at the time. I was just getting ready to start my first picture,
a silly little movie called Head Office. I was talking to him, and he was using this thing
called the SPX 80. He was working with George Massenberg at The Complex record-
ing studio here in L.A. I saw him using the SPX 80 for synchronizing, and it was just
overwhelming. I didn’t know what they were doing, and he said, “James, remember
that there is a finite amount of technology in the world, and once you get that, it’s just
about the writing.” So, I kind of just charged in! I went into it very nervously, but my
first experience was very, very good.
JR: How has your relationship been with technology since then?
JNH: Very comfortable, very happy. I think it’s clearly defined the way I compose to
a large extent. I think it’s very valid in this day and age to be employing technology. It
seems like an obvious part of the creative process. Had it been around a long time ago,
I’m sure the composers of that era would have used it.
You write the way you’re comfortable writing. John Williams writes with pen
and paper and a big scorebook. I came up this way, and so I write the way I’m most
comfortable.
JR: What do you think makes a great score?
JNH: First of all, supporting the movie: the right-feeling music in the right scenes. It
sounds like an obvious thing, but it’s not that easy. Even if you disagree with some-
body’s melody or you don’t like a particular theme, if the music is resonating correctly
in the scene, I give somebody a lot of credit for that. I think that spotting makes a great
score, choosing where the music is not makes a great score. I think dynamics make a
great score as do melody and rhythm. But essentially supporting the narrative of the
movie, helping expand the experience on a sub-textual level, and helping to dictate
and enhance the tempo and pace of the film.
JR: How do you think your own musical style and working approach in film has changed
over the span of your career to now?

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JNH: Well, I think the most obvious thing for me is that I write much less pianisti-
cally. When I first started out, I was a pianist, so I would write orchestra parts that I
could play on the piano. I don’t do that nearly as much anymore. Also, I was writing
very string heavy for about the first thirty movies I did. I’m still working on that. It’s
something that Marti Page, my first orchestration teacher, used to tell me; he said
that strings are the backbone of the orchestra and he was absolutely right. It’s become
more of a color issue for me now and not something that is at the heart and soul of
my writing style. I’ve written for a string orchestra exclusively, but that’s a creative
choice. I think less from a pianistic viewpoint now. My music is more evolved, more
complicated in terms of the timbrel selections, more varied, with better orchestration
and somewhat more tonal. My music is a little more subjective, not quite so specific,
not quite so “on the nose.”
JR: That’s a good point. Can you elaborate on that?
JNH: Well, I think the thing I do most naturally is to write a string line melodically.
And I think anytime you write a melody, you’re making a strong point, one that is
reduced to a specific thought. So, I’ve tried to be less melodically driven except when
I make a conscious decision to do it. Most of the time I try to be a little vaguer about
the implications.
JR: How would you describe the way you work with directors?
JNH: Very comfortably. Most of the directors I work with now are friends. I work with
a lot of the same guys over and over again. But I also try to add a new relationship
every now and then. I feel I can get along with just about everybody. There have been
a few problems, but only with a few. I understand the director’s dilemma. By the time
they come along to the music, they’re pretty beat and wiped out. I try and empathize
with their state of mind and emotional state. I try to help them through the process as
much as I can. I try to translate their less-than-articulate musical direction to some-
thing that sounds like a response to their notes, so that we end up with a score that
reflects what they were hoping to hear but couldn’t articulate. That’s my goal.

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Wendy and Lisa
(Wendy Melvoin and Lisa Coleman)
Composers
Wendy Melvoin and Lisa Coleman are an
Emmy Award–winning musical composing
duo based in Los Angeles. They both started
their careers in one of the most successful rock
bands of the ’eighties, Prince and the Revolu-
tion. They continued to work as a duo and
released five original albums as well as pursu-
ing a career path in scoring feature films and
series television. Since 1995’s box office hit
Dangerous Minds, they have set a successful
track record scoring films such as Wine Country, Soul Food, Something New; the series
“Crossing Jordan,” “Nurse Jackie,” “Mercy,” “Firefly Lane,” and the Emmy-nominated
NBC series “Heroes,” “Touch,” “No Tomorrow,” and “Shades of Blue.”
Jeff Rona: You come from the pop world as members of Prince’s band “The Revolution.”
What did you learn from that experience that you bring to your film work?
Wendy Melvoin: Pop music sensibility works best for television, even more than for
film. In the pop world, you need to express and play things with immediacy, and to
make it concise and memorable. In TV, you need to say a lot in a short amount of
time. I believe that the art of “the hook”. . .
Lisa Coleman: Yes! Get to the chorus!
WM: Right. It would be like “we’re going to a commercial!” So, transitioning to
TV—all that—was really helpful. In film, I find it a completely different animal. I feel
classical music and jazz are more relatable to feature films than pop. You get a longer
amount of time to set up themes, be a lot more subtle, and repeat ideas more, without
them becoming ad nauseam.
LC: That’s true, but I think you can do that in TV as well, especially now as shows
are more serialized; you can establish motives for characters, you can repeat them
and use them in different situations. If Joe Superhero goes to the bank, you can use
his theme one way, and when he saves the girl from the fire, you can use the same
theme or motive in a whole new way. We get the chance to do that in some of the
shows we’ve done, like “Heroes.”
FIGURE 4.16
Wendy Melvoin and Lisa Coleman
Author

MUSIC IN PLAY: SCORING GAMES
139
There’s something we learned from playing live shows, like we did with Prince for
many years. Our shows were not always planned out note for note. We had arrange-
ments, but Prince had gestures and hand signals for different things, and we had to
watch very closely. From doing that, we’ve learned to watch the picture for subtle cues,
little things that happen where we want to hit or make a change.
WM: I agree. It was useful for our transition to film, but there was more. I think that
regardless of our prior work, we’ve always had a good sense of narrative. It’s a sensibil-
ity, knowledge, and somewhat of a gift.
JR: What’s the difference between writing a song and writing a cue?
WM: A song comes from personal experience. A cue is adapting and creating a lan-
guage that someone else is creating with your music. I find that very different in an
empathic sense.
LC: Musically, I think it is much the same. When I am composing, it’s almost like
being an actor. The most believable performances are when you can find those bits of
emotions inside yourself—like method actors who find a memory or bite their cheek
to make the emotions real. When I’m watching the screen and something is going on,
it’s transferring. I go there in myself.
We get to work on some really great projects, and it’s easy to get affected by what’s
going on in the story. I literally react to what’s going on. And I have such a good rela-
tionship with my keyboards that I can react and let the piano be my language.
WM: In real time, I would add!
LC: Yes. Watching picture, we’re in record, and it’s “ouch,” “eww,” or “isn’t that fasci-
nating” and I’m responding as it goes. And it’s all being said with tones and rhythms.
That’s pretty much what the job is!
JR: Thinking back to your first projects, can you compare the reality of the work to your
expectations?
WM: Our first time out, Lisa had a much better innate ability at composing to picture
than I did. I was a lot sloppier—I was trying to do way too much. My palettes were too
big. There were too many sounds. I was like an overly excited child!
LC: And that’s good to have around!
WM: But I’m so much better at less-is-more now. At the beginning, I just wanted to
do more, and it was completely unnecessary. Lisa was good at catching that, which is
why we were such a good combination.

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Through the luck of the cards, the first real film we got to compose on our own,
through (composer) Mark Isham, (and producers) Jerry Bruckheimer and Don Simp-
son, was Dangerous Minds. We had done some independent projects and some TV that
never saw the light of day, but this was the first film where we knew, “Ooh, people are
going to see this!” Lisa and I very much wanted to do something really “cred” and big
and beautiful—a piece of music that was very “filmic.” But the producers wanted us to
do a pop score. They wanted us to do for them what Isham (who started the project)
couldn’t do for them. He had done this absolutely beautiful score, but they wanted
something much more accessible and obvious, for it to sound more like a pop song.
They wanted the score to work better relative to all the songs that would be in the film.
So, we ended up doing something that came very easy to us, but to me wasn’t entirely
satisfying because it wasn’t very deep. Jerry wanted lots of guitar solos in the score,
which was so anathema to me unless you’re doing some old blues score. So, I didn’t like
the hat we were told to wear, but that was the challenge for me. We went along as told.
LC: If we were doing it today, we would be bolder about it. Wendy is good at talking
with directors, who are usually more open to ideas. It’s the film executives who have
more fear and want to be sure their movies connect with as many people as possible.
They don’t want you to say too much.
In scoring you don’t always want to say too much. One thing we did have to learn is
that it is hard not to be writing music all the time. At first you think, “This is terrific!
I’m going to write music for film!” But you’re not really writing music all the time.
That’s why we have things called “motifs.” Because there’s your chance at a melody
you can throw in. But sometimes what you must do are tonal beds, hitting beats, punc-
tuating lines or scenes or cuts to make the picture work.
WM: To smooth out the edges.
LC: Exactly. To make the emotion a little bit bigger, push it a little bit more. Music
has a hook into the unspoken, the unknown—the inside of your soul. It brings a lump
to your throat, and you don’t even know why. Or a little staccato thing can make you
laugh. Who knows why? It’s just funny.
WM: It’s ineffable. Lisa and I are at a level in our career where we are still being hired
to be fixers, and be at a certain economic safety level for a lot of companies.
LC: When we first started in films, it was at the start of soundtracks really becoming
a big thing. People wanted to do something like The Graduate, one of the first big
movies to be scored entirely with pop songs that had a hugely popular soundtrack
(though nobody’s really ever done anything like that again). Although the soundtrack
to Dangerous Minds was huge—triple platinum—it almost seemed too easy. Drum

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machines, guitar solos, and pads! It was a no-brainer for us, which was a bummer, but
an exciting time for us.
JR: Did the success of that film lead directly to other projects for you?
WM: No.
JR: Why?
WM: Because of who we are, and where we come from. I think gender is a far bigger
problem than race. Being women is a far harder position to be in, in a man’s world.
Also, we come from the pop world, but not the kind of pop world that someone like
Danny Elfman, who started with his band Oingo Boingo, which was this heady, intel-
lectual, freaky L.A. kind of sound. They weren’t doing pop or funk or hard rock, they
were doing really quirky stuff. It made it much easier and acceptable for Danny to
make it into the film world—plus being a guy. For us, Wendy and Lisa are seen as the
girls from Purple Rain; for a long time, people thought we were black. Unfortunately
for years now, we’ve been striving to get our hands on significant and important
artistic work from important directors. We’re just starting to get to the B list from
the C list, and we started on the D list. And it’ll probably still take years to get to the
A list of films, directors, and companies that will come to us and say, “We want this
from them.” But right now, we’re at this level where we get offered all the black films
because we come from Prince!
JR: Did you have mentors in film scoring who guided you, advised you, or gave you
creative or business advice that that was valuable to you?
LC: Yes. Allan Arkush, who is a director and producer, not a musician. Early on when
we just started doing television, his attitude was so positive. He made it safe to be
cheesy if you needed to be cheesy! He wasn’t just your boss, and that was fantastic.
JR: Have you mentored any young talent directly?
LC: A few years back we did with one young composer who went on to substantial
success. We had met him socially, and we invited him to come around to see us at our
studio. We showed him our process and then threw a couple of cues at him to try his
hand. We taught him how to do TV. Boy, did he take to it! He’s one of the most in-
demand composers for TV!
JR: When you look back at your initial way of going into the scoring world, would you
have done anything differently?

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LC: A lot of times it’s your first time doing something, or you haven’t built up the
relationships yet. Experience is the great teacher. All the things that we did and that
happened to us were great teachers.
One bump in the road was fairly recently. After Prince died, we both took time off
from scoring and went on the road, and it took us out of the game. When we finally got
back, we had to really work our way back in and let people know we’re still scoring. It
was a time of grieving for us, and we needed to do that touring. It was a year or two.
It’s hard to leave work behind—there are so many composers trying to get work. And
if you’re not available, the producers will call someone who is.
JR: So, you’ve been typecast both as pop performers for style, and female for the level
of projects you can currently get. But the work you do now is so different. It’s dark and
ambient music, and not remotely pop.
WM: That’s what’s changing things for us.
LC: Yes, because some of the producers we’re working with now have become our
friends. We worked together for six years before on another series. So, they got to
know us and they said, “Wow, you’re such interesting people and there’s so much
more you can do.” We started giving them ideas and showing them this other sensibil-
ity. It’s been a dream come true.
JR: What has changed and what has not changed in the years since you started scoring?
LC: In many ways, it has not changed at all. It’s the same—the same struggles, same
meetings, same demoing for projects we want. It’s really the same process.
JR: Did you expect it to get easier as you got more successful?
LC: Not really. I think everybody has the same work-a-day mentality. You have to,
otherwise you won’t succeed at all. If you’re waiting for the next greatest thing to come
along, you’re just spinning your wheels.
JR: Has your approach to music or the music itself changed over the span of your career?
LC: It’s been a great, ongoing exercise in experimentation with music. There have
been so many different styles of shows we’ve scored. We’ve gone all electronic where
you get into your sonic ideas and programming. Then the next project is more orches-
tral and you get to work on your instrumental skills with that. We hope we’ve gotten
better in just being able to exercise all those options and skills over time.

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JR: How’s your relationship with music and audio technology?
LC: Wendy is always looking for the “latest and greatest” in studio technology. She’s
always pushing to update all the gear to get the newest thing. I’m more like “don’t up-
date anything . . . it’s dominoes!” So, we are constantly going back and forth on that.
We have a happy medium here.
I’m not a fan of presets. I’m a nerd. When I hear someone else’s music on televi-
sion, there are times I go, “I know that sound!” That’s Omnisphere or that popular
new sample library—it’s all the same sounding stuff. It’s all great stuff, but they’re all
downloading the same libraries.
JR: Tell me your method of composing and collaborating.
LC: Wendy is a really good producer and an excellent musician. She is a part of my
brain. As I am watching the screen and composing, she is like my director. If I’m over-
acting or underplaying, she says so.
WM: I will say, “Try this angle” or “You’re giving too much away.” My gift as a col-
laborative partner is being a producer/director.
JR: So Lisa is the generator and you’re the filter?
WM: Yes!
LC: Sometimes I spit out all kinds of stuff, but sometimes I’m just blank. So Wendy
will say, “Let me program a drum part” or “Let’s try this sound or that sound,” and
then I’ll get it! This works well because I’m a keyboard player. Since so much of what
we do is working with samples and synths, the keyboard is the main interface. If there
was a better MIDI guitar, then she’d be doing it because she’s every bit as good a guitar
player as I am a keyboard player.
WM: It goes a lot faster. With an hour to score every week, we need to move quickly.
Lisa’s also had a lot more classical training than I have. I was schooled in jazz. I
wanted to be Wes Montgomery when I was a kid. But I was always a film fanatic.
I’ve been a frustrated filmmaker my whole life! The combination of the two of us
just works for us.
LC: She’s the balloon and I’m the string!

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JR: Do you feel like you’ve been able to do all the kinds of music you have hoped to do?
LC: I would say probably 80 percent, which is pretty good. Certain projects have really
given us the freedom to try things and “invent” the sound. So, we’ve been really lucky
on a few projects that way. It’s so satisfying, but I still have the hunger to put out more
of my solo work—a piano record or some electronic music.
JR: What else has changed for you as women in the business?
LC: I still feel the same weird vibes from a lot of men. I think there’s an effort right
now to hire more women, and women in the business are definitely bonding to-
gether. There should be at least two generations of successful women composers
behind us making it.
JR: What are your plans now?
WM: I was just in a meeting with a studio music executive I’ve known a long, long
time, and I said to him, “We’re going to keep calling, because we’re going to keep do-
ing this. This is what we do for a living.” We meet with these guys every few years.
Same guys, but now they’re at a different company. I’m the same composer, but
they’re with a new studio, in someone else’s chair.
LC: You need to stay in their face. We let them know we’re not going anywhere! We’re
not going away! We’re lucky; we get to keep making our solo records. But that’s not
how we’re making our living. We’re making our living as composers.
There are levels of composers out there. There are different genres of compos-
ers out there. And there’s room for everybody. And I wish this business could really
appreciate that. People are coming around more now, and we’re seeing some truly
unique and innovative music for film, including us. Only a few years ago, if you
weren’t doing things more traditionally and ripping off John Williams, these guys
didn’t see you as a real composer.
I get what’s going on, on the screen. I get what my job is—to enhance the experi-
ence the audience is going to have.
There are simply two kinds of music, good music and the other kind . . . the only yardstick by which the result should
be judged is simply that of how it sounds. If it sounds good it’s successful; if it doesn’t it has failed. —Duke Ellington

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II
TECHNOLOGY
INTRODUCTION
Composing music, just like playing an instrument, takes practice and technical skills
to express a broad range of musical emotion with clarity and ease. The goal in making
music is to make it expressive and to convey a desired emotion. To do so means making
it well written, well performed, and well produced. Musical ideas may flow organically,
but translating that into a finished and polished project takes some effort and savvy.
There was a time when composers simply worked with paper and pencil, played
their ideas on a piano to show a director what the music would roughly sound like,
and then record it all with an orchestra.
Those times are well behind us now.
If you are creating any type of music for media today, you’ll be wearing a few dis-
tinct “hats”: that of composer, as well as that of music producer and project coordina-
tor. Today, a composer is expected to provide detailed and great-sounding demos of
what every track or cue will sound like and, oftentimes, those tracks may become part
or all of the final score. Essentially, the distinction between demo and final product
has, in many cases, been erased. This means that the bulk of scoring jobs often go to
a self-reliant composer with the skill to realize all of their musical ideas with the best
possible quality.
To be competitive in the field, you need to treat your composing gear as if a vir-
tuoso performer has command over their instrument. Your personal studio is your
instrument.
Whether it’s a basic laptop or a top of-the-line desktop system, the heart of every
composer’s studio is their computer. It is the vital hardware add-ons and the critical
software that make the system what it is. There are near limitless ways to put together
a home studio, depending upon budget and musical goals. A music setup for a com-
poser who is a rock guitarist may differ somewhat from the setup for a composer who

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is primarily an orchestral writer. Similarly, budgets make some choices more prob-
able. Given how customizable these systems are, there is always the option of putting
together a basic rig and upgrading parts as needed.
This section is a fundamental overview of how to assemble and make the best pos-
sible use of whatever studio you have, and how to ensure it is up to the task of creating
music that showcases what your creativity can do.
Every composer for film, episodic TV, video games, or any multimedia needs a
personal studio capable of excellent production of music in whatever style is required
for any project. In many cases, the final result of your work comes directly from your
studio. Even on fully orchestral or other acoustic scores, the need to “mock up” musi-
cally convincing sketches and demos is essential.
Not every composer has the desire or goal to be a technical or audio wizard—some
just want to write some cool music, get it on the big or small screen, and hope the
check clears! However, even basic sketches are expected by directors and producers to
sound great. Clearly, having some functional knowledge of audio and music mixing is
valuable, even if you bring in an engineer to complete the project. So, with some basic
understanding of the process, along with as much practice as possible, a composer can
create great sounding work on their own.

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5
Setting Up a Studio
HOW MUCH IS ENOUGH?
OK Computer
Using a computer that is up to the task of making music is perhaps the most es-
sential part of putting together a personal studio for scoring. Bargain PCs are often not
able to run reliably all the real-time software needed for music production. Getting a
system that’s truly up to the task is far less expensive than it used to be, but still can
be a formidable expense to a composer just starting out. There’s always the option to
upgrade later, but working with a computer that’s too limited can be frustrating and
ultimately get in the way of creative efforts. Installing a system of reasonable power
saves time and energy.
Here are a few basic elements of a computer system that influence how well they
perform in a music production environment:
CPU Speed
Computer systems are configured for different kinds of use. Someone running
spreadsheets in an office doesn’t need the kind of speed that someone editing video or
playing video games would require. It takes a lot more computing horsepower from
the system to process video, or for that matter audio in real time, without overloading.
The heart of every computer is the CPU, or central processing unit. It’s the primary
chip that determines just how fast the machine is. Low-end laptops and desktop ma-
chines have slower CPUs that may max out at only a handful of tracks, and you may
find yourself needing more power to get through a bigger project. When it comes to
speed, more is better, but there’s another factor. Speed is typically measured in giga-
hertz (GHz) or teraflops, which are numbers to indicate how much data the CPU is
processing every second. The higher the numbers, the faster the CPU. But chips from
different makers employ very different architectures, and the numbers can’t be used

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for raw comparison. The numbers are most relevant when you compare different
models of the same computer.
Cores
CPU speed isn’t the only metric of how powerful a computer is. CPU chips are
actually clusters of “mini-CPUs” called cores that let the system handle more data at
once. Multi-core computers are significantly more powerful in the way they process
audio and video. A system with more cores can match or exceed faster CPUs for pro-
cessing power, up to a point. High-end computers have the biggest multi-core power
and make a big difference in how many tracks and plug-ins you can be running at one
time. Because multi-core CPUs require more electrical power, they are less prevalent
in laptop computers, which value battery longevity over raw power. However, there
are exceptions. It is one of the main reasons desktop computers tend to be better
choices for music production than laptops.
Memory (RAM)
All software, whether it’s your sequencer, the add-on plug-in instruments or effects
you are using in a piece, samples, utilities, or other programs, needs memory in order
to function properly. That memory is called RAM (random access memory) and is an-
other important element in choosing the best computer for your work. As with CPU
power, less expensive computers tend to have less memory available for the needed
tasks. Many computers allow you to add more memory on your own, which is not very
complicated; however, there are machines that do not offer this. Getting a system with
the bare minimum of memory may again cause problems down the line. Composers
who need to work with large orchestral sampler templates should invest in a machine
with the maximum amount of memory possible. The current generation of Apple
computers uses a system that links the memory and CPU into a single system, which
makes more efficient use of both. Similar systems are coming from other makers, and
these need to be looked at differently than previous chip benchmarks.
Storage Capacity and Speed
Computer memory, the memory that holds software code while running your
samples, plug-ins, and so forth, only retains its contents while the computer is
on. Once it’s off, the memory is cleared. For that reason, computer systems offer
something different for permanent storage and retrieval of data. Disk drives, the
technology for storing information, have vastly higher capacity, and have become
much faster at storing and retrieving information. Hard drives are an essential com-
ponent for any music studio. The composer who records audio in their home studio,
or needs to have video files on hand for scoring, needs fast, reliable, high-capacity

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storage. In common storage systems, megabytes have given way to gigabytes, and
gigabytes have given way to terabytes.
However, not all drives are created equal. Some still rely on magnetic disks spun by
motors, while most now use solid-state electronics with no moving parts. Called solid-
state drives (SSD), they are still somewhat more expensive, but far more efficient. A
single orchestral sample library can take up hundreds of gigabytes of space or greater.
Drum loop libraries also can require large amounts of storage. The video files needed
while scoring a feature film can be dozens or hundreds of gigabytes as well, depending
on the type of video compression codec (software to make and play-back video files
smaller) used. It really adds up quickly, so having sufficient space on your hard drives
and not having to worry about running out in the middle of a project is important.
On top of all of the media files that come into a composer’s life, it’s important to
remember that none of these devices is infallible, and it should always be assumed that
any drive could fail at any time. In reality, they are highly reliable, but issues can pop
up in both mechanical and solid-state drives. Extra drive storage is needed to back
up your primary storage. Most people use less expensive drives for creating backups.
There’s no necessity for high speed with these drives, they just need to be big enough
to store everything on your other drives.
There are also a number of internet-based “cloud” storage services that charge a fee
to store data on remote computers. These are only for backups or transfers, but can
be a terrific source of security since they are immune from theft, fire, or any kind of
natural disaster—an excellent choice for paranoids. Cloud services are also useful for
exchanging large files with clients or colleagues.
Monitor Size and Resolution
Laptop and tablet computers are amazing for their light weight and compact size,
allowing them to be easily carried and used nearly anywhere. The biggest limitation
of these small, self-contained units is that they house much smaller screens than are
used on desktop computers with a larger or separate monitor. It is possible to plug an
external monitor into a laptop, but who’s going to carry a large second monitor to the
coffee shop?
Larger and better screens come out every year as well. There are two main factors
in choosing a monitor for your studio: the physical dimensions of the screen and the
image resolution the screen can display, which are two different things.
Monitors that are made specifically for video games are often larger in size (mea-
sured by the diagonal length of the screen) but don’t display as many pixels. This way,
everything on the screen is bigger and easier to see (and shoot at!). Office workers
often have smaller screens on their computers but have ones with much higher resolu-
tion (measured in dots per inch, or DPI), so that they can read the numbers on large

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spreadsheets clearly. It comes down to personal choice (and quality of eyesight) as to
how high a resolution screen you want.
There is another factor that occasionally comes into play called refresh rate. Higher
refresh rates make fast-moving images crisper and clearer. This is not a valuable factor
for a music studio.
Though composers can get by with smaller screens, it can get annoying to be
constantly scrolling up and down in your DAW to see more tracks on a larger ar-
rangement. Worth considering, also, is the need to read and edit orchestral scores on
screen, which benefit from a lot of vertical resolution. Ultimately, it comes down to
cost, space, and personal needs for choosing a monitor for your studio, but in the long
run, larger and higher resolution screens can save a lot of time. Fortunately, higher-
end computers not only support higher-resolution screens, but can also host several,
which gives you a massive amount of screen space.
I/O Ports
A typical studio has several components that need to be connected to the main
computer: musical keyboard, drum pads, other MIDI controllers, audio interface(s),
outboard audio, and synthesizer gear. A few of these can be wireless (many computer
keyboards and mice or trackpads are available as wireless Bluetooth accessories), but
musical gear is most typically connected via USB, Thunderbolt, or other wired tech-
nologies. External hard drives are connected to the host computer as well. High speed
connection to the internet or a local network may require the use of an Ethernet or
other wired port. There is still some software copy protection that depends on a USB
“dongle” device that must be plugged in, in order to open the software. The use of this
technology is waning.
Laptop systems support a limited number of ports for all these peripherals, while
desktop systems usually offer more. There are expansion systems that allow multiple
external devices to share a port, but these often don’t support fast devices like memory.
Operating System Software Compatibility
For decades, music software has maintained compatibility with only two popular
computer operating systems—Apple’s Macintosh OS and Microsoft’s Windows OS.
There are other systems out there, but they have not found the kind of universal main-
stream support that these have. Windows and Mac OS are not compatible with each
other. Fortunately, the majority of commercial audio and music software maintains
compatibility with both—in other words, companies release two different products
with the same name and features, but one only runs on the Mac while the other only
runs with Windows.

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The main thing of which to be aware is that there is some vital software out there
that is only compatible with one or the other system. So, if you are on the market to
buy a computer, or are researching the software you want for the system you already
have, check carefully on whether it runs on the system you are using.
Owning, troubleshooting, and maintaining a computer for use in music and audio
calls for some degree of expertise. Modern composers also need to be computer power
users! While it keeps getting easier, problems do occur, and fortunately there are an
extraordinary number of technical-support sources available online.
ESSENTIAL PERIPHERALS: THE ADD-ONS THAT MAKE IT ALL WORK
In addition to the main computer system in your studio, there are the various audio
and MIDI devices that are necessary to complete your music rig. They are discussed
in the sections that follow.
Audio Interface
Computers come with only very rudimentary audio capability—a speaker and
headphone jack for listening to music, and a small microphone and audio input for
video conferencing or video games. Neither are of sufficient quality for serious music
production. You will need to add some kind of additional audio hardware to give your
computer the ability to record and play back multiple channels of high-quality audio.
An audio interface handles the conversion of an analog signal to a digital one and vice
versa. They add tremendous power and capability to any computer system. It’s a highly
competitive field with some of the top brands in professional audio offering small to
FIGURE 5.1
A PreSonus Audiobox USB 96 Audio Interface.
Courtesy of PreSonus Audio Electronics, Inc. All rights reserved.

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massive options. An audio interface connects to your computer through a USB or simi-
lar peripheral connector. The main features for which you need to watch are:
Number of audio outputs: They are used primarily for speakers but can also be used
as a bridge to other outboard audio gear.
Number of audio inputs: These are necessary for connecting microphones, guitars,
external synthesizers, or anything with an audio output you wish to record. Audio
interfaces come with as few as two and as many as hundreds of inputs. It’s all based
on personal needs for your studio plans. If you plan to have a large array of outboard
analog gear, having the ability to feed all of it into your DAW is very powerful.
Microphone preamps: Most microphones require some kind of amplification before
it is of sufficient volume to record. Fortunately, most audio interface devices come
with one, two, or multiple mic preamps that let you to record an entire ensemble,
band, or orchestra at once. These can vary greatly in sound quality, and sometimes
you get what you pay for. It’s also of value to look for an interface with the number
of microphone channels you think you may need at one time, and search reviews
for the best choices.
Phantom power: Some microphones require power to operate. There is an industry
standard system of 48 volts called “phantom power” that can be found on many,
but not all, audio interface units. The power is supplied by the same microphone
cable that handles the audio.
Headphone jacks: Most people prefer to work with speakers and not headphones.
However, if you are working late at night and don’t wish to disturb people nearby,
or if you need to record musicians with microphones in the same room, then head-
phone jacks, preferably with volume control, are a must.
Audio DSP: Some audio interfaces include internal audio processing hardware
and companion plug-ins that add tremendous additional power to your computer
system. They can be more expensive but can make a humbler laptop into a very
powerful audio system. A composer who uses more plug-ins will eventually max
out what a computer can handle. This is why it is better to have a faster, more
powerful computer. Using an audio interface with its own audio processing built-in
takes some of the load off the computer, making the whole system run smoother
and allowing greater capability.
An audio interface becomes the sonic hub of a studio—with every channel of audio
flowing through it. There are units in virtually every price range. Capacity and quality
vary, so do your research.

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Speakers
If you care about the quality of the sound
and mixes coming from your studio, this is
possibly the most important piece of gear
you’ll acquire. Speakers for personal studios
are sometimes chosen by the style of music
being produced. Rock producers gravitate to
speakers that can handle the loudness of the
music, while classical producers may look for
speakers that are better at highly accurate re-
production of sonic nuance. Most composers
for film, series or games often find themselves
in the difficult position of needing speakers
that are good for any style they may require to
do for a given project, and these are typically
more expensive. That said, it comes down to
budget, personal preferences, and research.
Like much of music technology, speakers are
getting better and cheaper, though not to the extent other parts of the studio are.
Smaller speakers can struggle to reproduce the very low end of music (bass
drums, analog bass sounds, deep percussion) with any degree of accuracy. The
addition of a subwoofer, an additional speaker to enhance the bottom end of the
sound, can be helpful in giving your system as full an audio range as possible. Just
one subwoofer is needed. There are specifically-made systems that include both
the main two speakers and a matching subwoofer. It’s easier than a do-it-yourself
mix-and-match approach. It’s important to note that plenty of composers work
well without the use of a subwoofer at all, and it comes down to the choice in main
speakers, budget, size of your workspace, and the types of music you are producing.
Speakers can be very sensitive to their placement in your studio space. Care taken
to get the speakers in an optimal placement to where you are listening can greatly
improve their sonic quality.
Even if you are working on projects being mixed in surround sound, you are
likely okay to continue working in stereo until you get involved in more sophisti-
cated projects. So, there is little need at first to buy the additional speakers required
for full 5.1 (five main speakers and a subwoofer) or other formats of immersive or
surround mixing such as Dolby Atmos (which can support almost any number of
surround speakers).
FIGURE 5.2
A PSI A17-M Studio Monitor.
Courtesy of 11 Dimensions Media and PSI Audio.

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Microphones
Many composers work in a MIDI-only
setup, writing music with only synthesizer
and sampler plug-ins. These can handle a
broad range of projects and styles, from grand
orchestral to aggressive electronic music. If
you don’t intend to record any live players
yourself, then a microphone is not a necessary
part of your studio. However, if you play an
acoustic instrument, do vocals, play drums
or percussion, or prefer to record a guitar
through a real amp and speakers, you will
need at least one or more microphones. There
is a huge selection of microphones available
in every price range. No single microphone
design is suitable for every possible situation.
For example, a mic that is considered good for
voice is usually not recommended for record-
ing drums. Decide your needs, and do some
research online for options.
MIDI/USB Keyboard
FIGURE 5.3
A Blue Bottle microphone.
Photograph by Julien Garros. Courtesy of Blue Microphones.
FIGURE 5.4
A MIDI/USB Keyboard.
Author
In all likelihood, your hands will be on a piano-style keyboard all the time you are
composing. Having a keyboard of good quality with the necessary features is impor-
tant. While these keyboards all send MIDI information, most provide direct connec-
tion to your computer through USB. There are only a few variables to keep in mind:
Number of keys: Keyboards come in a variety of sizes from as few as two octaves
to a full 88-note key bed. Some composers will opt for the smaller sizes in 61- or

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49-key models. But composers with a lot of keyboard experience often prefer the
full-sized options.
Weighted action: Some MIDI keyboards offer a simulation of what an acoustic pi-
ano feels like when played. The keys have weight and resistance like that of a grand
piano’s action. Trained pianists, among others, prefer these keyboards. Anything
else may not feel right. Composers not classically trained often prefer keyboards
with a lighter action, like those found on most small synthesizers. The keys on light-
action keyboards can move faster and are often considered preferable for rhythm
programming. It comes down to personal taste and comfort.
Expression controllers: In addition to the black and white keys, most MIDI key-
boards also have a number of additional knobs and wheels used for adding expres-
sion to a MIDI performance. Typical controllers include a pitch wheel or lever,
a “mod wheel” typically mapped to vibrato, or the brightness of a sound, and
additional MIDI controllers for added expression. Some of these have fixed MIDI
continuous controller values, while others are programmable if you need more ca-
pability for controlling plug-in parameters.
MPE and MIDI 2.0: MIDI Polyphonic Expression (MPE for short) and MIDI 2.0
add additional new levels of expression, primarily by giving each key pressed its
own unique vibrato, timbre, or pitch bend control. MIDI 2.0 provides overall bet-
ter accuracy and easier studio network configuration. Further, it adds many new
functions geared toward orchestral writing, making it far easier to indicate bowing
styles, use of mutes, or other playing techniques.
Faders for Automation
Having precise and intuitive control over
mixing is a substantial part of composing
music electronically. Any given sound or in-
strument in an arrangement needs to be in
perspective with the rest of what’s going on.
While it’s not essential for a composer to be
as skillful at mixing as a recording engineer,
it is valuable to be able to mix your music
sufficiently well in order to present your musi-
cal intentions to a media person. Sequencers
provide substantial tools for automating every
aspect of a mix, from basic volume level to
every parameter of every plug-in. They breathe
FIGURE 5.5
DAW controller.
Courtesy of PreSonus Audio Electronics, Inc. All rights reserved.

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life into what would otherwise be a static and stationary experience, which then can be
changed dynamically in real time. And just like conducting an orchestra, instruments
and sections are louder or softer at various times in a composition.
For that reason, having dynamic control over your mix and dynamics adds a
lot of musicality to a composition. One way to do this is simply with your mouse
or trackpad, drawing lines and curves to bring an instrument’s level up or down.
Physical faders connected to your computer through a USB or similar connection
add a tactile interface that makes mixing more enjoyable and organic. They are not
an essential part of a studio, but they make the job faster and smoother—nothing
wrong with that.
While there are a number of good hardware options for fader control, there are also
software solutions that use tablet computers as their interface. These not only provide
“virtual faders” but also, in some cases, can be set up to give you extra control over
your DAW’s most-used features.
Audio and MIDI Clip Launchers
Some sequencers include interesting, non-
linear ways of triggering loops, samples, or
entire sections of music. They’re used heav-
ily in electronic music production, but have
definitely found their way into the hands of
composers scoring for film, series, or video
games. “Clip-based” sequencers are a creative
tool that provides a mix-and-match approach
to composing a track.
As companions to these systems, there are
a number of hardware products to aid this
process. Basically, a matrix of buttons and clip
launchers adds an enjoyable and experimental
way of creating music. Each button in the ma-
trix can trigger a specific loop, sound, or section of the music. It lets you experiment
with different layers and juxtapositions that you might not attempt otherwise. Like
with fader units, it’s not essential to do this in hardware, but it provides a faster sand-
box for musical ideas.
FIGURE 5.6
MIDI clip launcher.
Courtesy of PreSonus Audio Electronics, Inc. All rights reserved.

SETTING UP A STUDIO
157
Headphones
Generally speaking, it’s best to work with
speakers when composing and mixing mu-
sic. However, headphones also play a role in
the composer’s studio. A late-night session,
writing in a coffee shop, or keeping the peace
with a spouse or roommate is well served with
switching speakers off and using headphones.
Headphones are essential when doing any
audio recording in your studio. For that rea-
son, over-ear headphones that go over your
entire ears are much better at reducing any
audio leakage into a microphone than in-ear
ear buds. They’re worth the investment.
Acoustic Treatments
Smaller spaces usually have acoustic problems. Sound bounces off walls, the ceil-
ing, and even the floor. In a very large space, these tend to be much less noticeable.
However, in small spaces, like a bedroom studio, these reflections cause problems.
As sound waves invisibly bounce, cross-cross, and crash into each other, some fre-
quencies get boosted and others can disappear. The resulting music mix can sound
FIGURE 5.7
Over ear studio headphones.
Courtesy of Blue Microphones.
FIGURE 5.8
Personal studio with acoustic treatments.
Credit: Thomas Mairinger featuring Alpha Pro Series, and Soffit Bass Traps.

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entirely different in another room or studio. Live recordings can become echoey or
distant sounding. Different areas in the same small room can deliver widely different
listening experiences.
Fortunately, there are solutions to any of these problems in the form of special
“acoustic panels” that help diminish echoes and reflections. There are three basic types
of panels, and these are frequently sold in premade kits, depending upon the size of
the space being treated. They are:
absorption panels: To cut down on sound waves bouncing off a wall;
diffusion panels: To scatter sound waves around the room more evenly;
bass traps: Mainly used to stop low-frequency sound waves from building up in
areas of a room and causing distortion.
These panels are hung on your walls with hooks much as large pictures are. Some
brands come in a variety of colors and patterns to give them a more pleasing appearance.
Additionally, there are small acoustic treatments that attach to a microphone stand
and help improve the quality of vocal or instrumental recording. They aren’t as ef-
fective as having a vocal booth, but they provide an amazing degree of isolation and
improvement to the audio recording.
Miscellaneous . . .
There are numerous bits and pieces that are handy to keep around a studio,
including every kind of extra audio or computer cables you might use, mic stands,
music stands, an instrument tuner, extra small hard drives for file exchanges and
backups, nice lighting, toy or world instruments for recording, a camera for social
media sharing, a hot water kettle, and any other small comforts you may want with-
out leaving the space.
SEQUENCERS: THE CREATIVE HUB AND HEART OF YOUR STUDIO
The days of composing a score solely with paper and pencil are essentially over. Not
that it isn’t valid to work that way—it still is. But even those who try to compose with
score notation software are missing out on the nuance and range that comes from
working meticulously inside any of the current Digital Audio Workstations (DAW),
better known as a sequencer. Good sequencers (and there are several out there from
which to choose) combine the best capabilities of using MIDI, audio recording and
editing, plug-in hosting, mixing, automation, video synchronization, and standard
music notation into one creative and productive environment. These programs are
sophisticated and multilayered, and can have a steep learning curve.

SETTING UP A STUDIO
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Every serious composer needs to know their chosen sequencing software inside
and out. It is perhaps the most important single element in your studio. It is the one
with which you will spend the most time working. Learning all the primary functions,
various capabilities, its project workflow and all of the shortcuts of your software will
save you countless hours of frustration and valuable time, and give you the power to
create and produce better music. Your goal is to be as good at using your technology
as a virtuoso musician is at playing their instrument.
The basics of sequencing are simple, but powerful:
MIDI: At their core is the ability of a sequencer to record your musical performances
via a MIDI controller—typically a music keyboard. Once recorded onto its track,
MIDI is highly editable—far more than audio. Wrong notes are easily fixed, tim-
ing can be corrected manually or automatically, velocities and articulations can be
adjusted precisely for best musical results, and MIDI controller data used for added
expression can be edited or created from scratch visually. Your MIDI can be copied
and pasted from one track to another, as needed, to flesh out or orchestrate with ad-
ditional virtual instruments.
The ability to have every note and beat carefully aligned with one another is es-
sential in most contemporary music. Sequencers can perform time correction (called
“quantization”) on your performances. You select a basic rhythmic value, sixteenth
notes for example, and all the notes in your selected track or phrase get bumped to the
nearest sixteenth note. This creates a very precise, though metronomic-feeling perfor-
mance. Quantizing, though, isn’t only for highly metronomic electronic music—it has
a role in virtually every musical style and can be adjusted to create accurate but very
human feeling phrasing.
The sounds used in a composition are usually highly varied. Drums have hard at-
tacks, while strings and brass have a slower attack. Some sample libraries leave a tiny
bit of silence just before a note, so as not to clip off the player’s full performance. After
quantizing the MIDI notes, and as things get more rhythmic with a number of dif-
ferent sounds on different tracks, instruments may sound ahead or behind the beat.
Sequencers have an often overlooked function to slide a phrase or an entire track a
minuscule amount of time forward or back. This allows you to adjust how various
instruments feel and can compensate for the different kinds of attacks in your music.
A soft string sound, for instance, may feel late after it has been quantized. Sliding that
track slightly earlier in time to the beat can compensate for the nature of the sound
and make everything feel much more together.
A good sequencer provides a range of tools to input a musical performance, to view
it in different ways, and to edit everything as quickly and easily as possible. Getting
to know the range of tools will make life much easier. Most sequencers allow for only

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one piece of music to be open at a time, so each cue on a project will be its own file.
It’s valuable to name your files as clearly as possible with information like the name
of the cue, the timecode at which it begins, and the version, as most cues go through
several rounds of changes (get used to it!).
Templates: Composers often find themselves using the same instruments and effects
project after project. For example, if you write for orchestra, you will have all the in-
struments of an orchestra loaded and organized in your sequencer, whether you use
them in every cue or not. The same is true for more electronic styles where you may
have certain drums or synthesizers that you use again and again. For that reason, se-
quencers can create templates, which are prearranged collections of instruments and
effects you can have on the ready when you start writing a new piece. The time saved
is enormous compared to building a complex arrangement from scratch. Some se-
quencers allow you to copy tracks from one sequence file to another, which is another
way to save time. Whenever you’ve created an arrangement in your sequencer with an
instrumentation you think you’ll use again, be sure to save it without any music in it
in order to recall it for the next track using that same instrumentation.
Loops and Clips: Music is linear—it moves
forward through time. While there is plenty
of repetition in music, and especially in pop,
EDM, and, of course, in minimalism, scores
tend to be more linear and unfolding as they
support the story onscreen. At the same time,
there can be plenty of ostinatos and other
kinds of rhythmic elements that form a bed
that is fairly repetitive in nature. It’s a powerful
musical tool that goes back decades.
In addition to the musical performances
that you record into your sequencer, there is a
vast marketplace for pre-made musical audio
loops in every conceivable style that can be im-
ported into any sequencer, placed into a track, edited as needed, and then used. Once
loaded into a sequencer track, these loops can adjust themselves to the tempo and key
of the music automatically (creating seamless rhythm beds) and be run through any
desired creative effect plug-ins. It’s stylish, and a potentially very creative way to work.
Loops can be anything from drums and percussion, to guitar and synth elements, to
orchestral and vocal phrases. It is left to you to decide if your use of loops is creative
or just prepackaged music being recycled.
FIGURE 5.9
Audio and MIDI loops.
Used by Permission, Apple Inc. All Rights Reserved.

SETTING UP A STUDIO
161
There are a number of sequencers that take the use of audio (and MIDI) loops to
another level. They offer visual grids that can host and trigger loops individually or in
groups. There are USB and wireless hardware controllers designed only to trigger loops
by pressing buttons. Done right, it can be an exciting experimental playground for
building entire sections of a piece. Triggering loops can be recorded onto linear tracks,
and then worked with similarly to more conventionally recorded MIDI performances.
Audio: In additional to your MIDI performances, sequencers can record or import
any sort of audio in a variety of formats. Recording a vocalist or instrumentalist in
your own studio is a powerful feature that adds enormous depth and expression to
your music. It’s the equivalent of having a full-blown recording studio right there
inside your computer. The number of tracks you can record is only limited by your
hardware. They are powerful tools integrated into the world of MIDI and plug-ins.
Further, sequencers can create audio tracks from the MIDI tracks in the same
composition. This “bouncing” allows you to actually mix your music directly inside
your DAW sequencer and check it back before delivering it to your client. Just as with
MIDI, sequencers offer a range of tools designed specifically to edit audio. You can
re-pitch bad notes, adjust timing and groove, edit a final performance from multiple
takes, and even change the tempo of a performance after the fact. The more you get
to understand the audio capabilities of your sequencer, the more advantage you can
take of its incredible power.
FIGURE 5.10
Digital Audio Workstation.
Provided courtesy of Avid Technology, Inc.
Plug-ins: Another major feature of sequencers is their ability to host audio plug-ins.
Plug-ins can be synthesizers, sample libraries, drum machines, or other types of
instruments, as well as audio effects like reverbs, compressors, EQ, and a myriad of
essential and creative devices. You don’t need to be a skilled engineer to see the pos-
sibilities of sculpting sound in order to create a more pleasing mix. Getting to know

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what’s available and what suits your own style best is a valuable pursuit. The scope of
plug-ins available is vast and can be a bit bewildering. Most plug-ins are compatible
across computer operating systems and sequencers, but not all. Check to be sure the
plug-in in which you are interested runs on your system—in all likelihood, it will.
You definitely don’t need every plug-in ever made (there are just too many) in
order to create great music that’s well produced. In the interviews with the esteemed
mixers James Hill and Alan Meyerson (found elsewhere in this book), you see that
they rely on a variety of plug-ins to polish and enhance the scores they mix.
Some plug-ins are geared toward creating a vintage-style “lo-fi” sound, while others
are geared toward grunge, glitch, or other types of sound mangling. Proper use of dy-
namic, EQ, reverb, and other more creative effects can have a make-or-break effect on
anything cinematic. Spend some time watching reviews and third-party demos before
moving forward with a purchase. Also worth mentioning is that a growing number
of plug-ins are becoming available on a subscription basis: meaning you pay a small
monthly fee, instead of making an outright one-time purchase. These provide access
to a much larger collection of instruments and effects at lower initial cost.
Video: In order to synchronize music to picture (the whole point of this book!), se-
quencers have the ability to import and display video files that remain synchronized
to the composition. This is an amazing feature that simplifies the scoring process. You
load in a video file, you indicate the frame on which you want the music to start, and
FIGURE 5.11
Various audio plug-ins.
Used by Permission, Apple Inc. All Rights Reserved

SETTING UP A STUDIO
163
the software does the rest. It’s important to know the SMPTE frame rate of the video,
though some sequencers can often figure that out automatically.
Tempo calculation: Sequencers can be set to any tempo desired and can have as many
tempo changes as you wish. Tempo changes can be sudden or gradual. For most scor-
ing to picture, there is a need for more sophistication. In order for a specific frame
in the picture to align perfectly with a specific beat or measure of the music, most
sequencers have special tools to help calculate tempos and tempo changes.
Tempo calculations to make a bar or beat hit on a desired video frame used to be
done manually and could be tedious and time-consuming. Learning and using your
sequencer’s tempo calculation tools can streamline the process a lot. It’s not uncom-
mon for some composers to use small, almost imperceptible tempo changes to make
any desired hits be right on the exact frame. Precision in composing music to picture
with many hit points is a combination of large and small tempo changes along with the
use of mixed meters to make downbeats of musical phrases align with a specific frame.
Notation: The manner in which standard Western music has been notated has existed
since the seventeenth century. It’s precise, universally known, accepted and used by
every orchestra, ensemble, or performer you may have record your music. There may
be times when the music you input into your sequencer needs to end up in front of
a live player or ensemble. Thankfully, the majority of sequencers include intelligent
music transcription algorithms that makes this job easy, but not fully automatic.
The software takes your performance (this needs to be recorded to a metronome
click) and makes its best effort to transcribe it faithfully and accurately. There are
a number of ways in which the quality of the transcription may be limited, but the
pitches will all be correct, and for the most part, the rhythms and durations will be
as well. The connection between notation and other MIDI editors is linked, so if you
FIGURE 5.12
Piano roll next to score window with the same MIDI.
Used by Permission, Apple Inc. All Rights Reserved.

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change music in the score window, it will be changed in all other MIDI editor win-
dows. The notation window in most sequencers has its own tool kit in order to add
any additional symbols and markings to the music manually. For example, you may
get an accurate transcription of a particular phrase, but you may still need to do some
editing for phrase marks, dynamics, articulation markings, grace notes, trills, string
bowings, and other aspects of notation.
The goal is to be able to create scores and parts that are not just legible, but also
expertly notated and formatted. If you think of your tracks as a score filled with just
MIDI, the same arrangement will be converted to a traditional musical score in the
notation editor. Once you do your edits and polishes to get the score as detailed and
accurate as possible, the software can generate each individual part from the score.
Various sequencers approach this process somewhat differently, but generally have
similar workflow for generating (sometimes called “extracting”) parts from scores. As
long as your tracks are named correctly, that’s how the music staves will be labeled.
Since they are linked, you want to adhere to a traditional orchestral instrument score
order (typically first winds, then brass, percussion, and finally strings) in your ar-
rangement window in order for it to appear in the same order in the score window.
It’s incredibly powerful.
Composers often play the brass, wind, or string section parts polyphonically, that is,
playing all the parts of a chord at once versus, for example, playing in the violins, then
the violas, then the celli, then the basses one at a time onto different tracks. If that’s
FIGURE 5.13A
Example of score and extracted part.
Used by Permission, Apple Inc. All Rights Reserved

FIGURE 5.13B
Example of score and extracted part.
Author

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the method with which you’re most comfortable, there will be an extra step needed
to split out the different lines from the polyphonic into individual monophonic parts.
There are often tools in the software for this very thing.
Composers with deeper backgrounds in orchestral or classical music styles may
prefer using music notation for the direct entry of their scores. The advantage is in
how accurate notation can be when it’s not a transcription from a MIDI performance,
which may have a number of imperfections. However, it’s those imperfections that
are very important for sampler mock-ups of orchestral music. When entered through
notation, musical phrases come out far more metronomic and less expressive than
when music is played from keyboard into the sequence or in real time.
MIDI files: Not all sequencers have high-quality built-in music notation capabili-
ties. However, there are several very high-quality computer and tablet applications
solely for music notation, which often are more sophisticated and streamlined than
what you get in a sequencer. Sequencers can export MIDI files that another music
notation program can import and continue the process of creating scores and parts
from the composition.
Mixing While Writing: Within the functions of every DAW is the ability to process
and mix audio. It’s a critical and sometimes overlooked part of the composing process.
The role of an orchestra’s conductor is to blend and balance all the players in the en-
semble perfectly in order to attain the most musical result. The role of producer and
engineer in popular games as well as film and media music is very similar—to make
each part of the music sound great and be in balance with the rest of the arrangement.
To some extent, a composer can “mix as they go” while writing. For example, you
begin with a string section and then bring in a solo clarinet. How loud is a clarinet next
to fifty string players? And should the ensemble be in a small concert hall setting for
intimacy, or a massive cathedral-like environment for a more epic emotion? These can
be decided in the mixing. As elements are added (or removed), it’s a good practice to
take a moment to adjust levels to keep everything in perspective. Don’t wait until the
end of the process to begin crafting your overall sound.
With an electronic studio, the composer is in control of every sonic nuance, all of
which can affect the built-in impact of the music. A drumbeat that is out of balance
with a melody line will confuse the listener and lessen the impact of the score. Under-
standing the roles of EQ, dynamics, imaging, ambience, and most of all, balance, is a
critical element to the presentation of music to the director, and to the audience that
will eventually hear it.

SETTING UP A STUDIO
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Composers often engage experienced audio engineers to finish their work with a
higher degree of awareness and expertise. A composer does not need to be an engineer.
However, if a composer delivers sketches and demos to the director directly, then
learning a bit more than the basics of audio mixing is going to be helpful. There are
countless tutorials available online to help a novice improve their engineering skills,
and it is recommended highly to have enough technique to create good-sounding
demos at the very least.
Delivery: Fast forwarding past the writing, demos, rewrites and final music approvals,
a composer finishes their work by delivering a final product to the project in the form
of final mixed audio. The format of final delivery varies from production to produc-
tion. There is no one fixed method for delivery, and a composer needs to verify the
desired assets on a project-by-project basis. Generally, a composer delivers a stereo
master (often used only as a guide) along with a number of audio tracks called stems,
which break the music down into some number of categories:
FIGURE 5.14A
Example of orchestral instrument stem list.
Author
FIGURE 5.14B
Example of electronic instrument stem list.
Author

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DAWs have functions to facilitate generating stems, though it requires some aware-
ness of the audio features of your particular system. It’s up to you to know how to
organize tracks into groups that will be mixed together into any given stem.
FIGURE 5.15
Sequencer arrangement optimized for stemming.
Used by Permission, Apple Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Some projects only request a small handful of stems, while others may request a
wider, more split out set of musical elements. The desire for the music to be delivered
in multiple stems is to give the final mixing of the project, with dialogue and sound
effects added, as much control as possible. All stems should be identical in length, even
if there is only silence for most of a file.
In delivering the finished product, it’s vital to be as organized as possible. Consis-
tent file-naming conventions and folder structure is vital. The capabilities are all pres-
ent in your composing system’s audio framework, but care must be taken to make it
understandable to the production. Some systems make the process nearly automatic,
while others require a more manual approach.

SETTING UP A STUDIO
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TIMECODE AND SYNCHRONIZATION: THE VITAL LINK BETWEEN SOUND, TIME,
AND MOVING IMAGE
Motion pictures on film or video (including the video output of computers and video
game systems) are made up of frames, which are a sequence of still images progressing
by many times per second, resulting in a perception of a moving picture.
FIGURE 5.16
Consecutive film frames create sense of motion.
Author
The number of frames displayed in a second is called the frame rate. The most
widely used frame rates are 24 frames per second (fps), 25 fps, and 30 fps. There are
several other frame rates in use (see below), however these are the most widely used.
A feature-length film can contain hundreds of thousands of frames. In order for
humans (such as yourself) to keep track of your place in time within a video, each
frame is numbered using a standardized system called SMPTE timecode (SMPTE
stands for Society of Motion Picture and Television Engineers, the technical group
that develops standards for video production standards). This may seem unnecessar-
ily technical, but the basics of this are essential to the workflow of any media project.
Timecode is the glue between picture and sound synchronization, and is the single
method used in post-production to indicate where music begins or ends, and how a
scene may change if recut.
So that it is always in perfect sync to the picture, a composer is expected to know
how to deliver music back to a production. Music production is sometimes the most
geographically remote element of the post-production process. Composers work from
their home or studio, while the rest of the team for picture and sound editorial are
often in one place, with networked digital asset servers and easier supervision by the
editors and post-production personnel. Timecode provides a consistent and highly
accurate way for everyone on the post-production team to exchange video, audio, and
documents. Think of it as a shared clock that tells the exact time to everyone watch-
ing or working with that video. It is a built-in function to every professional quality
DAW and sequencer on the market, making the work of connecting score to picture
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Music Married to Motion
Here’s a very brief description of how timecode got started and how it has evolved:
The technology of moving images has changed slowly over the last hundred or so years.
Film, the celluloid strip with images and little sprocket holes, was the medium of choice
for an entire century. With the advent of television came the creation of analog video
on magnetic tape for broadcast (and later for home distribution). SMPTE timecode
was originally a machine-generated audio track on the videotape itself that could be
“listened to” by other SMPTE-compatible devices to indicate the position, and the pre-
cise speed, of the tape. The receiving machine or machines then regulated its tape (or
disc playback) to run at the same speed and location as the timecode sender. The code
was sent via a wire from one primary device to other devices that could then follow it
in perfect synchronization, making them function as though they were a single device.
Back in analog days, video and audio production existed on separate mechanical
devices that needed complex and sophisticated technology to interconnect them and
lock their movements together electronically. This was why timecode was invented in
the first place—as a way to make mechanical devices connect in a system so picture on
one machine would be synchronized to audio on another. Move forward or backward
in the video, and all the audio machines in the system would automatically move to the
same position. Press “play” on one machine, and they all play from exactly the right
place, all at the same speed. It was possible to also have a hybrid system where a digital
device, like a DAW or studio automation system, could also be in time to analog video
or audio devices. The same SMPTE system that solved the problems of the old analog
world still works for the modern digital one.
Computer-based audio and video technology, and standardized media files, are the
primary method in the process of creating and producing audio and video content.
Even filmmakers who still prefer to use real motion picture film will eventually trans-
fer everything to digital files and work with those.
Video File Playback
As the composer on the project, the production company or the music editor/
producer will send you video files either through a cloud-based file hosting service or
a portable hard drive. Some variation of the QuickTime format is most common file
type. You’ll find dialogue and other sound on the audio tracks of the video file. MIDI
sequencers and digital audio workstations all have the capability of playing back video
in a number of formats directly from inside the program. Video will open as an on-
screen window, and any audio in the file will play alongside your sequencer’s output.
Should you want a bigger video screen than a small window in your sequencer, you
can usually direct video playback to an external screen. In some cases, a separate com-
puter can be used as a dedicated video player, and it could be synchronized to your
music system through a network using SMPTE timecode sent as real-time data over a

SETTING UP A STUDIO
171
network, such as MIDI or Ethernet. There are specialized apps for hosting video on a
computer that synchronize the data to an external timecode source, such as a DAW.
Time
Here’s a closer look at how timecode works, and how it is used in a composer’s sys-
tem: Timecode is used to present a value for every individual frame of a video project in
order to have a clear reference for your music to start and stop at exactly the spot you
want. It also provides a means of synchronizing multiple connected digital devices when
needed. The SMPTE timecode system gives each frame of a video a unique, sequential
number in the format HH:MM:SS:FF (Hours : Minutes : Seconds : Frames). A timecode
counter, like you will see in your DAW, may look something like the one in figure 5.17.
SMPTE code is used to locate the current
playback position in a video file. When a video
file is prepared for a composer (or any member
of the production team), the timecode num-
bers are overlaid on top of the picture—usually
at the top, bottom, or corner of the screen.
This is a visual version of timecode, which is also able to be sent between devices to
synchronize entire systems. If you have one machine for audio and another just for
video, they can be connected with a MIDI or Ethernet cable, and the timecode from one
machine (primary) can remotely operate the other machine in perfect synchronization.
MIDI has the ability to send and receive timecode messages using its MIDI Time Code
(MTC) protocol. It is sent via MIDI cable or can be sent over a local network.
When you are scoring to picture, it’s likely you will be given a video file with
SMPTE timecode numbers visually added to each frame.
FIGURE 5.17
SMPTE counter.
Author
FIGURE 5.18
Video frame with timecode window in upper left corner.
Author

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If you are using a music system based around a single computer, then you don’t
need any additional equipment or knowledge. You can lock picture and music to-
gether using the tools within your software. The advantage of running video on a
separate machine is to put less CPU strain on your DAW, which may need all of your
computer’s speed and power just for music. You can connect computers together us-
ing a MIDI interface on each system and a MIDI cable or via an Ethernet cable (by
sending MIDI over your network). One machine is deemed the controller machine (set
to “internal sync”), and the other should be set to lock to and follow the main machine
(with the video host software set to “external sync”). There are just a few settings to
ensure this works smoothly, and that will be discussed below.
FIGURE 5.19A
Basic system with two computers synchronized via Ethernet.
Author
FIGURE 5.19B
Basic system with two devices synchronized via MIDI.
Author

SETTING UP A STUDIO
173
The visual timecode numbers are generated
by the production company and saved to the
video file. This visual representation of time-
code is called “burn in,” “visual timecode,”
“viz code,” or “window code.” You can still
work to a video that does not have numbers
burned into the image. Any sequencer or
DAW can lock the arrangement or timeline to
a video file and can even add a display of time-
code numbers. Generally, you will always have
some kind of timecode reference, as it is a vital
part of postproduction that everyone has the
same video and works to the same timecode
numbers in order for all to be in agreement. If
you do not get timecode numbers on a video
from the production, ask them to add them, or simply ask what the timecode of the
very first frame of the file is, and then enter that into your software. In many cases, it
may be necessary to manually enter the timecode value of the first frame of the file into
your software, regardless of preexisting visual timecode.
Video Frame Rates
Different productions may use different frame rates (the number of frames that
go by each second) for their video. Projects shot on film are at 24 frames per second
(fps). When they are transferred to video, they may remain at 24 fps, but in some
cases they might get shifted to a slightly slower frame rate due to some technical is-
sues from early video systems. Most video projects are shot at 30 fps, though you
find videos occasionally at the slightly slower 29.97 fps—also for reasons of technical
compatibility with a wide range of systems. In use, none of this matters, except that
your music software must be set to the exact same frame rate as in the video file given
to you. Your sequencer will have a feature dedicated to sync and timecode settings. If
you do not work at the correct frame rate, there is a good chance your music will start
in the wrong place, and/or slowly drift out of sync to the picture. It’s valuable for you
to check with the people making the video files, and confirm which timecode format
is being used, and be sure your software matches.
Sync in Action
Once you’ve set up your system for music and picture, and have your project video
file, you’re ready to start composing your score with your music and the video locked
together:
FIGURE 5.20
MIDI sequencer timecode functions.
Provided courtesy of Avid Technology, Inc.

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■ Press “Play” or “Record” in your DAW and the video follows right along.
■ If you are running the video from inside your sequencer, you merely need to open the
movie file and set the SMPTE frame rate and the timecode of the first frame of the file.
■ Your cue will need its start time entered as well. This will tell the sequencer exactly
where in the movie file the music will begin.
■ If you opt to have a separate dedicated machine to host video, you must set your
desired start time, then have your sequencer send MIDI Time Code to the second
machine over a MIDI cable.
■ Next, set the SMPTE frame rate and movie file start time on the video machine (as
shown in figure 5.20).
Once you have it all set up, you can begin scoring while watching picture. You can
now write music that flows precisely to the picture, which is one of the goals in creat-
ing music to picture.
In order to work out hits and transitions in the music, you can scrub (drag your
cursor) through your sequence, and the video will scrub back and forth as well. Find
the frame you want to hit, see what bar and beat it lands on, and compose accordingly.
If a frame falls between beats, sequencers have tools to make tempo adjustments by
simply indicating what beat you wish to have on any specific frame.
While scoring in real time to picture can be incredibly inspiring, from time to time,
it’s a good idea to shut the movie off and just write. This helps maintain an organic
feel to the music, so it doesn’t become overly beholden to every nuance of the picture.
After you’ve developed some musical ideas into your computer, turn the video back
on and see how they well fit the scene. Make any desired changes and try them again.
Some composers also find it useful to hide the movie but keep the dialogue audio run-
ning in order to write around it more carefully.
Sequencer apps make using timecode simple and straightforward. They provide a
powerful system to make scoring work easier and faster. Setting up a timecode net-
work for multiple machines is also relatively simple, though different for different
systems. Reading your software’s user manual to familiarize yourself with its use of
SMPTE sync will make fast work of the process.
ORGANIZATION: THE UNIQUE LANGUAGE OF CUE SHEETS
When a film or episodic project is edited, it does not always exist as a single video file
from beginning to end. Depending on its length and the wishes of the postproduc-
tion team, it may be broken down into smaller segments called reels (from which this
book gets its slightly clever title). This was discussed briefly earlier. A typical reel is
between ten and twenty minutes long. If any scene is re-edited to be longer or shorter
(which happens a lot during the editing process), it will only affect the timings of
the remainder of that reel. If a project is kept as a single long file, it would affect the
entire remaining film, and cause a lot more work. Each reel has a timecode Hour that

SETTING UP A STUDIO
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matches the Reel Number—reel 1 begins at 01:00:00:00, reel 2 begins at 02:00:00:00,
reel 3 at 03:00:00:00, and so on. Episodic projects typically come as a single video file.
Cues are named in such a way that anyone involved in postproduction has a sense
of where it belongs in the timeline of the project. Each cue is given a cue number, and
an optional name. The number reflects the cue’s position and order in the project and
the number of the reel it plays in. For example, a film with six reels in it, each about
twenty minutes in length, will be a total of about 120 minutes long. The first cue in
the film is traditionally labeled “1m1.” The “m” stands for “music,” and it helps distin-
guish the music from licensed songs (often marked “S”), sound effects (usually marked
“SX”), or dialogue (marked “DX”) events on any logs. However, for the sake of music
postproduction, the cue sheet lists only underscore and source music.
FIGURE 5.21
Cue sheet showing the end of reel 2 and the beginning of reel 3.
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Again, the first digit is the reel number, fol-
lowed by the letter M for musical underscore,
or S for source music. The digit after the “m” is
a number for the cue itself. These numbers are
primarily for the composer to stay organized
and avoid losing or forgetting to write cues.
The cue sheet shows the cue number, a title,
a SMPTE start time, and a duration. Further,
there is often some description of the scene and
any notes of topics discussed at the spotting
session of importance to the composer.
On occasion, a new music cue may be added
as an afterthought. In that case, the new cue is
given a letter at the end. For example, a new
cue placed between 6m12 and 6m13 would
be called 6m12A. A composer might feel like
writing more than one version of a cue to give
options to play for the director. These get titled
with “ALT,” such as 6m12ALT, or 6m12ALT2
for an additional option.
Cue numbers should be used for labeling ev-
erything—sequencer files, audio stems mixes,
scores, and parts for the orchestra. Consistent
use of cue numbers will keep you and the rest of your team, as well as anyone else
involved in the project’s postproduction as organized as possible.
MIXING: THE ART OF BALANCE
Scoring involves music production. As you create new music, you should get it into
good sonic shape before you play it for other people. You probably won’t need the
services of a qualified engineer before final production of the approved cues. It’s likely
that the demos you play for your producer or director will come from you, and you
want to make the best possible impression. On lower-budget projects, you may need
to mix some of your own final recordings as well.
With the current audio plug-ins available, it is entirely possible to do not only a
decent mix on your own but also a superlative one. Whether you were doing the score
based on synthesizers, guitars and other rhythm instruments, a full orchestra done
with samples, or any blend of these, you should know a few basic things about sound
mixing such as using EQ, dynamics, reverbs, balance, panning, and using other effects
all to the best advantage of the music. A good mix should be clean, sound great when
FIGURE 5.22
Careful score organization in folders and subfolders.
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SETTING UP A STUDIO
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put up to picture and sound, and be delivered in a format that the production can use,
which can mean mixing down to anywhere from two tracks up to dozens of tracks.
Mixes should have impact, balance, focus, and size, and sound organic. Mixing
takes some knowledge and practice. There are countless online video tutorials on mix-
ing that cover everything from the basics to advanced methods. Spending time with
a good audio engineer is also very educational. Having a good engineer do your final
mixing is even better. Don’t feel intimidated. Every sequencer or DAW has the basic
tools to make any sound fit into the overall scheme of the music. Sophisticated plug-
ins with ample presets make it that much easier to achieve the desired result. Mixing
music for picture has a few of its own unique challenges separate from mixing in the
recorded music world. Mixing in surround or separated stems is somewhat more
complex than simple stereo mixing. Knowing how the music will sound when mixed
with dialogue and sound effects is another consideration.
Every accomplished composer for any media is also an excellent music producer.
It’s not enough to just come up with the notes. All scores exist as well-crafted record-
ings, and the process to get from demos and sketches to final deliverable tracks takes
patience, care, know-how, practice, and most of all, a good ear. Good audio engineer-
ing and mixing is all about listening. It’s not just to the overall sound, but every ele-
ment. Being sure that every instrument in the arrangement is meticulously thought
out, recorded, programmed, processed, balanced, edited, and mixed, will bring the
music’s maximum emotion through.
Composing music electronically means you are mixing all the time. Anytime you
have more than one instrument playing, you must consider the balance, stereo pan-
ning, relative dynamics, use of space, and any additional elements to give the sound as
much character as you can. It may be as simple as adding some reverb, but could also
involve adding dynamics, distortion, filters and modulation effects.
Knowing your own studio with all its tools and options, or seeking out good collab-
orators (players, orchestrator, engineer, editor) to work alongside you is key. Success-
ful composers know what they want, know it when they hear it, and do their utmost
to achieve the desired results—regardless of budget and time constraints. Keep in mind
that most scores are done with difficult budgets and schedules. It’s never an excuse for
not delivering the best-sounding music. And while collaborating with talented crafts-
people is a great experience, there is nothing wrong with some technical self-reliance.
A Few Tips for Mixing Demos and Sketches
■ Don’t wait until you’re done composing to mix—be mixing and refining continuously.
■ Confirm with the production how they want music sketches delivered (the file for-
mat and sample rate).
■ Pan sounds toward the left or right; it’s best to avoid too much in the center.

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■ Use reverb, echo, delay, or other effects to add “width” and “size” to sounds you wish
to feel “cinematic.”
■ Don’t allow solos or other melodic materials to become too loud relative to the other
parts of the arrangement.
■ To see if the mix is well balanced and supports the scene, occasionally listen with the
music turned down softly as compared to dialogue.
■ Use compression or limiting as needed so that drums, percussion, or other transient
sounds don’t poke through and hide the rest of the music.
■ Have any dialogue playing while you mix so you hear it in relationship to the music.
■ Avoid too many instruments in the same frequency range as voices in scenes with
dialogue (120Hz–150hz for males, 200hz–300Hz for females).
■ In addition to dynamics or EQ you put on any individual sound, adding some final
compression or limiting and EQ on your main stereo output can make everything
feel more cohesive and together.
Software Needs
As vital as having good quality computer and audio hardware in your studio,
nothing happens without the right software, and it is constantly changing. There are
a number of uses for which exploring options and having good apps on your system
are really important:
■ Sequencer (DAW): Many from which to choose and a very personal choice. Some
have written notation, and some don’t. Some are better for audio and others bet-
ter for MIDI. If you intend to collaborate with a partner, having the same software
makes exchanging files simpler. The term digital audio workstation (DAW for short)
is used often as the same as sequencer, though a DAW may be audio only with no
MIDI. However, most apps are typically a hybrid of audio and MIDI.
■ Score Notation: Not a part of every sequencer, and the stand-alone programs are
typically more powerful. If your focus is on orchestral or ensemble live recordings,
this may be a handy asset, if you don’t plan to have someone else do it for you.
■ Audio Editor/Mastering: Although audio can be edited and mastered inside any
sequencer with audio capabilities, there are some audio-only applications designed
only to enhance audio and get rid of unwanted noise or other audio abnormalities,
and are optimized for editing and mastering only.
■ Synthesizers: These are a vast world of software instruments capable of incred-
ible sonic range. Each has its own personality and limitations, so checking them
out online or through reviews is essential before making any decisions. There is
no one “do it all” instrument, so having a few on hand to cover different types of
sounds is best.

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■ Samplers: One of the most basic plug-ins you’ll find, they open up a vast world of
identifiable and processed sounds. Some are better supported by third-party sample
libraries; others have unusual features just for producing unusual sound design.
■ Sample Libraries: In the early days of electronica, musical artists were expected to
make their own samples in order to have any quality or personality. Now the selec-
tion is beyond immense. Everything from orchestras to percussion, guitars to fantas-
tical sound design—there are sample libraries for every use, and most every budget
through less expensive monthly subscriptions.
■ Sampler Hosts: For composers using extremely large sampler templates, loading the
sequencer files with them can become incredibly time-consuming. The solutions for
this problem comes in the form of software applications that host large numbers of
samplers outside your DAW, get MIDI from your sequencer, and send audio back
into it. These speed up your system tremendously. As computers get faster and more
efficient, these eventually will become less valuable but are a great option for getting
the most powerful system possible.
■ Drums: Drum machines take sampling, in some cases synthesis, and pattern-based
sequencing to help create either electronica or highly realistic drum parts. Some
have intelligence; some are just sampled kits.
■ Reverb: Perhaps the most critical of all the audio effects you can add to a sound is
reverb, especially if you want to simulate the sound of an orchestra in a top-notch
recording studio or a concert hall. Good quality reverb also makes a big difference
on solo instruments and is vital for effective vocal production. There are two basic
types of reverb plug-ins: convolution, which can accurately recreate the sound of real
acoustic spaces and equipment, and algorithmic, which creates all kinds of reverb
styles that are not taken from live spaces. While most sequencers and DAWs come
with a reverb plug-in, it’s often not of the highest quality, so expanding your options
is a good decision.
■ Audio Effects: In addition to reverb (used on almost everything you can think of),
there are many other audio effects plug-ins that dramatically enhance the sound
of your music. Some, like EQ, compression, limiting, and imaging, are designed
to add nuance and detail to organic sounds. Other plug-ins, such as delays, filters,
modulation (a category that includes chorus, ensemble, phasing, flanging, and some
variations), granular and glitch effects can be used for purely creative uses. Several
companies offer bundles of plug-ins to make it more cost effective, as opposed to
purchasing them à la carte.
■ Subscription Services: A number of popular companies offer vast amounts of audio
effects, sample libraries, or unique loops for a monthly subscription fee. These save a
lot of time, energy, effort, and cost, especially for the composer doing more creative
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■ Video Servers: Adding a small second computer, solely to run a video server
program that is locked and synchronized to your sequencer, can speed up your
system noticeably. Given that all sequencers can host video internally, this is not
that important. However, if you find that videos are making your system more
sluggish, this will really help.
■ Cloud Servers: Not a musical or audio app, but subscribing to a service that allows
you to back up your data in the cloud, and to have file sharing with collaborators is
important. Numerous companies offer cloud-based services for backups and trans-
fers, and they provide safety, security, and simplicity. You should always assume that
disc drives eventually fail, so having reliable backups isn’t a luxury, it’s a necessity.
PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER
A composer truly committed to their artistic career should invest in the tools needed
to create music at a level that competes with even well-established artists. That means
having the hardware and software needed, along with sufficient musical and techni-
cal knowledge, to produce great-sounding results. Personal studios are now highly
modular and customizable to suit your particular focus in music. A setup for creating
orchestral music may be quite different from one geared more toward live recording
guitars and drums. Putting together a studio based on your own musical interests and
goals is a part of the design process. It’s often an ongoing process of trying new things
and fine-tuning the whole system.
This used to be a much bigger financial investment, but you can now get excellent
results for a far more modest cost. It depends to some extent on the types of music
you plan to produce and the level of production quality needed. Software continues
to drop in price, as does audio hardware. Many items in a studio can be found at a
very broad range of prices. Speakers, for example, can range from very affordable all
the way to the cost of a luxury car or two. And to some extent, spending more means
having a better studio, but high-quality results can be gotten without resorting to
massive expenditures.
It’s one thing to own equipment, but it’s another to know how to get the most out
of it. The best, and only way, to get the greatest possible results from your gear is by
learning how everything works in as much detail as possible. While not particularly
enjoyable, reading the manuals that come with your new hardware and software
makes a big difference in how smoothly and quickly you produce your music.
A composer’s studio can take many forms. Some possible configurations are shown
in figures 5.23, 5.24, and 5.25.

FIGURE 5.23
Simple studio setup.
Author
FIGURE 5.24
Better studio setup.
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These are just basic suggestions for a simple studio setup, a better and more capable
one, and a top-flight scoring studio. Budget is always a factor. There is gear out there
that can cost a fortune, but investing in your career has benefits, both immediate and
long term. Faster, more powerful computers save a lot of time. A slow computer can
take much longer to open a sequencer file with a lot of samplers in it. Bigger computer
monitors mean less scrolling around on an arrangement or score, which also saves a
lot of time. The bigger the investment in music software, especially large sample librar-
ies, means needing bigger and faster drives. Higher quality speakers re-create sound
more accurately, thus ensuring that the music you hear in your studio will sound
FIGURE 5.25
Top-end studio setup.
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SETTING UP A STUDIO
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just about the same in other places, which is quite valuable. Better microphones can
noticeably enhance the sonic quality of a vocal or instrumental performance. Owning
better equipment is a wise investment, but it’s not necessary in order to be creative and
to deliver very high-quality results to your projects.
The audio interface you use with your computer is the sonic hub of your studio. In
addition to being the audio outputs from your sequencer to the speakers, audio inputs
from microphones or external hardware instruments all pass through the interface.
Audio interfaces come in a wide range of options. Choosing the best one comes down
to deciding how many audio inputs and outputs you need; the quality of built-in mic
preamps you desire; additional networking functions for more complex systems; and
audio routing flexibility. Recording live players for your demos or final scores right
from the comfort of your own home studio is a wonderful option that adds a great deal
of expression and life to your music.
A vital part of dynamic and expressive sequencing involves the use of your DAW/
sequencer’s automation capabilities. In the real world, instrumentalists are constantly
changing from soft to loud, or loud to soft. That’s the nature of expressive playing.
As different parts of your score shift between being a foreground melody, or a back-
ground accompaniment, controlling and changing levels is critical. Sequences have
the ability to add dynamic control in the form of automation.
While automation data can be added to a track with a mouse or other physical
input device, the most organic way to add automation is with a fader or knob in real
time. As mentioned earlier, automation fader hardware is available in a wide array of
sizes, from a single fader all the way to the size of a mammoth professional recording-
studio console with dozens of faders. Fortunately, there are a lot of choices for simple,
FIGURE 5.26
Automation data.
Used by Permission, Apple Inc. All Rights Reserved.

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powerful, and modest-sized models, perfect for a compact writing studio. It’s also
possible to have software graphical automation faders using a tablet computer or even
smartphone (with the proper software) connected to your sequencer.
As important as it is to invest in hardware that will give you the greatest flexibility
and power, the investment in software is equally important. In addition to the vast
selection of sample libraries, software synths, sampled drum kits, vocal enhancers, and
guitar amp simulators, there is another world of wonderfully unique and interesting
experimental sound-design effects you can use to create unique and fresh sounds no
one has heard before.
IN YOUR STUDIO: THE IMPORTANCE OF A COMFORTABLE, EFFICIENT WORKSPACE
Your studio is the place you will probably spend the majority of your waking hours.
It’s your creative oasis and sanctuary. So, it is important for that space to be set up as
efficient and comfortable as possible. It’s an environment meant for both creativity
and hard work for long hours. Your writing space can be anything from a commercial
production facility and recording studio all the way to a corner of a bedroom. The
basic needs are simple—decent acoustics, lighting, desk, a supportive adjustable chair
(preferably without arms), and storage space.
Spending so much time every day sitting in a chair in front of a computer means
investing in a really comfortable, ergonomic, adjustable chair with a lot of lower back
support. After a number of marathon days, a bad chair can lead to an aching back. Or-
ganizing your music workstation—a desk with MIDI and computer keyboards, com-
puter, mouse or trackpad, screens, and possible automation control surface—means
positioning everything so you can move your hands as little as possible. Take a close
look at where you plan to make your music and see that it is as comfortable, efficient,
and as inspiring as possible. Good lighting, quiet air-conditioning, and screens placed
at a comfortable distance in front of you are critical. Ergonomic experts tell you that
it’s important that your eye alignment, the angle between where your eyes are and
where the screen is, should be nearly parallel to the floor, or slightly lower. Lighting
and windows should be positioned so it they don’t reflect off your monitor.
Optimal speaker placement is to have them at ear level and spaced so that your
speakers and your head form an equilateral triangle.

SETTING UP A STUDIO
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A few other helpful suggestions for your writing space are:
■ Turn off your phone while working.
■ Close your social media apps.
■ Don’t surf the internet on your music computer unless it is for work.
■ Keep water nearby and drink as often as you can.
■ Ask people you live with to respect your writing space and to not interrupt when
you are working, except in an emergency (which is often open to interpretation).
■ Take frequent short breaks to stand up, stretch, walk around, or do some light ex-
ercise.
■ Adjust the lighting in your space to be gentle and non-glaring. Good lighting can
add a splash of color and make the space feel like the special place it is.
■ Have sufficient storage so your room remains uncluttered and easy to move through.
Clutter is a distraction and can be a hindrance to creativity.
This section has introduced many of the technical and practical aspects of being
a working composer. Knowing the capabilities of your studio and all that is in it will
make your professional and creative life substantially better. The technology won’t get
you anywhere on its own, but it can make the ride a lot more enjoyable and fulfill-
ing. There are amazing online communities of people who, like yourself, are trying to
make the best possible environment for themselves through the use of technology and
skill. Tutorials, reviews, feedback, and an exchange of tips and tricks can help elevate
your artistic and production abilities and maximize your creative output.
FIGURE 5.27
Overhead view of proper speaker placement.
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187
6
The Written Note
MAKING SCORES AND PARTS FOR RECORDING LIVE MUSICIANS
Virtually all composers for media begin their work with a computer, but many times
the end results may end up with recordings of live musicians—soloists, ensembles, all
the way to full orchestra and choir. Working in your sequencer to sketch and demo
your music is just the first step. Taking those files and preparing them to be played and
recorded requires additional steps. That means transforming your sequenced tracks
into legible notation on paper (or a tablet) for conductors and musicians to read. Most
sequencers provide some degree of automatic score transcription to transform your
performances into standard music notation. Some are quite sophisticated. There are
also several stand-alone notation software programs with even more intelligence and
sophistication to accurately transcribe, edit, and print your scores and parts. Getting
from sequencer to notation software involves simply exporting either a Standard
MIDI File (SMF) or music XML file from your sequencer and opening it in the nota-
tion software you choose. If you are collaborating with someone who will assist you in
the creation of scores and parts, these files are quite small and can be easily sent as an
email attachment or small file transfer link.
Because of the tight schedules on many projects, composers frequently rely on an
orchestrator or music preparation expert to help orchestrate, polish, and render scores
and parts for upcoming recording sessions. It’s equally valuable to have a second pair
of eyes to make sure everything looks correct. Note accuracy is usually not an issue
since the computer knows everything exactly as you played it. However, there are
many other factors in accurate music notation that computers can’t always get right
without some human intervention. It’s a mistake to simply rely on the accuracy of
any music notation software, whether it is built into a sequencer or not. Checking and
double checking for any mistakes or sloppy notation is invaluable.

FIGURE 6.1
“Derry” from It. Written by Benjamin Wallfisch.
Published by New Line Tunes (ASCAP). Courtesy of Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.

THE WRITTEN NOTE
189
The true goal of music transcription is to create a conductor’s score and the indi-
vidual musician’s parts that are detailed, unambiguous, and designed for easy sight-
reading. Orchestral musicians know most of the classical repertoire and can play it on
a first pass. But they’ve never heard the music that you’ve just written and are about to
record for the first time. So, having as much precise detail of dynamics, phrasing, and
articulations is mission critical. That level of careful detail is where notation software
needs human assistance. Adding phrase marks, bowings, articulations, and dynamics
on each phrase provides the best chance of getting a near flawless take on the first or
second try. Unlike most traditional classical orchestration with key signatures, scores
tend to use accidentals instead, again, to be sure that nothing in or out of the music’s
key is missed on a first reading.
It’s important to keep your sequencer arrangements as organized as possible. You
want to group like instruments together, and be sure your track names match what is
playing. It saves time and prevents mistakes later in the process. When sequencing a
score that is a hybrid of electronics and live players, you need to be clear as to which
tracks are purely electronic (synths and samples to be used in the final mix and not be
replaced by live players) and which are to be transcribed and recorded by the live mu-
sicians. If you have a string line you want doubled between live and electronic strings,
you should create two tracks: one for the samples to be in the final mix and the other
to be transcribed for the players, but not part of the final mix. Use track titles to clearly
show which is which. If your sequencer allows comments with the tracks, you can use
that as well. A bit of time spent organizing and naming tracks will pay off in the long
run, especially if you hand the files over to an orchestrator or mixer.
FIGURE 6.2
Sequencer arrangement showing electronic vs. live tracks.
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Keep in mind that before you can record and mix your score, you need to audition
demos of everything for your director or producers. Your goal is to create impressive
demos that will be as close to the final production as possible. Using live musicians
(whether just a few soloists, a guitarist, or a full orchestra) adds tremendous expres-
sion and nuance to your music. There are ways to make your sequenced parts feel
more like real players. Using MIDI faders, for example, to alter and shape the dynam-
ics of held notes adds realism and expression, compared to just a static sample.
Subtle variations in rhythmic timing have a big effect as well. If you want a phrase
to sound more “organic” and live, it’s helpful to not use too much quantization,
though it’s a matter of personal taste. Some composers prefer to quantize everything
for accuracy and use a MIDI track delay function to compensate for samples with
slower attacks that end up sounding late as a result. That way you won’t have to spend
as much time doing MIDI cleanup for an orchestrator. Real musicians don’t play in
perfect time like a sequencer can, and that’s a good thing. As music gets louder and
more exciting, it’s normal for players to rush things a bit. Slow, emotional phrases can
sound more natural if they are slightly late to your click. Wind and brass parts can take
small “breaths” (breaks) where a real player might. Thinking like a string, brass, or
wind player can help guide your phrasing and articulations as you do your sequencing.
Taking a little extra time to add the crescendos and decrescendos via MIDI controller
breathes much more life into your tracks.
MIDI phrases that have some human “slop factor” may sound more expressive, but
may not transcribe into standard musical notation as accurately as you need. There are
a couple of ways to handle this.
■ Make a duplicate of that track, quantize the MIDI for better transcription, then
mute the copy. You can then mark it for an orchestrator or (if you plan to get help
with this, otherwise you are making a note for yourself) to use for transcription only.
This way if you need to make further changes to the music, you have the tracks all
together.
■ Make a copy of the entire sequencer file and use the copy for score notation only.
This assumes the music is approved, and you are just in need of score and parts. So,
you have one sequencer file of the cue for exporting audio, and a second one just for
notation. The notation version can be quantized more strictly for better transcrip-
tion—there is no need to make it play back with any nuance.
Simplicity is often preferable in most scoring work, but that is an individual artistic
choice. Keep in mind that unless you have a very generous budget for recording live
players, you need to compose music that is playable with minimal rehearsal, and not
too technically challenging for the players. This is not to say that a composer should

THE WRITTEN NOTE
191
only write simple music, but the more complex the score, the longer it will take to
record, and in some cases, you may not get a flawless performance. Multiple takes of a
difficult cue may tire out the players, especially in the brass section. Recording sessions
need to go smoothly and efficiently.
■ It’s best to avoid the extremes in range, especially for wind and brass players, unless
you know you will have excellent musicians (a chart of orchestral instrument ranges
can be found in the appendix). Most players struggle to maintain control over tone
and pitch on their very highest, and sometimes lowest, notes.
■ Be careful of large, awkward leaps in range (jumping from a very high note down to
a very low note, or vice versa).
■ Check that the trills or double-stops you call for are playable and not too hard.
■ Don’t make huge demands on brass or winds to play high and loud for long stretches.
■ It’s best to avoid overly complex or compound rhythms that can take a long time
to perfect.
■ Add careful explanations for any unusual notation or aleatoric sections directly to
the score and parts.
■ Include accidentals as much as possible instead of relying on keys and key changes.
■ Create tacit sheets (a simple sheet of paper with the name of the cue and just the
word Tacit) for players who are not needed on a cue so they know their part isn’t
just missing.
■ Use phrase markings whenever possible to show clearly where exactly a melody
starts and ends. This can also be done with breath marks (even for string players),
which use an apostrophe.
■ Use emotional markers when possible to give the players a sense of musical intent,
with descriptive words such as “mysteriously” or “with energy.”
When you sequence block harmonies (chords) for sections of the orchestra, you
may want to sequence them all at once as chords in a single sequencer track, instead
of recording each note of the chord one at a time on individual tracks.
For example, if what you want is a four-note chord, you should be able to just go to
a track and record the chord. You can then go through to move each note of the chord
to the section or players you wish. While playing chords on a keyboard is a common
idea musically, in orchestral composition you might want to think, and play, more
linearly. The most musical results come when each line in a harmonic section sounds
melodic by itself. Recording those parts one at a time and building the harmonies
through multiple lines will give you a more organic result.
Once your cues are sequenced and approved, you can hand over your sequencer
or exported MIDI files to your orchestrator or music prep person to polish and cre-

FIGURE 6.3
MIDI chords (top) vs. each line split out for players.
Used by Permission, Apple Inc. All Rights Reserved.

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ate the conductor’s score and then extract the players’ parts. Many composers are
fully capable of doing all aspects of orchestration as well as creating scores and parts.
But it is time-consuming, and composers often can’t afford to be writing, rewriting,
orchestrating, and notating the final documents. In this case, the role of orchestrator
is simple and straightforward—to be sure everything in the score is correct, properly
notated, and all details of dynamics and articulations are in place.
Other composers, without a background in orchestration, need to rely on the skills
of a good and experienced orchestrator to flesh out their ideas and make best use of
the orchestra. It’s a more creative role for the orchestrator. Composers pass their files
to the orchestrator to assist in finishing their ideas in a number of ways:
■ helping to revoice harmonies in more pleasing ways
■ doubling lines and parts with differing instrumental colors
■ filling in transitions with swells, glisses, or other orchestral flourishes
■ adding percussion lines
■ adding extended techniques for more color, such as harmonics, unusual bowing or
breathing techniques, double stops, etc.
■ developing counterlines from block chords
■ choosing better ways to split out a chord into more linear moving lines and adding
passing tones to help
A skilled orchestrator can add nuance and depth to a score without changing
the fundamental composition. If a composer is fully able to handle all orchestration
FIGURE 6.4
Music notation software.
Provided courtesy of Avid Technology, Inc.

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functions on their own, they may still want help in editing and prepping the score
and parts. This is simply called “music prep.” The main notion is for a composer to
be able to focus their time on writing and not get sidetracked with notation software,
which can be quite deep and time-consuming. If time permits, or budget does not,
a composer can handle all aspects of orchestration and prep.
As each cue is written and approved, the composer can hand over to their orches-
trator a demo recording of each cue. This serves as a guide to the articulations and dy-
namics of the music, which may not always be obvious from the MIDI files themselves.
As sophisticated as music notation programs are in translating MIDI into standard
notation, there remains the need for some human input. The software on its own does
not automatically generate perfect scores and parts. Some thoughtful editing and pol-
ish are usually needed. Invariably a few mistakes or accidents get left in the MIDI files.
There needs to be as much detail as possible to help assure a correct first reading by the
players. Good, legible music tends to be simple, consistent, and easy to read.
FIGURE 6.5
Good notation practices for easy to sight read parts.
Author
Once a cue is orchestrated within any music notation system, there is a process of
parts extraction to generate the sheet music that goes in front of each player. Here are
some valuable elements of good written parts for recording sessions:

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■ Organization is key.
■ Put the name of each cue at the top of the first page, number the pages, and tape
them together before the recording.
■ Never end a long note with only a whole note or a half note. It is best to end a
long note tied to an eighth note on the next beat for better clarity of where the
note will end.
FIGURE 6.6
Clearer notation of note to the next downbeat.
Author
■ Place measure numbers only at the start of each line.
■ In general, have the same number of bars on each line for scores, and a limited
amount of variation for parts.
■ If the musicians will be playing to a click track, don’t print the BPMs on the score.
Instead, use descriptive adjectives (i.e ., “bouncy,” “briskly,” “mysteriously”).
■ Excessive use of obscure Italian musicological terms rarely helps.
■ If a musician will be overdubbing parts (playing more than one part on multiple
tracks of audio), or if two players are sharing a part, don’t print multiple notes on
one staff. Give each player or part its own staff on the same page.
FIGURE 6.7
Clearer notation, give each player their own staff.
Author
■ Use dynamics and phrase markings such as accents, staccatos, legatos, crescendos,
and slurs liberally—it helps sessions go much faster when the players know how to
phrase the music. The alternative is to explain every cue and wait while they scribble
on their parts, and there isn’t time for that.

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■ Use multi-bar rests whenever needed for rests that are more than two bars long.
FIGURE 6.8
Multi-bar rests.
Author
■ Notate rhythms as clearly as possible. Avoid complex rests when they are not
needed. Allow soloists to embellish phrases as desired, and give them the clearest
rhythmic notation possible. Mark the start and end of solos in the part.
■ Many orchestral scores are notated without key signatures if they are relatively chro-
matic or modulate a great deal. This way, there are accidentals next to every note as
needed, and the chances of a player missing a sharp or flat is eliminated. It’s a matter
of choice and judgment. If the music is very specifically in a key for a long period,
and with few or no additional notes, then the use of a key signature is fine. Have the
notation system put the key signature at the beginning of every line, but only put
time signatures at the beginning of each cue, or where there are meter changes. If a
key or time signature changes at the beginning of a line in the sheet music, then also
place it at the end of the previous line, so the players are not surprised.
■ Proofread everything! People (with or without computers) and software make mis-
takes. The conductor’s score, and all the player’s parts need to be perfect. It’s easy
to think the computer is right every time, all the time. Mistakes can and do crop up
from time to time, Don’t make that assumption.
The end results of your efforts, whether or not you collaborate with an orchestrator
or music prep person, should be well-transcribed parts for all your players and a clear,
detailed score for the conductor. This will lead to a more productive and smoother
recording session. Musicians also tend to play better and have better dispositions
when the music in front of them looks good, is easy to read, and is detailed and ac-
curate. There are many good books on orchestration, music notation, and musical
instrument ranges. Have them around when you do transcription or other notation,
especially when writing for instruments with which you are less familiar. It will save
time when it counts.

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CONDUCT YOURSELF ACCORDINGLY: HOW TO CONTROL A LIVE ORCHESTRA
The conductor’s job is to turn a group of musicians into a unified ensemble that per-
forms and records a piece exactly as you (the composer) wish. There are few things
more exhilarating than standing up in front of a live orchestra, moving your arms and
hearing all those living, breathing people play the music you have written. Even the
most jaded of composers don’t remain jaded when it comes to this. Conducting is both
a challenge and a pleasure. Some composers insist on conducting their own works at
a recording session. Others prefer to let someone else lead the orchestral so they can
sit in the control room with the score (and possibly the orchestrator), ensuring that
everything coming through the speakers sounds as intended (or better).
Professional symphonic conductors make a lifelong study of their craft. It is a dis-
tinct and valued art in and of itself. It requires deep musical knowledge, musicality, and
practice. However, conducting an orchestra for a score recording differs greatly from
the conducting of symphonic repertory. Conducting classical symphonic music re-
quires the study and comprehension of the scores, and how they have been interpreted
in the past (Mahler isn’t around to answer questions). There are expectations put upon
the performance of well-known music, and the recordings are often compared with the
others of the same piece. With a film, series or video game score, there is no compari-
son. Your performance will be the definitive (and probably the only) recording!
There are several other differences between conducting score recordings and clas-
sical orchestral concerts. You will most likely be working with an audio click track
that all the members of the orchestra hear in their headphones. So, you’re not really
responsible for keeping time, per say. With that rudimentary task removed, what re-
mains for a scoring session conductor to accomplish? Plenty.
The highly physical act of conducting, like any martial art, cannot be taught in writ-
ing. However, here are a number of rudiments to get you well on your way.
■ The conductor moves a baton in a standard pattern that lets the players know which
beat of the bar they are at currently. This may seem unnecessary for a professional
musician, but that isn’t the case. Since scores are recorded with little or no rehearsal,
everyone is sight-reading. As a result, there is a lot on the players’ minds. The con-
ductor showing musicians where they are in each measure becomes one less thing
the players need to think about.
■ The basic pattern is simple.
FIGURE 6.9
Basic conducting patterns.
Author

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With these patterns in mind, you can give the musicians a clear idea of where in
the bar they are. There are other patterns for other meters and variations for music in
triple meters and faster tempos in small meters such as 3/8. Giving the players a clear
sense of the downbeat of each bar ensures that no one slips away from the right beat.
You will usually give more gestural emphasis to the downbeat, even in gentle, fluid
sections. You can make very strong gestures for those bars with a hard accent on the
first beat or stress any accented beat as desired.
An experienced conductor holds the baton directly in front of them, not out to
either side. It should hover around chest level, and not go too high or too low. As you
move the baton to each point in the bar pattern, it accelerates somewhat, hitting the
beats like hitting a nail with a small hammer. The baton swings to a beat and then
stops briefly before moving toward and accelerating to the next point in the pattern.
Left-handers usually mirror the pattern, and players rarely even notice.
Once you have the basic pattern down, what’s next is the nuance of it. Bolder, larger
gestures are a sign for the players to play louder, while smaller movements indicate
playing softer. Not only should the pattern get smaller but smoothing out the motions
to be less articulated will coax an added amount of smoothness and flow to the play-
ing. By snapping the baton from beat to beat in the pattern, you are asking for more
emphasis on separate notes and rhythms.
With each cue to be recorded:
■ The conductor calls out the name of the cue and waits for the musicians to find
their parts.
■ An engineer will open the proper file on their DAW and prepare to record the
ensemble.
■ The click track for the group will be ready to play into the musicians’ headphones.
■ You may wish to confirm that everyone has the correct sheet music up and can hear
the click sufficiently. More on all this a little later.
When everything is ready to begin recording, you raise the baton up and hold it
steady, in preparation for the first downbeat. On seeing a raised baton, players know
to be silent, put their instruments into position and be ready to play. Keep the baton
steady while waiting for the count-in clicks to begin. You can’t predict the first click, so
as soon as you hear it, you move toward beat two of the count-in bar and continue the
pattern from there. Some conductors will verbally call out beats two and three to make
clear to everyone what’s going on. You then bring the baton down for the downbeat of
the first bar, and the players will begin.
Now the job shifts a bit. As you continue to show the beats and overall dynamics,
use your other hand as needed to cue soloists or sections to begin playing after rests.

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It is reassuring for players to have the conductor point to them in the bar or beat prior
to an important entrance; they will play it better. You also move your other hand up
and down to emphasize changes in dynamics. Raising your palm means “Let’s all get
louder,” and lowering your palm means “Let’s play it softer now.”
You always anticipate the beats where you want to add emphasis. For example, if
there is a big accent or hit on beat three of a bar, it is too late to indicate it right on that
beat. Instead, you indicate the accent by making a gesture on beat two that says, “This
next beat needs to be hit hard.” Always be a step ahead of accents and dynamic shifts
with the baton. To show an accent on beat three, give a big flip of the baton on beats
two and three. Beat two prepares them and beat three confirms it for them.
A good way to think about anticipating gestures is to think of throwing darts at
a target across the room. If you want a dart to hit the target right on beat three, you
need to throw it a bit beforehand. Drummers don’t start moving their sticks exactly
on the beat. They anticipate time in order to have the stick strike the drum right on
the beat. A conductor helps the ensemble sculpt the performance by making gestures
just before the event.
Before recording a complex or difficult cue, you may want to rehearse it in whole or
in part once or twice, time permitting. It’s a chance for the ensemble to get comfort-
able with it and for you to confirm there are no errors in the parts. You don’t need the
click track. You are in control of the ensemble with only your baton. A conductor’s
job is to keep the entire group together in dynamics, articulation, and phrasing. When
there are solos in a cue, give the player an indication of their entrance, and leave them
be. Then focus your attention on the rest of the ensemble, and let the soloist perform.
Use your free hand, the one not holding the baton, to indicate to players or sections to
play louder or softer in order to balance the orchestra as you desire.
Every note that starts must eventually stop; and controlling this is another impor-
tant function of a conductor. While music notation is very clear about when notes
start, it is less clear about when a note ends. Indicate to the players when to stop a long
note by making a small circular “flip” with the tip of the baton. You can also make a
gesture by touching your index finger to your thumb with the hand not holding the
baton at the moment you want a note to end.
There’s no room for error in conducting. Missing or misplacing a meter change in
the baton pattern or missing the cue for an important entrance can stop a recording
cold, which will waste time and money. Players will stop watching you and assume
they are better off on their own. Be prepared. Know the score and run through the cues
before the session. Mark the entrances you wish to cue. Mark meter changes or other
transitions you want to gesture to the orchestra. While you are conducting, it is your
job to take note of any mistakes by the players, and to stop the recording immediately
so as not to waste time on a bad take.

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Conducting can be physically demanding and mentally challenging, but it is an
exhilarating experience and a vital part of bringing the intent of your music to life.
As part of preparing to conduct your own work, watching a good conductor take an
orchestra through its paces can be highly educational for your own technique. It’s
something every composer should do at least once before going back to hide in the
control room. (There are many examples to watch on YouTube.)
ORCHESTRAL SIMULATION: MAKING BETTER SAMPLED ORCHESTRA TRACKS
Creating a convincing simulation of an orchestra with just a sequencer and some sam-
ples can be a challenge. The available orchestral sample libraries are amazing tools for
creating vibrant, musical, and realistic orchestral tracks when used in the right way.
Some scores may simply use samples when there is no budget for a live ensemble, but
the desire is for an orchestral-style soundtrack. If a live orchestra is the final goal, then
creating good-sounding mock-ups to let a director know what their orchestral score
will (more or less) sound like is needed. It’s a required step in the process of writing
and getting cues approved. So, the quality of the sound is vital.
While samples accurately depict what the music will sound like once orchestrated,
they don’t fully express all the power, life, and nuance of a real orchestra. Sequenc-
ing a convincing orchestral simulation that sounds as good as a real ensemble can be
time-consuming. There is a lot going on with real musicians all playing at once, and
it’s a part of what makes an orchestra so magical. Recreating that sound goes well
beyond just sequencing the notes of the music. There is a world of expression, phras-
ing, articulation, timbre, and dynamics that is transpiring throughout any orchestral
performance. Samples can create much of it, but only with careful input.
Like most things, sample libraries are not all created equal. The people and
companies creating sample libraries need a tremendous knowledge of recording
techniques, sample editing, and programming ability, and a deep understanding of
every nuance of every instrument of an orchestra. The developers of these libraries
meticulously (hopefully) record every imaginable nuance of every instrument—soft,
loud, short, long, vibrato, muted, accents, soft and hard attacks, trills, and a wide
variety of string bowing, brass, and woodwind techniques. These are then edited,
organized, and programmed to allow you to move between these variations in real
time to create realistic performances.
There’s also a case for personal taste among sample library developers to choose
a lusher sound or a more detailed and intimate sound, or go for something with
a particular sonic approach. Classical music is recorded very differently from film
scores, and different scores are recorded very differently as well, even with the same
orchestration. Part of the process a composer goes through to select a sample library

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is listening carefully to demos and deciding which orchestral sound is most appealing.
There is a vast range of choices and price ranges. Some definitely need more comput-
ing horsepower than others. It may well be that the orchestra sample you like the most
requires a computer with a greater amount of CPU speed and memory. Fortunately,
there’s a large online network of users who gladly give their opinions on the various
options. There isn’t a perfect orchestral sample library. Some may be better, but it will
come down to personal taste on your part.
Owning a good sample library does not mean your sequences will automatically
sound convincingly realistic. A decent knowledge of traditional orchestration tech-
niques is a valuable asset to working with samples. This isn’t to say you need to learn
everything an orchestrator knows in order to work with samples, but all the rules of
traditional orchestration apply when sequencing with samples. Learning the basics of
orchestration is worthwhile to begin to understand how various colors and effects are
created, how to be sure the music will sound good with live players, what each instru-
ment is capable of adding to the overall sound, and how to create any desires sound,
from quiet mystery to massive cinematic “epic-ness.”
Studying conducting can actually be helpful to improve your orchestral mock-up
skills. Conducting deals with the expression, interpretation, and balance of melodic
and accompanying elements. You may still want to sketch your basic ideas on a piano
sample before deciding on the instrumentation, or you might feel like simply diving in
one section at a time. Either way works, depending on your composing process. Here
are a few ideas to help make orchestral demos sound as good as possible.
THE CHARACTER OF ORCHESTRAL SOUNDS
The symphonic orchestra is a highly expressive and versatile entity. It’s made up of
groups of woodwind, brass, percussion, and string instruments. The number of play-
ers is variable, but the ratio of players in each section is relatively consistent. There
is a traditional and accepted sound of the orchestra based on how the various parts
of the ensemble blend when playing all together in an acoustic space like a concert
hall or large recording studio. The conductor aids in keeping the orchestra properly
balanced. When a composer sets out to electronically recreate this sound, they func-
tion as a kind of virtual conductor. Each section of the orchestra is capable of a broad
dynamic range. Orchestral instruments don’t just get louder and softer when played
with dynamics, they change their timbre as well. Additionally, most instruments have
a number of playing techniques that will create more possible colors, such as tremolo,
trills, harmonics, use of mutes, plucking strings, flutter tonguing, different percus-
sion mallet types, and much more. In creating electronic mockups of an orchestra,
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Good orchestral sample libraries provide performances on instruments at every
possible dynamic as well as all of their various playing techniques. Each dynamic,
bowing, articulation, harmonic, and alternate technique is sampled and programmed
for playback.
FIGURE 6.10
Expression data as it relates to a phrase of music.
Used by Permission, Apple Inc. All Rights Reserved.
FIGURE 6.11
String samples with various articulations.
Author
In putting together an orchestral palate in your sequencer, it’s best to organize the
tracks as closely as you can to a standard conductor’s score.

FIGURE 6.12
Blank orchestral score page.
Author

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This way, the process of going from sequencer to printed page can be easier. Com-
posers can organize sampler tracks in one of two ways:
■ Separate tracks for each performance technique or variation of each instrument.
■ An individual track for an instrument, and using key switching to change from one
performance technique to another via MIDI.
Key switching is a function available in some sample libraries to provide a means for
having the instrument switch from one performance technique to another, typically
through pressing specifically mapped MIDI notes outside the range of the instrument.
For a string sample, the key switches might look like this:
C1 — Arco
C#1 — Pizzicato
D1 — Marcato
D#1 — Sordino
E1 — Harmonic
F1 — Tremolo
F#1 — Trill
G1 — Col Legno
G#1 — Legato
The MIDI notes used for key switching are outside the range of the instrument and
do not produce sound. They only control which instrumental performance technique
will play next. The sample stays on that technique until another key switch is sent. By
recording this into your sequencer, a single track can embody all the capabilities of
that instrument. An orchestrator can see those key switch MIDI notes and know to
add the technique marking to the score and parts.
FIGURE 6.13
Score with bowing changes marked.
Author

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MIDI 2.0 provides a very powerful standardized mapping of playing techniques,
but sample libraries may implement key switching as they choose.
Express Yourself
Orchestral musicians rarely play longer notes without some kind of musical expres-
sion. Players are either getting louder or softer, gradually adding vibrato, or making
shifts in timbre (adding brightness or darkness to their tone). It’s what makes an or-
chestra sound dynamic and vibrant. First-rate sample libraries make very good use of
many of these expressive variations. Thus, a vital part of good orchestral simulation in
a MIDI sequencer is to control dynamics and expression consistently throughout the
pieces you are sequencing.
Creating expressive musical passages with samples requires the use of one or more
MIDI controller values mapped to the variations in the samples. For example, many
sample libraries map the mod wheel controller of any MIDI keyboard to vary the
sample from a soft performance (pp) to a loud one (ff). MIDI Volume (MIDI Con-
troller #7) controls the overall volume to balance and mix that part of the orchestra.
Further, there are apps that run on computer tablets to give you an additional amount
of controller functions.
FIGURE 6.14
Tablet-based MIDI controller.
Author

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While MIDI sequencers have onscreen faders for adding dynamics to tracks, most
composers agree it is easier and better to use physical faders.
Mic Positions
Most sample libraries record the instruments of the orchestra with a number of
microphones set up in different ways, such as:
■ close mics—definition, “bite,” proximity, precision
■ decca tree mics—width, lushness, smooth tone
■ wide/surround mics—width, tail, lushness, reverb
The mix of mic positions greatly influences the tone and characteristics of the
sample. Closer microphones give a more intimate sound, and farther mics add a lusher
blend. It comes down to personal taste and the requirements of the score. Recording
engineers make these decisions based on the musical style and intent. Once you’ve
selected your preferred sound, use the same setting for all the sections of the ensemble.
You can choose to record expression simultaneously with your (most likely) left
hand while recording the notes themselves with your right. If it’s easier for you, it’s
just as effective to input the notes first, and then overdub the various MIDI controllers
and key switches to fine-tune the performance. Finish up with some MIDI volume or
DAW automation control to bring the sound up in louder sections or for solos, and
down for quieter ones. It’s also a personal preference to play a section polyphonically
(as chords) versus playing it in monophonically (one line at a time).
Give special attention to phrasing. Orchestral musicians make good use of note
length to give shape to the melodic phrases in the music. This can translate very well
to samples if you record the parts into the sequencer with that in mind. Most sample
libraries offer “legato mode” to connect notes together without rearticulating them as
a live musician would—slurring the notes of a phrase together.
TIMING ACCURACY
Quantizing takes any MIDI performance and aligns every note to a grid of perfect
rhythmic timing. Done correctly, quantizing adds excitement and a sense of “tight-
ness” to the music. It’s an important part of pop music production. But real orchestras
are not quantized. All the slight rhythmic variations of each member of a large group
are a big part of what gives the orchestra its sense of size and lushness.
If your music is very rhythmic, it may sound great to quantize some or all of it.
Sequencers also offer a less “perfect” quantization that may sound more natural than
a full, 100 percent quantization, while still giving the music some extra energy.

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When a sampler part is quantized, it often tends to sound slightly late and behind
the beat, especially with brass samples. But this applies to almost every long, sustained
orchestral sample. This is due in part to how samples are actually recorded—preserv-
ing all of the attack, which adds a tiny amount of silence at the beginning of every
note. In unquantified performances, this doesn’t come into play since the composer
will play the samples by ear to sound correctly in time. The issue comes up with short
marcato and staccato samples as well.
MIDI sequencers have a function that slides all the notes in a track forward or
backward in time by tiny fractions of a second. Using this feature to slide a quantized
line ever so slightly forward (earlier) in time will realign the samples to sound more
on top of the click. There’s no scientific way to do this—you just have to adjust it and
listen until it feels the way it should.
MIXING IT ALL TOGETHER
Whether you are creating demos for a score to be replaced by a live orchestra or us-
ing samples for a low-budget project that can’t afford the real thing, good-sounding
orchestral mockups requires practice, a sharp knowledge of your sequencer’s capa-
bilities, some audio technical know-how, and an investment in good-quality samples.
Another technique to create more realistic sampled orchestras is, if practical, bringing
in just a few key live players to add to the sampled mix. Just adding a few live string or
brass players can make a noticeable improvement in the expressiveness and “majesty”
of the music. If the final mix of the score is done with samples and not a real orchestra,
this goes a long way toward fooling people’s ears into thinking they’re hearing a real
orchestra. This is especially true of any exposed solo passages. Many composers whose
scores are recorded with live orchestra will still blend in some of their sequenced
samples to the final mix to add a greater feeling of size and power. So-called hybrid
orchestras blend the nuance and inimitable realism of an actual orchestra with the
accuracy and polish of samples. This is done often with action scores, or any heavily
rhythmic score.
In the mixing phase of your production, some working knowledge of proper mixing
technique goes a long way. While samples are typically well recorded, it is beneficial to
fine-tune the sounds with further EQ (to accentuate brightness in the highs or avoid
muddiness in the lows), dynamics such as compression or limiting to add punchiness
in brass or better control percussion, and ambience (through use of reverb plug-ins) to
give the sound of performing in a real hall or studio. Score mixers often use multiple
reverbs, giving longer lusher reverb to longer sounds and shorter reverb for staccato
or marcato samples. Good, natural-sounding reverb is one of the best ways to make a
sampled score sound bigger and more realistic.

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This means knowing what a real orchestra sounds like. Keep in mind that about half
of the orchestra is made up of string players, and they sit in the front. Lower octave
flutes that are louder than a full string section passage will ruin the natural blend of
a sampled orchestra. Listening carefully to a well-recorded orchestra can be a helpful
guide in determining the best blend of each section into a cohesive and realistic sound.
Music technology has come a long way in providing these tools, but it comes down to
you to use them in a way that creates a sound that is natural, expressive, and dynamic.
Most every composer who has recorded a live orchestra will talk about the over-
whelming emotions it brings out to have a large ensemble of highly trained and dedi-
cated musicians play their music (I can attest that it never gets old). After sitting alone
for weeks writing music on a computer, only to have life breathed into a score and
taking it to a new level is a breathtaking experience. Many established producers and
directors will say that attending an orchestral recording session is often the highlight
of the production process for them. Even recording an orchestra remotely, as is often
done, can still be a tremendously moving experience.
FIGURE 6.15
Typical seating chart for an orchestra.
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Score Recording and Mixing
Composing the music for a project is only half of the job. Once you finish composing
and everything is approved, then comes the task of recording and mixing your creative
achievement. This is the final product of all your efforts—a well-produced recording
of your score that will become the musical soundtrack to the project alongside the
dialogue and sound effects. Recording and mixing are at once creative as well as highly
technical. For many composers, this is the first time other people get deeply involved
in their process. Some composers do serve as their own engineers to record and mix
the scores, but the majority prefer to bring in audio experts to ensure the best possible
technical and musical quality of the final mix.
Regardless, it’s essential that a composer stay close to the process to guarantee that
their vision is carried all the way to the end. Inevitably, small mistakes crop up that
only the composer would know. Last-minute changes to the music are an opportunity
to add details or improvements. But ultimately the musicians’ performances for the
score and every detail of the final mix are an integral part of the composer’s creative
process. While relying on the expertise of a mixing engineer can be vital, it is ulti-
mately the composer’s musical preferences and taste that determine how all the ele-
ments of a score are mixed together to create the desired emotional effect.
GETTING PREPARED
If you’ve ever watched a cooking show, you’ll have seen that one of the key elements
of a great chef is in the details of the prep work. Ingredients are gathered, measured,
organized, water is set to boil, pans and ovens are heated, vegetables chopped and
diced, and everything is made ready before the actual cooking ever begins. So it is with
recording music. There is a phase of preparation that will make everything else that
comes after it more successful. Here are a few items to keep in mind before going in
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MIDI File Prep
Your DAW can export these small files that contain only the MIDI tracks, the
tempo and any tempo changes, and any time signature changes. These universal files
can be imported into software for orchestration or printing scores and parts. Before
you export, be sure to make the sessions as clean as possible.
■ Check for extra notes that might crop up from time to time if your finger slips on
a key.
■ Check that every track is properly titled.
■ Check that everything is quantized correctly. This makes orchestration and notation
substantially easier.
■ Put your tracks in traditional orchestral score order—winds, brass, percussion, strings.
■ Delete any unwanted or muted parts or tracks.
■ Make very clear which tracks will be replaced with players and which will remain
electronic.
■ Be sure the title of the MIDI file matches the name of the cue as it’s listed in the
cuesheets.
Scratch Audio Prep
For all the musicians who will perform on the score, whether individually or in
groups, they need audio from you to listen and play to as they record their parts. Ex-
porting audio in flexible ways is built into every DAW and sequencer. Here are a few
points to keep in mind:
■ Let everyone know what your audio sample rate is: 44.1, 48, 96, or 192.
■ Confirm with any audio engineer who will be using these stems exactly how they
want you to split things up. Every engineer has their own preference for this going
into a recording session, and you want them to have exactly what they feel they need
for the session to go smoothly.
■ Always start each audio file from bar 1 and go to the end of the cue, even if a stem
only plays in a small section. All audio files for a cue should be the same exact length.
■ Export a “full mix” as a reference.
■ Export a mix with all the “to be live” parts muted, so as not to be a distraction to the
players while they record.
■ Export the “to be live” parts, either separately (if more complex) or all together (if
relatively simple material). These will be useful references for players to know they
are coming in at the right moments and have a general sense of what the music is
supposed to sound like. Again, consult with any engineer or musician as to exactly
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■ In some cases, recording engineers may ask for a separate click track to ensure all your
stems and the audio file are consistent and accurate. Most DAWs have a function to do
this, or you can use a click sample and create a click track in your sequence to export.
■ Be sure the title of each track contains the cue number and the nature of the stem,
i.e., “full mix,” “woodwinds,” “solos,” “percussion,” etc.
Miscellaneous Prep
Once you’ve exported all your MIDI and audio in preparation for recording live
players, there are just a few more matters to look after.
■ Be sure you have enough hard drive space to do your own recording, or receive
audio from the engineers or studios you work with.
■ Be sure you have sufficient space on any cloud-based file transfer services to accom-
modate all the audio you may need to move between your studio and other places.
■ Remember to be very consistent with organizing folders of audio, MIDI, music
notation files, etc.
■ Make backups of everything.
■ Create “to do” lists for every cue you plan to record—what instruments are going to
be recorded, any details about the stems that will be used in the mix. Online share-
able spreadsheets are a great way to do this.
■ Double check everything—all files are complete and accurate? Check again.
RECORDING MUSICIANS
Recording live players for your score, whether just a soloist or two or an entire or-
chestra, can be the most enjoyable and rewarding part of the scoring process. What is
needed for your success is to be well prepared and have good musicians at the ready.
By the time you begin recording, the hard part—actually composing the score—is
usually finished. You can relax a bit and focus on just getting the best possible perfor-
mances, recording, and mixes.
Samples and electronic instruments are amazing and have created entire genres
of music both on and off the screen. There are plenty of great scores that are purely
electronic. However, the use of live musicians, from just a solo to a large symphony
orchestra and choir, can be counted on to bring a higher level of emotion, expression,
nuance, subtlety, and “life” to the music. Your music.
Depending on the style of music, the budget, and the specific circumstances of the
project, a composer has a number of recording methods and options available:
■ You can record individual soloists or a small ensemble in your own personal
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can be efficient, easy, and cost effective. There are no costly rental fees like with a
professional studio where you pay by the hour or day. What is needed to record
in your own space is a quiet, decent-sounding room (not too echoey) along with
a good microphone, some headphones, and a decent level of expertise with your
recording system.
■ Another option is to record in a lower cost local commercial recording studio. Most
cities have some recording studios available for hire at a reasonable hourly fee. They
have the advantage of better acoustics, quietness, better recording equipment, and
an experienced on-staff engineer to handle all the technical aspects, allowing you to
focus solely on the music and the performance.
■ It is also possible to remotely record musicians almost anywhere in the world with
minimal hassle. Depending on where you live, working with ensembles in other
parts of the world can be significantly less expensive. With specialized real-time
audio-monitoring software, the experience of recording from a distance closely
resembles the experience of being there—at least sonically. Being in a room of
musicians is always an exciting and inspiring experience, but remote recording still
allows you to hear everything clearly and speak with the engineer, conductor, or
musicians in real time. All from the comfort of home.
■ Many excellent musicians offer the option to self-record their individual parts and
send them back to the composer. Setting up some kind of file transfer, you can send
the parts and the audio for them to play against, and when finished they will send
the audio of their performances. Quality can be an issue with some, so asking for
examples to evaluate sound quality is important. There are a number of websites
dedicated to connecting composers to self-recording musicians—offering demos,
handling file transfers, and payment.
Any of these options, or a combination, can give you excellent results that will el-
evate the quality of your soundtrack.
HOW TO FIND MUSICIANS
Traditionally, most composers hire the services of a music contractor, sometimes
called a fixer. These people specialize in putting together ensembles specifically for
recording scores. You give them a list of the instruments needed and a rough idea of
the amount of music, and they put together a budget, as well as coordinate the players,
studio if need be, payroll, and all details related to the live musicians. They charge a fee
based on a small percentage of the overall cost of the recording. Often, they are also
musicians. Contractors can be found by word of mouth, or online.

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ESTIMATING THE COST TO RECORD
Every project requiring live players requires creating a budget. In some cases, the
project will cover these costs, but it’s often included in the composer’s fee. So, sticking
to a budget might make the difference between making or losing money on a proj-
ect, especially if you plan to use a larger number of players. Given the costs of hiring
musicians, creating scores and parts, hiring a studio engineer, and doing final mixes,
knowing what the cost is going to be ahead of time is essential.
Most composers either learn how to use a spreadsheet for calculating costs or find
someone who knows how.
FIGURE 7.1
Score budget spreadsheet example.
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Some recording costs are fixed, some are based on hourly or daily rates, and some
are based on the number of musicians involved. A spreadsheet lets you try different
combinations of ensemble size and amount of music needed to record.
ESTIMATING THE TIME NEEDED TO RECORD
When booking a studio, you’ll be asked how many musicians you plan to record all
at once (to be sure the room is big enough), and the number of hours needed. There
is inevitably time needed to set up the space before hitting Record. Chairs and music
stands are set out in an arrangement the engineer will prefer. Then microphones and
headphones are set up and carefully tested. If there is only a handful of musicians, either
playing together or being overdubbed one at a time, setup is typically accomplished in
just a few minutes. A more elaborate setup for a large group can take a few hours.
Just as important is estimating how much time you will need musicians there to
record everything. With a large group of players, going overtime even an hour can be
very costly.
To some extent, it depends on the complexity of the music being recorded. Any-
thing with fast or intricate passages, a lot of loud playing in winds or brass, a difficult
time signature or tempo changes tends to slow things down. Inevitably, there will be
mistakes from the players that require re-recording the cue or section. A composer
may also decide to make last minute changes. Importantly, most orchestras have a
required 15-minute break each hour, so only 45 minutes per hour are spent actu-
ally recording. Shorter recording sessions may not do this, and some ensembles may
choose to skip breaks in order to finish their day earlier.
Working with less experienced players or engineer can make things take longer.
Working with world musicians, singers, or improvising players also makes sessions
run a bit slower. Generally speaking, the amount of music that can be recorded per
hour on average is:
Complex Scores: Average 3 to 5 minutes per hour
Simpler Scores: Average 6 to 8 minutes per hour
Some cues may get recorded in the first take; others will take much longer. It’s also
worth leaving time to record a cue in an alternate way, that is, louder or softer, with
harder accents, no vibrato, and so on. With experience, a composer gets to know how
long it takes to get their work recorded well.
TOGETHER OR APART: OVERDUBS
There are situations where it’s best to record musicians all together, and others
where it’s better to record them separately. The main factors are availability, musical

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complexity, whether it is predominantly a soloist, and most importantly, the ability
to have ultimate control in mixing levels. Mixing engineers prefer to have as many
tracks as possible to work with; giving them as much control as possible over balance
is very important.
Recording a large group all together brings a sense of unity and cohesion to the
sound. It’s an organic and sensible way to perform and record a larger group of players
or singers. It also saves studio time to have everyone together.
However, many engineers often insist that the best way to record a score is to keep
as many elements as separate as possible. Recording brass separately from strings
prevents the louder brass from overwhelming the microphones for the quieter strings.
Recording a choir separately from an orchestra gives control over the mix, but also
makes the recording session far simpler. The session can be focused on that element
being recorded, and not the entire group.
Recording soloists can be done in a separate session, or in a larger studio where
there are “overdub rooms” adjacent to the main recording room just big enough for a
singer, soloist, drummer, or guitar amp.
Ultimately, even though it requires more time to record each section or soloist
separately, the advantages outweigh the disadvantages most of the time. It depends on
the music and how much is in those additional parts. It actually can save time when
a mistake by a soloist in a complicated passage doesn’t require an entire ensemble to
stop and record again.
THE COMPOSER’S ROLE AT A RECORDING SESSION
The composer runs their recording sessions, and everyone answers to them. The re-
cording engineer or their assistant is in charge of pressing Record and may call the start
of a take. The contractor may be in charge of seeing that all members of the ensemble
are in place and ready. They may call for the hourly breaks and then be sure everyone
is seated for the next hour’s session. And the conductor (if that isn’t the composer) will
lead the ensemble, answer questions, and make suggestions for balance and phrasing.
But the responsibility of saying which cues to record, deciding which takes are
good or not, making any creative or performance adjustments—the core running of
the session—is entirely on the shoulders of the composer. It is their job to see that the
session goes smoothly and every cue is recorded as perfectly as possible before moving
on to the next.
The composer also sets the mood of the session. Whether recording a single soloist
or a massive ensemble, the composer needs to inspire and bring out the best in every
musician as well as the technical team. This starts the moment any musician walks
through the door. They should be made to feel welcome and appreciated for the ef-
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engage with the musicians prior to the first recording of the day. It’s common practice
to say a few words to the ensemble at the very start of the session about the intent of
the music—whether to make it lush or make it tense, and so on. This way, the players
feel a sense of connection to the composer and to the execution of the score. It makes
a difference in how well and how musically they will perform. At the conclusion of the
session, assuming all has gone well, the players should all be thanked with gratitude.
Every player brings years of practice, hard work, sacrifice, and experience to a session.
It’s worth acknowledging.
RECORDING THE MUSICIANS
When you record players at your own personal studios, you can usually just plug a
microphone into the computer audio interface and record them directly into your
sequencer sessions. You can feed the track and clicks into their headphones. As men-
tioned earlier, when you are recording musicians at another studio, you need to create
a “scratch” mix of your demo score for them to play over. A typical scratch mix omits
the part of the player in the session, so as not to be confusing. Optionally, you may wish
to make a separate audio file of the metronome from your sequencer as a reference.
Alternatively, by exporting a MIDI file of each cue, the DAW used for the recording
can have the tempo and any meter changes and can generate the click live. Providing
an audio click track is good as a backup in case of any issues, and also serves to confirm
everything was done correctly. There’s no such thing as too careful or too prepared.
At the recording session, the metronome click is sent to the musicians’ headphones
for them to play along with, along with a rough mix or the rest of the music—synth
parts, sampled orchestra, percussion, or other rhythmic parts you may want them to
hear and play along with.
Prior to the first bar of each cue, there needs to be some number of count-off clicks,
sometimes called warning clicks. Generally, there should be two bars of clicks at the
tempo and meter of the first bar of the cue. If the tempo of the cue is reasonably slow,
a single bar of clicks is sufficient. For example, a cue in 4/4 will normally have eight
clicks unless the tempo is fairly slow, in which case four clicks is enough. The number
of warning clicks should be printed at the top of the score and the musicians’ parts,
and the conductor should remind the players of the number of warning clicks prior
to the start of each cue.
Before beginning a session, the musicians should be played the scratch track
and clicks in order to make adjustments in headphone level and mix to suit their
needs. If there is a cue with a lot of dynamics, quieter sections and louder sections,
the engineer may manually raise and lower the level of the click for the musician’s
headphone so that it can be heard clearly in loud sections, but not bleed into the
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RECORDING AN ORCHESTRA
Recording musicians either one at a time or in groups takes planning. You want the
session to go smoothly. Good players are patient, but they play better if they don’t
have to wait around for technical or logistical problems to be fixed. Make sure that
the mics are set up properly, and there is a good headphone mix before your players
arrive. Some players, especially drummers and percussionists, often ask for unbeliev-
able levels of the click, so be prepared. If at any time there is an obvious mistake, it is
best to stop the playback immediately, at which time the ensemble will stop when they
hear the click has stopped. You can either start again from the beginning of the cue,
or you can pick up from just before where you left off. For easier editing, try to start at
the beginning of a phrase even if that means going back several bars. Call out the bar
number you wish to begin at, and the playback should start two bars prior to that. If
possible, I like to get a few takes and pick my favorites later, when there is the time to
listen more carefully. A good engineer can make seamless edits very quickly.
RECORDING ORDER TO SAVE TIME AND COST
FIGURE 7.2
Chart showing which players perform on each cue.
Author
There is no reason to record cues in the order they appear in a project. In fact, that
is rarely the best order. Several factors can go into putting together a sequence of the
cues to get the best results, and in some cases can save time and money along the way.

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■ Record the more difficult cues first, while the musicians are fresh. Over the course
of a session, some players, especially brass players, start to fatigue.
■ Recording the longer cues first also helps make the latter part of the session easier.
■ If you have cues based on the same theme, or are simply closely related, recording
them in a row makes it easier to get the best takes quickly.
■ In many cases, there may be a set of cues that does not use the entire ensemble. In
those instances, it helps to organize a larger “A ensemble” and a smaller “B ensem-
ble.” For example, if you have a set of cues without brass or winds, you can record
the full “A” group, then dismiss the brass and winds and do the remainder with the
smaller “B” group and not have to pay for the whole ensemble for the whole time.
RECORDING SINGERS AND CHOIRS
There are a few unique elements to be aware of for recording a vocal ensemble. It’s
not substantially different from recording an orchestra, but here are a few things to
bear in mind:
■ While you can find and hire singers as you please, working with an existing en-
semble from a reputable vocal contractor, concert ensemble, or a university choir
will likely get faster and more cohesive results. Singers who have worked together
often can phrase and balance more uniformly and have better intonation. If a group
is being assembled from scratch, try to hire singers with recording experience who
consider themselves good sight-readers.
■ Choirs typically need a little more time than orchestras to get through more complex
pieces. Simple cues might record at about the same pace as an orchestra, but for
more rhythmic or harmonically complex works, allow about 30 percent more time
than with an orchestra.
■ Unless it’s only a very small ensemble, have a conductor at the session with some
choral experience. The conductor can help make the group sound more balanced
and unified, and ensure that dynamics are done as musically as possible.
■ Just like brass players, vocalists asked to sing at the extreme high end of their
range can fatigue quickly. Taking small breaks after more challenging cues is
often very appreciated.
Working with vocal soloists is a different process. There is such a broad range of
vocalists, from classically trained opera singers all the way to heavy metal screamers.
A few things to keep in mind for recording vocal soloists are:
■ Be patient. While some singers want a lot of feedback from the producer, some need
to go at their own pace and discover what they want to do themselves. However,

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they are not mind readers—let them know what you are trying to achieve emotion-
ally and stylistically in the part.
■ Spend time getting their headphone mix to their liking, including adding some re-
verb or delay to their voice. They sing better that way.
■ Be prepared to work in small sections and edit them together later. Great vocal solos
rarely happen in one take.
■ Every singer is different and unique. The most vital part of the process of using a
solo vocalist is in the choosing. Be sure they are a good match to the style you are
seeking.
■ Be complimentary and encouraging. Singers have been known to freeze up under
pressure. Be a coach, not a critic!
■ Allow the vocalist to be as musical as possible and make the part their own. Unlike
choirs, where everyone blends to a cohesive whole, soloists should be able to add
some unique aspect of their style to the music.
■ There is a wide range of tools for making vocals sound great—EQ, compression,
saturation, delay, or reverb. You may likely want to use some of those later while
mixing.
■ Pitch-correcting software, such as AutoTune, can take a badly pitched, but other-
wise great take and make it a final take. If you love the expression and feel of a take,
but it has an out of tune note or two (or more), don’t hesitate to use a pitch corrector
to make it near perfect.
RECORDING DRUMS AND PERCUSSION
Ideally, most percussion is recorded separately from other musicians in order to
make mixing easier. Loud drums can bleed into every mic in the room and create a
real challenge to the mixing engineer. Large studios have one or more “drum booths”
or “overdub rooms” with glass, so the drummer can be recorded with the rest of the
ensemble but with complete acoustic isolation.
Composers often record drummers and percussionists on their own, and often in
a separate studio from the rest of the ensemble. It doesn’t make a considerable differ-
ence to record the drums before or after the rest of the orchestra. Generally, everyone
is recording over the MIDI mockups and click, and not the unmixed live group.
A few items to bear in mind for recording drums and percussion:
■ Big drums need a good amount of space to sound good. Recording large toms or
taikos, for example, in a small space ultimately ruins the sound. Plan to record loud
drums in as big a space as is possible.
■ Drums can take time to set up, tune, and get properly mic’d. Allow for at least an
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■ Ask drummers and percussionists to demonstrate how things will sound using dif-
ferent sticks and mallets. A change in these can make a huge difference in the final
sound. Be willing to experiment to find the best result.
■ You may be asked to pay for the transporting and setup of drums—called cartage.
■ Recording engineers with expertise in drum recording know how to get the most
flattering and musical sound possible. Microphone choices and placement make an
immense difference to the end result.
■ Experienced recording engineers use a lot of microphones, not just for each drum,
but at varying distances from the drum itself. Combining the energy of close mics
with the spaciousness from farther mics gives control over the overall sound and can
make drums fit into the mix substantially better. This takes extra time to set up prior
to the recording and can take a bit more time to mix.
■ Most drummers read music very well. However, many drummers will want to listen
to the demo and, when appropriate, add their own ideas. Allowing a drummer to be
creative within the desired structure and feel gives them a greater sense of agency
that may lead to better results. Be clear about which sections can be embellished and
which you want played as written. It’s entirely up to you.
■ World-music drummers may not read conventional Western music notation. In-
stead, they may simply prefer a bar chart showing where they enter and exit. And
even this may be best done with a conductor motioning them in and out. The best
musician may not be the best reader, and you should plan for the extra time needed.
■ Drummers often need very loud clicks and the ability to balance them to the rest of
what they are listening to.
■ As with vocalists, some drummers may prefer working in small sections and not at-
tempting to record an entire cue in one take. It is best to accommodate drummers
and percussionists as to their preferred methodology of working.
WORKING WITH WORLD MUSICIANS
The use of musicians and vocalists from many cultures and musical traditions has
become a mainstay of scoring. Whether for a story set in a particular location or era,
or simply for the beauty and surprise of a less familiar sound, combining traditional
Western elements with those from a broader range of cultures has been an amazing
tool for composers in film, episodic, and video game worlds. It’s music without borders.
The key here isn’t the instruments themselves. For example, the traditional wood
flutes found all over the world are often fairly identical in their design, sound, range,
and scale. However, in the hands of a skilled musician who has trained for years in a
particular musical tradition, they become unique and wonderfully idiomatic to that
specific region and its music. It’s the player, not the instrument that brings the depth
and value of world music to a score. Understanding how to approach and work with

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musicians from other traditions is helpful to getting a great result while maintaining
respect for different music.
It’s worth pointing out that there is an immense selection of world-instrument
sample libraries to choose from and use. Some are simply the various instruments
of a region sampled in the usual way—note by note. Others are recordings of longer
phrases organized by key or tempo, or from the instrument’s low range to its highest.
While you give up some control in the choice of specific notes, you gain the authentic-
ity and depth of the original musical performances. It can be uniquely inspiring to find
an authentic phrase and compose something around it.
Whether African, Asian, South American, or indigenous, each culture’s rich history
of music has elements that can make it quickly recognizable to many listeners. This
varied music come from histories and traditions of performing and interpreting the
regional music that goes back centuries or millennia. They often employ improvisa-
tion by the player from a set of traditions based on melodies or scales that have been
passed down from teacher to student repeatedly.
Many of these cultures do not write down their music, or even have a system of
notation. The music remains alive through those master performers and their record-
ings. There are countless traditional themes and melodies in folk and world music,
but they are meant to be interpreted and expanded upon by the musicians, and not
simply played verbatim. Asking an authentic world player to read a Western-notated
part may be out of the question.
FIGURE 7.3
Various world instruments.
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Connecting with authentic players can happen in a few different ways. If you have
friends or colleagues that have done any world-music recording, ask for referrals. An-
other option is online—there are numerous websites to find and contract players from
every country on earth. If you have the option to work with someone local to you, and
be with them in a studio, that’s wonderful. But it can be equally successful to contract
a musician to record from their home or studio, wherever they live. Remote recording,
either with you supervising in real time or through file exchanges where they record
and send you the files to approve or request changes, offers fantastic potential results.
Because most world-music instruments are limited in their range and scales (only
a few instruments can be played chromatically, or in any choice of key), they may not
work in the key in which you’ve written. Fortunately, there are numerous re-tuning
tools that can quickly manipulate a recording and shift notes into the desired key
and scale. Most non-Western instruments are not in tune with traditional Western
scales and are not based on the pitch standard of A=440Hz. Even when performed
perfectly, they can sound noticeably out of tune (just as Western music likely sounds
odd to many people from other geographic regions). When used alone in a score, or
perhaps sitting atop a drone or pedal note, there is no issue. However, once blended
with electronics or an orchestra, you may choose to make some adjustments. It’s very
dependent on the instrument and player and the results you want.
Recording authentic world musicians involves both knowledge of their musical
traditions and some patience. First, you should know what each instrument can and
cannot do, and also have a clear sense of the type of music traditionally played on it.
Same with vocals. You should also learn about the players you plan to have record
for you, and how they see working on the score. You can get in touch with them and
have them show you how to write for their instruments. You need to create an en-
vironment both musically and technically that allows them to do what they do best.
Few authentic players want written music, preferring to learn the music the best way
possible by listening to the demo a few times. While many can play themes you create,
don’t expect them to be able to perform the same way each time. It’s part of the beauty
of the collaboration between different types of music and musicians. With spontane-
ous recording and careful editing, you can get the best possible performances without
making difficult or unreasonable demands.
It is vital to give respect to the musicians you are working with, and to their
experiences and traditions. Don’t ask or demand that they follow Western musical
practices. Never belittle their deep musical traditions. Simply guide them to getting
the mood and feeling you seek and be generous with gratitude and praise. It’s not
that these musicians are more delicate than their Western counterparts, but they are
often more misunderstood, and the contributions of their traditions are frequently
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There are also very talented Western musicians who have studied the music from
other cultures and can perform in these styles without being from that part of the
word. You can get some beautiful performances from these players as well, though
there is something unique about working with a musician who grew up in the culture
you are exploring musically.
Asking a skilled world musician to simply play what you’ve written only scratches
the surface of what can be the most magical part: to allow a musician or vocalist to
react to your music in whatever way they please, and you record and edit the results.
The main goal is to get your music recorded the best way possible so it sounds great
and reflects the emotional and sonic intent of the music. If that calls for using musi-
cians from other cultures, great. If it means working with studio musicians with some
knowledge of other types of music, then that is fine as well.
Film scoring isn’t about musicology. Working with knowledgable and virtuosic
players from different parts of the world is a great experience both musically and cul-
turally and can give your score the flavors of far-away places.
REMOTE RECORDING
Recording music can be a global endeavor. Excellent orchestras, choirs, soloists,
singers, and recording studios can be found in a great and growing number of cities
around the world. In many cases, they can be of high quality and also provide savings
in cost. For this reason, it has become more and more common for composers to seek
orchestras in countries outside their own. For composers who live in places where
there isn’t an orchestra, there’s an opportunity to record great players without even
the necessity of traveling. Nothing beats being in a studio with great musicians. The
feeling of immediacy, and the energy of the collaboration, is profound. However, that
is not always practical or even possible.
A number of specialized software applications make it possible for a composer to
monitor and give feedback to studios and musicians anywhere in the world. They take
the same audio you would hear in the control room of the studio and send it over the
internet directly to your computer, where you can listen on your own speakers in your
own home. You can then press a key on your computer to speak back to the conduc-
tor, musicians, or engineer, and give feedback to either change, re-record, or approve
the take and move on. In most cases, you are provided a video feed so you can even
see what’s going on from the same point of view you would have sitting in the booth.
If it is unfeasible or impractical for you to be at a recording session physically, this is
a fairly close second to that, with the added benefit of no flights or hotel costs. When
set up properly, your ability to know there was a mistake or a take was good, or that
you need to make some changes to achieve your desired results—this will do it just as
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Unfortunately, this technology does not make it practical for you to actually con-
duct the ensemble remotely. There is enough of a delay to make this impractical.
Additionally, musicians would likely not be very inspired watching a conductor on a
video screen. Plan on having a conductor, preferably one familiar with the ensemble,
and find time before the recording session to go over each cue and point out anything
important you want them to cover in the recording—such as important dynamics or
phrasing, or any extended playing techniques requiring additional explanation.
Just as in a conventional recording session, you may need to record a piece in
sections, or go back and replace a few bars here and there. As you do that, tell the en-
gineer which takes are good, so at the end of the session they can edit them together.
This way they don’t waste the musicians’ time doing audio edits while they sit and
wait. A good engineer can accomplish this after the musicians leave in a relatively
short amount of time.
Preparations for a remote recording are not very different from recording locally
with you in attendance. In both situations, you are expected to provide audio files of
the tracks, MIDI files for tempo and meter changes (that will guide the clicks for the
conductor and players), and PDF files for the scores and parts. Orchestras that do re-
mote recording provide the essential service of printing out and preparing scores and
parts for the orchestra and conductor.
Once the session is over, the engineer will edit together all the good takes and
upload them to a server for you to download and mix. The final results of a remote
recording session are exactly the same as though you were there. Depending on the
quality of the musicians, conductor, engineer, and studio, you should be able to work
at the same pace as you would if you were present at the session.
MAKING CHANGES DURING A SESSION
There is nothing wrong with making on-the-spot musical changes during a recording
session, assuming they are not too complex or substantial. If there is a mistake in the
score or parts, such as a missing accidental, a wrong note, or some other error, obvi-
ously you would clarify the mistake and do another take with the correction.
But if it becomes clear that something in a cue isn’t working, for any reason, your
goal isn’t to simply accept it, but to make whatever corrections are needed to make
the cue as flawless as possible in the scene, and then re-record it. Should you require
some extra time for a more complex change, move on to another piece and make the
changes during a break in the session. You can then dictate the fix to the ensemble and
re-record in the next time frame. Simple fixes such as a dynamic change or taceting a
line in an instrumental section can be done in mere seconds, and a new take can be
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Common changes during a recording are:
■ changing dynamics to better balance a section
■ shifting the octave of a phrase to better suit the instrument, add clarity, or improve
the balance in the ensemble
■ adding or removing ornaments such as grace notes
■ removing parts entirely to simplify or thin out a section (e.g., taking out a trumpet
line that doubles the strings but feels distracting)
■ adding or removing the use of mutes or harmonics
■ shifting accents to improve rhythmic clarity
■ adding or removing harmonies
■ improving transitions with runs, glisses, or swells
■ extending the end of a cue by holding the final note or creating an ostinato
Some of these take mere moments, but others can require the players to write in
new notes or phrases that can take time. You may need to test out fixes before deciding
whether they really improve the score or not.
Hopefully, they don’t push you into costly overtime. If a producer or director is
present and asks for a change that puts the session into overtime, the production com-
pany will be expected to pay the extra cost. If it is something you the composer decide
to change, the responsibility is yours unless the producer is present and in agreement
to take on possible overtime charges.
MAKING YOUR HOME STUDIO A GOOD RECORDING SPACE
Though recording larger groups of musicians requires a bigger space, like those found
at better recording studios, it is entirely within reason to make your personal studio a
good space for recording soloists, singers, or smaller groups such as a string quartet.
There are two basic requirements for this—quietness and desirable acoustics. Qui-
etness can be challenging to come by in many places. Nearby traffic, noisy neighbors,
children, appliances, and the fans and motors in computers and hard drives can all
spoil a recording. If you don’t have a very quiet room in your home or garage, you
can at least find the quietest one. Even bathrooms and bigger closets can provide some
quiet space for a performer or singer.
The next step toward a good home recording is with acoustic treatments. This was
discussed earlier in the section “Essential Peripherals” in chapter 5. The types and num-
ber of acoustic treatments is based on the size of the space they are in and the degree
of sound dampening you need. The goal isn’t to create an entirely “dead-”sounding
room with no reverberance at all. The goal is more to cut down on the sound waves that

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bounce around, creating an unpleasant echo effect, sometimes called a ping. The right
combination of sound absorption (stopping sounds from bouncing back off a surface),
diffusion (that scatters the sound waves so they spread out and don’t create that ping
effect), and bass traps (as smaller spaces tend to have pockets of excess bass frequencies)
can turn an ordinary bedroom into a very acceptable recording space.
In some cases, the biggest problem is right under your feet. Wood or tile floors are
notorious for adding echoes to a room. The fix is simply to get a plush rug for your
studio. Larger windows and glass doors are also culprits, but heavy curtains are very
effective at limiting the problems they can create.
While having an isolated control room and recording space is a great help when
recording players, it is by no means a barrier to great home recording. Having an
adequate number of good quality over-the-ear headphones, each with its own volume
control, can provide great results. Having a useable home studio for recording live
players on your scores means not needing to travel or spend unnecessary money on
outside commercial studios when it’s not needed.
IN THE MIX: FROM STEREO TO SURROUND
As movie theaters and video streaming services made the transition to digital sound, the
options and technical requirements of sound have increased. Surround sound formats
from 5.1 through to Dolby Atmos (which supports almost any number of speakers in a
room or theater) have added a greater sense of immersion for the audience and have
radically improved the quality and consistency of film soundtracks. They also add to the
technical requirements of the soundtrack mix. Theatrical and home surround sound
presents soundtrack engineers with the capabilities of placing or moving sound around
FIGURE 7.4
Studio with acoustic treatments, diffusers, and bass traps.
Photo by Chase Caffey. Used by permission.

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in space, separating any special low-frequency material (big booms or drones), and plac-
ing sounds in different parts of the theater: in front, to the side, and behind the audience.
As a composer, your main concern is not so much how to mix for a specific
surround format. More important is that your mixes have sufficient separation of
elements to allow for the greatest amount of flexibility on the dub stage. Dub stage
engineers highly desire the music spread out over several stems so they can not only
rebalance but also create an ambience by panning elements into the various available
surrounds as they wish.
When mixing to multiple stems—each of which can be stereo (left/right), three
channel (left/center/right, or LCR), or more (large film scores may have several stems
of full 5.1-channel surround)—you might choose to have separate stems for orchestra,
percussion, choirs or other vocals, soloists, synthesizers, and any other sounds that
have the potential to get in the way or be buried by other effects or dialogue. Larger
studios that are set up for film score mixing have a larger number of busses on their
mixing consoles or audio workstations to work on multiple stems simultaneously.
Each stem needs to have its own set of effects, such as reverb or delays with either
hardware or software, depending on what is available.
FIGURE 7.5
Basic surround listening environment.
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DELIVERING THE FINAL MIXED MUSIC
When you deliver your music mixes back to the project’s production company, or
your music editor, there are some variables that you need to keep in mind. While
there are standards in place, there is still some variability in post-production methods
that require the music to be delivered in its correct format. Larger scores might be
delivered by hard drive, but often files are transferred through various cloud-based
file exchange systems.
Before you prepare to record and mix your music, simply talk with the people to
whom you will be submitting your music, in order to ensure it is in a format they want.
Pro Tools files are by far the most popular, and almost exclusively the way to deliver. If
you don’t have a Pro Tools system, it’s still easy to export and deliver a score in a Pro
Tools–compatible form that makes the final mix easy.
When mixing your score, you will deliver stereo, surround, or stems aligned with
the SMPTE timecode to synchronize to the picture, except on video games, which do
not use time code numbers. The number of tracks is decided by the production com-
pany and the postproduction supervisor who oversees all technical aspects of video
and audio. Each individual cue is mixed down to audio files that are “time stamped”
so their SMPTE location is invisibly embedded right in the files. DAWs do this auto-
matically. Once an audio file is time stamped, it seeks its proper location inside the
post-production’s Pro Tools sessions. As long as the score is at the same sample rate
and timecode format, the process is instant and error free.
The best way to avoid any potential confusion is to name your audio files accurately
with the name of the cue, which stem it is, the version of the video (if appropriate), and
possibly the start time of the music.
Feature-length films are sometimes split up into some number of reels. The SMPTE
hour number of the timecode should be the same as the reel number, which makes it
easier to navigate through the many files you may be working with. Series projects are
all in one reel per episode.
FIGURE 7.6
Audio files in well-organized folders.
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Video games don’t use SMPTE for synchronization. Mixes simply need to be well
named and organized into folders that the game developers can use to find and imple-
ment the score.
ON TO THE DUB STAGE
Once your mixed score has been delivered and placed into the main Pro Tools session
alongside all the dialogue and effects (that can take up dozens or even hundreds of
tracks), the dialogue and sound effects editors will have compiled all their work onto
dozens of other tracks. All kinds of last-minute musical tweaks can be made, which
can oftentimes save a cue if the director is having any second thoughts. It’s common
for there to be changes right there on the dub stage, and if you are present for the dub,
and something isn’t working well, you have the opportunity to speak up, but only
to the director or whomever is in charge. Mixers get pretty anxious when too many
people chime in with opinions. As the composer, you continue to work with and for
the director. Make your comments to them.
Cues can be made longer or shorter through editing right there on the spot. They
can quickly be moved forward or back in time to the picture for better transitions and
flow. Melodic elements can be removed, made softer, or brought forward to better fit
into the mix with the dialogue. Having sufficient music stems is critical for editing
and rebalancing. The music editor will be able to execute those changes on the mix-
ing stage. It is best to keep an open mind when the mixing engineer experiments with
your music in ways with which you may disagree. It’s okay to speak your mind to the
person in charge and let them make the final choice. Take notes and wait your turn
to speak up.
Aspects of a score can sound and feel so different on a dub stage than in your own
studio. It’s the end result. You start to appreciate keeping music simple in order to
have maximum musical and sonic impact. Too much “stuff” in an arrangement or
orchestration is lost by the time it is blended with sound effects and dialogue and
brought to its final (and often very low) audio level. Cues with a lot of small parts,
phrases, rhythms, or counterlines may seem to vanish or turn to mush. As has been
mentioned earlier, simplicity and clarity are best to get your musical points across
and make each of those ideas really count. Oftentimes, ideas that work well within the
context of your personal studio don’t end up feeling right through a dense mix.

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TEAM PLAYERS
There are a number of people who inhabit a composer’s world, providing vital sup-
port. Composers answer to a director, producers, music executives from the studio or
production company; and for video games there are the audio director and various
creatives. As a composer, you are a part of their team.
Depending on the project, there are several people on a composer’s team: assistant,
orchestrator, recording and mixing engineer, the musicians, the music contractor, and
possible cowriters. None are essential in every case, but each helps in their own way to
bring a project to its best potential. Here are some of the composer’s team members,
in their own words:
John Ashton Thomas
Orchestrator
John Ashton Thomas began his career as an orches-
trator on the film Rat Race with fellow former Trin-
ity College student John Powell. John worked with
John Powell on several more film projects, including
Happy Feet 1 & 2, Horton Hears a Who, three of the
Bourne series, three How to Train Your Dragon mov-
ies, Call of the Wild, and Solo: A Star Wars Story. John
orchestrated Night at the Museum 1 & 2, A Christmas
Carol, Avengers Assemble, and several other films for
Alan Silvestri. He worked as an orchestrator on several
scores written by James Newton Howard, as well as
Black Panther and Captain Marvel. John passed away a few weeks after our talk.
Jeff Rona: Composition students learn the rules and the traditional aesthetics of or-
chestration by studying some of the great orchestrators—Ravel, Debussy, Tchaikovsky,
Rimsky-Korsakov, Wagner, and others. But big orchestral scores for modern films and
such have a somewhat different sound. Are the rules of orchestration in film scores dif-
ferent from the orchestration one would learn from studying classical scores?
John Ashton Thomas: Essentially, I would say that they aren’t different. A lot of film
music is very simple compared to the music written by the composers you mentioned.
Because the musical content is often so simple, it requires a more direct kind of or-
chestration. For me, it depends on the specific composer. Some composers would like
sophisticated touches added to what they’ve done, and others would not. I would say,
FIGURE 7.7
John Ashton Thomas
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generally speaking, that the principles are the same, but the scope generally is nar-
rower in film music.
JR: If a piece of orchestral music sounds good with samples, will it sound as good with
the live orchestra, or are there things that could go wrong?
JAT: I think it will sound better by a significant amount. The more knowledge the
composer has of the orchestra, the better. Primarily, one needs to understand about
balance. So, if you have a flute solo, whatever else is playing needs to be quiet, whereas
a trumpet solo can stand out against a whole orchestra. Balance is a key element of good
orchestration. You also need to know what all the instruments are capable of. You’ll get
a good result with the live orchestra compared to your demos, if your knowledge of the
orchestra is good. If your knowledge of the orchestra is poor, then an orchestrator will
need to change things, and it might make the music sound different to what you in-
tended. I’ve had very few instances in my 165-plus orchestrating jobs where the sound
of the real orchestra was thought to be inferior to the sound of the demos.
You need to know the range of every instrument, and where within that range the
instrument sounds best. It’s very simple to look up this information. One common
mistake is for composers to write the French horn parts too high. They don’t sound
good in the trumpet range; they sound very thin in their upper register. Many horn
samples have so much edge to them, even in the high register. It’s very deceptive.
People often write for the trombones at the top of their range. When trombones are
high, they’re loud. It’s important to remember that the balance of samples can be ar-
tificially adjusted, but the balance of the orchestra is primarily a written thing, i.e., the
balance is there in the score.
JR: Would you say that might be the biggest mistake that a composer inexperienced at
writing for orchestra might make: writing outside of the practical range of an instrument
or sections?
JAT: Yes, along with the lack of a natural balance that I mentioned just now. With
samples, you could turn up a solo flute so it can be heard over a loud trombone sec-
tion. That isn’t possible with a real orchestra. But range issues are probably the most
common problem.
If you’re writing for a string section, you have the option of playing polyphonically
on a single track with a whole string section sample, or you can take the extra time
working out the parts individually, each on its own track using violin, viola, cello, or
bass section samples. Both ways are fine, but the advantage of sequencing polyphoni-
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distribute the notes in the best way possible across the string section, knowing the
importance of the instruments’ registers.
JR: You mentioned that while the process of going from sequencer to orchestration can
be fairly straightforward, some composers request that you add some amount of “nu-
ance.” In what form would that be? What would you add to a composition?
JAT: I’ll give you two examples: I will often get a carefully sequenced orchestra, and
there will barely be any woodwinds programmed at all. So, I will add in woodwinds
all over the place. The winds tend to be underused by a lot of composers, but they add
so much more color.
I had a client, an extremely well-established and very capable composer, send me
just three staves of music. Just written music, no MIDI, no recording, no dynamics,
not even any instruments specified. Honestly, that was the most fun orchestration job
I ever did because I chose everything! I added all sorts of stuff to it. It was a hugely
successful score—everybody was very happy. Good orchestration doesn’t take as long
as complex sequencer programming. With a good, trusting relationship, a composer
can give their orchestrator something very simple and even somewhat underwritten.
The orchestrator can take that and make it sound amazing, with relatively little effort
compared to MIDI programming. But that does rely on the director trusting the com-
poser to do something they’ll like, even if the MIDI sketches aren’t fully fleshed out.
JR: Do you feel that it is of any value for a composer to be able to read and write music
in order to write well for orchestra?
JAT: I don’t think it’s necessary. But if a composer wants to have some authority in
a recording session, then the more knowledge they have the better. A composer can
delegate whatever they don’t know to somebody who does. So, it doesn’t really mat-
ter. If you want to claim “ownership” over the whole process, you really want to have
the knowledge that enables you to talk to highly trained musicians as colleagues in the
world of music, with an understanding of what they do at the very, very highest level.
Or you have an orchestrator who can do that for you.
JR: What is the ideal way for a composer to hand over music to you for the flow for
orchestration? How do you want sequencer files organized? What kind of cleanup work
do you expect from them? Do you need audio, clicks, or MIDI files?
JAT: All I typically request is a MIDI file and an mp3 of the mix. Composers offer to
send me twenty stems, but I find they just make life more complicated. I ask that they

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put the MIDI file in traditional score order (winds, brass, piano, harp, percussion,
strings). When I open it in my notation program, I’ve got the flutes at the top and the
double bass at the bottom; otherwise it wastes a lot of valuable time having to reorder
things. I ask that they delete any muted sections and quantize everything. If there’s a
bit of rubato or any unquantized and loose rhythms, I can deal with that. If there’s a
decent budget for the film, the copyist can do some cleaning-up work.
JR: Regarding various playing techniques, like a string part that’s arco, and then in
some bar it changes to pizzicato, then tremolo after that. A composer could either have
separate tracks labeled “arco,” “pizzicato,” or “tremolo,” they could do it all on one track
with key switched samplers. How does that affect you? Do you have a preference? And if
it’s key switching, how do you know what the switches are?
JAT: It’s very easy for me when they’re all on separately labeled tracks. But I can
hear it as well. Conversely, if it’s all on one track, when I see a key switch note, I
can hear if it’s a tremolo or pizzicato or whatever. In the case of some strange string
effect that the composer needed to describe to me, then they can put a note in the
score that describes what they want. But for the most part, an experienced orchestra-
tor can hear everything.
JR: For those composers who, for whatever reason, do their own orchestration, what
are the key things that that you find invaluable in the score in terms of bowings, ar-
ticulations, dynamics, phrase markings, etc.? Some of that nuance can be lost with
MIDI and samples.
JAT: An experienced orchestrator will know how to deal with all that. Regardless of
the samples being used and how expressively they are used, I’ll just know what to do to
add the required markings for the players to employ at a recording session. It’s partly
instinct, partly the way it’s played, and the specific musical style. I always make sure
to include sufficient detail.
JR: There are orchestral sample libraries that dive into extended, aleatoric techniques
such as clusters, overblown winds or brass, strange harmonics, weird glisses, etc. Have
you ever been asked to take the sound that you hear in an aleatoric sample and notate
it? And how do you deal with extended musical notation with a studio orchestra?
JAT: I’ve been asked to do that hundreds of times. It’s not a huge challenge for me. I
might sometimes ask for a stem of that part. If I hear some complex strings going on in
the background, but there’s also a huge brass chord, I might want to hear the aleatoric

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string sample separately. I will then notate the effect for the strings. Those kinds of
sounds often involve a section, such as the first violins, playing notes either with stag-
gered entrances or at different speeds, and there are simple systems for notating all of
that kind of thing. Sometimes it’s writing the notes in a box with instructions to “play
notes in any order, don’t play them together.” There are similar methods to indicate
most musical requests.
JR: There’s a well-known sound of the “cinematic” orchestral style—big, and bold.
What we often attribute to composers like John Williams. The orchestra sounds huge
and impactful. What is that sound? And how is it achieved, both compositionally and
“orchestrationally”?
JAT: I think what we’re looking for is clarity. If you look at a piece like Wagner’s “Ride
of the Valkyries,” you will see that there’s not very much actually making that sound.
There are only three French horns, for example, and the string runs are all divided up.
It’s not very complicated. So, it’s about simplicity! When you look at any of the great
masters of film music, like Jerry Goldsmith or John Williams, there’s a simplicity there
that’s extremely useful. You can clearly see what the brass, woodwinds, or strings are
doing. There are composers who think that all the sections of the orchestra need to be
doing everything all the time—that’s not good. But if you look at a piece like Holst’s
“Mars” from The Planets, the strings are doing a lot of the rhythmic elements, while
the brass and woodwind are doing the other material. There’s real clarity. The great
writers give the various sections their own clear functions. Clarity and space are two
of the elements that give us that classic film sound. Then you can throw in the harp
glisses, cymbal rolls, and what-have-you in the right places!
There’s another facet to this. When you hire a good orchestrator, you might save
fifty percent of your recording time in the studio. I’ve found this time and time again.
Someone whose experience and knowledge makes sure that everything is well notated,
scores and parts are polished, with no mistakes, and everything truly playable, which
will sound great right off the bat. Sessions can go incredibly smoothly under such
circumstances.
JR: Do you think having a lot divisi (dividing up a section into multiple lines) in strings
diminishes that?
JAT: As a rule, I discourage people from using too much string divisi. If you have a
quiet section or an effect—you may want to have a huge chord that shimmers and has
twenty-four notes in it—that’s lovely. But if it’s a loud tutti passage, then not having
any divisi is much better. You can have a whole string section playing a melody in

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three octaves. They don’t have to have any harmony at all. Brass and winds can have
the harmony. I always advise composers to stay away from divisi in loud, active pas-
sages, but divisi can be great for texture.
JR: Are there any final thoughts you want to add?
JAT: Get as much knowledge of the orchestra as you can. It’s not a hard require-
ment, but if you’re going to trust an orchestrator and have a good collaborative
relationship with them, then you allow your orchestrator to take that responsibility
away from you. You can work with them in the in the process of preparing for the
recording and the recording itself. If you do want to fully understand the orchestra
yourself, just remember it takes years. You might become a successful film com-
poser with little knowledge of the orchestra at first. So, you engage an orchestrator
to translate your ideas to the ensemble. After a while, you may gain a better under-
standing and dispense with the orchestrator.
The person often tasked with not only coordinating a lot of the project, but who
functions as a key connection between the composer and the production itself is the
music editor.
Adam Smalley
Music Editor
Adam Smalley has been a music editor on such films
and series as The Lion King, Gladiator, The Thin Red
Line, Mission: Impossible 2, The Chronicles of Narnia,
The Pursuit of Happyness, Twilight, “The Rookie,”
“Friday Night Lights,” Apple TV+, “The Morning
Show,” and many more.
Jeff Rona: Adam, when does a music editor get in-
volved in a project?
Adam Smalley: Hollywood puts a lot of stock in
recruited audience screenings for which they need a
“temp” score. So, very often, the music editor is involved before the composer is even
hired. The temp score is music taken from other film scores to give a sense of where
music might be needed. If the director screened the film with no music at all, it would
be disastrous for an off-the-street audience. As long as the studio doesn’t charge
FIGURE 7.8
Adam Smalley
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admission to these screenings, they don’t have to pay any rights to screen a film that
contains music from other films.
JR: Do you pick the type of music that might help influence the actual score?
AS: Often, the director has an idea of the composer he or she might want to hire, and
indeed, if there is a composer attached to the film, I will use as much of his or her
previous scores as possible.
Clearly the budget determines the type, size, and song aspects of the soundtrack.
I’ll try to build a temporary score that will be within the reaches of the final score that
is required. If the temp consists of an 80-piece orchestra with Beatles songs, and the
music budget wasn’t budgeted for this type of score, I wouldn’t build a temp score like
this. That would be a very pricey soundtrack to fulfill!
JR: So, what is the first item of business you do with the composer when they start work-
ing on the project?
AS: The first day on the job is what is called a “spotting session.” It’s where the di-
rector, composer, and music editor sit down with a rough cut of the film and decide
where the emotional moments are. Often, we will spend two days breaking down the
film and deciding where music goes.
Later on, I will fine-tune it down to the frame. This is a sort of jumping-off point; a
“getting to know your film” process. It’s an exciting and sometimes daunting process.
From the spotting session, spotting notes are created. They describe action, length
of scene, and placement in the movie. For instance, “1m1” is the first piece of music
in reel 1 of the film (a film is broken down into five, six, or more twenty-minute reels
during postproduction). The composer will use the notes as a sort of bible for all of the
music in the film. They will refer back to the spotting notes to remember where the
music should start and stop and also to remember any specific emotions the director
conveyed at the spotting.
Being a film composer is inherently an isolated job. It’s nice to rely on a music edi-
tor at 2 a.m . just to have someone to bounce around ideas with. It’s a balance between
editor, friend, therapist, and producer.
JR: What does a music editor do during the weeks that the composer is actually writing
music?
AS: Very often there are a number of temp screenings with different versions of the
film. The composer has to be updated with the latest version, and the temp music

FIGURE 7.9
Spotting notes in a different format.
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conformed (re-edited to match the new edits in the picture) for those said screenings.
In many cases, I’ll spend more time with the director than the composer will, and I’ll
relay the director’s sentiments to the composer. Depending on the film, there may be
a number of songs that need placing and editing as well.
JR: How often will the cut of a film change while the composer is at work writing?
AS: With animation, not very much, because it’s a very expensive process. That
said, re-shooting live action is a costly venture as well, so most often the film will get
trimmed shorter throughout this stage of the film. With action films there can be
enormous numbers of changes. I think it’s due to digital film editing. When the direc-
tor can ask for variation after variation at the click of a mouse, there tends to be a lot
more trial and error. In the last film I worked on, I got five versions of the same reel
in the same day.
JR: Are there things you do to prepare for the recording of the music once it’s written?
AS: Depending on the composer, there are various needs. The metronome click for
the musicians must be in sync with the picture that will be played at the recording
session, as well as any prerecorded elements, like synth mockups. In some cases, we’ll
bring the sequencer to the session for recording and rehearsing. Often, the conductor
may like a visual “streamer” (an animated line that moves across the screen to warn of
an upcoming transition) when difficult tempo changes are pending or a cut in the film
needs to be hit musically. It’s an aid to certain conductors, but not always a necessity
if the composer is conducting.
I keep track of videos to be sure that we always have the right version of everything,
and that nothing is ever missing from the session.
JR: Are you as involved in all-electronic scores?
AS: There’s a lot less pressure because we don’t have one hundred musicians waiting
for me to find the next scene to record, but the process is the same. Sync is essential.
Keeping track of every change or fix is still part of the job.
JR: What happens after the score is recorded?
AS: Mixing. All the films I work on are mixed directly to Pro Tools, and track assign-
ments (stems) have to be decided upon. Choices have to be made as to what instru-

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ments need isolation on their own tracks to keep as much flexibility as possible at the
final mix as well as the creative balance within the music.
I will prepare dubbing log sheets that will be a road map of tracks and placement of
music for the dubbing music mixer.
JR: How do you work with the dubbing mixer?
AS: One of the important elements is simply having a consistent set of ears—someone
who had heard the music with the composer and can recreate the sound in a different
room. I’ve heard horror stories of dubs that didn’t have a music editor, and the dub-
bing mixer left out the piano melody simply because a fader was down and they had
never heard the music before. The dubbing stage is the final mixing process in the life
of a film. It is a big theater where the dialogue, sound effects, and music editor bring
their various elements in and mix them all together. Each of us has our own mixing
engineers. The director will orchestrate a final mix with all of us. It is an ongoing pro-
cess of changing various music cues on the spot to further fine-tune all of the elements.
This is the first time everyone will see the film with all the sound elements, and they
sometimes conflict. To serve the film, it is our responsibility to make all the elements
work, and that sometimes requires some drastic editing. For example, on a recent
film, the director felt that one cue ended too soon. Keeping the integrity of what the
composer intended, I copied a phrase from a different cue and worked it into the end
of the cue that needed extending. With some careful editing on the Pro Tools system,
the change is undetectable to anyone, even, hopefully, the composer.
FIGURE 7.10
Small, undetectable music edits to conform a cue to a revised edit.
Provided courtesy of Avid Technology, Inc.

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JR: Is the composer ever there with you during the dub?
AS: The composers I work with are often on to their next project by then. Occasion-
ally, the composer will make an appearance, though won’t stay too long. It’s a tedious
process, going through the film scene by scene, sound by sound. Often new dialogue
is recorded, and the sound effects and music conflict. It can be a disheartening process
for the composer to lose a phrase of music to a car explosion. That said, there’s often
a final playback, where all of the departments have one last say before the film goes to
the Print Master stage.
JR: Is there anything left after the dub is finished?
AS: There’s a certain amount of administrative work. The production companies re-
quire that I deliver licensing sheets (called “cue sheets”), which are a log of every piece
of music that ends up in the final mix of the film. They include the length of each cue as
well as the names of the composers and publishers. Drives with all the audio files have
to be logged and delivered. And all digital equipment has to be backed up in the event
that we might need to come back and make any adjustments or fixes at a later date.
JR: Do you work on lower budget projects? Is a music editor really needed every time?
AS: On lower budgeted films, there’s less time and money to make changes, so the
need for a music editor is less. It’s broken down into spotting, composing, and dub-
bing. Not much room for temp scores, but the basics remain the same.
JR: How did you learn to do music editing?
AS: I apprenticed for a short time with the grande dame of music editing, Else Blang-
sted. I made relationships with a few composers and built up a clientele of loyal artists.
I’ve now taught a few newcomers how to edit film music. Music editing has changed
in the last few years with the increase in temp screenings. There’s much more work for
the music editor to do on a film.
JR: So, any regrets?
AS:None....Well,therewasthisonegirl....

FIGURE 7.11
Sample cue sheet.
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SOUNDS GOOD TO ME: THE FILM SCORE MIXER
Alan Meyerson
Recording Engineer
Alan Meyerson is an A-list scoring mixer, with two
hundred-plus credits. He has worked with leading film
score composers like James Newton Howard, John
Powell, Harry Gregson-Williams, and Danny Elfman,
and has a close, long-standing working relationship
with composer Hans Zimmer. His credits as a scoring
mixer include blockbuster movies like Man of Steel,
Iron Man, the Pirates of the Caribbean series, Sherlock
Holmes: A Game of Shadows, Inception, The Dark
Knight, Kung-Fu Panda 1 and 2, Despicable Me 1 and
2, The Last Samurai, Gladiator, and Hannibal.
Jeff Rona: What goes into making music feel cinematic? What is the “magic sauce”?
Alan Meyerson: The answer to that is always the same answer: it’s musical emotion.
And it doesn’t matter if you get that emotion with a single cello harmonic, like the
“Joker’s theme” from Batman, or with John Williams’s magnificent symphonic or-
chestral theme while ET is flying off in front of the moon. There’s something about
a piece of great music that can give you goose bumps. That’s what makes music truly
“cinematic,” and can create a feeling like almost nothing else in the world can.
JR: Is your job just to bring that out, or do you feel you add something?
AM: A piece of music either has emotion or it doesn’t. You can bring out that emotion
more with dynamics. That I can do. I really work the dynamics, not only as a piece
of music, but also as that music relates to what I see on the screen. I show my audio
engineering students a scene and play the composer’s electronic mockup demo. Then
I play the final music mix of the same scene. I show them the mixing automation, and
how I went about creating that. It’s what I learned from my long association with the
brilliant Hans Zimmer. That’s why a score like The Thin Red Line, which is just the
simplest motif in the world, not only works so well in the picture, but in the countless
movie trailers in which it’s been used. Again, dynamics. Another factor that makes
it cinematic is the grandeur and the size of the sound, and that can be done from a
FIGURE 7.12
Alan Meyerson
Author

SCORE RECORDING AND MIXING
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technical perspective with some attention to musical elements such as frequency con-
tent. I like to call it “pressure”—when I can get the music to “push” and create greater
presence. I rely on many of the same tricks that pop engineers use in that world: com-
pression, EQ, other kinds of audio processing to create more dynamic energy in the
music than it may have been written with. That sort of careful attention to the sense
of size and dynamics of the recording can make a score sound more “cinematic” and
emotional. I work on those moments when an important musical hit needs to really
punctuate a picture cut. There are techniques to make those really pop out, and with-
out being too on the nose, can help bring the emotion out even more.
You can also make something more cinematic with subtraction. For instance, you
have this grand moment in a scene, and the music is getting bigger. At the right mo-
ment, just when the audience expects a big musical swell, you just pull all that back,
until you’re left with something small and compelling. Dynamics, again. These are
some of the musical approaches used by the best composers. My job is to maximize
all of that.
JR: Does your process change from composer to composer, or is there a singular
“Meyerson” sound?
AM: My process changes from cue to cue! If there is a “Meyerson” sound, I don’t know
what it is. However, I tend to do certain things. I tend to use certain techniques on a
regular basis. I’m constantly experimenting. I can listen to a piece of music I mixed six
months ago with fresh ears and wonder “Why did I ever do that?” Some people aware
of scores I’ve mixed will tell you there’s a common thread and a technique. I could tell
you that my technique is a particular set of gear or plug-ins, but If you give me any
random pieces of gear, I can pull out of it what I want.
JR: So, are there certain hardware or software tools that you find yourself coming back
to again, and again?
AM: Definitely. I don’t use a lot of hardware gear anymore. Jobs are just too big now
with the amount of tracks I have to deal with. For many, many years, I would always
have expensive analog hardware EQs across all my orchestra tracks. It just got too
unmanageable to run as many tracks as I need through expensive hardware. As things
got better “in the box,” I started relying on software plug-ins alone. There are certain
ones that are tried and true.
For anyone starting out mixing cinematic music, the first thing you want to do is
to cut out the frequencies that shouldn’t be there. Until you do that, you’re not really

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dealing with the sound as it’s supposed to be. There are resonances (frequencies that
build up and can start to stick out in a mix) that aren’t part of the original sound, and
where the sound gets way out of balance. As you learn more about mixing, you learn
to deal with that sort of problem. One of my favorite EQ plug-ins has a very clever way
it finds certain overly loud frequencies and automatically creates a filter to lower those
frequencies as needed. When I listen to something, I’ll hear those frequencies that
don’t belong, and sweep the EQ until I find it and dial it down, sometimes like 21 dB.
In addition to working on dynamics and balancing the frequency range of the
music, I’m a huge reverb lover! I used to own a lot of expensive hardware reverbs,
but now I have great reverb plug-ins. I designed one myself that people can buy and
use. I’m constantly experimenting. I’ve probably owned nearly every signal processing
plug-in there is!
JR: I believe the sound of the film score orchestra changed with you. In terms of mixing
all electronic or in-the-box sampler scores, such as low-budget or indie scores, what are
some of the ways to make those sound as good as they can sound?
AM: I think it’s important for a composer to know that if they’re doing an all-sampled
orchestral score, there are so many orchestral sample libraries available out there to
choose from. You need to do your homework and find out what works for you and
your style of writing. For example, you need to be specific about what sample you’ll
use for your short strings or for your French horns for the type of score you’re writ-
ing. Back when everyone was using the same sample libraries, it was simple for me to
hear what frequencies I would need to subtract for balance, and how I could make it
sound fuller by perhaps adding some more high and low frequencies. It’s not as simple
as that anymore. Because new sample libraries have thought out the frequencies and
imaging more carefully. With some work, I can get a very authentic sound from them.
The mistake some young composers make is when they hear these massive sound-
ing scores that are either recorded orchestrally or with a hybrid where we’re combin-
ing samples to the live orchestra. So they think the way to get that massive sound
is to simply pile on sound over sound over sound. They’ll layer twelve bass sounds
together, and it becomes this big frequency mess! It’s very difficult to mix and get the
sound they want. I was once mixing a track for a trailer music library, and the com-
poser said he wanted it to sound like Gladiator (a great score I recorded and mixed
for Hans Zimmer and Lisa Gerrard). But it wasn’t there in the composition. I wanted
to say, “Sorry, that’s not how it works! First go back and write a piece of music that
sounds more like Gladiator. Spend four months on the first three minutes, then throw
it out and do it again till it’s perfect. Then maybe you have a shot at making it sound
like Gladiator, but don’t expect me to make this track sound like that score.”

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My advice to any composer doing an electronic or sampled orchestral score is al-
ways this: simplify! Find your “body.” Find your low end parts and get it from one or
two elements. Be specific in your choices. Find your core string, brass, and woodwind
sounds. If you have the budget (or if you have musician friends willing to help out),
you can overdub a few live instruments. You’d be amazed at what can happen if you
put even one or two violinists playing all three parts, and even just one French horn
player. Done well, it really can give the illusion the whole thing is live.
JR: It seems your description of getting a desirable quality of sound is as much in the
choice of instrumentation and orchestration as it is about using one particular reverb
or compressor.
AM: Right. That’s why I can mix a James Newton Howard score in as little as sixteen
days, because there’s no wasted movement with his music. In contrast, with some of
my other composer clients, who are still fantastic, it might take twenty-five days with
the added complexity and layering.
I’m a classical musician myself. I’m very comfortable in front of an orchestra. I’m
not the producer on the sessions, but I try to be useful when asked. If a composer
wants me to be involved, I can help streamline the process. Even with small details like
“Wouldn’t it be better to hear that on viola?” or “Why don’t you let the celli play the
harmonic?” It’s those textural, timbral, or imaging ideas that some composers don’t
think about. Then my job as a mixer is that much easier.
JR: What makes a mix sound great once it’s placed up against the sound effects and
dialogue?
AM: It depends on the movie. With action movies, in my opinion, the mixes that
sound the best in action scenes are mixes that have the least amount of action you can
get away with. The “percussion” can come from the gunfire or the trains, or whatever.
All you need to do is carefully listen to any John Williams score, and you’ll hear
what I’m talking about. You can hear how well he avoids all of extraneous musical
material, especially under dialogue. When you avoid adding extra stuff to your cues,
your music can play out much louder and not fight with the rest of the sound ef-
fects and the actors. When I mix, I almost always do it with the dialogue on in my
studio. If it’s an action scene, I also mix with the sound on, which can get annoying
after a while! If it’s a dialogue scene, that’s like my lead vocal and I’m mixing the
backup band. When I used to mix pop records, I’d get the lead vocal sound first, and
then I’d get my drum sound, and then bring in each instrument. I make an effort to
avoid frequencies that fight with the vocals. In movies, sound effects and dialogue

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also have frequency ranges and pressure. It might not always be under my control
to balance and adjust everything—it might be in the writing. Even if it’s in the writ-
ing, I can still redirect the low end into a lower frequency range. Or I can carve out
some of the low frequency and redirect the low end a little bit higher, so the pressure
comes from a higher frequency to avoid a crazy buildup of frequencies both in the
music and in the onscreen sound.
JR: How does your mixing process change between theatrical features, episodic, and
video games?
AM: It’s scale more than anything else. You don’t have quite the frequency spectrum
on most home sound systems for television or video games that good movie theaters
have. Home sound systems have generally gotten better over the years, so I mix TV
projects more like it’s a movie than I used to. With video, there’s a lot less differentia-
tion than before. I tend to mix games in quad without a subwoofer channel. Having
said that, last year I did a great Star Wars game with six and a half hours of music we
recorded at Abbey Road, and we mixed it in 7.1 surround. So, the line is more and
more blurry between the three things when it comes to music production and mixing.
Video games have become a much bigger part of my life in the last few years.
JR: Finally, what advice do you give to a composer putting together their first in-the-box
studio for writing and mixing demos and scores?
AM: The number-one thing you need to do is get some decent sound treatment in
your room and get a good pair of speakers you really like. That’s it. I had my studio
tested and treated with good acoustic bass traps. Also, you don’t have to spend thou-
sands and thousands of dollars on speakers to get something that will serve you well.
Pick some music you know and love and go listen to a bunch of different speakers and
see which one feels right to you. Everyone has different speakers that they work with.
It’s very much a matter of personal taste. If you’re serious about being a composer,
then audition new gear continually. Think of this as your job between jobs: audition
new string libraries, new percussion libraries, new plug-ins or hardware, and find the
ones that resonate with what you hear in your head as your sound.

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James Hill
Recording Engineer
James Hill is a brilliant and well-rounded sound engi-
neer who has been successful in the record, episodic,
video game and feature film worlds. His album credits
include Joni Mitchell, Stan Ridgway, George Michael,
Chick Corea, and others. As a film mixer, he’s done
engineering on the scores to James Newton Howard’s
The Sixth Sense and King Kong, Miami Vice, Olympus
Has Fallen, and many more. Some of his episodic
shows include “Mad Men,” “Empire,” “Mythic Quest,”
and “Penny Dreadful.”
Jeff Rona: How do film mixes differ from album or song mixes?
James Hill: Film scores are typically mixed in surround and stems, while records
are typically mixed in stereo. Things like resolution (16, 24 or 32bit) and sample rate
(44.1K, 48K, or 96K) of film mixes are set by the dubbing stage to match their other
sound elements of the project. Unlike film mixes, records are “mastered” (sonically
tweaked to maximize the sound on different kinds of systems). I mix records at a
higher resolution and deliver to the mastering engineer the format they request.
JR: When you mix a score, exactly how are you expected to deliver the music?
JH: You always deliver a surround “full mix” of each cue. You also print several stems
that separate the music into groups, such as strings, brass, percussion, bass, solos,
synths, and so on. This is done in case there are any musical elements that conflict with
the onscreen dialogue or other sound effects, and so might require some separate level
adjustment in the final dub mix. The stem delivery usually ends up anywhere from 16
to 64 tracks, depending on the complexity of the score.
JR: What are your essential tools for getting the best sound possible in recording and
mixing? Do you work with much outboard equipment, or can you get a fully professional
sound with all software?
JH: The most important tools for me are my microphones, mic pre-amps and speakers—
what I call the “front end” and “back end.” I usually record directly from the pre-amps to
FIGURE 7.13
James Hill
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my Pro Tools system with some very minimal EQ, if necessary. I have some high-quality
analog converters, some good reverbs, plus a host of plug-ins are part of the toolbox.
If I’m not able to use a good console when mixing, I often run my audio though some
analog gear (summing amps or EQ) to get some more depth and warmth.
JR: How have the advances in audio technology changed how you work?
JH: A lot of progress has been made over the years. Newer microphones have wider
dynamic range, frequency response, and lower noise floor. Pre-amps are more spe-
cialized. Modern speaker technology is much better. Mixing “in the box” (all in a
computer versus the use of a large mixing console) has become the standard approach.
Every setting and automation can be recalled instantly and perfectly, which makes it
far more time efficient. I can jump around to different cues knowing that when I come
back to one, everything is the same as when I saved it.
JR: How would you mix a score differently if you need to keep it simpler, say for a lower
budget project?
JH: For most television music, the sound is usually not as “large” and cinematic as a
film score. The medium itself, and the live groups we use, are usually smaller because
of budget. I have less lower bass frequencies and more dynamic compression. Most of
the smaller films only want minimal stems, as they often prefer to create the surround
channels themselves with specialized plug-ins.
JR: What are your basic rules for surround mixing? Where do you put everything in a
surround mix?
JH: There are many surround formats to mix in—from simple stereo to 5.1, 7.1 up
to more complex Dolby Atmos. I am careful about what I put into the center chan-
nel because of dialogue, but I often mix any solos and instruments in the center to be
anchored in the middle of the screen. I always put the low sounds (basses, synths, and
low percussion) in a separate subwoofer channel (called the LFE) discretely to keep
it clean and punchy. I use the surround channels (the speakers behind the audience)
to create a greater sense of space and movement. It’s great for more ambient sounds,
such as pads or effects and gives a more enveloping sound experience. I like to put
delays on sounds going to the surround channels for certain instruments, such as high
percussion or guitars for a cool effect.
JR: Do you need to mix music on a mixing board, or can you work without one?

SCORE RECORDING AND MIXING
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JH: I’ve done loads of projects without one. I still try to utilize at least some analog
outboard gear to provide the type of sound a high-quality console gives. My prefer-
ence is to have both. When I do have a console, I do the more complicated level and
effects automation in the computer and utilize the console automation for the broad
strokes. Audio software plug-ins are constantly getting better, and mixes completely
in the computer are more the norm. I am happy with the results mixing in this way, as
the live tracks have already passed through a high-quality analog stage.
JR: What about working in smaller, home studios? What’s the secret to getting a great
sound from them?
JH: Once again, it comes down to the basics: good mics, pre-amps, and speakers. You
need to record your instruments with the best quality you can. I have my own mixing
studio, so I try to convince the composer I’m working with to mix there. If that is not
feasible, then renting gear is an option to fill any gaps. Speaker placement and good
acoustic control in the listening environment are critical in smaller studios. I’ve been
known to rearrange the setup in a composer’s studio to improve the sound. They love
it when I start moving the furniture around!
JR: Can you do a decent film mix with just a stereo system?
JH: It’s more difficult because you have less space to utilize. You can’t deliver sur-
round elements you can’t hear. I would at least deliver several stereo stems and have
the dub mixer create surround and subwoofer channels.
JR: How do you record an orchestra for a film score?
JH: A typical setup is with an array of Omni microphones in front of the orchestra,
with a left, center, and right mic over the conductor’s head. I put two wide mics in line
with those toward the edges of the ensemble. These provide the overall balance of the
orchestra and room.
I add a number of more close-up “spot” mics for various instrument groups
within the orchestra, such as strings, brass, or woodwinds. Individual instruments
such as soloists, piano, harp and percussion will get their own microphones as
well. I set up some ambient mics further back in the room for surround channels
or more overall spaciousness. Each one of these is recorded to its own channel and
balanced at the console. A full orchestra has a lot of mics when I am recording. I
usually put up some alternate mic setups, so I have choices when I mix depending
on the musical content.

FIGURE 7.14
Orchestra layout with microphone placement by engineer James Hill.
James Hill

SCORE RECORDING AND MIXING
251
JR: Is recording or mixing an all-electronic score any different than recording one with
live musicians?
JH: It’s quite different! I want to make a sampled orchestral score sound as much like
the real thing as possible. I carefully balance and pan the instruments into the location
they would be in a real setting, and then create a realistic hall sound using reverbs.
If it’s a hybrid of orchestra and electronics, some extra work with compression and
equalization provides better separation and a much better overall sound. With elec-
tronic tracks, where there are no microphones and no audio leakage between chan-
nels, the blending of the source sounds with the room effects is far more critical to
making it sound realistic. With purely electronic scores, I can have fun and be more
creative with it.
JR: Do you attend the final “dub” mix of a film, when the music dialogue and effects are
all put together? How are you involved?
JH: I definitely like to. It makes things easier for the dubbing mixer when I’m there to
explain the layout of the mix, and it’s great to hear everything together, as it will be in
the theater. Because of my schedule, I can’t always be there, so then it’s really impor-
tant to have a good music editor there to represent the music and the mixes.
JR: How do you get drums and percussion to cut through a mix without overwhelming
the music?
JH: Using the right type of multi-band compression is very helpful in keeping those
sounds consistent and focused. Parallel compression (that blends some of the uncom-
pressed audio in with the compressed sound) is also very useful for keeping drums
and percussion present without taking up too much space. Using EQ to carve out un-
necessary frequencies or accentuate specific areas helps. I find that stereo placement
and careful use of effects also provide even more separation and balance.
JR: Any final thoughts about making a score sound great?
JH: In addition to maintaining a very high standard and using really good gear,
adequate preparation is imperative. It’s important to know what type of sound the
composer is looking for. They may want a tight, focused sound or a broader, more
ambient one. I listen to their demos to get a sense of the overall style they want. That
helps me make the correct initial choices in my setup. When recording, it’s important
to speak up if there are balance issues that would be difficult to fix later. Being able to

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read the score is vital as well so I can make more informed musical suggestions while
recording. I also make mix notes on the score. You are part of a team that is trying to
get the best possible results all together.
I always try and get the right blend and balance right at the source when I record
musicians. With careful mic placement of the players in the room, and understanding
the emotional intent of the music, you end up not having to create or fix those things
later. It makes those mixes more organic.
JR: What would be the strangest session you’ve done?
JH: I once recorded and mixed music for a major car commercial where all the music
was played on crazy handmade instruments made from the actual parts of the car in
the ad! The car was dismantled, and these artists created a whole orchestra of instru-
ments from it, including drums with the wheels, percussion with various large pieces
of metal, a harp in the window part of the door, wind and brass with various tubes
and pipes, stringed instruments with various bits cobbled together, and a big bass with
the fender—a whole orchestra made from a car. At one point in the music, the rear
window was shattered with a hammer as a percussion hit.
It was somewhat dangerous, and I only had one take to get it! That’s show business!

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PERSPECTIVES
Hans Zimmer
Composer
Hans Zimmer is one of the most iconic film compos-
ers in history. His remarkable career began in England
as the assistant to a successful composer who gave him
some opportunities to write, eventually landing him
his first successful projects. He moved to Los Angeles
to continue his career, which has been meteoric. His
scores include Dune, No Time to Die, Blade Runner
2049, the Dark Knight trilogy, Inception, Dunkirk, Mis-
sion: Impossible 2, Pirates of the Caribbean, Gladiator,
The Lion King, and over one hundred films to date.
This interview took place in 2002, so it doesn’t include
mentions of more recent projects, but his thoughts
and advice remain as relevant as ever.
Jeff Rona: Your career and your musical style as a composer have been closely linked
with technology from the start. How would you describe the way technology has influ-
enced your compositional approach?
Hans Zimmer: It absolutely made it possible. There’s a big difference between me
and someone who plays well and can write [music] on paper. The technology is about
finally having a musical instrument that I can play and write with. Most of my writing
happens in my head, and now I have a way of getting it across. It has made commu-
nication possible.
JR: Do you see a relationship between the way technology has evolved and the way your
writing approach has evolved?
HZ: When I only had 16 monophonic tracks in the old Fairlight CMI (an early sam-
pler), I really got my counterpoint chops together. I still do most of my string parts in
a “mono-phonic” way. I probably would have learned bad habits had the technology
been better back then.
FIGURE 7.15
Hans Zimmer
Author

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JR: Tell me about your musical experience prior to your film scoring career.
HZ: I was doing commercials. Before that I was in a band and busy being a session
programmer. I was the synth whiz kid in London. I had a Prophet 5, a Yamaha TX 816
rack, a Roland System 700 modular, and the Roland MC-8.
JR: What was your first opportunity to score a dramatic picture?
HZ: Being an assistant for Stanley Myers (composer of “Cavatina,” used as the
theme for The Deer Hunter). I knew technology, and he knew about the orchestra.
The first thing we did was a Nicolas Roeg film called Eureka. I got to do a couple of
little scenes in it.
JR: What did you learn about film music from him?
HZ: I learned about musical language. In Eureka there was a scene with Gene Hack-
man finding gold in Alaska. It was rather a spectacular shot. I asked Nick (or “Mr.
Roeg,” because I was so terrified of him) what he wanted, and he replied, “The sound
of the earth being raped, dear boy!!” From that whole experience, I learned that you
need to talk to film people in a different language. You can’t be technical with them.
You use emotional language. Over the years, the more I learned about musical lan-
guage, the more I learned that it is not that helpful with musicians, either. Years later,
when I was doing Gladiator, I started to talk to my musicians only about the feel and
emotion of the scene. I tried to describe the colors I was after, and never used “pianis-
simo” or “mezzo forte.” “Really loud” or “really soft” are equally accurate words to
describe musical dynamics.
JR: I know you did a number of films under Stanley Myers. Let’s jump to the first film
score you did on your own. How was the experience? What went well? What didn’t
go well?
HZ: The only thing that didn’t go well was me, which is to say, my head. I was so
terrified all the time. It was a film called A World Apart, an autobiographical story
of a good friend of mine. So here I was looking at an actress on the screen acting the
life story of someone I knew very well. Somehow, whenever I would get really stuck,
this wonderful kind of “telepathic help line” came in. I’d be struggling along when
the phone would ring. And it would be my friend Shawn on the phone saying, “Just
thought I’d give you a ring.” I’d say, “Well, thank God for that because I have no idea
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JR: How did you feel at that moment in your life?
HZ: That was a big help. Everybody loved what I was doing. I was just afraid that the
other shoe would eventually drop, and it would all go terribly, terribly wrong.
That little film got me Rain Man. But that fear of being “found out” has never really
ceased. Just recently in Mission: Impossible 2, I was being reckless and saying, “Big-
gest movie of the year; let’s not use an orchestra like everyone else, let’s use a rock ’n’
roll band instead!” Seemed like a great idea. When we went to the preview screening,
I had to use all my acting skills not to let anybody see how incredibly terrified I was.
Would the audience just start throwing popcorn and whatnot at the screen because the
music ruined the film? When we saw the audience polls, and the music scored really
highly, I relaxed and said, “Okay, I am going down the right way, so let’s really go all
the way here.”
JR: In film writing, do you look at what you do as self-expression or as strictly doing
what other people expect you to do?
HZ: Totally self-expression. My job is to watch the film and then come up with an
idea that we can discuss. I think part of my job has to be bringing something new to
the project.
JR: But there are typically expectations. Temp scores for example.
HZ: True. After Rain Man I worked with a director who said, “Can you do that Rain
Man thing?” and I said, “No, I can’t. Your movie, in my mind, doesn’t lend itself to
that.” On the other hand, Peacemaker was temped entirely with my own score to
Crimson Tide. When producer Steven Spielberg said, “Don’t change a note,” I knew he
meant, “Don’t write too far from the style, it actually works very well.” As it happens,
I like writing in that style and for Peacemaker; I could try writing better at that style.
JR: You have a really good dialogue with directors that you work with, don’t you?
HZ: Yes. When I start a film, I sit down with the director and ask them to tell me the
story. That way I figure out what kind of film the director wants to make, as opposed
to what the script writer wanted, or even making my own version of the movie in my
head after the script. I want to know where we are going to go. However, a situation
like this depends on how confident the team is. If the concept is solid and the initial
idea is good and fits where everybody else wants to go, then there has to be give and
take. It’s about making the film better, ultimately.

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JR: Do you feel you have always had a good first instinct, or is this something that has
grown with your confidence?
HZ: On Mission: Impossible 2, I started getting a little lost in the middle of the project
from all the pressure. After a number of frustrating meetings, producer Tom Cruise
said, “But Hans, all that stuff we talked about before we started shooting, that little
tune you wrote, where is it? Your first instincts were so great.” Some of the scenes
hadn’t turned out in a way that lent themselves to using that tune that Cruise liked so
much. So, they graciously recut the scenes in order for me to have the opportunity to
go back to my first instinct, because that really was serving everybody, including the
movie, the best.
Since then, I’ve realized that I have always gone back to my first instinct, I just never
realized it.
JR: One thing I have always admired in your relationships with directors and producers
is your keen sense of when to fight for something you believe in, and when not to.
HZ: You have to come to a movie with a position of strength, and you have to come
well armed. I have an imaginary “gun.” It has maybe nine bullets in it, of which three
of them are “silver bullets” I use for winning arguments. The first six bullets are for
minor points I want to make. The three silver bullets are for when I really want to hang
on to an idea I think is really good for the film. In these cases, I will be outspoken and
try and make my point. However, I can only do it three times, more or less.
JR: What do you think makes a great score?
HZ: It depends entirely on the movie. If I think it has great music in it (and great
music can be a lot of things), that also works for the film. The music really does need
to add something to the film to be great. Is The Shawshank Redemption a great score?
Absolutely. It serves the film in a brilliant way, and you can also listen to the CD on
its own. I think that if everybody works at the pinnacle of their imagination and cre-
ativity, you can’t help but end up with great music that not only fits the film but also
stands on its own two little feet.
JR: Do you find that you work differently when you work with a first-time director ver-
sus veteran directors?
HZ: You know, I haven’t worked with a first-time director for so long, I can’t really
say. There is, however, something about veteran directors that makes life a lot easier

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because they already had to go through that experience where they must surrender
their film to the composer, because that really is what happens. They are in charge, in
control, all the way from the script. They know how to change lines for a writer since
they can write at least a little bit. They know how to look at a scene and place the actors
and even act for them. They know if the lighting is right or not.
But when it comes to music, it becomes an incredibly complicated conversation
for them because they don’t have the technical language of music, and so they have to
surrender their movie and trust you. You have to respect what they go through, and
you’d better be on their side.
JR: What is the most enjoyable part about film scoring? Is it the process of working with
the filmmakers, is it being alone and actually having that time to write, is it when you
are toward the end and you’re starting to bring your team together to flesh out and
record? Or is it when the movie is actually finished, and you can sit down and simply
listen to it?
HZ: Well, because I’m a procrastinator, the most enjoyable part is spending time with
the filmmakers in the cutting room and figuring out what the film is. The actual sitting
alone and writing can get pretty hard.
JR: Do you feel that you have times of inspiration and times of non-inspiration?
HZ: Sure! The one good thing I learned over the last few years is that if you’re just
sitting there knocking your head against the wall, go home and sleep on it. It will be
there the next morning. Let the subconscious do the hard work.
JR: What is the hardest part about scoring a film?
HZ: Writing a good tune. The idea is easy. The style and the framework, that’s easy.
But to then actually put into that something that has some aesthetic value, that’s al-
ways the tough one.
JR: Does talent equal success?
HZ: No. But it depends on what you mean by talent. I think that some amazing
composers probably find it very hard to communicate with directors. I communicate
well with directors, and they know that I come from a place where I want to serve the
movie. The other half of my success stems from my knowing how to get the job done
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Ultimately, I do a movie because it interests me. Sometimes it’s the subject matter,
and sometimes it’s the people. With Terrence Malick (director of Thin Red Line), I
worked for a year on the film, but I didn’t write music for a year. Fifty percent of the
process was talking to Terry about the movie and never ever mentioning music in
those conversations.
JR: Bringing a composer into a film is much like casting an actor.
HZ: Yes, I’m cast as an actor into a role in each movie I do.
John Powell
Composer
A unique voice in modern film scoring, composer John
Powell’s credits include blockbusters such as The Bourne
Identity trilogy, Shrek, How to Train Your Dragon, Solo:
A Star Wars Story, Ice Age, and Kung Fu Panda 2.
Jeff Rona: What was your musical background? Do
you feel growing up and studying music in England
might in some way color aspects of your music?
John Powell: My early musical background was very
English, and entirely classical music. My father was
a classical musician. I didn’t really get a very broad
knowledge of music until I became a teenager and sud-
denly realized there’s other kinds of music! I remember
listening while my sister watched “Top of the Pops” on TV and seeing Gary Numan
with a whole band, all playing Minimoogs! I didn’t know who they were, or what they
were playing, and I was very dismissive of it at first because it wasn’t classical music.
But then other things came along, and I would suddenly be awoken to them. I remem-
ber watching an opera by the minimalist Philip Glass on TV. The first fifteen minutes
made me think, “What is this guy doing? It’s just arpeggios!” I was infuriated. I didn’t
get it at all. Then I went from infuriation to intrigue to, by the end, transported! It
made me realize there were other kinds of music I could respond to. Once that door
opened, I was able to see an entire new world. I remember hearing the album Peter
Gabriel 4, and the track Security in particular, with all those sampled Fairlight sounds.
So, electronic music started to become interesting. I was lucky to be hearing all this at
a time when the world of music was opening up in really interesting ways.
FIGURE 7.16
John Powell.
Author

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I was playing viola in several orchestras but was never really good enough to have
that as a potential career. I suppose I might have been able to get into a music conser-
vatory as a viola player, but I could see other students really worked at it, while I really
didn’t. At one point, I realized I wasn’t going to be a good enough musician to be a
professional player, so I better be a composer!
I was studying music at Trinity College in London, and my best friend and I were
deeply into the music of American minimalist composer Steve Reich. He was playing a
concert nearby at the Royal College of Music. We went to see him and his group, and
there was a question-and-answer session afterwards. All the other music students were
asking very intellectual musical questions of him, and he was doing his best to answer.
But for some reason, my friend and I were intrigued by much more practical things,
like “How do you get your musicians to all play in time? How do you get the money
to pay them?” We were there because we loved his music, and we figured if everybody
else was asking those questions, we didn’t need to.
And that’s oddly representative of my whole career path. I love music, but I didn’t
mean to come to Hollywood at all. I was just trying to be a modern classical composer.
But I had a lot of interest in many, many different types of music and I couldn’t get
my heart to write in only one style. I kept thinking, “What about all this other amazing
stuff?” That proves to be very useful for a Hollywood-style scoring career. I saw it as a
way of making money by working in a lot of different musical styles.
For me, it started with music for advertising. I liked doing advertising because I
could make some money while pursuing the other “serious” music I was doing with
my writing partner. We were doing experimental music for installation art, perfor-
mance art—lots of kind of crazy things. We liked making music and trying to pursue
our musical muse. It didn’t matter to us that neither the music establishment nor pop
and classical music didn’t like us in the slightest, but it’s perfect in Hollywood because
you have to have very wide musical tastes.
JR: What was your segue from England to Los Angeles like? What changed for you mov-
ing there, and what was your experience working with Hans Zimmer?
JP: Hans Zimmer is the only reason I’m here now. Even though Hans is originally from
Germany, he’s very much out of the English music world. I got involved in music for
ads. So, Monday I would be doing a jingle where they wanted something Greek, and the
next day I’d be doing ’sixties soul music. Then I’d go back to doing my installation mu-
sic—electronic “art” music. As a result of all that eclectic music, my partner and I were
influenced by more artists than you can imagine. I got a call to do some music reminis-
cent of Hans Zimmer, but I didn’t really know who Hans Zimmer was at the time. He
hadn’t been on scene very long. He came from the same ad music agency I was working

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at. He’d done a lot of ads before he left London for Hollywood. To tell you the truth, I
was one of the few people who had invested all his money into audio equipment and
music gear. That was the only thing that made me particularly different from the other
dozen composers at the agency at the time, all of whom were still very good composers.
I worked for other composers as well, including film composer Patrick Doyle.
Hans had come back to London for a film project. His agent wanted somebody
who would work with him. They asked me, “Can you sound like Hans Zimmer”? I
listened to some of his work and felt, well, this is kind of “equipment driven”—very
much about the sounds, but I liked his music very much as well. As a demo, I imitated
some of his stuff as best I could and got called into a meeting. And lo and behold, it
was with Hans. His first words were “I hate that you can sound just like me!” which is
his style of humor. I got the job. I spent two and a half weeks working with him while
he was in London. It was over Christmas—with no breaks. Honestly, I had no problem
with that kind of work ethic. Hans saw me as somebody who was a nerd like him, had
a very willing work ethic, and had similarly broad musical interests. We could talk
about classical music, and we could also talk about some strange prog rock thing. After
I helped him out a couple more times in London, he said, “You know, they have a lot
of work over in L.A . Why don’t you come over?”
I think having a combination of my being musically experimental, some savvy
use of music gear and production, an ability to mimic all kinds of music (including
Hans’s) and a good work ethic was how I got my first work. I wrote crazier pieces for
Hans. It never sounded just like him because he didn’t want people to sound exactly
the same as he. Being in L.A . with Hans, I realized I need to always intrigue—do un-
expected things. It’s perhaps a bit of a strategy. It meant I would not get certain gigs,
but I might get others.
The first thing I ever did with him in Los Angeles was for director Terrence Malick,
who was the producer on a lovely film in production. He approached Hans, but he was
working on three other projects. We all met on a Friday, and Hans said, “Johnny (as he
liked to call me) and I will write some stuff over the weekend, and we’ll meet you on
Monday.” So I did, and on that Monday, Malick walks through the door and we play
these demos of mine. Hans gave a very convincing performance of having been there
all weekend with me writing, but really, he was hearing it for the first time. I could tell
by his face he felt it was interesting stuff. So, he relaxed, and before I knew it, he was
just absolutely enraptured. And that’s how I got started.
Perhaps the best thing a young composer could do is go to drama school and study
storytelling. Or maybe go to film school to learn the filmmakers’ language. The people
who have a sense of storytelling are really the ones who understand composing for
movies. And that’s what I brought. I came with acceptable musical ideas and the abil-

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ity to program music electronically and with an orchestra. What I needed to learn was
the language of film and filmmakers, which is a sort of “university” that is not open
to the public.
JR: I want to ask you to talk about drama, and emotion. And what you personally feel
drives the emotional heart of the music you write.
JP: The music I’ve liked always has a clear story—I can hear the stories in them. I see
the scenes of heartache and drama, and clarity and confusion. I hear it in the brilliant
music of Brahms, and in a lot of music written for theater. All this is music that is de-
scribing things—programmatic music. I “reverse engineer” those pieces to understand
the storytelling in it. I will watch a movie and then search my memory for all the feel-
ings I’ve ever had listening to any music I’ve ever heard. It could be two or three pieces
that are very different but give me the same kind of feeling. The emotional aspect of
music is what I remember the most.
I would say the most valuable asset that you have is your history of the music you’ve
listened to over the years—everything you’ve ever heard, everything you remember
(even if you remember it poorly!). You can remember the emotion of it even if you
don’t remember all the notes. Actually, if you remember the notes too well, it’s more
dangerous as your source of inspiration. You just want to remember those emotional
elements. Because it’s a moving emotion, it’s transitory. It’s going from one place to
another. Nothing should stay in one place for too long. I was listening to Khachatu-
rian, the famous “Adagio” from his ballet score Spartacus. It is truly one of the greatest
pieces of music that’s ever been written. It is a giant exposé of the human ability to
love—to be joyful and tearful simultaneously. Those are the kind of moments that I
hold in my heart forever.
So, when I get some picture and look at the storylines, I just go and dig out those
emotional musical memories. And I mix together the Khachaturian, and, say, an art-
ist like Kate Bush, and now the two things are unrecognizable as either, but it has the
same feeling. Just like you remember a feeling from your childhood. For me, music
always transcends words, it transcends storytelling, because it has more than that. The
question for me has always been, What can I dig out of all my experiences of music?
How can I use that by manipulating it into the right form and shape? I want to write
music, and I want to say these things, and I’ll try and get it to be at least resonant to
what the film is. That’s what I aim for, as best I can.
JR: You seem to have a very specific attitude when you score animation that differs from
when you are doing live action films. How do you see it?

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JP: When I was working with film producer Jeffrey Katzenberg (Shrek, The Prince
of Egypt, The Lion King) he would say, “Don’t treat it like animation. It’s a story. It
shouldn’t be any different from live action!”
You deal with tone all the time in any kind of film. Animation is simpler because
we have all these expectations. The genre is a little more “reduced.” You have really
cool styles—and very cool scoring to go with it. You have amazing scores like Thomas
Newman’s Finding Nemo, which is not even remotely an “animation” score in the
typical sense. But you also have Alan Silvestri doing the opening of Who Framed Roger
Rabbit, which is Alan Silvestri at his best, doing “animation music,” and it’s incredible!
So, there’s a wide range of things that have been done for animation.
But it’s actually more limited than if you look at the difference between the scores
of films like John Williams’s Star Wars and Paris, Texas, with its Ry Cooder score.
There’s a wider range of things you can do in live action. So, it begs the question,
“What’s the difference in the storytelling?” Simply put, absolutely none! Storytelling
is exactly the same. The only difference is technique. Not the composer’s technique,
but the filmmaker’s technique. Live action films, by nature, can bring a deeper sense
of human emotion. It’s very realistic and naturalistic. It’s very hard to do naturalism
in animation. So, it’s instantly going to be more poetic.
I tend not to do many live action dramas because I don’t think I’m very good at
it. And honestly, one of the roles of music is to make violence acceptable. That’s a
big part of how you write in Hollywood. It’s a technique composers understand. In
the back of our minds, we know that if you write music a certain way, you can make
violence fun. You can still go through the emotion if somebody is killed or some-
body loses—or somebody wins. Those are pretty simplistic things. I absolutely loved
the movie Black Panther, until the massive fight at the end. I thought, “Why did
we go through all of this really interesting social commentary, the story, just to get
everybody on a battlefield to beat each other up?” Is that what it all comes down to?
That I find very, very boring to me, that last part of all these, and it’s required—not
by the filmmakers; it’s required by the audience! This is not something that film-
makers would necessarily do.
That’s what’s so much more interesting about storytelling on TV and the stream-
ing services now—it’s just so far ahead of Hollywood’s blockbusters. “The Watch-
man” series went everywhere, and just constantly shook you up. You didn’t know
“where” you were going. But it felt very confident. It tells such an epic arc of a story
that would be very hard to do in just two hours. I think there is going to be a huge
change in the industry. My point here is that there’s a lot of live action I can’t do
because I’m not happy about writing music for those kinds of violent stories. I ended
up doing more animation for the poetry, the practicality, and the disliking a lot of
live action stories. Yeah, and that’s my own choice, I’m lucky enough to have that

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choice. And I didn’t really have it to begin with. I got very lucky. One of the first
things I did in Hollywood was working on Prince of Egypt with Hans. That’s how I
got into doing more for DreamWorks Animation, something I never thought I’d get
to do. I loved animation so much. That’s why I absolutely pursued it. I love the art
of animation as well. Of course, there’s nothing quite like live action, and I got very
lucky on some live action films as well.
JR: What is the essential advice that you give aspiring composers when you do?
JP: When people ask me, “How did you get into the business, and what can I do to
get in?” I can only say, “Go back in time and meet someone like Hans Zimmer.” Or
“Get ahead of the curve by having all of Hans’s sounds before anybody else.” But I
suppose you can’t do that. There are so many things about what happened in my
career that I couldn’t apply now to anybody else’s journey. Everything is available,
and there are so many people doing it. I got lucky. That’s one piece of advice I can
give—if you want to be a film composer, and you want to do it like me, get really,
really lucky! Yes, I know that’s a useless piece of information to give anybody. What
can I say, when sound and technology are so easy and everybody can do it? It would
be so hard for me to start if I was just coming into the business now. I think I’d failed
miserably. The “diamonds” of your creative life are your own musical experiences.
Those are the most valuable things for being a composer. From those you can create
something that is unique and personal. Those unique experiences may get attention
when others don’t, because you sound different.
Mark Isham
Composer
Mark Isham is a jazz artist, an electronics artist, and a
prolific film composer whose work has earned him ac-
colades including Grammy and Emmy awards, and Os-
car and Golden Globe nominations. His scores include
the Oscar-winning Judas and the Black Messiah, Crash,
and A River Runs Through It, Bobby, Nell, The Nevers,
The Godfather of Harlem, and Little Fires Everywhere.
He’s collaborated with top directors and artists includ-
ing Shaka King, Lynn Shelton, Swizz Beatz, Jodie Fos-
ter, George Tillman, Robert Redford, Forest Whitaker,
Tom Cruise, Brian De Palma, Chick Corea, Robert Alt-
man, Sting, Will.i .am, Sidney Lumet, and Mick Jagger.
FIGURE 7.17
Mark Isham
Author

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Jeff Rona: What is it that draws you to film scoring?
Mark Isham: The excitement of this job, what really moves me foremost is seeing
the creative job I’d set out to do done to my utmost satisfaction, and secondarily, of
course, to the satisfaction of my employers. I think it’s in the nature of the way that I’ve
come to see the job. That, and the realization that what I’ve accomplished is exciting.
A composer is in control of a language, music, that is, without a doubt, the most
subjective language in our global culture. I have done actual tests on this! It’s prob-
ably no surprise to anyone, but just to verify it for myself, I tested music that was, to
my mind, very programmatic—music that tells you a very particular story . . . for ex-
ample, you’re on the Scottish moors and the piper comes across the glade, you enter
the countryside church, the choir there is singing, . . . and so on. I played this piece
of music for people expecting a programmatic response. When I asked them what
the story of the music was telling them, they’d say, “I’m in the bazaar at Marrakesh
and the snake merchant has just approached and he’s got five new cobras to sell me.”
And it went on and on like this. No two people’s reactions to the same piece of music
were anywhere near what I expected, nor anywhere near resembling each other’s.
Experiencing music is very personal.
But programmatic music has been with us for a long time. Beethoven could title
a piece The Pastoral Symphony, or Vivaldi could title something The Four Seasons.
That’s all you need, and then you can get a sense of the music’s flavor. Well, in film or
other media, we have a lot more than just a descriptive title. We have picture, which,
other than the story itself, is about as objective as you can get. We have the dialogue,
which is slightly more subjective in describing emotions and talking about things. If
you’re working with lyrics and songs, you have poetry, which is about as subjective as
words can get. And, of course, we can’t leave out the sound-effects people! [Laughs]
So music has a very pivotal role in this combination of elements.
JR: It sounds like what you’re saying, perhaps, is that music is the most internalized of
any art form.
MI: In that it speaks uniquely to each person hearing the same thing, yes. It draws
upon an individual’s personal experience with life. And yet, you’re dealing with a
language. A very specific language that has dictionaries and tools and conjugations,
form, and whatever other rules as might occur in a well-conceived, well-used language
evolving through culture.
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MI: Those “rules” become the whole mystery of being a composer, because if you are
dramatically inclined, you could categorize everything! I’m sure it has been done. In
fact, I’ve seen books in which academics have attempted to categorize the emotional
qualities of various musical events: the sweeping upward motion to a major sixth
implies great triumph of the will . . . the downward motion of a minor third indicates
loss. You could go on and create subcategories, ad infinitum, of this sort of stuff, and
I suppose people may do that.
JR: It would be dangerous in the hands of some producers or directors!
MI: Exactly! But the truth of the matter is that there is this element in music that
feels slightly magical and mysterious in the manipulation of people’s emotions and
perception. To me, still as a film composer, I can try and build what I think will be
predictable things into a score, but the structure of what I’m attempting to create will
undoubtedly change.
There are magical moments, such as when you take a cue you’ve written for a death
scene in a project and put it up against a love scene, and it plays better. The magic im-
parted by that unintellectual creation characterizes the real high points for me. When
you get it to work just right, you can see the emotional impact you now have with this
totally personalized communication, which is then added to those other more objec-
tive ones. You then get to see how much the final result can be such a tremendously
powerful experience for each individual audience member.
JR: What has the role of jazz been in your scoring career, and how do you view the role
of jazz overall in the soundtrack world?
MI: Jazz has been a great source of inspiration for my scoring career. The idea that I
can improvise as a jazz performer has pretty much handled any writer’s block. I can
make “something up” on stage—so do it now for the score!
The melodic and harmonic vocabulary of jazz has been a great help. There has
always seemed to me to be a void in classical harmonic concepts between the late
Romantics and the Modernists, which is now filled with the likes of John Adams, and
others. But for a long time, it was filled by jazz composers—Duke Ellington, Gil Evans,
Cecil Taylor. So, knowledge of that world has been very inspiring.
I’ve been fortunate to score a number of jazz scores in the past. Afterglow, Little
Man Tate, and Quiz Show, to name a few. To me, they have been highlights and have
shown me that if you really understand music and the art of storytelling, any musical
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Jazz in general has not had a major voice in the film world. You have champions
like Damien Chazelle. But overall, it seems to be a voice that not a lot of filmmakers
are drawn to. Judas and the Black Messiah was an exception and was a joy to work on,
but we delved into other genres as well in that score.
JR: Your scores have been a blend of orchestral, jazz ensemble, and electronics. Do you
feel you use a different musical muscle when you go from one approach to another?
MI: To a certain extent, yes. But the instrumentation I use or the style I write in don’t
seem to demand as much of a reboot, so to speak, as the overall tone of the film. If I’ve
written three dark and brooding dramas and then switch to a light-hearted adventure
film, that will usually demand more of a concentrated effort than whether it’s written
for electronics or piano, bass, and drums.
JR: What advice would you give a composer just starting out?
MI: Four things:
1. A composer composes. A film composer composes for film. So do it! Compose a
lot to a lot of different types of footage. Understand the basics of good storytelling,
and tell stories with the music you write.
2. Promo your work. Let people know that this is what you do, and are doing, and
will continue to do.
3. Most importantly, persist in numbers 1 and 2 above. Keep doing both! And do it
some more!! Education is a given here. It doesn’t have to be formal—I am a col-
lege dropout and never “studied” film composition. But I have taught myself a lot
about a lot of kinds of music and music technologies. In this day and age, this is
incredibly simple to do.
4. Be professional! Act it and be it. “Amateurs practice ’til they get it right—profession-
als practice ’til they can’t get it wrong.”

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Joseph Trapanese
Composer
Both a scoring composer and go-to collaborator for
crossover artists working in film, Joseph Trapanese has
worked on and is best known for his sleek score work for,
blockbuster films such as Tron: Legacy, Straight Outta
Compton, Oblivion, the Raid series, and The Greatest
Showman. His first major break came in 2010, when he
worked with Daft Punk on the Tron reboot, and a score
with Mike Shinoda of Linkin Park for the American re-
lease of The Raid: Redemption and The Raid 2.
Jeff Rona: What was your musical education? And how
did it prepare you, and not prepare you, for the job you
do now?
Joseph Trapanese: Growing up, I managed to just fall into the arms of some really
great music teachers. Without them, I would not be where I am today. I studied piano
when I was eight with a horrible teacher in Jersey City, New Jersey. I was public school
educated in the inner city, where for some reason, thank goodness, they kept the music
program going. I was able to at least get the beginnings. And one teacher sent me to a
composition teacher to get some composition lessons. She, in turn, helped me apply to
the Interlochen music program. I literally went to band camp! I was a composer there;
I played piano and trombone. Later, in college I was studying with the bass trombonist
of the New York Metropolitan Opera. I played with the New York Symphony.
I went to Manhattan School of Music, which is pretty difficult to get into. I was, by
far, the worst prepared student to go. Most their students had been trained all their
lives to be classical musicians. And here I was, this kid who just wanted to be able to
write music.
JR: They had a film scoring program there?
JT: No. I actually got into film music as a kid in middle school. I love film music. I
fell in love with orchestral music because most of the film music I grew up with—
Star Wars, Indiana Jones, and the like—was orchestral music. By being in these
orchestras, taking composition lessons, I went straight down the path into classical
composition. At the Manhattan School, I got the basic understanding of how an
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orchestra works: how to arrange, how to orchestrate, and how to conduct. It wasn’t
until the end of college, I thought, “I need to make money doing this, because I’m
going to be broke soon.”
Almost nothing I did at Manhattan School of Music really prepared me. It was great
that I had training, that I could orchestrate, that I had the language of music down. But
in order to actually walk into a studio and get a job?
I was really lucky that I had an uncle who learned computers when they were still
giant machines. He instilled a love of computers in me. We got our first Mac when I
was about twelve. Playing with computers was always a part of my life. That’s where
I got really lucky, because that’s what allowed me to get into a studio. When I moved
to Los Angeles, and I’d made some connections there, people knew I could build a
Giga-Studio (a PC-based sampler), I knew how to sequence in Digital Performer, I
knew all the Native Instruments stuff. I’d been playing with it for years. That’s what
got me into the studios.
I was really a mercenary. I was doing grad work at UCLA, but I eventually dropped
out because I realized, “Wait, I’m actually working.” I eventually went back and
finished my degree, but I took a leave of absence to work in studios. I dedicated all
the time I had to being in the studios, which was incredible. I worked for all sorts of
people. I was a “studio rat,” picking up coffees and dry cleaning. But I got to be in the
room as a composer was scoring a Disney Channel movie. He would have me take his
themes and rearrange them.
I’d work for one composer for a while, and then move on to another, each time
learning new skills. Everything I learned in the Manhattan School music kind of went
out the window because I needed to be a tech. But one composer I worked for exten-
sively asked if I wanted to orchestrate this movie. So, that’s when Manhattan School
of Music started coming back into play.
I tell people, when they go and learn and train, to do things because you want to
do it. You can do this without a degree. You could fall out of the sky with no training
and become a film composer because it’s not really about composing. It’s really about
filmmaking. So as long as you understand filmmaking, you can do this. However, if
you want to be on the podium working with the orchestra, if you want to be able to
translate from a score to an oboe and a violin, you have to at least put some effort into
understanding that.
JR: After all the tech work, ghostwriting, arranging and orchestration you did for other
composers, when did you get to do your own work? Did you feel ready?
JT: I never feel ready. I feel like I’m always learning on the job, which I think is part
of the excitement about what we do. With each project, I try to find a unique way into

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that story, connecting with it at a very visceral storytelling filmmaker level. Everything
is brand new and exciting. I do sometimes wonder if I got lucky too soon. You know,
one can never be too lucky. I’ve kind of had to piece it together from all these experi-
ences I’ve had, which I think is lucky. You need to know the technical stuff, you need
to know the software, or else. All I’ve learned about Stravinsky and Beethoven and
Bach, that’s important, too.
One big stroke of luck was joining the Film Music Network (an online commu-
nity and scoring job board that started before Facebook or other social media-based
film score groups). I signed up. Internships were free to post and free to apply to.
I sent in my résumé to one composer, and somehow mine floated to the top of the
pile. I got the gig!
I was also hanging out at UCLA, which is where the Henry Mancini Institute (an
educational foundation named in honor of the late composer) was set up. I was about
to do grad work at UCLA. So, I’m getting to know a ton of musicians who were already
working. They invited me to the opera one night because they were playing in the pit.
I went, had a drink afterwards with some of the musicians. One said “Oh, my friend is
a composer. And he needs an intern. You interested?” I said, sure!
I can trace just about every gig I’ve ever had from those first two internships. It’s
how I got to know Daft Punk, which is how I did Tron, which is how I got to know
Disney, which is how I did the Tron ride, and it led to me scoring Lady and the
Tramp, and others. So, I did Lady and the Tramp in 2019 because of an internship
I did in 2006!
There’s no “I made it” or “I’m set.” It’s all one continuous slow burn forward in
a career. That’s what a career is. That’s what luck is: hard work meets preparation,
preparation meets opportunity.
JR: Can you describe your process?
JT: A film project is a lot of hard work lasting over many months. At times, it can
be rushed—six, eight weeks to score a film. But even having a lot more time doesn’t
mean it’s less stressful or any less difficult. The reason I aim to have more time is I
want to “front load” the process. I want to do as much homework about the film. For
instance, I’m starting up a new project right now—a TV mini-series. I’m reading the
books the series is based on. I met with the author and have been talking with the
producers. I’m learning the world I’m entering, then when I do sit down at the piano
or computer, the decisions I’m making are based on the storytelling. To me, that’s a
lot of homework. That’s a lot of playing with sounds sampling. That’s a lot of bring-
ing in musicians and working with them. That’s a lot of writing themes and suites
and ideas. It makes the process so much easier and better. I know that nine out of ten

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times I might be writing the wrong thing. But that month I spent doing all the wrong
things will have led me to the right thing.
JR: Do you know you’ve gone from the wrong thing to the right thing because the direc-
tor says, “Oh, I listened to all of these and I like number seven”?
JT: It’s funny. It has less to do with the director and more to do with me and my
musical tastes. I try to leave the director out this early part. If I come to the table with
an idea so compelling that works so well, I can get it to the place where the director is
going to love it based on their feedback and notes. But my initial goal is to get to an
idea I feel confident even putting in front of the director. That’s if there’s time. When
there isn’t enough time, you’re just dealing with a temp score, and it makes your job
really hard. Rather than trying to find the heart and the soul of a story, you’re just try-
ing to hit the deadline, and hope to be at least slightly better than the temp (or at least
slightly different from it, so you don’t get sued).
I want to be a collaborator with the filmmaker, not just someone they hire. I don’t
want to be the guy who comes in and installs the windows. I want to be the one who
comes in early on and says “Wow, lovely house you’re building. What type of windows
do you like?”
JR: So, you’re “embedded”!
JT: I’m embedded! The undeniable truth is that there will come a point where the
deadlines are crazy, the shit is hitting the fan, and nothing is working. And people are
coming to the studio telling you that you stink and telling you why something doesn’t
work or why you need to rewrite something. I want movies where there was never a
temp, and my music was in from the beginning. I had sketches and ideas that produc-
ers raked me over the coals and made me write all sorts of alternate options, rewrite
reels at a time. But ultimately, the director got what they wanted, because the director
and I were close. We had designed the music from the beginning. Still, I needed to do
the “monkey dance” for the producers. So that happens. That’s something everyone
has to go through. You realize, “Oh, I’m not being paid by the note—I’m being paid
as a service provider.” Sometimes part of that service is that producers want to come
to the studio and hear ten different options. And yes, it sucks. But that’s why some
composers have teams, and why we put all this effort into becoming better and faster.
So, when we do have crazy shit happen, we can just do it.
In terms of where we derive our careers and choices, I come to the table with,
hopefully, artistic integrity. It doesn’t work out all the time. I’ve been fired. We’ve
all been fired. We’ve all been told that we’re not right. I did a project recently where

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my first meeting with the producer, he said he wanted to hire a different composer.
And a month later, I was fired and he hired that other composer. So you know, you
sometimes are set up to fail. This business is not clean. It’s very messy. But I look at my
role as being above all that messiness. I’m here because someone asked me to create
the sound of the story they’re telling. So damn it, I’m going to sit down and create the
best I can for their story. All else be damned! I guess that’s how I do it. I’m sure there
are many people who say, who say I’m crazy and they just want to sit down and write
a cue. But I really look at the process. My mentor Daniel Licht came to the table with
the TV series “Dexter” with an amazing sound, and an amazing set of colors he created
for the show. When I worked with Daft Punk, they came to the table with an amazing
set of sounds and a sonic palette for Tron that made it what it is. I look at those very
early experiences and I say, well damn it, I’m going to do the same thing. I’m going to
come to the table with a viewpoint, with an opinion, and an idea and an artistry that
hopefully will be undeniable.
JR: How would you describe your overall approach to writing a score?
JT: Working on a film score is like a conversation. I walk into the room knowing what
I’m going to say. But based on what the film says back to me, I have to change and
alter what I’m doing, no matter how well prepared I am. There will be some things I
write that just don’t work, and I’ll have to improvise in the moment. I might image big
orchestral chords for a character. But if the character was shot with the cameras very
close, I may need something more claustrophobic—smaller or with less reverb. You
have to be open to where the journey is taking you. The movie will change. I do not
work on a movie linearly; I tend to score the beginning last. I found out the hard way
that trying to score the beginning first is usually a bad idea.
Just about every film I’ve worked on struggles with tone and pacing in the first
couple of reels. The executives come in and say, “We want a faster pace, we want to
get to the next section quicker, we want to get to this other point quicker.” So, when-
ever I started the beginning of the movie first, it’s always led me astray. I need to go to
where the meat and potatoes are. I need to go to the crux of the film—those intense
moments, I’ve had filmmakers tell me to score a specific moment in the middle first
because it’s where a character makes a major decision. Everything I do radiates out
from that point, both backward and forward. Once I have enough of the movie scored,
I can go back to the beginning, and it’s easy.
I once heard that for several Star Wars movies, John Williams scored the last reel
first because it was where all the themes were coming together. He likes writing all
the themes. He could then take each individual theme and extrapolate it into a longer
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Everyone needs to find how best to work. There are definitely points in the
process where I have to throw something out that I thought worked, but no longer
works. I need to improvise. Once I was trying to figure out how to score a weird se-
quence in a movie I was working on, and I walked into the bathroom and the faucet
was dripping, making a really cool sound as the water hit the hit the bottom of the
sink. So, I pulled out my phone and recorded that steady dripping. That became
a pulse. I added another percussion sound to that pulse, and all of a sudden I had
a cue! You have to be open to what is being communicated to you by the musical
spirits, or the filmmaking spirits.
JR: Do you have a good sense of when a cue is done?
JT: When the clock runs out! I think John Powell said, “Keep asking yourself, ‘can I
make this better?’ until you run out of time.” It’s the reason I spend so much time in
pre-production. I’m talking to the engineers I will work with, months before we re-
cord the orchestra. I talk to my music editor. I talk with the filmmakers. I talk to the
producers, I’m hopefully setting up a “rulebook,” because there’s never enough time
at the end. You’re always up against the clock.
JR: What’s your advice to anyone getting started?
JT: You have to be the best storyteller you can be. You need to know your tools as best
you can. No one cares how you get things done. They don’t care what gear or samples
you use as long as the storytelling is there. You want to help get your audience from
point A to point B. And you need to know the tools to get them there. That tool could
be the London Symphony Orchestra, or it could be banging a can on this table, sam-
pling it and reversing it and making the most amazing beat out of it. I think that’s the
root of everything, to become a better storyteller, to make an audience feel a certain
way. And how to do it with the tools you can afford. No matter what your budget is.
That’s really it as you move forward, to achieve your storytelling goals.

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Basil Poledouris (1945–2006)
Composer
The late Basil Poledouris was a composer, conductor,
and orchestrator, best known for his long-running
collaborations with directors John Milius and Paul
Verhoeven. Among his works are scores for the films
Conan the Barbarian, Red Dawn, RoboCop, The Hunt
for Red October, Free Willy, Starship Troopers, and Les
Miserables. He won an Emmy Award for his work on
the miniseries ”Lonesome Dove.”
Jeff Rona: Do most filmmakers understand the process
of music?
Basil Poledouris: I think music is abstract enough
of an idea and enough of a commodity, that as composers we basically make a lot of
choices that the client, the producer, or director are unaware of, nor should they be.
I’m not aware of a lot of things a director has to do—his or her internal mechanisms.
But you get the job done. I think they’re still dealing with dramatic concepts in dra-
matic film, and for me it’s about realizing the director’s or the producer’s vision.
JR: Do you think you banged your head against the wall when you were starting out?
BP: I know I did, and I think a lot of that probably has to do with insecurity. Like
making sure that I found the right way to approaching something. There are a lot of
approaches to the same problem. I don’t think there’s just one anymore. Give ten film
composers the same scene; you’re going to get ten different approaches, ten different
kinds of scores. I always assumed there was just one way I could write, and that was
either because of my limitations or insecurities or whatever, and I stuck to it. It was my
style and, to a certain degree, people expected it. I was hired for it. But now it’s differ-
ent. It’s changed a lot for me, and I think there are a lot of different kinds of movies.
JR: There are so many interesting ways to make music.
BP: Yeah, I suppose there always were. It’s just so much more accessible now. You
can try out ideas without having so many limitations. You have the luxury of experi-
menting with electronic instruments, whereas before it was a gamble. It was only the
gutsy that would push things.
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JR: Do you know why you get hired to do a film?
BP: It’s generally because of a film I’ve done prior to it. It speaks to the new project,
and someone hears something in there; the most notable example in my career was
Paul Verhoeven hearing Conan the Barbarian. He really wanted me to do Flesh and
Blood because of that. Conan . . . had that kind of medieval thing that he was look-
ing for. Randal Kleiser hired me to do Blue Lagoon because of something he heard in
Big Wednesday. There was a kind of warmth and quality to it. I don’t think any of us
could define it. There’s an emotional response to it. You might be able to analyze it
intellectually, but in the end, it is emotionally that kind of response you want people
to have for your scores.
JR: You were using electronics as early as anybody.
BP: Yeah, absolutely. I always added the electronics as an orchestral color. But not un-
til MIDI and the sophisticated sequencers came along that we have now was it possible
to do a mock-up of the whole instrumental palette. I think that’s changed my attitude
about how I approach film scores a lot.
JR: I know that the bar has certainly been raised with all this gear in terms of what
directors expect to hear when they walk into a composer’s studio. You’re exceptional in
the fact that you’re such a good pianist that you can dazzle a director by playing and
describing a score.
BP: Used to be, thirty years ago.
JR: You know what I mean. There are a lot of composers who don’t really play piano
very well, but are able to do their work using electronic gear.
BP: Do you see any pianos in here? We need to get rid of the preconceived notion
about how we approach scores now. That’s the difference. Before, it was spot a movie,
go away and write for a while, then meet with the director to play maybe a couple
of main themes on piano, and no more. Six weeks later, you show up on the scoring
stage, and that would be the first time [the director and producer] ever had an idea of
the score beyond the piano sketches. Now it’s totally different.
It depends on the director. I think particularly that younger directors expect that
process of working with the composer and hearing almost a full realization in the
electronic mock-up form of what the score’s going to be. I don’t mind that, though it’s
more time-consuming for me. I know what it’s going to sound like, but it takes time to

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sequence and review. Then it opens the door to change. Sometimes that change is very
positive, but sometimes it isn’t. That’s where the collaboration comes into play. You
talk about the possibilities. You explore the alternatives. Sometimes you end up where
you started, but sometimes it goes in a different direction that can be very exciting.
Marc Shaiman
Composer
Marc Shaiman is a composer and lyricist for films,
television, and theater. He wrote the music and cow-
rote the lyrics for the Broadway musical version of the
John Waters‘s seminal film Hairspray. His other film
credits include Mary Poppins Returns, Sleepless in Se-
attle, Patch Adams, The First Wives Club, The Ameri-
can President, Beaches, When Harry Met Sally, Misery,
City Slickers, The Addams Family, Addams Family
Values, A Few Good Men, Sister Act 1 & 2, George of
the Jungle, In and Out, Hocus Pocus, The Bucket List,
and Parental Guidance. He has won a GRAMMY, an
Emmy, and a Tony, and been nominated for seven Oscars.
Jeff Rona: Let me start by asking you what you were doing before you started scoring
movies.
Marc Shaiman: I moved to New York when I was sixteen. I started as a vocal arranger
for cabaret acts there. I was Bette Midler’s vocal arranger and writing a lot of off-off-
off-off-Broadway shows. I was very busy just doing everything that had to do with
music and show business.
JR: So, you were a composer before you started in film?
MS: More like a songwriter with eyes on being a theatrical composer. Listening to
film scores was something I enjoyed, but I wasn’t a film score aficionado. I was into
music, show business, movies, and plays. So, I was aware of film music, but it wasn’t
something I was specifically focused on.
It definitely influenced me, for better or for worse. Film writing is so much like
arranging. You have a melody, and then you have to figure out different ways to con-
form that melody or those chords to work for a scene. Sometimes that’s bad, as when
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I will continue to try to make a theme work (and my arranging chops will allow me to
keep texturing it to be playing throughout the scene) when, in fact, I should probably
be going for texture and not trying so hard. So, my arranging is sometimes a bad habit
of trying to hold onto a full thirty seconds of a melody when, in fact, it should just be a
chord or a rhythm. But on the other hand, I often think that I see a movie like a singer,
and I’m the accompanist playing for it. That’s what I really am, an accompanist.
JR: That’s a fantastic way to look at it. And you’re aware that sometimes your music
absolutely has to step up to center stage.
MS: That’s completely how I approach it. It’s not like I think: “That’s my M.O.”
JR: For better or worse, you’re very well-known for the comedy scores that you’ve done.
I don’t think there’s anything harder to do in film scoring than what you do (and what
you do so successfully). What do you think makes a good comedic score?
MS: It is hard, and there are moments I’m as ashamed of it as I ought to be! It’s that
incredibly hard thing of knowing when not to write “funny” music. But I have a sense
of humor that just can’t help being in the musical style I’m writing. So hopefully it
works with the movie, and hopefully does not overtake the movie too often. There’s
nothing worse, [than using] the comedy trombones and all that kind of stuff. But I’m
not afraid of stepping out. However, I was called on the carpet for The Kid, which I
scored in two weeks. It was the only time I ever did one of these “come in at the last
second” scores. The director was loving what I was doing, stepping around and danc-
ing jigs of joy and leaving my studio so happy every time. The best score he’d ever had!
And I got so beat up in the reviews, which I kind of anticipated because of the style
of music. I’ve done enough of them now to know. There is a bold stroke element in
that score. So, there was no time to think about what you were writing or to be subtle.
There was just no time to do anything except write something and then move on to the
next cue. And when the director’s loving it, it is nice! So, you keep going.
JR: Do you think about things other than what the director feels when scoring a film?
How important is your director’s response?
MS: Very important. I’ve never been in a situation where I was so at odds with a di-
rector that I tried to stamp my feet and be immovable. But luckily, it hasn’t happened
so much (or else I have a selective memory). I’m usually in tune with a director, and
I have them come over every few days and they hear everything and comment on ev-
erything. The people with whom I’ve had successful collaborations say they know that

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even when I roll my eyes and take in my breath, they know I’m listening. And I’ll make
the adjustments. I find ways to adjust things to make everyone as happy as possible.
I’m lucky in that I’ve never had a situation where it was obvious that the director and
the producers were unhappy.
JR: Now that you’ve done quite a few movies, how do you think your approach has
changed from when you first started?
MS: I wish I could somehow erase all of this experience and be a little freer. I feel guilty
of having fallen into the same grooves or patterns, musically. That’s the bad thing
about getting similar kinds of movies. It’s hard to sometimes find a different way,
especially when you know that that’s what they want, and it’s coming naturally to you.
It just sort of happens. That’s what happens after thirty-five movies or whatever it’s
been. But I look at the posters for the first ten movies I did, and they were all different.
Maybe they’re not so different in that they’re all movies that I scored (and I was chosen
for them). I’m looking at them right now: When Harry Met Sally, musically speaking,
is not very close to The Addams Family, which is not very close to City Slickers, which
is not very close to A Few Good Men or Sleepless in Seattle. During my first three years,
I had more variety in the kinds of projects on which I worked.
JR: Do you think that typecasting and pigeonholing is something sort of endemic in the biz?
MS: Of course, that’s the way it is in all life. Not just showbiz, but throughout life in
general, people always compartmentalize you. Things could be worse. But I think I
did an okay job on Misery, which was the first movie I ever wrote music for. I wish
I could get more films like that. I watch little moments from Misery, and I think:
“Would I write that now?” Because it’s much more freeform, in its way. I didn’t know
anything about clicks! So, what I said to you about accompanying the movie was more
in evidence than ever. It was really me there just playing. The poor orchestrator had
to figure out how to conduct it and write it out so it could be clicked. And yet it was
much freer. That’s what I meant when I said I wish I could erase. I’m still not a slave to
[the click track] now; I never have been. But I’m more so now than I was in those first
three years. And I also thought, “Gee, it took two hours for the orchestra to play this
cue! I’m going to have to learn the click.” My expressive clicks that I create from my
playing don’t translate to the orchestra necessarily. Sometimes an orchestra will sound
more emotional getting to play not necessarily with a click, but with a steady tempo,
than to try to play like a pianist (breathing through the same piece of music playing a
little faster, a little slower). But when you’ve got that big orchestra, trying to find that
heartbeat can be more emotional.

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JR: Do you feel that you’re a more confident composer than you used to be?
MS: You happen to have caught me at a low-confidence moment. The reviews from
The Kid really knocked the wind out of my sails. Not only the reviews, just where I
am in my life. I’m cocky and have a high opinion of myself, and yet I can totally beat
myself up. I mean, listen to me the last ten minutes!
JR: What are some of the most valuable things you’ve learned on the job?
MS: It’s the old cliché—less is more. It’s such a cliché, but those moments where I
realize that my trying to hit a cut or make a melody last two bars longer than the scene
really needed to be. So, I wrestle with it to make it fit the scene. Then three months
later, I go see the movie and wonder, “Why did I have to do that? Why couldn’t I
have just played that moment as just texture and not have played the melody to that
extent?”—that kind of stuff.
Now and then I think that I try to force a square peg in a round hole, but I have the
chops to pull it off.
JR: I’ve always felt that there’s never been a single note of music in a film score that wasn’t
approved by virtually everyone before it gets dubbed. When you’re working with a director
for the first time or on a repeat basis, how do you communicate? How do you interact?
MS: You know everyone’s personality is different, so it’s different with each person.
What I can say, hopefully, is that my personality is a part of it. It’s weird to say out
loud, but it is true. I think people enjoy coming over here and hearing music, enjoy
being with me (until I fall into the well of misery). I think that’s a big part, and an
enjoyable part of it. I’ve been lucky enough to always be pleased with the directors,
so I’ve never had an awkward relationship that’s like . . . [whispers] “Oh my god, I’m
really not pleasing this guy.”
I’ve been lucky enough to not have to deal with producers with too much to say
(at least not until it’s too late), except of course the fact that once every two years, I’ve
worked with Scott Rudin, a producer who’s completely hands on. His is really the only
situation like that, where the producer is more involved than the director. And again,
the relationship with him is like the relationships that I have with most directors,
which is very difficult because he’s been in New York for the last six years.
JR: Do you have a good relationship with technology?
MS: You know, I have the basic love/hate relationship with technology. I’m not like
you, but God knows I make use of it all! I do love it and I can’t imagine what it would

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be like in the golden age with just timing notes and perhaps a Moviola. It’s hard to
imagine not being locked to picture at least, hearing things back and experimenting.
Yet the great all-time scores were written like that, and there are hundreds of them!
I have no formal training. I had to learn by hit and miss. I’ve figured out a lot of
orchestral colors through the use of synthesizers. And conversely, I’ve learned how
the synthesizer is sometimes so unable to create a sound that the orchestra can. I’m
constantly learning that the orchestra will not sound—direct, crisp, and exact—like
my synthesizers every time. I’ve dealt with directors who, as glorious as the orchestra
sounded, told me that it sounded so much better at my home studio, and I agree. Then
a few weeks later, I listen to the real orchestral version and compare it to the synth
version, and we all ask: “What were we thinking of, favoring the synth version?” The
thing about the synth is that it’s all me playing, so that my sense of humor and my
emotions are in every single part, whether it’s an oboe part or the volume swell on a
field drum roll. It’s all my playing. There’s not a single note that goes by that doesn’t
have my character. I think that’s why the synth mock-up has a certain flavor. It’s a
professional challenge to be able to achieve that with the orchestra.
JR: You’re also a very accomplished piano player, so you could probably sit down at the pi-
ano and impress the hell out of a director by presenting a theme and playing it really well.
MS: Yes, as far as playing a theme or a mood, I can do that, except when you have a big
chase scene, or something really percussive. Those are things that I don’t find myself
doing as much—also because I haven’t had a chance to exercise that side of me. But
there’s no doubt that I can sit by the piano and make it work. I was blessed with that.
JR: Has your agent been an integral part of your life?
MS: Ahh, certainly yes. The movies I get most of the time are owing to previous rela-
tionships from previous movies I’ve done, or another relationship I forged on my own,
whether Billy Crystal or Bette Midler, who were my ins for the movie industry. I can
look at 90 percent of the posters on my wall at least and do a six degrees of separation
to either one of those people. It’s a bit complicated. I don’t even know how to answer
that question. But my agent is an enabler in the whole overlook of the situation. Al-
though he listens to my feeling about being burned out now and then, he will always
dangle some other thing in front of me. But I’ve been as guilty of that myself really, of
hearing about something, having to look into it, and suddenly I’m on the job and it
has nothing to do with the reality of what I’m capable of dealing with. I do work here
all by myself! I have no underlings laboring alongside me, whether credited or not. I
write every single note by myself. I don’t know how some of the guys can do it with
seven or eight movies a year. I don’t know how they do it. . . .

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JR: I think you probably do know how they do it.
MS: Sure, I know. It took me up till a couple of years ago to trust and not feel guilty
letting an orchestrator fill in the proper colors, once I had established the tone of the
movie. And of course, with Jeff Atmajian I have such a complete trust, and would feel
lost without him. I know that I can give him a really well-worked-out piano version
of the cue, and don’t have to say a word to him. And he will still deliver just what I
had in my head. It doesn’t mean adding notes really. I don’t have to add much more.
About 80 to 85 percent of The Kid was delivered as four handed piano parts. And I
learned the difference between orchestrators, how certain people can make that flower
bloom and others just get by. Anyway, I don’t want to say something bad about the
people who have saved my life repeatedly. You really see what some people can bring
to it. There are no added notes except for realized harp runs, although I love doing
that. Playing that, adding all that in, I love doing that. But I finally have learned to let
go when there’s a real crunch at the end [of delivering a score].
JR: If you ever talk to younger composers, do you find yourself giving a particular piece
of advice that rings true for you?
MS: You know what, I feel like I’m always depressing when people call or write me. I
can only talk about what I’ve done, how things happened for me, and the way that I
write. It’s not really helping anyone to follow that same path; it’s so specific and indi-
vidual. All those clichés where famous people tell you that if you don’t want to do it ev-
ery single day all the time, don’t even try. Ha, ha! What I can say is not uplifting at all.
My agent once said, go to a video store, find a scene from a famous movie that didn’t
have music in it, and write music to that. A producer or director will immediately see
a star and will just get more interested watching it and listening to it. He brought up a
great example of a really long, fantastic, classic chase scene from What’s Up Doc? with
Barbra Streisand and Ryan O’Neal. [Director] Peter Bogdanovich chose to not score
at all, and it’s like a twenty-minute chase on the streets of San Francisco. So, he said,
take five minutes of that and score it if you want to show your comedy chops. At a
symposium, I brought up a scene in Sleepless in Seattle that I scored; [director] Nora
Ephron had dropped the cue, in order to give more impact to the song that preceded
it and came after it. Maybe she was right. It was still a terrible phone call when I heard
the news. So, there’s this great scene in the movie where Meg Ryan is listening to Tom
Hanks over the radio in her car. It would be a great scene for someone to take and
write a beautiful theme to. That’s a piece of advice that I can give.

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CAREER
INTRODUCTION
Talent and success often have little to do with one another. The world is filled with
unsuccessful people bursting with talent. It might be more difficult to have success
without substantial talent, but history shows it happens often. So, what exactly dif-
ferentiates more successful artists from those who are simply gifted?
Luck? Maybe. It certainly helps to be lucky, assuming you believe in luck in the first
place.
Right place, right time? Possibly, but a rarity.
Strong work ethic? Helpful, yes, but what good is a work ethic if you don’t have any
work to begin with?
A positive mental attitude? Perhaps. People love to be around enjoyable, magnetic
personalities. Given a choice, no one would prefer to put up with an unpleasant, anx-
ious, morose or pessimistic person just to get a good score.
The key difference between having a passion for making music and actually making
a living at music is understanding that making music is a business, just like making
movies, television, and video games are businesses. Composers are businesspeople
as much as they are artists. They run a company, often with just a single employee—
themselves. More successful composers may have more. Thus, a solid understanding
of just how the business of music works can be a major key toward understanding
the possible paths to gaining and maintaining success. Many of the aspects of starting
and running a business—equipment, facilities, legal affairs, technology, budgeting,
business development, financing, marketing, studying the competition, and efficient
organization are important parts of running the business of being you. Additionally,
an understanding of how the film, episodic, video game, and record industries work
is highly valuable.

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Professional composers juggle a lot of duties and savvy to ensure they are being
properly compensated and treated fairly for their efforts. Like any company CEO,
composers are expected to work on budgets, deadlines, hiring and firing, taxes, royal-
ties, paperwork, meetings, future planning, accounting, communications, and market-
ing. You want to be armed with as much knowledge and information as possible when
starting any business.
In this section of The Reel World, we look at scoring from an entirely different per-
spective. The art of making a living at doing what you love the most—making music.

283
HOW DO I GET STARTED AS A COMPOSER?
A man traveling across a field encountered a tiger. He fled; the tiger ran after him. Com-
ing to a precipice, he caught hold of the root of a wild vine and swung himself down over
the edge. The tiger sniffed at him from above. Trembling, the man looked down to where,
far below, another tiger was waiting to eat him. Only the vine sustained him.
Two mice, one white and one black, little by little started to gnaw away the vine. The
man saw a luscious strawberry near him. Grasping the vine with one hand, he plucked
the strawberry with the other. How sweet it tasted!
Buddhist koans are simple, enigmatic parables that raise questions for which there
is never a single correct answer—like the koan above, which seems like an impossible
situation with a sudden odd shift of perspective. Is it about being in the present mo-
ment? Is it about avoiding the distractions of pleasures in the presence of more urgent
matters? Or is it a fable that says to climb up that damn vine before the mice destroy
it and slay that tiger?
Like the koan, there is no single, simple answer to the question of how to get into
the business of being a working composer. Like the parable, there are opportunities
and there are obstacles. Virtually everyone who has developed a career in music has
found a unique way in. Following are some of the elements of getting a start as a pro-
fessional composer.
HOW IMPORTANT IS A UNIVERSITY MUSIC DEGREE?
At the core of a composer’s career is the artistic ability to write good music—themes,
melodies, and strong emotional content with a unique voice. Composing music, in
and of itself, can neither be taught nor learned. No one can be taught how to conjure
8
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a melody from nothing. However, the technical aspects of music—form, rhythm,
harmony, orchestration, notation—can be taught in a classroom, and can be of tre-
mendous importance. An appreciation for the history and progress of music can be
inspiring. Learning the techniques of audio recording, producing, programming, and
mixing are incredibly valuable, and are difficult to self-teach. Though all this infor-
mation is available freely online, it does not provide vital professional feedback from
someone with knowledge and experience—a real teacher. Anyone can call themselves
an expert and put a video online.
While a number of successful composers come from strong academic backgrounds,
their academic training itself did not get them any work. It simply improved and de-
veloped their innate musicianship. Anyone who feels the need or desire to learn about
their chosen craft can and should take classes, learn, and enjoy. A gifted teacher can be
deeply inspiring. Specialized courses and programs in scoring are offered at universi-
ties around the world and online.
However, be aware that when you finish, degree in hand, you will be in exactly the
same position you were prior in terms of a career. Universities do not create successful
composers; talented composers take what they know and find their own ways to get
a start and hopefully become successful. Film and video game producers do not have
any interest in a composer’s academic background. The only thing that matters to
them is what you can do, how well you can do it, how quickly you can do it, and what
you have done previously to prove it.
It might come as a surprise that students with the best possible grades in composi-
tion don’t have any real advantages over those who did less well in school. What uni-
versity or conservatory professors look for in a student’s work may not always mesh
with what the entertainment industry is interested in. Doing excellent work in school
is an accomplishment, but don’t be lulled by successes in your academic work to be a
sign that you will have an easier inroad to your career.
There are just as many if not more successful, working composers with no formal
academic training. They neither read nor notate music. This does not hamper their
creativity or stifle a possible career. Untrained composers simply compose by ear into
a DAW and then get other people to help notate, orchestrate, perform, record, and
mix their music. Producers and directors don’t care how the process happens, as long
as they get some terrific music.

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Thomas Haines
Media Composition Educator
Thomas Haines is a professor and founder of the Me-
dia Composition program at the College-Conservatory
of Music (CCM) at the University of Cincinnati. He
developed both a standard curriculum for compos-
ers and a summer intensive program in scoring. He
teaches composition, computer music production, as
well as audio engineering. He founded the Schumann
Film Scoring Program at the Aspen Music Festival,
directing it for ten years.
Jeff Rona: What role does higher education have in
training new composers for media?
Thomas Haines: With so much of the student’s energy
and focus given to their online life, higher education
has had to personalize and integrate classroom instruction with online materials to
stay pertinent. Plus, there is so much good first-person offerings from established
composers, it would be a mistake not to integrate these materials as part of the class-
room training. My job must now include “data mining,” the internet as a curator of the
information that best integrates the information flow of the overall course structure.
JR: Can you teach someone to write good music?
TH: Personally, I like to think so on two counts: to help provide an understanding
and appreciation of style, and the proper and best use of modern scoring tools. If you
listen to film, episodic or game music created in the last twenty-five years, there are
very definite streams of style that are reworked and reused again and again. These
important score styles can be and should be taught. My job is partially to teach them
how to emulate these styles so they can be considered more relevant in the business.
With an ever-increasing market of composing tools, it’s easier than ever to craft a
reasonably convincing score, provided one has an ear for it. Not everyone does, nor
can they be taught how.
JR: How do you rank the importance of musicianship, technical skills, and business
savvy for a successful scoring curriculum?
FIGURE 8.1
Thomas Haines
Author

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TH: At the beginning of their freshman year, we take the time to provide a thorough
assessment of their performance abilities and gauge their level of interest in perform-
ing, which can vary widely. Our program resides within a well-known music con-
servatory, where a high premium is placed on performance skills and musicianship
above and beyond the craft of composing. We view this as a great advantage to those
students who have promising compositional abilities to be folded into the main body
of conservatory students, whose focus is on performing.
Along with composing, technical studio skills are a main focus in our curriculum
throughout the four years of the program. The first two years has equal amounts of
traditional of technical training to provide a firm foundation on which to build. The
most successful students are those who are engaged and dig in every day to the course-
work materials, as if their careers depended on it! And, of course, it does! [laughs]
All my music students are also enrolled in an entrepreneurship program offered by
our university’s business school. They also offer courses in music business, and we can
custom design a curriculum to teach students the unique business models used in mu-
sic and entertainment. For example, in my scoring classes, we routinely have young,
successful scoring composers come talk about their early career experiences and how
they got their first few projects. This approach seems to work.
JR: How do you inspire a composition student?
TH: I seriously question whether it’s my job to inspire students! If they are already on
fire about being a professional musician and willing to commit to whatever it takes
to give them a chance of making it in the business, there is little I can do outside of
providing and presenting the best expression of coursework materials possible. I take
extreme pride in sequencing my course materials, setting subject matter in music busi-
ness framework and streamlining skills progression being taught that, if they do the
work, they will see tangible results even after a few weeks into the course . . . if they
do the work!
JR: How has teaching music for media changed in the last decade, and have the students
changed in that time?
TH: Some things will never change. Most young students are naïve, they don’t know
what they don’t know. Guiding them through the typical music school training and
experience is still valid to a great extent. If the last twenty years has taught us anything,
it’s that, as the music business has expanded, so have the opportunities to make music
at home. Music consumption has created a worldwide secondary market that has no

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gatekeepers—music has become liberated and, for better or worse, has created a “new”
music aesthetic in the process.
This new market liberation, coupled with social and technology “advances,” im-
pacts music educators in several ways. First, a gap between the student’s expectations
of what it means to receive a degree in music and the well-trodden music education
model have expanded. Second, the number of ways to make money creating music is
in flux and has both contracted and expanded. Lastly, the “student first” educational
focus has created a consumer model where online training competes favorably with
the highly structured in-class model. So yes, the student’s perspectives have changed
but, in most ways, their basic need for “education” is mostly the same.
JR: What advice do you give young musicians looking to learn the craft and career path
of music for media? And what advice do you have for teachers and professors?
TH: To the young aspiring commercial music composer/producer, discover what
music you are good at producing and learn to produce it at the highest level. You
don’t even have to love the music, just be great at it. The secret is that there are no se-
crets! Compose every day—or explore a plug-in that you already own when you have
writer’s block. Go online and seek out “new” music you find interesting, explore what
makes it work, and try to emulate it. Be curious! These few actions alone will give you
a really good chance at becoming viable. Once you have professional-sounding tracks,
make use of the connections you have made over the years, and let them know you
are now open for business.
To educators, I say to stay as current as possible. For me, this has to become a
weekly practice. Scouring the internet for “new” content that fits your curricular goals
means so much to the student. It shows them you’re staying up to date. Lastly, know
the software you teach with by using the software you teach with. I compose “new”
music each time I assign a writing project to my students. So, there are always new
twists for me to explore, which helps keep me current and relevant. And sometimes, I
really like what I come up with. Isn’t that why we do what we do the first place?
WINDOWS OF OPPORTUNITY
How does a new composer get a start in the film, episodic, or video game industries?
Usually by some combination of talent, hard work, luck, charisma, apprenticeship,
dues paying, more dues paying, demo hawking, nepotism, and those famous right
place/right time situations. How do the most in-demand composers get where they are?
One interesting way to get a start in the world of scoring is to have some notable
success in the music business outside of movies, games, or TV. As strange as it may

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seem, it is easier to become established as a media composer if you’ve had some
form of existing recognition in another field of music. A number of artists from the
worlds of rock, EDM, jazz, or other pop music genres have gone on to become highly
successful composers, such as Geoff Barrow (Portishead), Danny Elfman (Oingo Bo-
ingo), Randy Newman, Trent Reznor (Nine Inch Nails), Hans Zimmer (The Bugles),
David Holmes, John Murphy (Shoes), Wendy and Lisa (Prince), Mark Mothersbaugh
(Devo), M83, Clint Mansell (Pop Will Eat Itself), Jonny Greenwood (Radiohead),
Mark Isham, Anne Dudley (Art of Noise), Stewart Copeland (The Police), Junkie
XL, Terence Blanchard, Craig Armstrong (Massive Attack), Lisa Gerrard (Dead Can
Dance), Mark Mancina (Yes), Graeme Revell (SPK), Cliff Martinez (Red Hot Chili
Peppers), and many, many others. Bands such as Daft Punk, The Chemical Brothers,
Air, Arcade Fire, Phoenix, and others have been tapped to create scores in their own
unique style. These artists’ non-score albums are in essence perfect showcases for a
unique style or talent that gives producers a sense of what is possible with them. There
is also some amount of celebrity attached to a composer who sells a number of records
outside of the film soundtrack genre.
Success leads to fame, and fame leads to success. If that seems a bit shallow, well,
it is. But success also indicates that you know how to do something right; and that, in
turn, brings confidence. Confidence is one of the most important assets anyone can
bring to a project, next to terrific music.
If you are not famous already, you will need to do things a bit differently. A new
composer needs to introduce themself and their music to the people that might hire
them to compose. Those people are directors, producers, music supervisors, music
executives for production companies, music editors, picture editors, music supervi-
sors, commercial music production companies, production music library companies,
video game developers, and audio directors. That’s a lot of possibilities, and yet it’s a
very focused cross-section of the world’s population. So how does one go about it?
First and absolutely foremost is a great demo. That is one of the most important
elements toward having a real shot at getting work as a composer. Once you’ve put to-
gether a perfect demo (more on that later), what do you do with it? Who do you send
them out to? Unsolicited demos are neither appreciated nor accepted by most creative
artists or executives. You first must make some kind of prior contact. For some that
means a making a phone call, sending an email query, or posting or direct messaging
on their social media. You can often find email addresses for their agents or manage-
ment online. Sleuthing on the internet can often turn up something.
Depending on where you live, it might be possible to connect with someone during
a social event such as a party or industry gathering or at a film festival. Connections
do get made at social events—friend of a friend or cousin of a cousin. Some call this

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networking, and while you may be someplace for the express purpose of promoting
yourself and your music, it can also happen at unintended times.
While it’s an entirely different environment, social media platforms offer the ability
to put yourself into the view of potential creative opportunities. Follow the directors
and others you really admire. Then keep an eye out for the other people who interact
with them. Those third parties could also be valuable connections. Social media plat-
forms in general can be an excellent way to get your music in front of potential clients
or collaborators. Think of yourself as a brand. Every brand needs to market itself to
show what makes it unique and desirable.
As a part of your career development, it is a part of your job to make contacts and
connections whenever and wherever possible. There are film, TV, and video game
festivals, and seminars and panels given around the world where directors, producers,
or other music or entertainment executives are speaking or in attendance. Some are
approachable, some are not. You never know until you try. A polite “Excuse me, may
I talk to you for a moment?” can be all it takes. Keep it brief, personable, confident,
honest, and respectful. The best attitude to keep in mind is that you are offering some-
thing, not asking for something.
New composers have found success by slowly working up the ranks of scoring,
from student films, short online films (hopefully for those same directors after they
graduate), documentaries (often done for free), local commercials, small video games,
or series, toward the top of the scoring food chain. In each case, it is key to develop
and maintain ongoing personal relationships with the people you work with. Money
doesn’t matter at this point. Work for free if it means getting to score something that
might be seen. Building a résumé of projects is everything. Building connections to
people in the field of your ambitions leads to greater and greater opportunities. Writ-
ing good music isn’t enough.
Careers are based on relationships—new and old.
APPRENTICING AND ASSISTING WITH A SUCCESSFUL COMPOSER
Busy working composers often need help. Regardless of the depth of your academic
experiences and knowledge, nothing takes the place of observing and being part of
a real scoring project. It’s as much about seeing how a real project gets done, with
budgets, schedules, personalities, missteps, and problems, as it is about the musi-
cal creation itself. Composers bring on assistants so they can stay focused on their
writing. Some have technical roles and are problem solving, some help with logistics
(like organizing or running errands), and some get to handle more musical roles
like rewrites or polishing cues, prepping scores or parts, orchestration, or various
studio-related chores. Only a handful of assistants are asked to actually create music

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on a project for a composer. Generally, the majority of the time is spent handling
technical details and problem solving. An assistant may work for a composer a very
long time before they get a chance to write, if at all. But it is definitely a worthwhile
experience and can lead to opportunities.
Because it can take a long time to get up to speed assisting a composer, many will
bring in one or more apprentices or interns. Some apprenticeships even provide col-
lege or university credits. Apprenticeships are a testing ground to see if someone has
the skills, trustworthiness, and personality to work as an assistant. They get offered
through schools, online postings, and word of mouth. It does mean living in close
proximity to the composer’s studio. Few composers work with assistants or interns
remotely. Something to consider in you plan to go this route.
While being a composer yourself is of benefit to the composer you may choose
to assist, it is very important that you bring some additional skills to the job, such as
knowledge of the same DAWs and notation software, samplers and sampling, syn-
thesizers and sound design, Pro Tools and audio editing, local networks and Wi-Fi
problems, hard drives and server arrays, spreadsheet setup, and any unique skills with
which the composer may need help.
As the working relationship grows between composer and assistant, it may be-
come time for that assistant to actually assist in writing new music. That can take
a few different forms: One may be to take an existing cue and extend or shorten it
for a recut of a scene or a request from a director. Another opportunity would be to
take an existing sequencer file and use it as a basis for a similar cue, rearranging it
to be more action packed, more tense, or whatever emotion and energy is needed.
Some composers will have their assistants write small transitional cues that take up
too much of their writing time.
There is a broad spectrum of creative or technical challenges a composer may put
on a writing assistant. Again, this is typically developed over a period of time, and only
as needed. Being a composer’s assistant is not being a composer’s cowriter.
However, from time to time, composers must turn down a project from a director
or producer they’ve already worked with, often due to scheduling conflicts. In some
cases, they may be inclined to recommend a trusted creative assistant. It can be as
simple as a referral, or it might be that they participate in a limited capacity to write
a main title, some themes, or just offer to oversee the score as a favor to the director.
Keep in mind it can take years to build that level of trust with a composer. This is
yet another reason why an apprenticeship, paid or unpaid, to a successful composer
can be a valuable part of one’s understanding of the business that isn’t possible from
a school program.
An apprenticeship also helps teach some of the realities of professional composing.
Knowing how to compose does not prepare you for what goes into the successful cre-

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ation, production, and completion of a real score. Music is an art and a craft, but work-
ing in the film, episodic, or video game business is many other things as well. There
is a psychology and a political aspect to the job that takes some getting used to. How
do you convince a director or producer that you’re the right person for the job? What
do you say to a director or producer who doesn’t like, or bluntly insults, your work on
a project? How do you deal with conflicting opinions from the various people calling
the shots? How do you organize a recording session that cannot fail? What do you do
when it fails anyway? How do you deal with orchestrators, conductors, music super-
visors asking for changes, musician unions, music editors, picture editors, schedule
changes, picture changes, engineers, soloists, singers, contracts, royalties, publishing,
or soundtrack album deals? There isn’t much room for error.
There is still more to understand about how composing works. How does a com-
poser pace themself on a project? How many minutes of music must be finished per
day? How much time do you need for making changes before delivering music to an
orchestrator or a copyist? Who are the people you need to ally yourself with in order
to accomplish the best results in the least amount of time? What if someone messes
up? What kinds of musical ideas are likely to be thrown out of a score? Is it okay to
criticize any aspects of a project you are working on in front of the creators? Are there
any potential situations that could ruin a career?
These Reel World situations and problems can best be learned while working
closely with an experienced composer. You must be prepared to work very hard to
get started in what has become a complex and competitive field. A near telepathic
ability to anticipate needs or problems and go the extra mile is key. The business
of being a composer is unique and strange. Different composers handle these situa-
tions in their own way, but all have found the path through these obstacles that has
led to a sustained career. As an assistant to any composer, you are a part of what
makes it all work.
GHOSTWRITING
A ghostwriter is a composer who secretly writes under another composer’s name. In
most cases, they are not even in direct contact with the director or producers of a
project, they simply write additional music for another composer’s score. Composers
bringing in help on a score is a more common scenario than most people realize, and
dates back to the beginning of scoring pictures.
A composer may engage a ghostwriter for a few reasons—they are working on mul-
tiple projects at once and need to grind out a superhuman amount of music, they are
slipping behind in their deadlines, they are being asked to write in a style they are not
comfortable with, or they simply feel the end result will be superior by getting some
kind of help. Composers who require help may go to a trusted friend or colleague, or

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may go to a newer composer or assistant who is looking for opportunities to write to
picture. In lieu of getting an onscreen credit, ghostwriters are simply compensated
financially for the music they contribute.
Ghostwriting is not an ideal situation for anyone. However, for a composer just
getting their career started, it is an opportunity to make some money in addition to
gaining valuable experiences and lessons on how to really do the job. They get the
chance to compose to picture under the guidance of someone more experienced. And
if it goes badly, someone else gets the blame. Unfortunately, if it goes well, someone
else gets the credit. If the experience is educational, then it has already paid off. If it
proves your worth for more projects, it was doubly worthwhile.
While some ghostwriters are kept a secret, there are some times when it is known
by those involved that there is an additional composer working on the project. Some
producers and directors don’t really care how a score gets made as long as it turns out
as they hoped, and the main composer is taking charge of the whole process. Series
television is a field where there is an understanding that many composers are unable to
keep up with the demanding week-to-week schedule. Composers on their first project
for a producer or director may be more inclined to keep additional writers a secret.
After a while, when everyone is happy with the results, that restriction may ease up.
The main composer is, in the end, the only one responsible for delivering the score.
In most cases, the main composer will come up with the actual themes, and any ghost-
writers then use those themes throughout their own work. It is the ghostwriter’s pri-
mary job to create music that sounds and feels like the work of the composer. Scores
with ghostwriters sound the same as scores written by only one composer. It is one of
the musical challenges for ghostwriters.
There are times when a ghostwriter will receive an “additional music by” credit
onscreen (for that tiny set of people who read end credits). This is an agreement be-
tween the main composer and the production. Having an “additional music” credit is
a great help to a ghostwriter. Normally, ghostwriters cannot list their projects on their
résumé. However, it is acceptable to list “additional music” in your biography when
appropriate.
Regardless of credit, ghostwriting is an invaluable experience for a lot of up-and-
coming composers from both a creative and logistical perspective. There are invalu-
able lessons and experiences from this not-so-secret backroom profession.
LIVE WHERE YOU WORK
Let’s assume you are musically and technically really ready for your first big break,
but you don’t live in one of a tiny handful of cities that is a major hub for media
production (i.e., Los Angeles, New York, London, Toronto, Berlin, Tokyo, Mumbai,
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Composers for decades have moved to the top two or three cities in the world where
a majority of media is produced. It doesn’t matter where a project is filmed, it only
matters where it is post-produced, where the editing and mixing rooms are, and where
the producers are to oversee everything—including score.
Historically this has been a wise choice. For the most part, producers, in fact, are
living in one of those cities, and have insisted on working directly, and in person, with
composers. And for that reason, a large percentage of working composers do currently
reside and work in Los Angeles or the few other production hubs. If you have any inter-
est in working with a busy composer, then the choice is simple—you must be close by.
At least for a limited time (apprenticeships/internships can last as little as two weeks
and as long as many months). There are a growing number of successful composers
who live outside of the major production communities once they are established.
While the entertainment industry started in a mythical place called Hollywood, it
has spread out to encompass much of the world. Where there used to be dozens, there
are now thousands of companies creating content, and hiring composers. Greater
options and opportunities continue to grow. With the advent of high-speed internet
and lower production costs, people around the globe are producing series, films, and
video games in their own localities. Productions done entirely remotely have become
commonplace. Video game developers are especially decentralized—with companies
around the world building games and working with composers from all over. It’s
become far more common for film productions to work in a hybrid fashion—where
the editors may be in-house, but music is handled from afar. Series scoring remains
a field in which more producers prefer, but don’t demand, a composer be physically
present for meetings.
In the end, relocating to a city that is a major production hub is a personal choice.
Does it help in starting or building a career? The simplest answer is yes, it can. Can
one become and grow as a working composer without the move? The answer again is
yes, one can, but it may be a bit harder.
YOUR PORTFOLIO: MORE ABOUT DEMOS
Just as actors must audition in order to have a chance at a role, composers, too, must
audition for potential jobs by submitting a demo of their work. Putting together ef-
fective and compelling demos is key to getting the opportunity to do work. Even very
experienced composers with lengthy résumés are asked for demos, especially if the
project might call for them to do something they’ve not done prior. In many cases,
the director or producers may not know exactly who or what they are looking for, and
hope that a track on a demo excites and inspires them enough to hire that composer.
In all likelihood, you have only a few seconds to get someone’s attention and to
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put them in the best order. Each opportunity to submit music for a project is unique,
and care should be taken to see that each demo is tailored to the potential job. On
some occasions, you may be asked for a “general demo” to show off who you are more
comprehensively as a composer. These requests are rare compared to the submissions
you need to prepare for specific projects. You want to tailor each demo individually to
suit that specific project. Producers, directors, and audio directors don’t often listen to
music submissions except when a project they are producing needs music. Demos are
accepted on an invitational basis; that means you don’t send your music to someone
who hasn’t asked for it specifically.
Following is a look at ways to make the best possible impression in the least amount
of time. Think of a demo as a trailer—a trailer for you.
HOW DOES IT SCORE?
Virtually every style of music ever created has been adapted for scores. Yet there are
recognizable conventions that appear in most scores again and again and are often
sought after by directors or producers again and again. They typically look for music
that sounds and feels cinematic, with a sense of strong clear emotion, some sense
of scale, confidence, and high production value. Music that is cinematic sparks the
imagination. It tells a singular story in a musical language that has successfully worked
in other scores they have heard and loved.
Successful scores often take what is unique or interesting about a particular musical
style or genre and distill it into something simpler and more focused. Most producers
and directors are drawn to music that is thematic and memorable. Most have a desire
to hear melodies or themes that stick in their minds. They aren’t musically sophisti-
cated—they want to hear music that simply moves them emotionally. In short, the
key to a compelling demo isn’t just in the quality of the music but in how easy it is
for someone to imagine the music inside the visual story they are planning to make.
If the music in your demos falls outside of the more conventional styles heard in
most scores, you may have a harder time appealing to the vast majority of filmmakers.
It’s not that originality isn’t desirable—it is. It’s about how a particular style or genre
of music is taken and distilled into the language of cinematic music. While you should
strive to innovate, you must do so with at least some sense of acknowledgment to the
compelling scores that have successfully come before. This does not mean you should
create music that is derivative of another composer. While imitation may be flattering,
doing something with a unique musical style and approach has a great deal of value.
CHOOSING THE RIGHT MATERIAL
When creating a demo for a specific project, you want to do as much as possible to see
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for a horror film will be quite different from a demo for a sports series, and different
again for a battle arena-style video game. In each case, you should send only your
tracks that fit the description you’ve been given of the project. Think of your demo as
the soundtrack album to the project that hasn’t been created yet and made from tracks
you’ve already created.
Getting as much information as possible about the project you are submitting for
can make all the difference. For example, knowing a project is in the “horror” genre is
a great first step to picking music. There are many ways to approach horror, so getting
more information can be crucial. If possible, ask them what projects might be indica-
tive of the style they are going after—especially musically. Horror could be dissonant
orchestral, creepy electronic, retro “John Carpenter-esque” repetitive synthesizer
arpeggios, or even grungy metal guitar. As carefully as possible, start planning your
demo with a clear idea of what is expected.
If you don’t have any music in the style they are asking for, and you have enough
time, you should write some tracks just for the demo. The pieces can be short, but the
production quality must match the creative aspects. You can fill in the rest of your
demo with whatever you have that is as close to the brief as possible.
VARIETY AND TRACK SEQUENCE
Like any great album, your demos should be sufficiently varied to keep the listener’s
interest. A demo doesn’t need to have a lot of tracks. Even just four to five good tracks
are sufficient. If you feel you have a larger number of tracks that fit the desired style,
then by all means include as many as you like.
While you may be going for a very specific style or sound they are looking for, you
still want enough variety to keep their attention. Most any film, series, or video game
has within it a range of moods and energy. So should a great demo. Take the time
needed to not only choose material carefully but to sequence the order of the tracks
as well. Always put your best track first. Don’t put overly similar tracks next to each
other. Every track should have some contrast to the ones around it and should contain
some unique musical ideas.
The tracks themselves should not be overly repetitive, nor should they have long
sustained sections of very little activity (i.e., drones). In some cases, you may choose to
do some edits to your audio and re-save cues as shorter, more demo-friendly versions.
In the spirit of getting right to the heart of a track, long intros should be edited down.
You only have a few seconds of the listener’s time to make them want to keep listen-
ing, skip to the next track, or move on. Get to the thematic heart of the cue quickly,
and make it a good musical listening experience. This, in fact, is what goes into actual
soundtrack albums—there are copious edits made to keep the music flowing when not
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THE THEMES: CONCISE, FOCUSED, AND MEMORABLE
One of the most important factors in exceptional scores is a great, memorable theme
or melody. It’s one strong crossover between the worlds of scoring and pop (where
it’s called the hook). Of course, there are many ambient or atmospheric scores that
would not be considered particularly melodic, but they are effective in their own
way. However, most directors or producers want to hear something memorable and
thematic in a score. A hook! Most people bond with clear, easy to remember themes
and melodies. Your favorite scores probably have memorable themes you are thinking
about right now! At the very least, there is a “vibe” that runs through the score that
sticks in the mind.
If a project isn’t looking for that type of score, they might say something to that
effect, or you can always ask. So even a demo featuring ambient, minimalistic, at-
mospheric, sound design-oriented, or generally non-mainstream writing, still needs
something to stick in their ears in order for them to remember you.
Themes should be clear and concise. Thematic repetition, within reason, is a pow-
erful tool for musical structure and clarity. Overly sophisticated music, music that is
highly dense or complex and avant-garde goes over many people’s heads. And while
scores may at times call for that type of writing, from the perspective of a demo, you
must walk before you run.
The other important element to film score style, as mentioned in the first section of
this book, is simplicity. Keeping things focused also helps to make your melodic ideas
more clearly and easily heard.
With each track you put into a demo, consider the impact it will have on the person
listening and whether it will be a compelling reason for them to hire you over anyone
else. Music that is generic and unmemorable will not help the case for having you on
their creative team.
PLAGIARISTS NEED NOT APPLY
There’s nothing wrong with being inspired by certain composers and even specific
scores. It’s a normal part of the creative process for everyone . . . to some extent. How-
ever, some composers take it too far. Whether intentionally or otherwise, there are scores
that virtually quote specific scores from other composers. Most producers and directors
are score aficionados. The likelihood you could “borrow” an idea from any well-known
score and claim it as your own, even giving it a slightly unique spin, and then fooling
them, is pretty close to zero. Even if you are told, “We love the score to that project,” it
usually means they like the overall approach and style, not the notes themselves.
There’s an old saying, “Good artists copy, great artists steal.” Though likely said
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ideas from other successful artists. Each important new artist within any artistic
field builds on top of what came before and does not start from scratch. You can
learn from today’s most successful composers, or notable figures from the past.
Figure out both what it is about the music that strikes you emotionally and how
it supports the picture. See what you can distill from it. But when you write your
music, and when you share it with others on a demo or anytime, write music that is
personal and well crafted. You will succeed better as yourself than you ever will as
an imitation of someone else.
YOUR DEMO REFLECTS ALL YOUR SKILLS
Never submit a demo when you are anything less than proud of each and every track.
There are no excuses, and no one will know what you are capable of beyond what they
actually hear. You will always be competing against people with more experience and
possibly more gear than you, so make the best of what you have. It’s not about musical
complexity or cleverness; only musical imagination, expressiveness, appropriateness
of style, and extremely well-produced recordings. The people listening to your music
don’t care how you make music, or what you could do with more resources. They as-
sume that what you put on your demo will be exactly like what you will deliver on the
actual job. No more and no less. Whenever possible, have live players. Also, consider
getting someone to master your recordings to optimize their sound quality. There are
several great mastering services online.
A LITTLE ABOUT YOU
The bio and credits you include with your demo can be almost as important as the mu-
sic. It’s very true that you will always have a better shot at a job if you have some good
credits on similar projects. It’s understood that a composer just starting out won’t have
much to mention. It’s just one of many reasons to build experience through doing
some small projects, even for free, in order to build some credits. To any prospective
producer or director, your credits show that you have completed real work, probably
on time and on budget, and gotten every cue approved. That knowledge helps instill
trust, which is a pivotal factor in getting hired. Listing student films or similar projects
isn’t of great value, but they are okay to list if you’ve little or nothing else. Don’t bother
listing the names of those directors. Just the title and genre, like this:
“Darkness Falls”: Dark drama (student film)
“The Truth”:
Documentary short
“She’s It”:
Music video
“Drink Me”:
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Keep your bio short and mention only what is interesting and unique about you as a
musician and composer. It’s standard to write in the “third person” as in:
Sarah Chen is an Australian composer and former guitarist for the indie rock band “The
Heavies.” She studied music and psychology at Melbourne University, and started the
band right out of school. She won the Indie Rock Awards “Best New Artist” in 2015.
She’s scored over a dozen films and is currently working on an upcoming video game
soundtrack to be announced next year.
Never lie on a résumé. They get checked. Do not include projects you have ghost-
written without the consent of the main composer. With permission, you can list your-
self as either “additional music” or “uncredited.” If you are able to get a meeting with
the filmmakers, you also have the opportunity to make a good face-to-face impression.
Try to feature what is unique about you. Awards, former bands or collaborations,
tours or other live events, other artistic pursuits, and significant achievements are
the main points of a résumé. While it’s fine to list where you went to school, few
people in the entertainment business care much about schools and degrees. Focus
on your valid musical credits as much as possible. Coming across like a professional
makes an impression.
JUDGING A BOOK BY ITS COVER
If there is a way to include cover art or some kind of custom background, your
demo should look as good as it sounds. Spending a little time to create clean, pro-
fessional, and creative cover art shows some ambition. Even something as simple as
the example in figure 8.2 is better than a plain gray square and takes no artistic skill.
There are plenty of graphics apps with square templates to choose from and modify
as you want.
FIGURE 8.2
A simple cover design for a demo.
Author

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SENDING DEMOS
There are a few acceptable ways to send your music to someone:
■ Email or DM (Direct Message on social media) the recipients a link to a cloud-based
file storage service (such as iCloud or Dropbox).
■ Use a file transfer service (such as WeTransfer or Box). You can usually include
the email address of the recipients and a short note through the service, and it
does the rest.
■ Create a private playlist on a music hosting service such as SoundCloud, and email
or DM a link. Don’t put your demos in plain view for anyone to listen.
■ Use a specialized music demo service such as DISCO or ReelCrafter. They produce
much better-looking results with custom graphics and backgrounds, as well as per-
sonal messages to the listeners. They can be set to “stream only,” or be downloadable.
■ Never attach audio files to an email! Most email systems often see large files in an
incoming message as junk and delete them before they reach the recipient.
No discussion of demos, or being a composer in general, is complete without men-
tioning one of the potential outcomes—rejection. Rejection is a normal part of the
business of becoming, and being, a composer for hire. Rejection almost always comes
in the form of silence. You simply never hear back from the people you’ve contacted.
Even some of the most successful composers in the world have been turned down for
projects. A lot. The first years of a new composer will have many ups and downs. Bear
in mind that not getting a job you demo for doesn’t mean they rejected you personally,
or that your music isn’t necessarily good enough. There is a difference between good
and right. You may be perfect for a different project by different producers.
What is required is some thick skin, and a great deal of patience and tenacity. Keep
trying. Keep improving your work. Keep submitting yourself for projects you think
you’d be right for. Look at it a bit like dating—it can take a lot of tries and bad dates
before you connect with the right person. Don’t stop trying, and use the inevitable
rejections as fuel to hone your craft and your demos.
THE CRITICAL LIST: ADVICE ON GETTING A START
Scoring films, a series, or video games is hard, hard work. If you are fortunate enough
to get a serious scoring job, with a serious deadline, there’s a fairly good chance you’ll
be losing a serious amount of sleep before it’s done. If you’re not willing to make per-
sonal sacrifices of your weekends, evenings, social events, vacations, and even some
relationships, then be warned: this job may not be for you. Composers do get free time
to do other things, and some manage their time carefully enough to accommodate
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at one time or another. Scoring isn’t a glamorous profession, but it’s a great life if you
are ready for it. Here are some words of advice about starting as career scoring:
■ As described above, have a demo that shows what you can do, with no excuses about
its technical or musical quality. Anyone who may hire you will want to hear your
work and will compare your music with every other demo they get. They don’t care
how you made the recording, what gear you used, or how much it cost. It has to
sound like the real thing. That means music in a cinematic score style, with themes,
melodies, good performances, with a range of emotions and “feels,” and good-
quality, listenable mixes.
■ Be prepared to score scenes to picture on spec (for free) in the hopes of landing a job.
Some projects accept demos, only to have the top choices go on to score a scene as a
second-round demo. The same holds true for small projects with no music budget.
Don’t hesitate just because it’s unpaid. You must prove yourself to every prospective
client. There have certainly been occasions where composers have invested time and
effort in order to prove their abilities in exchange for nothing more than a chance
at the credit. It may seem like it sets a bad precedent, but it can also open the door
to better projects in the future. You may also wish to donate your service and tal-
ents for a project that seems worthwhile. Such projects might include a promising
student film; a well-made, small independent film; a public-service announcement;
a documentary on a subject important to you; anything that supports a charity or
other worthy organization; or doing a full-blown demo to show off what you would
do for a bigger paying job. Some things are more important than money.
■ Work with people who are better at what they do than you are at what you do. In
other words, always seek out the best possible collaborators. This would include
musicians, singers, engineers, recording studios, orchestrators, music editors, pro-
grammers, and anyone else you might work with on your projects. Don’t feel you
should work in a vacuum. Get help whenever needed. On your first scores, there are
many potential problems that could cause you to fail. By working with experienced
people, you will avoid most of the possible pitfalls. You will be surprised at how
many experienced professionals are willing to help out a new composer if they have
the time and like what you do. There is never harm in asking. Take what you do
seriously. Think like a pro from the very beginning.
■ If possible, align yourself with a working composer. Be an apprentice or intern, even
if it pays little or no money and has long hours. It is the one best ways of learning
how the business really works. Make yourself useful, become of value. Eventually, it
might become a job that pays while you can continue to hone your skills and your
contacts. If appropriate, you may get the chance to help out with writing some mu-
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up sequences, write source cues, or even write some cues on your own based on the
composer’s themes.
■ Promoting yourself is one of the more important activities you can do as a com-
poser. Get on all social media platforms, DM or email music supervisors, ad agen-
cies, or other people in your area that are likely to hire a composer, and introduce
yourself. Offer to send a demo. Build relationships. Make connections and meet
people. There are lists of names and numbers in some industry contact books, on
websites, and in periodicals that you should be able to find online. Industry publica-
tions such as Billboard, Daily Variety, and The Hollywood Reporter, which can be
found online, as well as a number of other film music websites, do special film music
editions, some with contact lists.
■ Invest in yourself and your career. Putting together a high-quality writing rig takes
resources. Any money you are able to set aside is well spent on upgrades for hard-
ware, software, sample libraries, speakers, microphones, and anything you feel you
need to be your full creative self.
■ Artists with unique musical styles often become more noticeable. There isn’t really
such a thing as “generic score music.” Most successful composers have a unique and
often identifiable style. They have the flexibility to apply what they do well to the
rigors of a project. It is to your advantage to continuously develop your personal
style that both expresses who you are as a composer and has the capability to fit into
the genre of film, episodic shows, commercials, games, industrial films, or whatever
type of projects you are aiming for. If you have music you are proud of, release it
through any online music services or YouTube. Build a brand.
■ Be persistent in your efforts, and be patient. One hears of overnight successes, big
breaks, and accidental discoveries. However, most solid careers build slowly over time.
It can take years to get a foothold on a musical career. And there are no guarantees af-
ter your first big breaks that your foothold will remain. You will always be working on
your career while working on your music. Like any growing business, even the most
well-established and successful composers continue to promote themselves in various
ways to keep their careers moving forward. It is competitive out there.
■ Once you have established relationships, continue to nurture them. Stay in touch
with the people you have worked with through calls, social media, personal emails,
holiday cards, and the occasional updates on your current projects. Or just to say
hello. Personal relationships are at the heart of a sustained career.
ADVICE ON BEING A PROFESSIONAL COMPOSER
Years of practicing your instrument. Years of music school. Countless hours poured
into putting together a music studio, learning to use it, and honing the ability to write
and produce music you are proud of. Untold demos sent out with no replies.

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Eventually you get a chance. Then another, and another. It doesn’t matter in the
end whether a project is high profile or if it pays well. You are finally getting to do the
thing you wanted and dreamt of for all those years—the opportunity to collaborate
with people on a project and to tell a story with your music. Here are a few pieces of
advice on becoming a successful composer:
Be prepared. At some point early in your career, someone is going to take a risk and
give you a shot. You don’t want to let those people down. Be ready and do the job
as perfectly as you possibly can. Keep in mind that every score you’ve ever heard in
your life was written under time pressure and creative challenges. And yet they are
still able to come out as successful scores. Be aware that no one is interested in why
you could have done a better job under different circumstances. Learn your tools,
have your ideas and your studio organized, and be ready for any challenges that
might come along.
Anticipate needs. There is a lot of planning that goes into every score. What equipment
should be available? Is there anything you need to borrow, rent, or have repaired to
be ready? Do you need anyone’s help in any way? If so, are they available during the
time you may need them?
Most problems are avoidable with good communication. There are so many people in-
volved in any project, from the producer, director, show runner, or audio director all
the way to the musicians, musical contractor, engineer, dubbing mixers, picture and
music editors, and more. There isn’t always a system in place to ensure that everyone
who needs to communicate, does. If you are working on a project as programmer,
assistant, co-composer, or composer, be sure to get something going so that critical
information is always where it needs to be. A composer once played a sketch for a di-
rector who seemed very uncomfortable as it was playing. It seemed clear the director
didn’t like it. It turned out that they liked the music a great deal but that the scene had
been cut from the project several days prior! So why didn’t the composer know that
and, thus, wasted several days of time? Lack of good communication.
It’s not always what you can do; sometimes it’s what you can do in just a few minutes!
There are times in many projects where things are changing. There are last-minute
editorial changes. There are last minute creative shifts. There are crises of confi-
dence where anything and everything happening is suddenly scrutinized—including
a score. It’s not uncommon to make adjustments and even significant changes to a
score, even during recording sessions. You need to be prepared to make changes
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Don’t complain, and don’t make excuses. Nobody wants to hear about how hard your
job is, who on the session you don’t like, whose music sucks, or how crummy the stu-
dio is that you’re using. Too often, complaints are just veiled excuses for why things
aren’t going as they should.
It is all right to be demanding on the people with whom you are working. After all,
your reputation and further success is based on how well everything goes. If someone
is causing problems, don’t just sit there and hope the problem goes away. Demand that
the problem be fixed as quickly as possible.
Your ego can be your enemy. You must learn to take suggestions, requests, demands,
and even brutal criticism as gracefully as possible without being defensive. You must
learn to handle conflicts without becoming overly reactive. A composer’s job is to
make the producers and director happy, and that is not always easy. At times it can
be impossible. Some projects put unrealistic expectations on music to fix inherent
dramatic problems. Other projects might have too many “cooks in the kitchen” with
conflicting orders for the composer. In order to appease someone in charge, on occa-
sion you will be asked to alter your music in ways you are unhappy about. At times you
may be asked to defend a musical idea and find that some directors are more willing to
debate the potential of a theme or cue than others. Some are more dictatorial in their
collaborative style and simply demand changes—no discussion. You may find yourself
revising the same cue over and over again until, ultimately, they choose to go back to
your first idea. It is a composer’s role to handle anything and everything that comes
their way with as much tolerance and lack of ego as is humanly possible. Most scoring
projects have a good amount of pressure associated with them.
Give compliments and encouragement when appropriate. There are many fragile egos
in the entertainment industry, sometimes in unexpectedly high places. Just as you
may hope the people you are working with will say complimentary things about your
work, the writers, directors, producers, developers, editors, show runners, and the
entire team from the top down are often worried about how their project is turning
out. They all love hearing compliments on their work and the project overall. Let your
teammates know how you feel about their work and the gratitude you are hopefully
feeling to be a part of it. Remind them that you are on their side at all times.
Never miss a deadline. Ever. On every professional project, it’s not tolerated. Nobody
cares why you weren’t ready. Deadlines are absolute for a composer. If for any reason
you see that a deadline might possibly be missed, you should go to your producer or
postproduction supervisor as soon as possible to inform them of the situation and
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Sometimes you need to forget the rules. Successful composers work in many different
ways, both creatively and technically. There is no one “best” way to be a working
composer. The advice in this book is a guide to help you avoid as many potential
pitfalls as possible. But every composer figures out their own rules for success. As
should you . . . in time.
Anything worth doing is worth doing right. Successful creative people, the ones you
will hopefully be collaborating with, often set insanely high goals for themselves. They
strive for perfection or, at the very least, excellence. There is no one who will set that
bar for you; you can only do it yourself. And you need to set it as high as possible,
right from your first demo and from then on. Your creativity, your follow-through,
your production quality, your timeliness, your deliveries all have to be at the level of
any and every professional composer. Take pride in every detail.
Have fun. There’s no denying the world of scoring is often quite stressful. Not every
project goes smoothly, and there can be personal conflicts as well as personal sacrifices
that go along with the job. But as tough as it gets at times, it is entirely up to you to
have the mindset that this line of work is enjoyable, and even fun. There’s a reason you
have chosen to pursue it—because you are really good at it, and writing music gives
you a sense of pleasure and accomplishment that nothing else does. Embrace it, enjoy
it, and make it as fun as possible (even when no one else is looking).
A final, somewhat Zen-like thought on the business of scoring pictures, or any kind
of creative work for money:
Be passionate and caring about every note you write as you write it. However, once
you are done, let it go. It no longer belongs to you.
That’s right. You must remember that you were hired to do a job. You accepted the
offer and committed to the process. Your creative instincts are vital, of course, but are
ultimately not the final word on what does or doesn’t make it into your score. When you
accept money for making music, you are of service to whoever is paying you. Keeping
that in the back of your mind as you move through any project, especially a more difficult
one, can help keep some of the unfortunate but inevitable compromises in perspective.
AGENTS: SOMEONE ON YOUR SIDE
Many newer (and even more veteran) composers consider acquiring an agent to be the
holy grail of success. They think, “If I had an agent, I wouldn’t have to go looking for
work; they would find me all the work I want.” In reality it doesn’t quite work that way.

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An experienced agent can be a valuable ally to a working composer. They help start
and build vital creative relationships with producers, game developers, or production
companies, and make recommendations for projects in need of a composer. They
do research and look for upcoming projects that might need original music. They
advise and handle many of the business aspects of a project. They ensure that legal
and business arrangements are explicitly covered to the composer’s best advantage.
They assist in negotiating the best possible business arrangement for their composer
clients, including fees, payment schedules, covering recording costs when appropriate,
credits, potential ownership of publishing and masters, soundtrack album rights, and
other often complex details that are a routine part of any scoring project deal. They
make sure producers live up to their side of the agreements and help ensure an optimal
working situation as best as possible, with realistic deadlines and payment schedules.
They protect their composer clients when needed and help them achieve their goals
to the best of their ability. Some become stand-in therapists for their composers who
may be struggling with the stresses of a busy work schedule.
Agents do help composers find work, but it’s not as frequent as most people think.
Reputable agents who represent a number of clients will put forward the compos-
ers from their roster whom they believe would have the best chance of procuring a
project. Most film, episodic series, or videos game producers may reach out to several
agents in order to have as many options in picking the composer as possible. These
“cattle call” projects don’t just pit composer against composer, but agent against agent.
If an agent submits a single composer for a project, they have no way to know how
many other composers from other agents are potentially in the running. In most cases,
an agent will submit a few candidates in the hopes of increasing their chances of land-
ing the job and getting their 10 to 15 percent commission.
Some producers prefer not to deal with composers who don’t have an agent. So,
having an agent breaks through that one potential barrier. Producers may think of a
composer who has an agent as being more experienced and dependable. They start
the process of finding a composer by speaking to the agents they trust to bring them
good possible candidates for a specific project. They may ask friends and industry
colleagues for suggestions, as well. Even with producers who don’t care whether a
composer does or doesn’t have representation, there is a strong desire to not mix art
with business. There is something to that idea—a composer who is also their own
representative may have to ask for some difficult concessions that may then affect the
artistic collaboration.
Not surprisingly, composers with more credits are predictably more attractive to
most producers. Many composers find they get a boost to their career once a project
they’ve scored goes on to be financially or critically successful. A success will almost
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Agents also make it their business to know which upcoming projects are potentially
looking for a composer. They do research to find possible projects for their clients.
They then will make contact with the production companies directly in order to offer
their composers for the project. Some producers or directors may already have an idea
of a composer they want to score their work before coming to an agent, while some are
open to suggestions from agents based on the overall musical concept.
Whenever possible, a composer should work with an agent to handle the business
arrangements on a project. As mentioned above, composers should avoid represent-
ing themselves when it comes time to negotiate fees or other monetary aspects of the
deal. Business dealings between a composer and production can tarnish an artistic
relationship. However, for a composer just getting a start in their career, that is not
always an option. If you get a job offer and don’t have an agent, the next best thing
is contacting an experienced or trusted entertainment lawyer to help negotiate a deal
and approve the contract. They are generally familiar with all the same basic business
and deal terms as an agent. Decent lawyers are not cheap. A small project may not pay
well enough to justify the cost of a lawyer. It’s up to you, on a project by project basis,
to decide if you feel an offer is reasonable enough to go it alone, or make the choice to
hire help with the contract.
There is a relatively small handful of agents in the business, so it’s not very complex
to seek them out. If you have a friend or colleague with an agent, ask for an introduc-
tion. You can introduce yourself to potential agents online. Bear in mind they are
often inundated with newer composers looking for representation. There needs to be
a compelling reason for them to take you on, and just writing good music isn’t one of
them. Having some success first is far more valuable.
If you are starting to get paid projects and feel it’s time to have an agent, timing can be
important. The best way to approach potential agents is to contact them when you have
an actual offer of a project and need to get the agreement in place. Composer agencies
can be found online. They get a lot of unsolicited requests, so don’t be put off if they do
not reply. Introduce yourself; tell them you got a project offered to you and would like
them to handle the negotiations. With minimal effort on their part, they can help put the
deal together and take their commission, even though they were not involved in finding
the project. Since the job is already yours, you could certainly do it on your own and not
have to pay anyone. However, a good agent should be able to negotiate sufficiently to
compensate for their 10 or 15 percent commission. Bringing a project (assuming there is
a sufficient budget to make their commission worthwhile) to an agent shows them you
are not starting from scratch and that you are willing to work toward your own success.
That’s what they need to see in order to want to work with you as a client.
If you are getting work and want to bring your projects to an agent, you may want
to contact a few to get a sense of what they do and what they would do for you. Look at

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their roster, and see how their existing clients are doing. If possible, reach out to some
of the agent’s existing clients, and ask them about their experiences.
Having an agent can be a boon to your career and your financial future. An agent
will likely not get your career started. That’s up to you. You will always be your best
representative.
John Tempereau
Composer’s Agent
John Tempereau is a senior agent at Soundtrack Music
Associates in Los Angeles. He represents a number of
leading composers from around the world in film, epi-
sodic, and video game projects. In general, agents have
different styles and methods of working. Some are
more aggressive, others gentler. Some are more careful
to build careers slowly and solidly. Many composers
form close bonds with their agents, while others may
change them every few years. An agent doesn’t take
the place of your own personal efforts toward achiev-
ing your goals. They work with you, not for you. An agent might arrange a meeting
between you and a prospective client or submit a demo of yours to someone looking
for a composer. They can’t, however, help you build lasting relationships and friend-
ships among the people who will continue to hire you, recommend you, and work
with you throughout your career. That’s up to each of us.
Jeff Rona: What exactly is a composer’s agent?
John Tempereau: An agent is involved in every aspect of a composer’s career. We
search for opportunities, seek out new relationships with filmmakers, and protect a
composer’s existing relationships. We negotiate their deals and work closely with the
studio executives, producers, publicists, orchestrators, and contractors to oversee all
aspects from scoring to release of the film and soundtrack album. When a composer
comes to be in great demand, it becomes increasingly important for an agent to pro-
vide proper career direction.
JR: How do you market a composer?
JT: You must bloom where you are planted. Directors and studios are not interested in
composers who can compose every style of music from orchestral to electronica. They
FIGURE 8.3
John Tempereau
Author

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seek out a composer for their particular musical voice and style. Every composer can
point to one or two relationships or projects that propelled them to scoring projects
for the studios or took their career to another level. An agent uses success to breed
more opportunities and relationships.
JR: When is a composer ready to get an agent, and what do they do until then?
JT: Let the agents find you. We have a much better sense of what it takes to break to
the next level. Most agents will only represent composers who have established them-
selves with a number of credits.
JR: If you are fresh out of music school or a university scoring program, where would
you go to find an agent?
JT: Most of the young composers we take on come by referral from another composer,
studio, filmmaker, or publicist. The best way to find an agent is to ask around. Most of
the working line producers, music editors, and post supervisors will know composer
agents and be able to make introductions. There are also very valuable organizations
such as the Society of Composers and Lyricists (SCL) that can provide information
on representation. Publicists are also playing an increasing role in the development of
composers and make introductions to agents.
JR: If a composer finds an address for a project’s production office, is sending a “cold”
unsolicited demo all right?
JT: Sending cold or unsolicited demos is not an effective way to procure work or
market yourself. The major studios will only accept submissions from licensed agents.
JR: When a composer without an agent gets connected with a project, do they need a
lawyer, or can they handle the deal making on their own?
JT: It is always better to have an experienced professional make your deal for you. The
composer is often going to be too emotionally involved to make the best deal for them-
self. More importantly, you need someone who understands all the parameters of the
deal to represent you. With independent films and documentaries, the upfront money
may be low, but there are numerous ways for the composer to augment the deal with
publishing or back-end participation. Having an experienced agent or attorney on
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JR: What do you think goes into making a successful demo?
JT: If you are putting together a demo for a specific project, try to get as much infor-
mation as you can about the musical direction and needs of the project and the taste
of the filmmakers involved—before you compile your music. You want something on
your demo to really connect with the director or other decision makers. This is your
opportunity to show them what style of music you might write for the project and
hope that something catches on, so that they want to meet with you in person and
hopefully take the relationship to the next level. We do not submit general demos any-
more. It is more effective to have a website where the filmmaker can stream playlists
of your music. Many composers are also including links that have scenes from recent
projects scored to picture.
JR: Do you think having academic credentials helps (or hurts) a composer?
JT: Having an education in music as a composer can only help; however, it is not a
prerequisite for success. Composers without formal training are often hired to com-
pose traditional, orchestral scores. There are many well-educated, full-time orchestra-
tors who work closely with composers less experienced with traditional scores.
JR: What makes for a good first impression between a composer and a director or pro-
ducer? What goes into “giving good meeting”?
JT: Every composer approaches meetings differently. Some research the filmmaker’s
background and body of work and look for some common ground between them.
Others prefer to focus in on the project on hand. It’s important to note that there are
two types of meetings: One is a general meeting of introduction, which may be with
a studio executive or a producer. The focus of a general “meet and greet” is usually to
find out more about the composer. The executive or producer is looking to provide the
composer with some career direction. The second type of meeting is specifically about
hiring a composer for a project. They may have a short (or long!) list of candidates, and
the focus is more on the project and the music. By the time a composer makes a short
list, the filmmakers will have likely already heard their music and reviewed credits.
JR: Let’s talk about money.
JT: Agency commissions vary between 10 percent and 15 percent. Management con-
tracts may differ, but I’m not aware of any composer management firm taking more

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than 15 percent. We have a straight 10 percent of the gross, whether it is a creative fee
or package. The only variation is the occasional orchestral package, which we commis-
sion at no less than seven and a half percent. As a rule, we do our best to avoid making
orchestral package deals.
JR: How does a composer know if they are getting a good deal?
JT: Your representation should be familiar with the parameters of these deals. They can
determine when publishing is available and when to push for more on the back end.
JR: Are student films helpful for résumés?
JT: Not really. Student films are helpful for relationships but should not be used on
credits when submitting for film or television. Agents typically submit a list of credits
when pitching.
JR: What would be your advice for someone just getting started? Any pearls of wisdom?
JT: There are many careers in the film, television, video game, and music industry
other than being a composer. It’s better to explore some of those avenues while con-
tinuing to pursue being a working composer. Many composers began their careers
working for other more experienced composers—orchestrating or programming for
them. Some began as music editors and record producers. Other composers were re-
cording artists before getting their first scoring opportunity.
It’s important to involve yourself in all types of music, not just scores. All of the
great composers are always working on something musical when they are not scor-
ing a project. Stay sharp, and be ready to take advantage of your opportunity when it
arises. You don’t get many second or third chances.

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Challenges
GETTING A LOT DONE IN A VERY SHORT TIME
The schedules on many scoring projects have become incredibly tight and continue to
become even tighter. The reason for this is often (no surprise here) money. It costs a
production company a lot of money to keep all the editors, mixers, and postproduc-
tion staff on payroll while a composer writes the score. As a result, stringent schedules
are set and carefully adhered to. Sometimes a lucky break will occur, and a week or two
may get added—not because the composer needs time to do a better job, but because
something else in the film is taking longer than expected. As a rule, a composer cannot
ask for more time even though the deadline may get extended to accommodate other
production delays.
All projects have deadlines for music. The deadline isn’t when you finish writing
the music, but when you are obligated to deliver the full and final complete score—
written, revised, approved, recorded, and mixed. Usually, it’s the first day of the final
“dub mix,” when all the sound elements of the project are mixed, and the final project
is ready to be released. Dub mixes last anywhere from a couple days to a couple of
weeks depending on the complexity of the project and the production budget. Most
dubs start with one or more days of preliminary dialogue mixing (the most complex
and critical part of a project) and then continue on to add the music and sound effects.
As long as you stay ahead of where they are in the dub, you can deliver your score
in parts during the dub schedule. Always stay in contact with the person in charge of
postproduction to avoid not delivering the required music on time.
One of the toughest aspects of working on tight schedules is that it is often very dif-
ficult to predict just how long it may take to write a new piece of music. Experienced
composers figure out how to pace themselves. They give themselves personal deadlines:
“I will have a main theme for the director this week.”
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“I will get files to the orchestrator on Monday.”
“I will book the studio and players for the 15th.”
“I will have the first two reels mixed by Monday.”
To write a score, expect to devote a large chunk of time right at the beginning
of the project. Coming up with a concept and turning that concept into the first
thematic sketches can take a lot of time. Far more time and energy go into the
initial steps. In turn, that will lay the groundwork for the rest of the writing to go
faster since you will use the initial ideas throughout the score. If you plotted out the
amount of music created per day on a typical project, it might look something like
the example in figure 9.1.
The amount of music you can create in a day can be influenced by a lot of factors:
the complexity of the music, the difficulty of the dramatic elements of the project, and
how successful you are at gaining approval of the music by the director. In a three-to-
eight-week schedule, it may take several days to come up with a great main theme idea,
but then ideas might hopefully flow more quickly from there. Perhaps, they won’t. It’s
difficult to predict inspiration.
Composer Mark Isham, in talking about his musical evolution from his earliest
scores to now, says one of the biggest differences is how fast he writes. Early on, he
might write a cue three or four times before coming up with something he was happy
with. Now his first instincts usually serve him well. Toward the end of a project, he
still puts in tremendously long days, getting little sleep for days at a time, but for the
most part, he has learned his pace.
FIGURE 9.1
Amount of music written per day, starts slow and gains momentum.
Author

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When starting a career scoring, it can be easy to become overwhelmed by the in-
tense schedules in film, games, and especially series projects. Each field has its unique
pace and challenges. A composer has little control over the factors that go into these
schedules—re-editing scenes, changing game attributes, shifting postproduction obli-
gations, and creative shifts requiring music to be redone.
Video games often go in bursts of intense work, followed by gaps in which the de-
velopers test the music in the game, give feedback, and prepare the next segment of the
game for music. Once the music all comes together, it starts to work more like a film
score project in terms of prepping, scheduling, recording, and mixing.
On an episodic series, it is often a new episode nearly every week . . . for months!
There may be only a few days or a week from the initial spotting session to the final
dub. As a result, it can consume nearly every waking moment of your life, six to seven
days a week, with little time for luxuries like sleep! There is a stronger focus on ef-
ficiency and productivity with such a grueling schedule—typically averaging three
episodes a month. Limited series with fewer episodes may have a somewhat more
relaxed schedule that feels more like a film score schedule. Over the duration of a sea-
son (which average about eight to ten episodes with cable and streamers, but more for
network shows), most composers get into a routine that has them score more quickly,
hopefully without overly resorting to recycling older cues or relying on clichés. So,
continue to try new things out with every episode. You develop a creative routine, and
things flow faster.
With films, composers often take a major percentage of the schedule to write the
first theme, or themes. As mentioned earlier, they may write a number of themes with-
out working to picture in order to develop the concepts and create the overall tone for
the score. However, the pace picks up over the time of the project as more cues can be
based on existing themes and motifs.
When you get called upon to do a score, be ready. There may be no time to tweak
your studio or figure out why your computer crashes with new software. There are no
excuses allowed for not delivering your best score on time. No last-minute requests for
extensions are typically possible. You simply do it. It is rare to have a leisurely sched-
ule to write slowly and carefully. Some of the best scores were done at near-blinding
speed. You do the best you can in the amount of time you’re given. It’s a bit like a race
to the finish line—it wouldn’t be as exciting if you had all the time you wanted.
Composer Aaron Copland was once asked if he waits for inspiration before writing.
He replied, “Every day,” by which he meant he composed music every day, inspired
or not. And so it is in the scoring world. There is no waiting for the “muse” to come
to you. You must make progress every day. How does a composer find and maintain
inspiration against the difficulties and pressure of a demanding schedule? There’s no
secret here. A composer simply composes until the good stuff comes, then turned that

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into good cues, and continues until the deadline arrives. It isn’t a glamorous profes-
sion. It’s hard work, usually alone, with little encouragement or moral support until
the project is over. Then, on to the next. Here are a few ideas for getting inspired and
maintaining a creative flow:
■ Spend time listening to music that might inspire you and give you ideas. It doesn’t
need to be just from other scores.
■ Watch movies, episodic shows, or play games that might inspire you for the project
at hand.
■ Spend time outdoors to clear your head.
■ Don’t begin a project with overly specific musical goals. Take time to experiment
and improvise.
■ Create a template in your DAW with a lot of options and ideas to play around with.
Spending time in a musical “sandbox” often leads to exciting and unexpected ideas.
■ If you get stuck in a section of music, or a specific scene, and nothing good is com-
ing, set it aside and start something new elsewhere in the project. The diversion
might help you solve the problem, and you can come back to it refreshed.
■ Ask trusted friends and colleagues to listen to your sketches and get some objectiv-
ity. Knowing what has the most emotional resonance in your score might help you
focus for the next cues.
■ Test out your sketches in other scenes to see if there are some happy accidents that
might lead to an adaptation of a cue into another.
■ Trust your (approved) main themes and use them to guide as much of the score as
possible.
■ Look after your state of mental and physical well-being—get some daily exercise,
make time to meditate or practice mindfulness, eat well, keep a water container in
your studio space and stay hydrated, enjoy anything that gives you a sense of relax-
ation (as long as it doesn’t get in the way of productivity).
■ Take breaks to make short calls to friends just to say “Hi.”
■ Stay off social media—it’s a potential waste of valuable time.
■ Stay in close touch with the creators of the project, just to talk and exchange ideas.
■ Buying new samples, patches, or loops can be a crutch, but sometimes can solve a
problem and inspire new ideas.
■ Ask for help if you need it. Whether for sampling, sound design, or additional music
help, it’s okay to get some aid when needed.
■ Remember that your problems are often other people’s fantasies—to get paid to
score a real project. Even if there are ups and downs during the time you are creating
something, keep in mind that you are one of the truly lucky ones.

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THE POLITICS AND DIPLOMACY OF SCORING
It should come as no surprise that the entertainment business has a wide range of
personalities and egos. There are so many personality types: secure, insecure, brash,
quiet, articulate, inarticulate, honest, dishonest, brilliant, entitled, unassuming, pow-
erful, less-powerful-person-with-an-attitude, and so on. With each one, you must do
your best to connect and relate to them: how they like to work, what they expect of you
and the music, how they want to connect with you, and what you can expect from the
relationship. You do your best to be a trusted partner, and perhaps even a friend. You
get to know them and share a kind of personal and artistic intimacy.
There is a lot to understand about the personal transactions that happen from the
moment you go for a job to the day you finish. How you deal with all the people you
work for can make for a huge difference in the enjoyment of your work and the lon-
gevity of your musical career. It’s about relationships. It’s about people.
Perhaps the most desirable trait in a composer (besides talent), from the perspective
of a producer or director, is trust. With every project, there is a massive investment
of money, reputation, career choices, and precious time. When assembling a team for
any kind of project, there needs to be an understanding that everyone involved will
perform to the height of their capacity and deliver everything promised—as requested,
on time and on budget. The first question any producer or director asks themself is,
“Can I trust this person with my precious project?” Even before you start writing,
even before you are officially hired for any project, your first responsibility and task
is to engender trust in everyone else. The more trust you are able to build, the more
successful that project will be. And the more likely it is for you to be asked back for
another project. Build trust by overdelivering and being trustworthy.
The Interview
You can’t score a project if you don’t get the project. Once a producer or director
has heard your previous work and thinks you may be a potential composer for them,
they will want to meet and get to know you. This means you will be interviewed by
one or more people tasked with finding and choosing the composer. It’s an essential
and critical part of every composer’s career path. The elements of a successful inter-
view aren’t markedly different from other types of social encounters, and many of the
“rules” of friendship, and even dating, apply. Here are a few things to keep in mind
when being interviewed for a project:
■ Be your authentic self—most people can sense a phony from a mile away.
■ Keep calm, relaxed, and personable as best as possible—overt anxiety can be a turn-
off. You might try practicing your answers ahead of time, just to help you feel more
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■ Start every meeting by thanking everyone for considering you.
■ Show your enthusiasm for the project. If you’ve seen any of their previous work (and
you may want to check it out as research for the project), tell them. No one gets tired
of praise. This also applies to the project for which you are in consideration. Express
how much you like the project and hope it will be something great.
■ Speak well of your own previous projects and experiences. It lets people know you
are a good team player.
■ Dress the part—though this may seem trivial and shallow (and it is), it is taken as a
sign of respect to come to a meeting looking as good as you can. You can be casual
and “creative,” but not sloppy. This isn’t a corporate interview, but clothes do send
subtle signals.
■ Be on time—this shows that you are responsible, prepared, respectful, able to meet
expectations, and can be counted on by others. If you can’t make a meeting on time,
how can you be expected to deliver music on time?
■ Check your ego at the door. There’s nothing wrong with self-confidence; it’s a great
quality. But talking in overtly glowing terms about your work, your accomplish-
ments, or yourself is often seen as a red flag.
■ Be a good listener—though the meeting is about you and not them, showing you are
an active listener shows you are a team player. A careful listener never interrupts,
keeps eye contact, and will give acknowledgment of their understanding. This can
be in several forms: nodding, smiling, saying the occasional “yes” or “I understand”
when appropriate. Plus, occasionally repeating back a shortened version of what
they said to you, such as “So what I hear you saying is that you want the score to be
tense and forbidding, but not in a typical way. I like that.” This builds a better sense
of connection between them and you.
■ Ask questions when needed—this shows interest beyond the basics. Ask about pre-
vious experiences, what challenges they see in the project, and ask what they are ex-
pecting from the score. Asking questions about specific characters or story elements
is valuable, such as “I have the sense that with the character of Mary, we sympathize
with her before we realize she’s the one behind the crime. Is that right?”
■ If they want to know more about you, by all means answer their questions.
■ Don’t discuss money or business—initial meetings are for building a personal bond
and discussing the creative goals of the project. It’s like a first date. It’s a chance to
see if you are compatible with one another.
■ Don’t get caught up in creative details. You aren’t expected to make definitive cre-
ative decisions, such as the exact style or instrumentation of the score. Think and
speak in broad terms, unless they specifically ask you how you will approach the proj-
ect, and even then, try to keep it to overall concepts and creative or emotional goals.

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Seeking Approval
Composers don’t work in a creative vacuum. They are part of a team of collabora-
tors who each perform their craft as requested. Each cue you write for a project needs
the approval of those creatively in charge—the director, producers, game audio direc-
tor, sometimes executives from the studio or production company, and possibly other
key creative people such as the picture or sound editors. You compose, you create
demos, they listen and return a verdict. For every note you write, you either get a
thumbs-up or you get specific requests to revise your music. Sometimes, you may be
asked to start over on a cue. It seems simple enough, but this part of the process can
also be a bit political.
It’s helpful to consider the awkwardness and difficulties many producers and direc-
tors have in discussing music with a composer. Most directors and producers have a
fairly deep knowledge of screenwriting, editing technique, acting, lighting, special ef-
fects, dialogue editing, hair and makeup design, set design and art direction, and all of
the needs for storytelling. The one place they often fall short is music. As a result, some
might feel intimidated or unusually inarticulate when it comes to discussing what they
want, and why they’re not liking a particular cue. It helps to do whatever you can to
put their minds at rest so they don’t need to talk to you in musical language, but sim-
ply in the language of storytelling, dramatic needs, and their overall vision of the role
the music plays in any particular area.
Another vital facet of working in the entertainment field is relationships: making
them, building them, developing them, and nurturing them. This can and will have a
major impact on your work and career. When you are hired to compose music for a
project, your job is to bring all of your technique and style into their service until the
people that hired you are happy (or at least satisfied). While pleasing yourself should
always be an important part of your musical life, your ultimate goal is to please and
satisfy the people who chose you and are paying you. This may seem obvious, but it
isn’t to everyone. Remember, it is your job to help them get the best possible score,
and you don’t want your ego (or theirs) to get in the way. Every project is as unique
as the people jointly involved. Everything is subjective in any creative endeavor, and
the judgment that gets placed on your music can be both positive and negative, and
sometimes unexpectedly confusing. Handling strong criticisms, opinions, disappoint-
ments, or what may seem like unreasonable or unneeded changes requires some thick
skin as well as a large dose of personal gracefulness.
It always a better experience when you can work with people whose company you
enjoy, and hopefully the same is true for them. As people develop trust in each other,
and the project benefits from that, it is often the case that a sense of connection can
grow. All involved feel a deepening personal and creative bond. That’s an ideal situa-
tion that is always possible, but never guaranteed. Occasionally, a job is just a job, and

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at the conclusion you simply go your separate ways. The pressure of deadlines, poor
communication, fragile egos, personality conflicts, or a lack of shared creative vision
can dampen the mood within a team and make the process less satisfying. A successful
composer always maintains their cool and their professionalism, and keeps their issues
to themselves and achieves the best musical results, anyway.
Because music often comes late in a project, it’s not uncommon to have tensions
and conflicts between other people involved with the production, none of which has
anything to do with you. Nonetheless, it can have an effect on your work. You may
find yourself getting feedback from too many people, or not enough. One person may
really like a cue, but another will ask for a rewrite. When this seems to be happening
you want to find the true chain of command in order to know to whom you should
ultimately listen. Usually it’s clear and simple, but because of the egos (and the high fi-
nancial stakes) that often accompany any project, you want to stay aware. It is perfectly
acceptable to speak up when situations arise that may affect the quality or progress of
your score, as long as it’s done respectfully. Remember to keep these conversations
about the music, and not your feelings. A request for clarity isn’t unreasonable, as long
as it’s done with care. It’s a request and shouldn’t be met with any resistance.
Conflict Resolution
As much as a composer hopes their first idea for a scene connects with the direc-
tor and gets their full and enthusiastic approval, the reality is that you will be asked
to change and rewrite some of your music. This is a normal and expected part of a
creative collaboration. Requests for changes or rewrites doesn’t mean they are disap-
pointed in you or questioning their decision to hire you. In most cases, these choices
come from a single person in creative control, usually a director. The request for
changes may come in person, in a phone call, in a video chat, or often in an email. It
is a test of your professionalism in how you respond when a cue you feel works ex-
tremely well is rejected. There are some important factors to keep in mind:
■ Whether in person or by email, avoid any sense of defensiveness. This creates fric-
tion and an adversarial relationship instead of being two people who are working
together.
■ Remember there is a considerable difference between good and right. A great piece
of music simply may not be creating the desired dramatic effect the director wants.
Accept their opinion. It’s the only one that matters.
■ Listen carefully to their comments and suggestions, and don’t interrupt.
■ Once they’ve explained their concerns, if you are in direct contact, try to repeat it
back to them in some way to let them know you heard them and understand what
they want changed. You are having a collaborative dialogue here.

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■ If you agree with their assessment, let them know. They will appreciate the sense of
teamwork.
■ Some cues can be fixed with some simple revisions, some cannot and you will need
to start over. If a cue is rejected, don’t try to clean it up and resubmit it. While you
may feel that simply replacing the percussion or adding some strings could poten-
tially solve the issue, to the director or producer, it will seem as though you are not
listening, or worse, are being difficult.
When you are told a cue isn’t working, for whatever reason, it’s your role to be a
musical “translator” and help dig to find what they actually want. They use the only
language they can to describe something that is by nature very difficult to put into
words. You cannot dismiss their opinions, and, in fact, a good producer or direc-
tor can help guide you toward a better and more effective score. Some concepts are
straightforward, such as “It’s too busy and distracting,” “There needs to be more
theme here,” “The scene needs more tension,” and so on. Other concepts may be very
difficult to decode, like “It doesn’t feel romantic,” “It needs to be fun,” or simply, “This
doesn’t fit the mood of the scene.” Ask questions if needed. Ultimately, these often-
difficult conversations should conclude with you reassuring them that you are more
than happy to redo the cue until they are completely satisfied with it. This includes
the cues you are mostly happy with yourself. You are not writing for you—you are
working for them.
In some rare cases, there is an exception to this, when you can defend and argue
your case about why a cue, or an aspect of that cue, should remain. It wouldn’t be
with a director or producer you are working with for the first time. When you start
to develop a closer rapport with your clients, they may be open to some degree of
disagreement and compromise. Do so carefully, and only in a situation where you feel
strongly that their suggestions will harm the score. For example, if they don’t like the
use of a theme in a scene, you could counter with, “By introducing the theme in this
scene, it sets up a perfect opportunity to bring it back in another important scene later
with greater impact.” Ultimately, there is rarely a case for a composer to disagree with
the director, who will always have final say.
There are times when creative disagreements and conflicts can arise. There can
also be too many “cooks in the kitchen.” Production teams have, by necessity, a
hierarchical structure. Orders are passed from the top down. On occasion, things
might get difficult when you get conflicting feedback from multiple people who all
seem to be in a position of authority about the music. If you find yourself in a situ-
ation where internal struggles are slowing you down or making it overly difficult, it
becomes your goal to keep their problems from becoming your problem. It’s best to
stay out of the politics that may crop up within a project’s production team. Tact,

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humor, and diplomacy on your part can help to make it their prerogative to resolve
these problems among themselves.
Conflicting views do come up as to why a cue isn’t working to everyone’s satisfac-
tion. A director may say, “It needs more energy,” while a producer may say, “It’s too
busy!” If it’s been made clear to whom you should answer, stick to that. If it’s not
clear, you can speak up and point out that you can’t deal with conflicting notes from
multiple sources and ask how they want you to proceed.
The composer’s job is to complete the creative vision of the director or producer.
No more and no less. Bringing style, some memorable ideas, and the best sense of dra-
matic cohesion makes you a valuable part of any project. Writers expect to do rewrites,
actors do many takes to get the best performance, editors may cut scenes many differ-
ent ways before nailing the desired mood. It is no different for music. All composers
hope they get it right the first time, but films, series, and video game production is all a
process. After a project is completely approved and finished, no one really remembers
or cares how many times a given cue needed to be rewritten, as long as you get there
in the end. And hopefully most jobs will go more smoothly.
CanYouMakeItSoundMoreLike...?
Even the best of directors, producers, or other creatives will at times become
thoroughly attached to a piece of music from the project’s temp score. This phenom-
enon is often called “temp love” or “demo love”—and is dreaded by virtually every
working composer. After working on and reviewing a scene countless times over a
period of weeks or even months, the temp score “welds” itself into the brains of all
involved. When your original music is put in its place, the same scene, now with a
new score, can feel shocking. The music now sounds wrong, and it scarcely matters
how well done it is.
The hope is that the creators will be open-minded and give your score a chance to
work its way into their systems. However, there will be times when a composer will be
told, “Make it sound more like the temp.” It can feel like a defeat—they prefer another
composer’s work over yours. Don’t be disheartened; “temp love” is a lack of objectivity
that comes about from sheer repetition. In some cases, there is something in the temp
music that is missed—a sense of melody, an eerie repeating ostinato, or an unusual but
poignant chord progression. Often, it is simply familiarity.
When the request comes to imitate a track from the temp, begin by asking exactly
what the temp has that they love and miss. Try to find out what they wish the score
had, and see if it is possible to modify your cue to bring the missing elements into the
cue. With some directors, it suffices to simply make a few changes to the cue to incor-
porate what they love about the temp. Some temp love goes deeper, and the composer
is pressed again and again to make the cue sound more like the temp.

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In some instances, composers are asked to directly imitate (plagiarize) the temp
music being used, or from some other existing score. This puts you in a difficult posi-
tion. On the one hand, you can’t simply say no. After all, you are being paid to do what
is asked of you. You don’t want to be seen as “difficult.” On the other hand, you may
be able to satisfy the director’s request by getting just slightly closer in feel to the temp
while still maintaining as much originality as possible. It’s a compromise that may or
may not work. If it becomes clear that the director won’t accept any music other than a
perfect knockoff of the temp, you need to speak up and present a few options to them:
■ Suggest they pay to license the actual temp music they love (this doesn’t usually
work because good temp music is often from well-known scores and can be ex-
tremely expensive to license, but it does happen).
■ Remind them that, legally, it is you, the composer, who is at risk of being sued if
the owner of the temp music hears an obvious copy of their music (which is true).
Explain (or if you have an agent, let them explain) that you cannot take the risk of
stealing someone’s music, and also cannot sign a standard composer’s agreement
that stipulates that all the music you deliver must be original and not an infringe-
ment of any copyrights.
■ Temp love can definitely be a difficult matter to handle and requires diplomacy and
tact on a composer’s part. To whatever degree possible, offer to rewrite a scene as
many times as needed to find the essence of the temp, but within your style, palette,
and themes from that score. If you are forced to “throw in the towel,” be sure to
express your concern for being charged with plagiarism.
But Are You the Right Person for the Job?
Some composers stick to a narrow and focused range of musical styles, while oth-
ers look for a wide range of projects to tap their broader musical capabilities. Some
composers get pigeonholed into writing only specific types of music. This can happen
when they’ve scored a project that goes on to be very successful. They frequently get
offers to do similar types of projects from producers who want to tap that success
for their own project. A composer may only be offered horror films, or nothing but
comedies. Some are offered only video games or reality shows. This is a common oc-
currence in many composers’ careers. Some cherish the ability to focus on their best
styles, and others feel cheated out of getting to do a wider range of work. Ultimately,
it’s “the market” that has made this choice for them, and not something they have
chosen for themselves.
No single composer is right for every possible project. Every artist excels in some
ideas more than others—orchestral versus electronic, comedy versus drama, rock
versus ambient, and so on. It’s a major part of what defines us as artists. You probably

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are interested in scoring pictures because there is a particular style or genre that most
interests you—one you’ve focused on and prefer. Think of your musical strengths as
your “brand.” It’s how you will market yourself to the industry as a whole. Some com-
posers can take on a wider range of projects stylistically than others, but that does not
make them better composers. It will, however, help them find more job possibilities.
Generally speaking, producers, directors, and audio directors have no interest in a
composer who claims they “can do it all.” For one thing, it’s probably not true. Regard-
less, most everyone prefers to work with a composer whose work stands for something
specific. They are seeking a style and approach for which a particular composer is
known. Most successful composers have, to some extent, picked a musical “lane.”
A composer should have a clear idea of their best strengths. Taking on a project
and not being able to deliver a first-rate score in the requested style isn’t good for the
longevity of a career. If the musical style for a project isn’t one you’ve already explored,
that doesn’t automatically disqualify you. But you will need to prove yourself first.
Even very established composers will spend the time (and money) to write a specula-
tive demo track to demonstrate to a producer or director just what they can do in that
genre. You may not get the project, but you will have proven to yourself what you are
able to do, and how well you can stretch creatively.
It’s often overlooked, but in the early era of Hollywood film scores, a working com-
poser was a full-time employees of a film studio, such as Warner Bros., MGM, Fox,
Paramount, etcetera. Every major production studio had a music department with
a staff of composers, conductors, orchestrators, copyists, and support staff that was
tasked with scoring every project the studio produced. The head of the department
would evaluate every upcoming film and assign a composer to the project. Staff com-
posers were expected to be fluent in virtually any musical style that might be required,
though additional staff ghostwriters were not uncommon. This system was in place for
decades but was abandoned in the 1950s as production companies moved from staff
positions to the hiring of independent craftspeople, including composers.
While it is valuable in today’s media marketplace to have the musical versatility to
take on an extensive range of projects, no one looks for a musical “jack-of-all-trades.”
A composer’s personal, unique style and approach is more often an essential part of
what gets them considered for a specific project. It’s not just about compositional
technique—more and more untrained composers from various musical backgrounds
are finding a successful niche in the scoring world. Showing strong musical imagina-
tion and ability, having respectable previous credits, and having a flawless-sounding
demo portfolio to show off your best styles all go into making you the right person for
a job. It’s often more than just your music, it’s the whole you—your “vibe.”
Some producers stick with obvious choices based on past successes, while others
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determine the projects you feel best suit your talents and abilities. You should pursue
any and all projects for which you are confident you can do a great job. No excuses.
There is a wide range of projects out there in need of music. Many are of medio-
cre or flat-out poor quality, though they may be good opportunities to improve your
skills and experience. Excellent projects are fewer and farther between, and many are
“labors of love” with little or no pay. They are good experiences and potentially good
career builders, regardless of the monetary rewards. The value of your projects in
relationship to your career overall is built on things other than money. You want to
be building a résumé, a soundtrack portfolio, good relationships with creative people,
and hopefully making a living at it.
A credit, even for a mediocre project, is still a credit, and you want to continue to
grow your résumé with them. A growing résumé adds to your future marketability as
a composer. Is a credit on a bad or unsuccessful project better than no credit at all?
Usually, yes. It’s not exciting, but it shows you are continuing to be hired and that you
deliver. Scoring something successful, of course, is of tremendous value to a composer.
Showing your experience is also valuable.
You should also look at the people on the project. Does the director or producer
seem like someone who has a shot at bigger things in the future? Composing a score
for an up-and-coming artist can sometimes pay off in the long run. However, this is
not a business always known for its loyalty to its creative teams. Doing favors, such
as working for little or no money doesn’t necessarily promise future work. Some
directors and producers do prefer to work with the same people again and again,
and others do not. There is also the chance that as a director gains status and gets to
work on higher-budget projects, they may use that additional money to hire a more
experienced, and more expensive, composer. That is a risk worth taking—developing
relationships is always important.
NEW RELATIONSHIPS
When you begin a project with someone you’ve not worked with previously, you owe
it to yourself to get to know them on a personal level and understand their tastes, mu-
sically and otherwise. This can help you a great deal in the long run. You’ll also gain
some valuable perspective.
It is essential to make the effort to really get to know all the people you work with.
Understanding the artistic temperaments and tastes of directors and producers is as
important as them knowing about yours. Then you can really know if you are the right
person for the next job. You may want to stay in touch with them, even when you are
not working together. People’s memories are short, especially in film and episodic
series. You should also get to know the editors, mixers, studio or production company
executives, and everyone else you work with.

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From a career perspective, there are three main reasons to do any particular project.
One is the quality of the project as a credit on your résumé. Another is for the develop-
ment of a relationship that may take you on to better and better projects. And the final
one is simply to take on a project because it pays well, even if it is not a particularly
enjoyable prospect. There’s no shame in making a profit from time to time; it helps
pay for the other two reasons.
As mentioned earlier, next to musical talent, one of the most important things any
producer or director looks for in a composer is trustworthiness. The question they ask
themselves is: “Can this person get the job done, done right, done on time, and done
with the budget we’ve provided?” Your job is to let them know that you can deliver.
They must trust you, depend on you, and go to sleep at night not worried about their
choice of composer. How can you put someone’s mind at rest? By delivering the best
possible work without excuse, delay, or misstep.
Someone to Watch Over You: Lawyers
Someone once said, perhaps sarcastically, “Marriage is about love, but divorce is
about money.”
There are times in any business when having someone to watch over your interests
is invaluable. A composer composes, but in pursuing a career, they must deal with
financial negotiations, control over various rights, and other variables that are in their
best interest. These are rarely given automatically. And often, a composer must deal
with people and companies who are very savvy and are watching out for their own
interests first.
If you don’t have an agent and are concerned about making a deal that is fair and
as optimized as possible, or if any part of a contract is confusing or unclear (and that
is almost all of them), then hiring an entertainment-savvy lawyer to help out is the
next best thing.
Your role in working through a negotiation is to just be clear about what you want.
What is the least amount of money you’re willing to accept? What rights and perks
(all described below) are you willing to give up? You don’t want to be in a position of
turning in a score that doesn’t represent your best work, and there are times when low
budgets make that a danger. It’s not fun being the tough one, but every so often you
may need to stand up for yourself, or simply ask for as much clarity as possible in an
agreement. That is when a representative for your interests should be able to step in.
This is not an unreasonable practice and is not about making unreasonable demands.
Most of us are replaceable, so we make careful choices in our negotiations.
A composer should not have to discuss fees, terms, contracts, business complaints,
or problems directly with their director. You should remain an artist, and not a busi-
nessperson, in the eyes of the people with whom you will be creatively collaborating.

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Some view this as an aggressive maneuver, but it is a standard practice throughout
most all industries.
Publicity and Visibility
A working artist needs to let the rest of the world know about their accomplish-
ments. This is the basic role of marketing. Your composing work is a service, and your
music is a product. They need the same type of marketing attention that companies
use to promote their services and products—from airlines to soft drinks, from cars
to restaurants, from clothing brands to movie trailers, or from toothpaste to luxury
watches. Companies and brands, both long successful or just starting, only succeed
when the public knows of them, knows what is unique or distinctive about them, and
knows where to find them.
A composer is a brand. A band is a brand. A visual artist is a brand. Anything or
anyone who is uniquely identifiable and offered for sale can be considered a brand.
Companies and individuals put a great deal of effort into creating and getting the word
out about themselves and their products and services.
No one knows a thing about you except for what you tell them. In creating an image
for yourself, you want to highlight what is special about you and how much others en-
joy your work, while maintaining personal integrity and honestly. There are countless
amounts of advice on how to build a presence online, and some of it is probably good
advice. Consider your available options to spread the word about you, your music,
and your projects:
■ Create a good-looking website featuring a listening page, a credits page, and a page
about yourself. Keep it simple. There are templates available to make this relatively
easy and cost effective. Consider buying the URL of your name if available.
■ Set up profile pages on social media—Facebook/Meta, Twitter, YouTube, Insta-
gram, or whatever popular platforms are currently available. Post to social media
regularly about your music, recent projects, whatever you are currently up to, and
offer anything you can about your process. The goal of social media is to entertain
and inform. Posting a photo of your lunch isn’t very valuable but posting a photo of
your newest gear acquisition with an explanation of why you got it, is. Engage your
audience and think of it as a conversation. Post as regularly as possible.
■ Always update any online credits directory, such as IMDb or LinkedIn.
■ Soundtrack albums are a great form of personal marketing. If you have the rights,
get your music onto any available music service, and promote the album.
■ A professional publicist can be an ally for you to get more visibility. However, pub-
licists are event driven, meaning they promote you when you have a new project
about to come out. They are best able to promote something newsworthy, like a

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project about to be released, a new album, or a recent prestigious award you’ve won.
There is no practical use for a publicist at other times.
■ When you have a new release about to come out, scour the internet for bloggers,
music writers, or podcasters, and let them know you have a new project about to
be released and would be available to talk about it. Let them know any interesting
angles that make the project unique or unusual. This is best done at least eight to
twelve weeks before the release date.
■ If you have a project about to be released, check with the production company on
their plans for publicity and marketing and see if they can include you, or at least to
mention you and the score in their campaigns.
■ Be as consistent as possible in projecting your image and work.
DIFFICULT PEOPLE
Stories abound of those problematic people in the entertainment industry who make
life difficult or impossible for others. We hear about producers and directors throwing
temper tantrums, people getting fired for no clear reason, video game companies forc-
ing their teams to put in ridiculous around-the-clock hours to finish a project, verbal
or even physical abuse, taking credit for the work of others, lying, public put-downs,
sexism, ageism, racism, misogyny, homophobia, nepotism, and total incompetence.
All of these do exist in the entertainment industry.
Invariably everyone encounters one of these difficult or toxic people during their
career. Composers are affected by many if not all of the possible negative situations
that can arise. Composers need to be able to handle themselves in tough situations.
Hopefully, this is a rare situation, and most of these bad situations can be resolved.
Not all. Here are a few points to keep in mind:
■ Do your best to keep your cool in any heated situation—it’s the fastest way to calm
things down. Having a mental health practice such as mindfulness or meditation is
useful to come back into centeredness.
■ Don’t take anything personally, even when it seems personal. It’s unfortunate, but
there are people in positions of power who use hurtful or insulting language to get
their points across. Don’t be reactive in these situations. They have a habit of blow-
ing over in time.
■ If someone is being unpleasant or unreasonable with you, calmly speak up and as-
sert yourself as needed, for example, “I hear how upset you are, and I’m going to
deliver all those cues just the way you asked on the day I said I would.”
■ Don’t get involved in the gossip or innuendo that may flair up on productions.
People love to hear and spread secrets but invariably look down on the person dish-
ing it out as untrustworthy and unsafe.

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■ If you ever feel unsafe in any situation, step away immediately, and reassess what is
happening. Never hesitate to go to someone on the crew and say what is happening.
■ It’s rarely productive to call a liar “a liar”—they will lie and deny it. Perhaps you
were promised a certain fee, a certain credit, a certain amount of work, or even the
job to begin with, only to find that it wasn’t true. Do what you can to focus on the
work instead.
■ Some relationships don’t work out. You may find yourself involved with a project
and its creative team, that just doesn’t work for them and you. You may find yourself
let go for no good reason or misunderstandings. It’s not your or anyone’s fault when
that happens, and dealing with it as gracefully as possible goes a long way.
■ Pick your battles wisely. You may find yourself in difficult situations with difficult
and unreasonable people, and you may find yourself defending your position or
your understanding of things. If you feel you can make the situation better by clari-
fying your intent or recollection of specific events, speak up only if you feel it will
resolve the problems.
■ Most productions pay the composer a portion of their fee at the start of the job, and
the remainder upon “delivery,” that is, the final master mix of the entire score. Either
due to dishonesty or financial incompetence, circumstances come up where a com-
poser does not get paid as promised. Clearly this is unacceptable. The only bargaining
tool you have in this situation is to either stop working, or if you’ve completed the
work, to not deliver the final recording files until payment is made as promised. Be
clear about your reasons, and hopefully any issues can be resolved amicably.

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Making a Living
Music is an art, but making a career of scoring is a business—and a fairly complex one.
After looking closely at the art and technique of The Reel World, it is equally important
to look at the business side of music—the money. Learning to take care of money is an
important part of life. Ultimately, you don’t want to worry about it or even think about
it very much. Though you are as rich as your satisfaction with what you already have,
it’s valuable to also focus on how to use your talents to make money.
WHAT IS YOUR WORTH?
What is your value monetarily as a working composer? Who decides it, how much
control do you have over it, and what steps can you take to increase it? This is a broad
topic, and the monetary landscape of music and media is always in flux—rates for
certain types of work, or certain types of composers can be on the rise, go flat, or even
go down depending on the current desirability and market.
It’s beyond the scope of this book (and its author) to explain free market econom-
ics, but the value of most things is based on their scarcity and the demand for them.
Add to that the overall health of the economy at the time, as well as any noteworthy
precedent of the current or past value of something.
Entertainment goes through trends in style. Often, when a project is a substan-
tial hit, other projects want to make their version of it. Scores and soundtracks are
very prone to changing styles due to other successes. As a result, at any given time,
some composers become more desirable in the scoring market. Sometimes it’s big
orchestral scores, sometimes its ambient electronic, sometimes it just comes down
to a sound that feels closely like a recent hit project. A composer able to create music
of a current popular trend has a higher chance of landing work and thus is more
employable and valuable.

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All media production starts with budgets. A certain amount of money is allocated
for every potential cost—writers, producers, directors, actors, cinematographer,
artwork, editing, sound, effects, lighting, animation, and a support staff that can get
very large on a bigger, more complex project. There’s also insurance, marketing,
travel, technology, equipment purchases and rentals, overtime costs, and union fees,
and soon you see that there are a great number of variables in creating any media.
Actors are a great example of “market forces” at work. What is a specific actor actu-
ally worth? We frequently read about actors being paid astronomical fees. What or
who decides that?
ACTORS VERSUS COMPOSERS
There is a vast pool of people who consider themselves to be actors. With nearly un-
limited choice, producers are not compelled to spend money unnecessarily to employ
someone of talent able to simply act in a specific role. While some productions will
budget for more expensive talent, it is often not called for, and would only apply to
more established talent. Here is a comparison:
■ Actors just starting out are paid a basic “minimum wage” that is often determined
by an actor’s union or other precedents for similar types of work.
■ Actors are singular in that there is only one of any recognizable actor, thus they
are somewhat irreplaceable and more valuable as they become more visible or
well-known.
■ An actor will be paid what the producers feel they might potentially return, in terms
of the size of the audience that will pay specifically to see them.
■ There are trends in what is desirable in an actor—sometimes called a “type.”
■ As actors take on roles in more successful project (hit movies or TV series, or just
their voices in video games or animation), their value increases rapidly.
■ As an actor becomes more highly in demand, they are likely to get more work offers
than they have time for. They will thus raise their fee, which then prices them out of
low-paying work in exchange for fewer, but more highly lucrative, projects.
■ Successful actors enlist management that insists they never accept a project that pays
less than their most recent job—more offers are declined for financial reasons, and
the actor’s “value” stays high for longer.
■ An actor who becomes truly famous can demand higher and higher fees because a
growing, and now very large, audience will pay just to see that actor, making them
a good marketing investment.
■ Many actors find there is a point when their careers, and income potential, peak
(due to a few failed projects, them getting older, and a newer generation of actors

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becoming successful). They start to accept lower paying projects in order to keep
working and not see their careers decline faster. Some actors’ careers last far longer
than others. None remain at peak earning potential indefinitely.
■ Some actors attain high-level success and fame (the so-called A list), while other ac-
tors, who do not get to that same level of fame and marketability, still maintain lengthy,
successful careers, sufficient demand for their work, and a comfortable income and
market potential. This would be the vast majority of working, full-time actors.
In the case of music creation, there is a surprisingly broad range of values placed
upon it. Many of the same market forces that apply to actors apply to anyone in the
creative field and marketplace; there are some notable differences:
Composers, on the Other Hand
■ There is no minimum wage or set pay scale for a composer. Everything is negotiable.
■ Unlike actors, composers do not get the same celebrity recognition. No one really
watches a film or show, or plays a game, because of the composer.
■ However, if a composer is involved with a project that goes on to be highly success-
ful, there is a good chance that will result in more offers, typically in the same style
or genre.
■ There are trends in what is desirable in a score, and those composers who are well-
known for that trendy style are of higher value.
■ Composers have a better chance of gaining repeat business from a loyal director or
producer than actors often do. The lack of visibility to the audience is a help!
■ Composers are less subjected to ageism as actors (especially female, sadly) who are
offered roles based on their physical appearance as much as their acting skills. There
is still a preference for younger, newer musical talent, but a composer can have a
longer career in some cases because of this.
■ Composers are often more quickly categorized—big-budget-movie composer,
indie-film composer, game composer, TV drama composer, etc.
■ Composers are able to build a catalog of works that can continue to generate royal-
ties and licensing revenue indefinitely.
■ While actors do get royalties from their work appearing on TV or video-on-de-
mand, a composer’s work gets royalties and can also be licensed into other projects
such as commercials, trailers, TV shows, and movie soundtracks.
■ Soundtracks are another unique revenue stream for composers.
After a number of successful hit projects, some composers can begin to command
much higher fees and see higher royalties from repeated viewings on streaming ser-

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vices around the world. There are other composers who are no less busy and successful
in their careers, but whose projects and income are far more modest. Every composer
has the opportunity to succeed at their own pace. Think of your career as a marathon
and not a sprint. The opportunity to do something you truly love to do, and on your
own terms, is worth far more than any amount of money can bring. Making money
is the manifestation of our efforts and abilities. Every artist has the right to be fairly
compensated for their efforts on behalf of a commercial project.
Music has value. It creates incredible emotional experiences as nothing else can.
People love music, and it is a part of everyday life, from mothers and fathers sing-
ing to their infant children to a lifetime of enjoyment in songs, dance, and the iconic
scores to almost all of the world’s media. Content creators know the power of music to
engage an audience. Recent generations have seen the advent of “free music” through
a variety of online services. And while this has expanded the potential audience for
many musical artists, it has also created the false notion to many people that paying for
music is for “suckers.” This has reverberated through some parts of the entertainment
industry, making it somewhat more difficult for some composers to justify their fees
to those who have grown up with or embraced “free music.”
Remember, music is more than a commodity or asset. A musical artist may write
and record a pop song in the hopes that it will find an audience, and in turn gener-
ate income in order to survive, or even thrive. But when someone decides to create a
project for profit—a film, series, video game, advertisement, promo, or trailer—and
they hire their collaborators, they are doing so expecting to generate income. Engaging
a composer to commit to creating a custom score is an important part of the process,
and that composer should be fairly compensated for their time, talent, and efforts.
Every project has a budget. It’s created before anything else can happen. Money
must be raised for talent and production costs. And within every budget, which can
be pages and pages long, is a line for music—both original and licensed. Whoever
decides that number may know little about the amount of effort it takes to create a
first-rate score. Since music typically comes later on in a project, it’s not uncommon
for the music budget to be revised downward when other aspects of a production go
over budget. Some projects budget music equitably, and usually get desirable results.
Others budget the least amount possible, making it difficult or impossible to get an
established composer and to provide the resources needed to accomplish their sonic
goals. Some projects are more “labors of love” that come with high intentions and very
little money. It’s understood that a composer can and will agree to lower their current

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price to whatever is available in order to work on a project with its heart in the right
place, such as passion projects, short films or documentaries on important topics.
Some things are more important than money—but composers also need to survive.
Music budgets can, at times, seem very arbitrary and random—small projects with
large music budgets, and higher-end projects that, for whatever reason, underfund
music. You are likely to face this situation throughout your career and need to decide if
a low-paying project is worth your time. While trying to establish or advance your ca-
reer can only happen when you work on projects, you will always have the right to say,
“Thank you, but sorry—I can’t do this project for that amount.” That’s a decision you
need to make for yourself, based on your priorities. And while passing on a project that
doesn’t pay sufficiently may seem shallow, it isn’t the music that is being undervalued,
it’s you. Generally, a composer just starting out should try to get as many credits onto
their résumé as possible, regardless of financial reward. Some projects are worthwhile
because they might build relationships that can bring more lucrative work in the future.
Working composers not only earn money, they also need to spend it as an invest-
ment to grow their careers. For example, it takes decent-quality computers, software,
sample libraries, and studio gear to be competitive with the demands of top-quality
music delivery. Other composers, some less talented than you, vying for the same jobs
as you may have invested substantially in their studios. Cost alone does not guarantee
quality—that also requires creativity and some technical ability.
While the costs of powerful hardware and software continue to go down, expecta-
tions are always rising as to how good even basic sketches and demos should sound.
If you want to get into the race, you need a car that can keep up with the pace. Your
demos and final score delivery need to sound flawless, which takes skill and technol-
ogy. If you don’t have the resources yourself, you may need to hire an engineer to help
mix, and that costs some money as well. An investment in your studio system is an
investment in yourself and your future.
THE COMPOSER “WORK FOR HIRE” AGREEMENT
A “work for hire” agreement is the essential legal contract between a composer and
the people or company hiring them to compose music for a project. It lays out the
project, fees paid, copyright ownership information, and a few other basic details
to engage a composer from start to finish. While they are relatively similar across
the field, there are some important variables to be aware of. Here’s an example of a
typical work-for-hire agreement:

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Note: Always get qualified legal help with contracts. This is to be used as a guide only.
SAMPLE WORK-FOR-HIRE AGREEMENT
This is an example of a Work-for-Hire Agreement for reference only,
and should not be used in an actual project negotiation. It explains what
the goal is of each section.
In the agreement, the person composing the original music is called the Artist.
The person or production company hiring the Artist is called the Production. If
you have formed a business entity when writing music, then the business should
be listed as the Artist.
Here, the parties agree that this contract alone governs the agreement. Not all of
these clauses may be necessary for your particular project. However, you should
discuss all of the provisions and then tailor this agreement so it reflects the
understanding of both parties.
Production and Artist agree that the following provisions are incorporated
into the contract to which it is attached and made a part thereof, said contract
being signed and dated [month], [year]. The parties agree that the terms of this
attachment prevail over the terms the terms of any other document relating to
and a part of the contract in which this attachment is incorporated.
DELIVERY REQUIREMENTS
This clause gives the Artist a deadline to complete the Work. You may want to
insert interim deadlines for input and approval that are tied to the Payment
Schedule in Paragraph 4. This provision also requires the Artist to exercise
his or her job with a strong sense of professionalism and quality, but gives the
Production the right to approve the work before payment is made. Be sure to
discuss how revisions will be handled.
1. DELIVERY REQUIREMENTS. Artist will deliver to the Production on or
before the date ______ the completed Work in form and content satisfactory to
the Production. All work will be done in a competent and professional fashion
in accordance with applicable standards of the profession and all services are
subject to final approval by Production prior to payment. Artist reserves the
right to adjust the schedule in the event that Production fails to meet agreed
upon deadlines for approval or payment and for more than customary changes
and additions to the agreed upon scope of services.

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COPYRIGHT OWNERSHIP
The Production, not the Artist, owns the copyright in the work. The Artist
expressly acknowledges that he/she is creating a work-made-for-hire, and
as such, is giving up all rights, including the right to any future profits. This
statement is the heart of a work-made-for-hire agreement. This does not affect
standard royalties paid through a PRO.
2. COPYRIGHT OWNERSHIP. Artist acknowledges that the Work is being
created by Artist for use in a Production and that each form of Work is being
created by Artist as a “work-made-for-hire” under the United States Copyright
Act and, at all stages of development, the Work shall be and remain the sole and
exclusive property of the Production. At Production’s sole, absolute and unfet-
tered discretion, Production may make any changes in, deletions from, or addi-
tions to the Work. If for any reason the results and proceeds of Artist’s services
hereunder are determined at any time not to be a work-made-for-hire, Artist
hereby irrevocably transfers and assigns to Production all right, title and interest
therein, including all copyrights, as well as all renewals and extensions thereto.
CREDIT
If the Production uses the Work or a substantial part of the Work in the film,
television or game, the Production will credit the Artist in the way agreed upon
and inserted into the contract.
3. CREDIT. Nothing contained in this agreement shall be deemed to require the
Production to use the Work, or any part thereof, in connection with the Film or
otherwise. Credit for the work shall read: [MUSIC BY SARAH CHANG], pro-
vided that a substantial portion of Artist’s work is incorporated in the Production.
COMPENSATION AND TERMS OF PAYMENT
Agreements will outline the means and methods of payment. Some contracts may
include an optional “kill fee” provision (Paragraph 7). The Production will pay the
Artist by check or bank transfer. The Artist will need to provide tax information,
and if they have an agent that is due a commission, the fee may be paid to the
agent who will then deduct their percentage and pay the rest to the composer.
4. COMPENSATION AND TERMS OF PAYMENT.
In consideration for the services to be performed by Artist and upon acceptance
of the Work, Production agrees to pay a total of $_______ according to the terms
set out herein:
Production will pay the entire fee on completion of the services provided.

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OR
Artist shall be paid $_____upon signing this agreement and the rest of the sum
described above when Artist completes the Work.
OR
Production will pay Artist in three equal installments of $______ in accordance
with the following (e.g., submission of first sketches): ____________________
________________.
Artist agrees to submit invoice(s) and a completed W-9 form with this signed
agreement. Production will make payment by check to Artist with 30 days of
receiving an invoice.
EXPENSES
Two options for covering the expenses associated with the Artist’s services.
5. EXPENSES. Artist shall be responsible for all expenses incurred while per-
forming services under this agreement.
OR
Production will reimburse Artist for pre-approved expenses. Production will
pay Artist within 30 days after receiving receipts documenting purchases.
RELATIONSHIP OF PARTIES
This is an important provision because it clarifies the artist’s status
as an independent contractor for tax purposes (FICA).
6. RELATIONSHIP OF PARTIES. Artist is an independent contractor, not an
employee. Production will not withhold FICA or make FICA payments on Art-
ist’s behalf, make state or federal unemployment compensation contributions on
Artist’s behalf or withhold local, state or federal income tax from Artist’s fees.
It is understood that Artist is not eligible to participate in any pension, health,
vacation pay, sick pay or other fringe benefit plan normally associated with an
employee relationship.
CANCELLATION
Every contract should include an “out.” This clause explains the conditions and
terms to be complied with for the termination. This agreement allows either
party to cancel the agreement for a good reason with 30 days written notice, but
this may be the best approach for your situation.

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7. CANCELLATION. With reasonable cause, either party reserves the right to
cancel this agreement without obligation by giving thirty (30) days written no-
tice to the other party of the intent to terminate. In the event that either party
shall be in default of its material obligations under this agreement and shall
fail to remedy such default within sixty (60) days after receipt of written notice
thereof, this agreement shall terminate upon expiration of the sixty (60) day pe-
riod. Should the Artist’s commission be cancelled or postponed for any reason
before the final stage, Production agrees to pay a cancellation (“kill”) fee based
on the amount of work completed.
PROMOTION
Including this provision will allow the Production to promote the project
without going back to the artist for permission at some later date.
8. PROMOTION. Artist hereby grants Production the right to issue and autho-
rize publicity concerning Artist and to use Artist’s name, voice and approved
likeness and approved biographical data in connection with the distribution,
exhibition, advertising and exploitation of the Project. Artist shall exercise ap-
provals hereunder reasonably and within five (5) days after request by Produc-
tion, or such approvals shall be deemed given.
ARTIST WARRANTIES AND REPRESENTATIONS
Here the Artist promises that he/she is available to complete the commission.
The Artist also promises that the Work is original and does not violate any
copyright or other laws. This would include any instances of plagiarism or use
of unlicensed samples.
9. ARTIST WARRANTIES AND REPRESENTATIONS. Artist warrants and
represents that he/she has the right to enter into this agreement and to grant
Production all rights herein granted, and that Artist has not entered into or
will enter into any agreement of any kind that will interfere in any way with the
complete performance of this agreement. Artist warrants and represents that
Work shall be wholly original with Artist, except as to matters within the public
domain and except as to material inserted by Artist pursuant to specific instruc-
tions of Production, and shall not infringe upon any intellectual property rights
or violate any laws.

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ASSIGNMENT, ENTIRETY OF AGREEMENT,
GOVERNING, JURISDICTION AND MEDIATION
In this example, neither party has the right to assign any of their rights or
delegate the performance of any of their duties without the prior written consent
of the other party. It also spells out how and where any legal dispute that might
arise would be settled.
10. ASSIGNMENT, ENTIRETY OF AGREEMENT, GOVERNING, JURISDIC-
TION AND MEDIATION. Artist may not assign, directly or indirectly, all
or part of its rights or obligations under this agreement to any other person
or entity without first obtaining the written permission of Production. This
agreement constitutes the entire agreement between the parties. No modifica-
tion shall be enforceable except in writing and signed by the parties hereto.
This agreement shall be governed by the laws of the state of _____. In the event
any dispute arising under this agreement results in litigation, arbitration, or
mediation, such action or proceeding shall be brought within the state or fed-
eral courts of ____.
SEVERBILITY
If even one clause in this contract is invalid,
the rest of the contract is still enforceable.
11. SEVERABILITY. If any provision of this agreement or the application
thereof is held invalid, the invalidity shall not affect other provisions or applica-
tions of this agreement which can be given effect without the invalid provisions
or application, and to this end the provisions of this agreement are declared to
be severable.

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Note: Always get qualified legal help with contracts. This is to be used as a guide only.
CERTIFICATE OF AUTHORSHIP
Composers are asked to sign an additional agreement that holds them
responsible for any legal issues that might arise due to the use of other
copyrighted materials.
I, __________ (“Composer”), hereby represents and warrants as follows:
(i) Composer is the sole author (or co-author) of the Music and the ex-
clusive owner (or co-owner) of all rights granted under this Agreement
and has the full right, power and authority to enter into and perform
this Agreement and to grant to and vest in Publisher all the rights
herein set forth, free and clear of any and all claims, rights and obliga-
tions whatsoever;
(ii) All results and proceeds of the services of Composer hereunder, in-
cluding all of the titles, lyrics, music and musical compositions, and
each and every part thereof, delivered and to be delivered by Composer
hereunder are and shall be new and original and capable of copyright
protection throughout the entire world;
(iii) No musical composition hereunder or any part thereof shall be an
imitation or copy of, or shall infringe upon, any other material, or shall
violate or infringe upon any common law or statutory rights of any
party including, without limitation, contractual rights, copyrights and
rights of privacy or publicity;
(iv) Composer has not sold, assigned, leased, licensed or in any other way
disposed of or encumbered the rights herein granted to Publisher, nor
shall Composer sell, assign, lease, license or in any other way dispose of
or encumber said rights.
(v) In creating the Music and in performing Composer’s obligations under
this Agreement, Composer has and will comply with all applicable laws,
statutes, ordinances, codes, rules, regulations and orders of the United
States, and the states, cities or other political subdivisions thereof hav-
ing jurisdiction.

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HOW COMPOSERS MAKE MONEY: FEES, PACKAGES, PUBLISHING, LICENSES,
AND ROYALTIES
As a freelance artist, a composer earns money a few different ways, and from differ-
ent sources. Typically, there is money paid upfront for your work and then a separate
source of money later when your work is broadcast, streamed, and used in various
other ways. The amount you make, and the nature of how you make it, depends on
your level of success and desirability as a composer, as well as the popularity of the
project. You are not an employee of the companies that hire you. You are what’s called
an independent contractor. Think of hiring a plumber to come to your home to repair
a leaky faucet (a terrible comparison!). There is no ongoing relationship; they are only
working on that one project before moving on. You are asked to sign a contract for a
single project, after which the contract is over. The manner of these upfront payments
can take one of two forms: fees and packages.
More experienced and in-demand composers prefer to charge a fee for their ser-
vices. A fee is a specific amount of money that is negotiated on a project-by-project
basis. The composer then also submits a budget for all further costs, and the produc-
tion pays for those expenses needed to deliver the score, such as the musicians, singers,
studios, engineering, orchestration, copying, and any required travel.
See figure 10.1 for a basic example of a budget a composer would submit for
approval.
Not included in the fee would be optional expenses such as assistants, additional
(ghost) writers, sound design, or other costs deemed to be the composer’s needs, not
the production’s. The fee is all profit that goes into the composer’s pocket. In most
cases, if a music editor is hired, they are also not part of the composer’s responsibility
and are paid on a separate budget along with picture and sound editors.
FIGURE 10.1
Basic composer budget example.
Author

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On the other hand, a package deal works differently. A score package does not sepa-
rate the money paid to the composer from the costs needed to produce and deliver the
score. It’s all lumped together into a single amount of money. The composer is now
responsible for all costs incurred in delivering the final audio to the production. Thus,
the composer’s profit is whatever is left at the end of the project after all expenses are
covered. This has become the primary way composers are paid on all but the largest
projects. Hiring and recording an orchestras is typically covered by the production
company, not the composer. If producers insist on certain live players, they are ex-
pected to cover those costs. If you choose to bring in players for any reason, then you
would pay for that.
A composer takes a certain amount of risk with a package deal. You promise to de-
liver an excellent-sounding score, without cutting any corners, and be satisfied with the
profit after any and all costs. If you are well organized and learn how to estimate your
real costs for recording and mixing a score, a package deal is not much of a risk. Most
production companies prefer to work in this way since it requires no accounting and ad-
ditional invoicing on their part. With a single payment to the composer, they get a score.
One additional variable is the use of union talent—musicians or singers who are
members of their respective unions and will be performing with the involvement of
those unions. Unions set minimum fees and some requirements for giving the talent
breaks. Union players also get additional compensation for performances of the works
they perform on called residuals, which are similar in nature to the royalties a com-
poser is given. Unions take a percentage of the musician’s fees as dues. It can get a bit
complex to calculate, and composers are not asked to handle the requisite paperwork.
Productions that choose to hire union talent (and there are unions for virtually every
person on a film or episodic project) are responsible for all the additional paperwork
involved. Once a project is set to use union talent, it’s usually offered to all partici-
pating workers—they can’t pay some people through a union and not others. There
are occasional exceptions to this, and it is usually spelled out in your work-for-hire
agreement. Note that while unions set minimum hourly wages, some more established
players ask for, and get, more. It’s typical for the first chair of each section of the
orchestra to get a higher fee—often double the base minimum. If you are not using
union musicians, you are free to offer anything you feel is fair to any players. Union
musicians are barred by their unions from accepting non-union sessions. Some are
very careful not to break those rules, and others are willing to record if the sessions are
done discretely. Some players are more accommodating than others. Many composers
use the union minimums (which can be found on each union’s website) as a starting
point for non-union sessions.
If you are inexperienced at scoring and music production, and are offered a project
on a package deal, you should get help in carefully estimating and budgeting your
costs by contacting the various people you plan to work with. In many cases, people

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will be flexible and accommodating on their fees in order to help you come in at a
lower budget to build a new relationship with an up-and-coming composer who
might bring more work down the line.
There are creative choices that will affect your costs, such as doing an all-electronic
score versus using any live players, or an orchestra. If you have adequate space for
players, there is the cost-saving option of recording at your own home studio versus
renting a commercial studio. You can also hire musicians who self-record from their
own studios and send in the tracks.
You can do your own orchestration and copying (time permitting), do your own
engineering and mixing, or just hire competent but less expensive talent. No composer
wants to end up losing money on a packaged project. If a lower-budget project can’t
cover the cost for a live group, you need to make sure the producers know that they
will get an all-electronic score, or perhaps only promise fewer soloists. If the producers
insist on a certain number of live players, then you can try to renegotiate your deal to
make hiring, and recording, musicians the producer’s responsibility.
The bigger the ensemble you are recording, the greater the risk there is for poten-
tially going over budget. If a recording session with forty players in a large studio ends
up needing an extra fifteen minutes in order to finish the recording, this can be a very
expensive mistake. Fee-based budgets account for some overages like musician and
studio overtime, though someone would have to approve that, even at the last possible
second.
Once you have some experience putting a score budget together, a package re-
corded efficiently can be as lucrative as a fee.
Any deals are best negotiated by an experienced agent or lawyer, if possible. Figure
out your budget needs in advance if possible, since that will enter into the process.
While challenging at first, it gets easier with experience.
Sweetening the Deal
In addition to the fee or package, there are other potential ways a composer can
make a project more lucrative. These are all possible negotiating points between the
composer and producers—none are automatic—you need to ask. These relate to
the ownership of the music you write. Work-for-hire agreements typically assign all
ownership of the music to the producers of the project, not the composer. This is a
standard agreement. Composers on a work-for-hire agreement will always be credited
as the writer of the work on the cuesheet, and that should be viewed as nonnegotiable.
The cuesheet lists the composer(s) who will receive any future royalties from that proj-
ect once it is broadcast or streamed. Legitimate and ethical producers do not attempt
to take this away from a composer, and in many territories, it is even illegal.

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On projects with very small music budgets, composers can sometimes negotiate to
keep some or all of the publishing rights, which are normally retained by producers.
There is substantial potential income paid to the publisher of a musical work when it
is streamed or broadcast. This is the purpose of performing rights societies—organiza-
tions found in most every country that have the right to collect money from broadcast-
ers and pay that money in the form of royalties to the composer and publisher of the
music. It’s an even split, with half going to the writer and half going to the publisher.
If you, as the composer, retain the publishing rights (or “publishers share,” which
is the ownership of the actual musical work, but not the recording of the work) your
royalty income can double when a project is aired on television, plays in theaters (in
certain parts of the world), or is available as video on demand or streaming. In some
cases, there is a compromise to split the publishing rights between composer and pro-
duction. This can be requested for films and episodic television as well as video game
work. If you are able to negotiate retaining the ownership of the master recording
(also called master rights), which is the actual recording of the music, you then have
the rights to reuse or license it into other projects as you wish.
Simply put, the publisher’s ownership of a composition does not automatically ex-
tend to the actual recording of the composition. That ownership is usually kept by the
producers as part of the overall soundtrack of the project. By negotiating in your deal
that you wish to maintain rights to the master, you have control over the recording and
have the right to license the recording into other projects. Generally this is something
that may only happen when a project doesn’t have the money to pay a composer fairly.
Soundtrack sales and streams can be a potential source of additional income on a
score, but permission for the use of the recording is needed. If you retain that right, no
permission is needed and you can do as you wish. You can also ask the producers for
the right to make a deal with a record label or release the recording yourself.
Royalties and Performing Rights Organizations
There is currently no composers’ unions to protect the interests of composers
working in film, episodic television, or video games. That may change some day, but
this has been the case for a very long time. The unions for actors, writers, and other
production talent protect the interests of their members and collect additional money
for the talent from any uses of the project. Currently, composers do not get that.
That doesn’t mean there aren’t organizations that watch over and help composers
(and songwriters) get money they deserve from the electronic performance of their
works. Performing Rights Organizations (PRO), sometimes called Performing Rights
Societies (PRS), around the world assist music writers and music publishers to collect
royalties for the use of their music. Each PRO negotiates royalty rates for their mem-

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bers with the producers, broadcasters, and media services in their territory. PROs then
track uses of music from television, radio, streaming services, and box office revenue.
They collect and distribute royalty money to the composer of that music. Here is a
current list of PROs by country:
Argentina — SADAIC
Australia — APRA
Australia — PPCA
Austria — Autoren, Komponisten und Musikverleger (AKM)
Belgium — SABAM
Bolivia — SENAPI
Brazil — ECAD
Bulgaria — MUSICAUTHOR
Canada — SOCAN
Chile — SCD
Colombia — SAYCO/ACINPRO
Croatia — HDS
Czech Republic — OSA
Denmark — KODA
Estonia — EAU
Finland — Teosto
France — SACEM
Georgia — SAS
Germany — GEMA
Greece — AEPI
Greece — GEA-GRAMMO, ERATO-APOLLON
Hong Kong — CASH
Hungary — ARTISJUS
India — The Indian Performing Right Society Ltd.
Ireland — PPI

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Israel — ACUM
Italy — SIAE
Japan — JASRAC
Lithuania — LATGA-A
Malaysia — MACP
Mexico — SACM
Nepal — MRCSN
Netherlands — BUMA
New Zealand — APRA
Norway — TONO
Panama — SPAC
Peru — APDAYC
Philippines — FILSCAP
Poland — ZAIKS
Puerto Rico — ACEMLA
Romania — UCMR
Russia — RAO
Serbia — SOKOJ
Singapore — COMPASS
Slovakia — SOZA
South Africa — SAMRO
South Korea — KOMCA
Spain — SGAE
Sweden — STIM
Switzerland — SUISA
Taiwan — MUST
Thailand — MCT
Trinidad and Tobago — COTT
Ukraine — UACRR

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United Kingdom — PRS, PPL
United States of America — ASCAP, BMI, SESAC
Uruguay — AGADU
Venezuela — SACVEN
These organizations also cooperate with each other to see that revenue generated for
someone’s music in one country gets to that composer wherever they are in the world.
PROs all function in more or less the same manner. A composer joins a PRO in their
country of residence. You are given a unique composer ID number you will use on all
future cuesheets to identify you as the composer of those tracks. Your account becomes
a catalog, listing all your works that have been filed on cuesheets for projects you have
scored (even if it’s just one track of additional music) that will be released. Composers
are not usually responsible for filing cuesheets to the PRO catalog. Typically, a music
editor or postproduction coordinator will ask you for your ID number and then will
file the cuesheet with your PRO. Any cues that do not end up in the final project do not
go on the cuesheet (you are usually free to use them in another project). Any cues used
multiple times in the soundtrack count as separate compositions. You should always get
a copy of the cuesheet and confirm that the information is correct and complete.
The PRO will then oversee the collection of all royalties for the use and reuse of that
music—forever. It is a legal requirement for every broadcaster and streaming service
to file accurate reports of every project they show to every music PRO (along with the
organizations that collect royalties for writers, actors, directors, and producers). These
reports are cross-referenced to the cuesheets on file, and royalties are calculated from
this information. The amount collected is determined by the number of minutes of
music performed, the use of that music (underscore is a different rate from songs or
main title music), and a few other variables.
Network television, independent stations, cable channels, streaming services,
video-on-demand services, movie theaters, and radio all pay varying rates for the use
of music. Rates are determined by the PROs and are negotiated between the broad-
casters and the PROs.
Typically, video games do not pay royalties on music, but this is expected to change
over time.
As mentioned before, royalties collected by a PRO are divided fifty-fifty between
the music’s composer and publisher. The production company that made and owns
the project you scored functions as publisher (unless you negotiate to assign yourself
as publisher, as discussed above).
Composers and publishers receive statements on a quarterly or semi-annual basis
showing all performances of the music in your catalog along with their payments.

FIGURE 10.2A
Cue sheet example.
Author

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If you have an agreement to retain the publisher’s share of your music, you will
need to set up a publishing company with the same PRO to which you are a com-
poser member. This can be done online. You come up with a cool name for your new
company and pay a small fee. You are now a publishing company with a Publisher ID
number you put on future cuesheets. Royalties are then split equally between the two
parties, both of whom are you!
Paying the Composer
Composers are usually paid by the production company making the film, TV
project, video game, or whatever project you’ve been hired for. Sometimes that will
be a well-known, major production company. In reality, the vast majority of projects
are commissioned from small, often temporary, production companies formed for a
project and then dissolved once work is complete. You negotiate and sign your agree-
ment with that company. The formal contracts between composer and the production
are often not completed until your work is well under way, or even nearly done, and
FIGURE 10.2B
Cue sheet example.
Author

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sometimes not until after a job is completed. Instead, the production may create a
“deal memo,” which is a brief, simple letter that outlines the basic points of your agree-
ment—including your fee, a payment schedule (for example, half upon signing the
agreement and half upon handing in the final mixes), what expenses may be excluded
from your package (musicians, copying, studios, music editor, et cetera), whether or
not you will keep any part of the publishing of your composition, your share of income
from any soundtrack album deal, and any other basic points of your deal.
At the very least, a composer should not begin work without a deal memo in place
with the basic terms of the agreement, if not a complete contract. If you are being hired
to do a smaller project with a client who does not offer you a deal memo or a fully
prepared contract, then you may wish to have one put together, though generally it is
the producer’s responsibility to provide the deal in writing to you.
Very small projects don’t pay enough to justify the hiring of a lawyer. There are
risks to working without any legal help. In those cases, get everything about the agree-
ment in writing, even just as emails. If your instincts lead you to worry that the people
hiring you are possibly not entirely ethical, proceed with caution. Always make final
delivery of your music dependent on the final payment first.
How Much Should You Charge?
How much should you be charging for your work? The simplest answer is: as much
as you can—within reason. The more detailed answer is that a composer’s compensa-
tion for their work depends on a number of variables, such as the nature of the project
and its overall budget. Bigger budget projects have larger music budgets, though it is
not proportional (a $20 million project doesn’t automatically have twice the music
budget of a $10 million project). The role and overall importance of music in any
given project influences the budget along with the amount of music needed, and how
much money is going toward licensing existing songs and other source music (which
can far exceed the budget for original music).
Other fundamental factors in determining a composer’s fee are your status as a suc-
cessful and experienced composer or artist, the quality and quantity of your existing
work, the financial and critical success of recent work, and sometimes any prestigious
awards you may have received. Keep in mind that everything is negotiable, again,
within reason. With more established composers, or composers with good repre-
sentation, there is a better chance that budgets can go up. New composers often find
themselves at the whims of whatever project they are able to get.
Film
There is no fixed formula for film score fees. Both theatrical and streaming film
projects set aside anywhere from less than 1 percent to more than 3 percent of their

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total budget for music. For example, a $5 million film might have between fifty thou-
sand and one hundred and fifty thousand dollars for music, more or less. In reality, the
budget for all films starts at less, and goes higher. After the expense of licensing songs
(fees for using well-known songs and artists are extremely high), what money remains
will pay for the composer and all recording costs.
There is enormous variability in low-budget films, depending on the know-how
of the producers (possibly making their first film) and how important they consider
music to be. Some films spend next to nothing on music. As music comes at the end
of a film’s production, the producers may be over budget and may dip into the music
budget to fix other problems and oversights.
Fortunately, bigger-budget projects are made by more experienced producers and
directors. They usually understand the importance of good music, know what it costs
to bring in an experienced composer, and know what it takes to give that composer
the budget they need to make the score as big and powerful as possible.
Regardless of the music budget for a project, composers are not paid equally. New
composers make less, and fees can move upward as your career develops, but will
always be tied to whatever the prevailing budgets are at any given time for similar
projects. As your credits list grows, you can endeavor to negotiate higher fees and
packages—assuming there is money in the project’s music budget. If you fortunate
enough to have a recent hit project, your value goes up quickly, and you can begin to
charge more for your work.
There are those projects called “a labor of love.” There is something unique and
special about them (a documentary on a vital topic, a lower-budget project that is
brilliantly written with substantial talents involved) that makes talent want to partici-
pate, even if there is little or no money. Composers will choose to lower or waive their
fee for prestige projects they want to do for reasons other than money. The value of
the project isn’t in the money, it’s in the desire to be a part of something personally
meaningful or important.
Here is a lesson in basic business: no one starts a negotiation with their best of-
fer, especially producers. If you are offered what you consider to be a very low fee or
package for a score, keep in mind there is probably at least some wiggle room. There
is no guarantee, but there is no harm in trying to compromise through negotiation.
Remember, there are other ways to sweeten the deal, as mentioned earlier.
Episodic Television
Fees for episodic television are typically paid per episode. Rates are still based some-
what on the overall budget of the project, the amount of music anticipated in each
episode, the number of episodes, and, again, the status of the composer. A typical epi-
sode of an hour-long show is usually less than a feature film, but composers get some

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added stability with scoring a full season. Composing a ten-episode season of a series
is equivalent to the amount of music in five or six feature films, though the pay will
likely be substantially less. Depending on where the series is shown, there are lucrative
royalties for a series to help offset the lower initial fees.
Episodic television pays composers a package fee unless there will be an orchestra
involved. Composer fees are in a range that depends on the broadcast outlet—shows
for major networks versus smaller networks, bigger or smaller streaming services,
down to more obscure independent streamers.
Shorter-form episodic work, such as half-hour comedy or animation projects, pays
substantially less than hour-long series since there is usually far less music per episode.
With so many factors at play, it is difficult to pin down the actual rates of episodic
television. But in general, with a project for an established broadcaster being produced
by a reputable production company, there is currently a range from the very low thou-
sands of dollars for half-hour programs to the low-to-medium tens of thousands for
an hour-long episode. This is constantly shifting.
The value of future royalties is also rather broad depending on that same range of
possible outlets—from major broadcasters to smaller streaming services. Each play of
the episode pays a small royalty to the composer.
Main title music for a series, which is written once but is included in every episode,
is not covered in a composer’s deal to score the series. If you have the opportunity to
create a main title piece, it should be negotiated separately as a one-time fee. Royalties
from main title, and end title music can add up over time.
Video Games
Game scores can be as musically ambitious as large-budget feature films. It’s not
uncommon for a “Triple A” console game to have hundreds of minutes of music.
Small mobile games may have only a handful. The fees and packages paid to game
composers on bigger projects are, at times, on par with mid-level to high-end films.
Game developers pay composers by the minute of score. Games currently pay any-
where from a few hundred to a few thousand dollars per minute of music, depending
on the scope of the game, the production budget, and the status and experience of
the composer. Again, this is shifting all the time. Scores requiring large ensembles or
orchestras will work out a separate budget for the players as well as the recording and
mixing costs. Otherwise, everything is done on a package rate.
At present there are no royalties paid on video games, though this may change. For
this reason, game developers pay somewhat better upfront fees to compensate. Most
video game companies are highly restrictive with the options given to composers.
Games may also release a soundtrack album, which normally pay royalties to the
composer, though these types of royalties can be modest.

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Other Income Opportunities
There are a few additional ways for composers, especially those just getting a start, to
earn money through writing music beyond just film, episodic, or video game projects.
Production Music Libraries
For composers with some extra time, one potentially significant opportunity is
writing for production music libraries. These are catalogs of songs and instrumental
music in every conceivable style and genre made available for licensing into a po-
tentially huge range of projects. Since these preexisting pieces are not work-for-hire,
the catalogs are free to license them again and again. Most sports shows, reality or
competition shows, soap operas, documentaries, feature films, advertisements, trail-
ers, promos, video games, web shows, corporate videos, and social media content
license some or all of their music from music libraries. Production companies, picture
editors, music editors, and music supervisors search these libraries for less expensive
options if they can’t afford, or do not want to deal with, the hiring of a composer or
songwriter. Many companies have come to rely on production music libraries as their
main source of music. Though not well-known to the public, music libraries have
thrived for decades.
Production music libraries acquire tracks from composers, producers, and song-
writers for specific musical and media needs, such as tension, action, romantic, happy,
sad, scary, uplifting, or any basic emotion you can create musically. Composers who
write library music are responsible for the production of their tracks. The music goes
into the catalog and into an online search engine (think Google just for music). People
search the catalogs with queries like:
■ happy ’80s rock
■ gentle tension
■ epic uplifting orchestra
■ retro cool with vocals
■ moody drone
■ sports rock
■ et cetera
Once a production does a search and finds a track they want, they pay a license fee
(called a sync license) to the library, which grants them permission to use the track
file of that single project. Libraries base rates on a number of factors: where the track
will be used (for example, an online-only webisode will cost less than a nationally
aired sports special), the amount of music needed, whether the music is being used on
camera (such as a scene with a radio or TV on), and whether there are any anticipated
future royalties. Productions are required to file the exact same type of cuesheets as
a production that hires a composer. A substantial number of productions have a mix
of original and library music, and they are treated identically in regard to royalties.

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There are two basic ways libraries work with composers—splits or buyouts. In a
split arrangement, a composer or songwriter creates music and delivers a final record-
ing to the library for no upfront money. It’s a speculative (“spec”) deal—the composer
only gets paid when the track is actually licensed. The sync fee is split with the com-
poser, usually fifty/fifty (some pay less).
In a buyout deal, the libraries pay the composers and songwriters money up front,
but then keep all future sync fees. The advantage to a composer here is guaranteed
money right away. The downside is, if a track is successful, it’s likely that a composer
would have made considerably more on a split deal. However, regardless of a split
or buyout deal, the composer should always keep their entire writer’s share of future
royalties. Any library that does not agree to that is not giving you a good deal.
Advertising
Another option some composers use for extra income is composing music for
advertising. Ad music mostly comes from small specialized companies, often referred
to as jingle houses. Advertising agencies (the companies that create and produce the
ads) rarely go directly to composers. Instead, they contact one or more jingle houses
to compete on a bid for a commercial. The jingle houses, in turn, contract with one
or more composers to submit demos for the music, either written “on spec” (no up-
front money) or for a small demo fee. The jingle company chooses the best demos to
send to the clients, who will pick the track that will go on to become the commercial.
Invariably, the composer of the track selected will be asked to make changes, and if all
goes well, gets the remainder of the fee the jingle house has offered. Many advertising
projects use library music as well.
Other Options
If you are still trying to make ends meet while getting your composing career going,
there are some other creative ways to generate some income:
■ teaching music
■ assisting a working composer
■ orchestrating
■ music copying
■ transcribing recordings
■ demo or album production for pop artists
■ accompanying singers or dancers
■ creating custom samples or synth patches for sale
■ performing

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■ getting a “regular” job that, while boring, soul crushing, or humiliating, will generate
enough income to keep you out of debt while you continue to polish your craft and
make contacts in the business, and let you continue to put together a better home
studio
Soundtrack Albums
Once a film, series, or video game score has been completed, there is often the op-
tion of releasing an album of the soundtrack. The right to release a soundtrack nor-
mally stays with the production, but sometimes goes to the composer. A soundtrack
album with only the original score can be a straightforward thing to put together.
Including any additional songs from the project requires additional permissions from
the publishers and master-recording owners of those added songs.
There are record labels that specialize in film, TV, and video game soundtracks. If
you have the rights to release an album of your score, you can approach these compa-
nies directly and ask if they’d be interested in taking it on. Labels base much of their
decision on the potential visibility of the project, which helps their marketing efforts.
In some cases, a label may offer an advance fee for the rights to a score album in ad-
ditional to a share of money collected from sales (called mechanical royalties).
If you get the rights to release a soundtrack album of your score, you also have the
option to self-release it. Getting music onto digital music platforms is relatively simple—
there are several commercial services that help with this, and there are no negotiations
with a record label. With any self-released music, you are solely responsible for any
marketing efforts, though some game developers may help promote the soundtrack.
While most soundtracks are not particularly profitable, soundtrack albums are a
terrific form of promotion. Making it possible for a large audience of people to hear
your music adds to your overall visibility, which in turn can help you find more and
better projects.
ASSEMBLING AN ORCHESTRA
It’s very clear just how much music is enhanced by using live musicians. Sometimes,
due to budget, time, or both, it simply isn’t possible. But when having a live ensemble
is in the budget, you need to do things right. Sure, you know how to write for any mu-
sical ensemble, but you also need to know how to put a group together. If the project
requires you to use union musicians, things are more complicated, and you will need
some professional help. A music “contractor” (called a “fixer” in some countries) is the
person who handles the hiring of musicians for recording sessions. Putting together
a group of any size can be complex and time-consuming, and it’s important to have
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David Low is a successful music contractor and cellist in Los Angeles. His work is
heard on many of the films, TV programs, and games recorded in Los Angeles—and
that’s a lot. We spoke between sessions during his hectic schedule.
David Low
Music Contractor
Note: Always get qualified legal help with contracts.
This information is to be used as a guide only.
Jeff Rona: How does a composer go about getting musi-
cians for a score?
David Low: The first thing is to pick up the phone
and call a qualified contractor! Seriously, the process
is pretty simple. When recording in Los Angeles, and
assuming you will work with union musicians, some-
thing called an Assumption Agreement needs to be in
place before a score gets recorded. It basically connects the project to all the necessary
union contracts. The music contractor hiring the musicians needs to have this prior
to calling in players.
The contractor will contact the production company on behalf of the composer.
The Assumption Agreement is created between the producers and a payroll company,
not the composer.
JR: Explain the role of a payroll company.
DL: They pay the musicians, taking care of their union benefits, taxes, etc. A lot of
paperwork.
JR: Does the composer write the check to the musicians, the contractor, or the payroll
service?
DL: In package deals, where the composer is responsible for all the expenses incurred
for a recording, the composer will write a single check to the payroll service, which
then takes care of paying all the players. The payroll service sends a bill to the com-
poser after the session.
FIGURE 10.3
David Low
Author

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JR: What would happen if the composer doesn’t get paid for their services for some time;
is there a time limit and penalties?
DL: Yes, usually fifteen working days. After that the union can add penalty fees to the
contract.
JR: What about those projects where the producers refuse to deal with union musicians
and won’t sign an Assumption Agreement?
DL: The composer should first find out why they won’t sign. Many times, the produc-
ers don’t understand what is entailed with the agreement. They think that it will cost
them a great deal of money later on, but, in fact, on episodic projects there is virtually
no difference. In films, there are some additional responsibilities for the producers to
pay players, but not nearly as much as many of them think, and it’s based on how well
the film does at the box office.
JR: Should a composer try to sway a producer who is set on a non-union score, or does
that cause too much friction?
DL: A composer’s main concern should be about the quality of musicians hired to play
on the score. I don’t think that a composer should wear too many hats. Everybody has
their own job for a film score: the music contractor, the engineer, the orchestrator,
and so on. A contractor will help out by making these arrangements and taking that
pressure off the composer’s shoulders.
JR: If a composer only needs a small handful of players, say one to five musicians, is
there still a need for a contractor’s services?
DL: That’s up to the composer. Union contracts don’t require a contractor below a
certain number of players. I think it’s around eleven. However, the smaller the size
of the group, the more important each player’s role is in the quality of the recording.
With a small group, it’s like every player is a soloist. Plus, a composer may not want
to deal with all the contract paperwork.
JR: If a composer wants a specific musician on a score, say a friend who is a fantastic
guitar player but who isn’t in a musician’s union, what should he or she do?
DL: Every musician who is not a member of a union is allowed to perform on one
project under what’s called the Taft-Hartley Law. After that initial project, the player

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needs to join a union in order to do more union sessions. Joining is very easy and in-
expensive. Composers can always contact a friend directly and just record their score,
but should try and find out how to file proper paperwork for the project.
JR: What about all-electronic scores? Can a composer be on a union contract alone, and
are there any advantages to it?
DL: Yes. If there is an Assumption Agreement in place, there are advantages to a
composer putting him- or herself on a union contract, even for an all-electronic score.
Health insurance, pension, and reuse payments on motion picture scores are available
to union players only. Obviously, that means the composer must be a member of the
union themselves.
JR: What is a reuse payment, and who pays it?
DL: Any secondary use of a score recording must pay all the participating musicians
a “reuse fee.” Records, commercials, use on other film or TV scores must repay all
the original musicians whose names are on the session contracts. It can pay up to 100
percent of what each player would have made on the new recording, if it were actually
re-recorded.
The reuse fees are paid by the companies reusing the music. For example, if a score
appears on a soundtrack album, the musicians get a repayment from the record com-
pany. There is another type of residual payment made to union musicians when a film
score is subsequently shown on network or cable, is released on video, or even shown
on an airplane. This is called the Special Payments Fund, and is paid by the film’s pro-
ducers or distributors into a general fund that is split up among all the players of that
score. For those players who do a lot of scores, it really adds up after a while, especially
if those films are successful at the box office.
JR: What do composers who live outside of major urban areas do when putting together
a score with live musicians?
DL: Outside of New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, or Nashville—where there are long
traditions of recording and studio work—a composer should call either the personnel
manager of the largest local orchestra, or call the local musicians union and ask for
a list of reputable music contractors (which I hope doesn’t sound like an oxymoron,
now that I think about it). The best thing would be to try recording in one of those
major cities, if there is the budget for it. Los Angeles is the center of the film scoring
universe right now. There is no place else with as many top-quality players as here. But

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a score can be recorded in most any city a composer lives in or near. And of course,
there is the option to work with an orchestra remotely, using internet-based tools to
see and hear things in real time.
JR: Are there problems with recording scores using non-union players, or without union
contracts? How about on television, or very low-budget films where there is just barely
enough money for the composer?
DL: The obvious problems are the level of the players that a composer can get, and
those players’ expertise in recording film scores. Sure, there are a lot of scores recorded
without union players, either with small groups of local musicians or with one of the
non-union orchestras that are available for recording scores for cash (both in the US
and elsewhere). Every composer that comes to me to put together a recording session
for them after they’ve been with one of those orchestras is usually shocked at how
much better their music sounds and how much smoother and faster the sessions go.
Sometimes it ends up costing more to try and save money with those groups, in my
humble opinion.
I rarely hear about the little projects that only use a musician or two. There are cer-
tain production companies, such as the major film studios or TV networks, which do
not allow music recorded without union contracts on file. A composer always needs
to be sure that they do not get caught with non-union sessions or players on one of
those projects. It can lead to trouble.
The bigger problem comes when a composer tries to put together a non-union ses-
sion with union players. The players are the ones at risk here and can be penalized in
a number of ways. The really good players are never going to put themselves in that
kind of situation and will simply not do those recordings. The best thing is always to
seek out the best players possible, either through personal referrals or through a good
contractor, and make it possible for those players to appear on your score.
JR: How much does it cost to put together a session with an orchestral group? How does
a composer putting together a budget decide how many players he or she can afford?
DL: I will help do a budget for the composers I work with—it’s part of my job. There
are different pay scales for different types of projects. There are scales for low-budget
films (which are films made for under $13 million), low-budget TV movies, motion
pictures and television, records, jingles and commercials, and several other categories.
Anyone interesting in knowing exactly how much it costs per musician can go to the
musicians’ union website. They can also just contact any union local and request a
scale chart. But remember, these wage scales do not include benefits, taxes, or han-

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dling fees that can add another 30 to 35 percent per player. There are also over-scales
paid to certain key players, such as the concert master and certain first-chair section
players, and cartage fees for the bigger instruments such as harp and percussion.
Again, a contractor will gladly help a composer put together a reasonably accurate
budget for almost any size group.
JR: How do you go about choosing which musicians will play on a score?
DL: The most interesting part of my job is being like a casting director for musicians.
Matching players with a composer or a style of score is the fascinating part of contract-
ing. With bigger ensembles, I will work very hard to match players within each section
by how well they play together. Over the years, I’ve been doing this, and because of my
experience as a session musician, I’ve come to know every player’s personal style and
how it meshes within a section, with a style of score, and ultimately with the compos-
ers I work with. I’ve been fortunate to work under one of the best contractors in the
world, Sandy DeCrescent. You will see her name in the end credits of tons of major
motion pictures. She’s helped to create the sound that exists in the studios of L.A.
JR: Any final thoughts?
DL: I’m not a composer, in any way (when I was in music school, I paid someone
to finish my composition assignment!), but I can imagine that hearing your music
played by great musicians is one of the greatest thrills a composer can have. That’s
what we do here. For a composer new to orchestral scoring, one of the keys to a suc-
cessful session is developing a full support team with a contractor, copyist, orches-
trators, engineer, and musicians that are there for her or him. It is the single most
important aspect of successful recording sessions for newer composers and seasoned
pros as well. Then a composer can focus on what’s really important—schmoozing
their next gig with the director!

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SONGS IN FILMS
Chris Douridas
Music Supervisor
Discussions of film scores, especially modern film
soundtracks, would be incomplete without learning
some of the aspects of song usage. Songs have always
been an important and integral part of soundtracks,
but never more so than with contemporary media.
As a composer, you are rarely part of the song
selection or production process, though there are oc-
casional exceptions. As a composer you may be asked
to arrange a song for a project, or to create a score that
integrates carefully with songs.
Music budgets are often broken into two parts: one for score and the other for the
licensing of songs. When a song is acquired for a film, the producers must approach
the song’s publisher and negotiate a deal for that song. It continues to get more politi-
cal when the need for an entire soundtrack album comes into play. As the composer,
you are not immune from this, but you can coexist peacefully.
The chore of song placement falls upon someone called a music supervisor. I
had the opportunity to sit with Chris Douridas, a top-notch veteran in the world of
soundtrack music supervision, having worked on projects such as The Addams Fam-
ily, Shrek, Austin Powers, American Beauty, Bobby, Grace of My Heart, Captain Fan-
tastic, “House of Lies,” and many others.
Jeff Rona: Is choosing songs for films experimental, or is it a more planned-out process?
Chris Douridas: I’m sure everybody has their own system. For me, I just start. You
know, you can talk about music all day long, but until you’re actually hearing ideas
and getting on the same page creatively with the people you’re working with, you’re
not really going to get anywhere. So, the first thing I do is start feeding the director
compilations—compilations of things that have come to me or have occurred to me
as being possible ideas that fit within the world of this movie. I’ll try to do a broad
range of things so I can outline the parameters of what I understand this world to be.
The first collection might contain ten songs that really stake out the parameters of this
film’s world, its story, and characters. I ask the director not to think of specific scenes
but to come back with feedback as to whether or not these pieces fit the film’s world
FIGURE 10.4
Chris Douridas
Author

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as they understand it to be as well. Then I’ll take that feedback and keep the ideas that
were good, discard the ideas that didn’t fit, and then on the next compilation, hone
it further so that by the fourth or fifth try, we’re starting to really define the musical
world of this movie or series. We’re still not talking about specific scenes or characters,
just the musical world of the project. Usually by the third or fourth try, the director
will already have hit on some of those songs or choices being right for a certain scene
or character, so even without knowing it, we’re starting to get the job done.
JR: Do any of the directors you’ve worked with come to you with specific songs in mind?
CD: Sure. I think it’s great when a director has some musical ideas at the start. Often,
they’ll have that from their own reading of the script. If they wrote the script, then
they often have songs or musical ideas in their head that may still be undeveloped, but
important to the essence of what the film is going to be. I use those as launching points
to build a musical world around me and the film.
JR: Do you ever find yourself in disagreement with the director?
CD: I don’t think any creative participant in a project should be shy about challeng-
ing a director’s preconceived notions for music. Film and TV are both a collaborative
medium, so that’s part of what I’m there for. Every creative contributor to a project has
to speak out and be prepared to challenge the ideas if they feel they are inappropriate
or in the wrong direction.
JR: How did you get started doing music supervision?
CD: My story is unique; as I’m sure most are. Music supervision is not something
you study in school. In my particular case, I had been a radio DJ for about twenty-five
years. The last eighteen or so years in Los Angeles had given me a great platform. I did
a daily morning music show for nearly ten of those years that presented new music
from all around the world. It was only natural that a lot of that great music might find
its way into film projects. So, I started getting called upon because of the variety of
music with which I was familiar.
JR: What was the first film you worked on as a supervisor?
CD: I began as a consultant first on the TV show “Northern Exposure,” and then
Michael Mann’s film Heat. In both cases, the directors of these shows were fans of my
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JR: Can you explain the difference between a supervisor and a consultant?
CD: A consultant will usually be brought in as a contributing element to the musical
vision of the project. They work with the music supervisor to contribute ideas in the
preproduction, production, or the postproduction. It is a more limited role and may
be focused on a single aspect of the soundtrack.
JR: Tell me a little bit about the interaction between you, as a music supervisor, and a
composer who’s writing the underscore for a film. There certainly are situations where
it’s a tossup whether a scene will be scored with underscore or a song. Who makes those
decisions? How do you get involved, and what sorts of interactions do you have with a
film’s composer?
CD: Again, because the medium of film is so collaborative, it’s always a diplomatic
process, especially with regard to relationship between the film composer and the mu-
sic supervisor. Both roles are essentially to provide the necessary musical ingredients
for the film. There’s a limited amount of space available, and often the film composer
will want to have the opportunity to get his vision across with the score in as many
moments as possible. The music supervisor might have other ideas for the same rea-
sons, but ultimately, it’s the director’s decision. The film composer is usually brought
in late in the process, unfortunately, which can make the process even more difficult,
since decisions get made before they are even on the job.
JR: As supervisor, you come in sooner?
CD: Hopefully. I think it’s always best if the supervisor comes in toward the beginning
of the process. Oftentimes a song idea I’ve given to the director may shape how a scene
is shot. I’ll earmark scenes for score or for songs, but that will often change. Also, it’s
a common part of my job to help the director find a composer. When the composer
comes in, then we’ll sit with the director in the initial spotting session where we assign
score or song to the scenes in the film. But it’s a different story with every film. Some-
times the composer will be already in place when the supervisor’s hired. There are a lot
of composers who work with directors consistently; they have a history together. If a
director sees eye to eye with the composer and they have a great working relationship,
then that may continue over the course of that director’s career.
One of the biggest difficulties in the process of film music is the temp score. Often
the director will fall in love with a temp score and sometimes it will be nearly impos-
sible to sway them from using the temp. Composers are routinely asked to emulate
temp scores, sometimes even to do a blatant rip-off; this can often be a thorn in the
side of both the composer and music supervisor. These can, however, also be very

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helpful in getting an idea across to a composer or director where words fail. A music
supervisor should help guide the director to the available options. Ultimately it is the
director’s choice as to who will compose the score. It’s incumbent upon the music su-
pervisor to work closely with the composer to establish the musical personality of the
film. The songs and musical element aside from the score should enhance the score.
JR: From time to time, it seems that there are film scores that have a preponderance of
songs simply to justify a successful soundtrack album and not necessarily geared specifi-
cally to what a director might want for the film just for the film’s sake. Do you specifi-
cally get asked to try to ensure a hit record?
CD: I’ve been really lucky. I haven’t had to work on many films that demand that
of me. But, yes, it has come up. On a couple of films, I was involved as an A&R per-
son—almost like a record label. I was a consultant in preproduction to help build on
the musical personality for the film. I staked out that part of the job and left the hit-
making part of the job to the music supervisor, who was working on behalf of Warner
Bros. Records as their film and TV music coordinator. All that said, sometimes there
can be a conflict between the musical needs of the film and the needs of the soundtrack
album. That’s just a symptom of the fact that film is at the heart of our pop culture, and
by being there, stands to generate a tremendous amount of money.
JR: Do you not see it as the detriment of some films?
CD: Absolutely. It gives projects a disposable-like quality. Too much emphasis on
well-known songs or artists just for the sake of having a hit song in the project. I think
it’s very shortsighted of the filmmakers because, over time, the songs aren’t going to
remain current.
JR: What’s the budgeting process on a film score with songs, and how involved do you
get with that? Are you given a budget which you have to work within?
CD: Sometimes, when I get a script, the writer has peppered it with their own song
choices with no regard to the potential budget limitations. I’ll read scripts that have
Beatle songs, or Rolling Stones, or Jay-Z, only to come to the budgeting point and real-
ize that’s beyond what is affordable. While it can be helpful to the producers or direc-
tors to help build that cinematic world, when it came time to lay out the song budget,
I may be dealing with a relatively small- or low-budget independent film. A sliver of
that is earmarked for music. As a project gets rolling, it starts to build momentum. The
director jumps on board, then there are stars attached, and you have the whole-cast
band crew put together. Then the production company can get a sense of where the

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project is headed. As the dailies (the raw scenes as they come out of the camera prior
to editing) start coming in, we see the performances that the director is getting, and a
buzz may start to build. People start to see there is something serious happening here,
that it has real commercial potential. Then I can make a case for more money with
regard to the budget. And they’re more likely to go along with it.
JR: Do you get involved in the negotiation of song fees?
CD: If it’s a bigger studio project, they’ll have an in-house department that handles
those negotiations. I’m happy to push it off to whoever wants to take it. Like me, I
think most supervisors prefer to stick to the creative side of it because it’s your rela-
tionships with these artists and these record labels that helps grease the wheels of your
career. If you get too involved with the money negotiations, it hinders your relation-
ships with the musical creative people you want to work with in the future.
JR: What if it’s an independent film? Do you find a lawyer to do it, or do you do it?
CD: You can always find someone who will do clearances (the paperwork needed for
the music license) outright for set fees; there are clearance specialists. I would advise
any supervisor to extricate themselves from the process of clearances if possible. It’s
easy to find somebody to come on board on a consultant or freelance basis to do clear-
ances for a nominal fee per track.
JR: Do you have a vague sense going in of what a song is going to cost? Do you have a
sense of what, say, a song from a major artist would cost, and how flexible are those prices?
CD: You go to publishers to get a ballpark figure when you’re budgeting the film. If
you have songs that the script calls for, you have to allow for those or be prepared to
make changes later on. It can get complicated and very expensive. Sometimes there are
tactics I can use to get better license fees, but not always, even with artists or publishers
with whom I have close relationships.
JR: It’s cheaper to use somebody else’s recording of a song than the original?
CD: Sometimes. There are no rules. This is where people pull out whatever relationships
they have. I had a classic rock track for a project that we wouldn’t have been able to af-
ford had the director not been a friend of the artist. A great script can change a lot of
people’s minds and help you tremendously in the negotiation process. If you’re working
on a crappy project, nobody wants to be a part of it unless you pay full price. But if you’re
working on a great project, everybody wants to be a part of it, and the rules change.

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THE EXECUTIVE SUITE
Film, episodic television, and video game studios have a number of functions to produce,
acquire, and distribute entertainment. They function as a bank that finances projects in
collaboration with outside production companies in exchange for a share of profits or
the rights to distribute the project. They are a think tank to conceive and produce new
projects and put all the elements into place. They are a focal point that works to attract
the best talent in every creative area of entertainment, from actors to directors, writers,
and producers. They are also marketers who sell a product—entertainment.
Each major studio has a number of executives that help run some aspect of the
overall function of the studio, and that is true of music as well. A music executive
oversees the day-to-day running of a group of people whose job it is to combine music
with the films and series they produce. Every working film composer who is scoring a
studio-based film must be approved by, and then work alongside, the music executives
of the studio. A music executive is responsible to the studio to be sure that nothing
goes wrong in the process of the film’s scoring.
Paul Broucek
Film Music Executive
Paul Broucek is the current president of music at
Warner Bros. Pictures. He began his career as a musi-
cian working with one of the main sound designers
on the groundbreaking movie Apocalypse Now. He
has gone on to produce the music for films such as
The Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Austin Powers,
Wonder Woman, Joker, A Star Is Born, Crazy Rich
Asians, Ocean’s 8, The LEGO Movie 2: The Second
Part, Dunkirk, the Fantastic Beasts films, Inception,
The Hobbit trilogy, Argo, Gravity, Interstellar, The
Dark Knight Rises, and The Great Gatsby.
Jeff Rona: What is it that you do?
Paul Broucek: My title is President of Music at Warner Bros. Pictures. I do a whole
host of things. I run a creative team and a support staff. My creative staff are my in-
house music supervisors. My support staff is a music clearance and licensing group.
We’re supported by a group of entertainment lawyers that assist me and my depart-
ment. I also oversee Water Tower Music, which in the old days you would call a record
FIGURE 10.5
Paul Broucek
Author

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label! We put out the majority of our score albums there. We also put out song albums
that we feel are interesting or quirky but don’t warrant a more major label release.
We’ve developed a model where we do joint ventures with major record labels.
JR: You are as involved on the song side of the movies as you are on the score side, or
maybe even more so?
PB: Not me, but my team is. We’re involved in the song side in terms of whether we
commission a song, we do a single artist tie-in, or we do an artist-driven kind of al-
bum. We’re in both places. I’ve moved in my career, first as an independent supervisor
for seven years, doing television and then films before I was recruited to go in-house
at a major music supervision company.
I think I’ve become known as the “big score guy,” especially from my work on
Lord of the Rings and working with Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, and Howard Shore. I
worked with Howard as his music executive producer for three and a half years. We
created well over 14 hours of music.
Here at Warner Bros. I tend to work with the Hans Zimmer films, the DC movies,
the big Tent Pole movies (the big-budget summer franchise films). I work with James
Newton Howard, Mychael Danna, or Alexandre Desplat. I’m very proud to say that
I gave him his first American gig. I miss being able to do more art films, where it’s
not about money; it’s about doing something really cool. “Let your limitation be your
liberation” is one of my mottos. Sometimes when you don’t have money, you make
better choices than if you just have money and you throw it out there. You don’t have
to spend all your money, or you could spend it more thoughtfully and wisely.
JR: What is it about a composer that excites you and makes you think this is somebody
you would want to work with?
PB: It’s not only a body of work, and it may not be a body of work that’s even been
created yet, but it’s a body of work that I’ve recognized. I’ve developed a sense of rec-
ognizing potential. And one of my favorite games growing up was “concentration,”
the memory game with all the cards face down and you need to find matching cards.
It’s a metaphor for what I’ve been doing in my career for decades. You turn two cards
over until you find a perfect match, you know? So, I may meet somebody, and I’ll get
a sense of them, and I’ll hear their work. Then, I’ll meet somebody else, and I’ll think,
“Yes, that could work,” they are a good match. But I don’t force my matches and ideas
on the filmmakers I’m working with.
Someone recently asked me about how the industry works and who hires compos-
ers. There’s a big myth about it. People seem to assume that my team and I arbitrarily

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just say, “Okay, that composer is going to score this film, and that one is going to score
this other film.” That we’re the final word. We are only the final word if we think it’s
not a right fit, we have to do our diligence. As I represent the studio, I make the best
educated guess, based on a lot of experience, to guess if a composer is a good fit and
the right sort of approach for a specific film.
Sometimes we have to climb out on a limb. A director wants to use somebody that
we haven’t worked with before, or maybe one who might be tried and true. We want
to say “yes,” but as a studio executive and representative, I have the power to veto. I
have that authority, but the power of my position is to not use the veto.
JR: Why would you say no if a producer or director says, “We want this person”?
PB: One would be if we’d had a bad experience with them. I don’t believe in blackball-
ing anybody, but there’ve been some situations where you got to say, “I don’t know if
it would be wise to go down that road. It’s nothing personal, it’s objective.” I’ll give you
an example: one successful composer was very proud of the fact that he wrote all the
music for this one major hit film before they shot it, a very unique approach to scoring.
I love this composer, a great person, a great musician in every respect, and very proud
of working in an unconventional manner. But later on, I was talking with the director
of a movie in production, a western, and he and his editor were telling me they planned
to use this same unconventional composer. I said, “You do know they don’t work in
a conventional way. What’s your expectation?” Managing expectations is a big part of
what I do. I need to know what a director thinks they will get from a given composer.
JR: What excites you about a composer?
PB: Something magical and intangible about their music as well as the given of the
composer skillset—knowing the mechanics of the job, having a good “bedside man-
ner,” able to get the job done, can deal with the politics, can accept getting notes and
making revisions. (Some composers can’t revise. I’ve worked with composers who will
give you five different versions of a piece, but they can never revise what they wrote
when asked by a director. Screenwriters do it all the time, or they’re not successful
screenwriters. You have to be able to take notes!)
I remember hearing an amazing score to a small Canadian film, and I just loved
it. It wasn’t a particularly orchestral score, but there was something about it that was
haunting to me. So, I sought him out and said “I really love your score on that film,
and more importantly I like the way it worked for the film. I liked the setting, that
emotional setting that it created. I don’t have anything for you right now, but can we
get together?” I’ll reach out to somebody whose music I really like.

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I feel strongly, as a music supervisor and executive music producer, especially in
a drama, is if you’ve got a really good scene, great acting—like you’ve got De Niro or
Pacino—is please don’t “guild the lily” and let things go over the top. Just let the scene
happen, then come in at the end and give it the weight of a landing. There’s a style of
breaking music at the end of the sequence, but if you’re not careful, it becomes really
episodic. And to the point of being a distraction. Then you wonder why your film
doesn’t flow as well.
JR: This is probably as eclectic a time as there’s ever been in film and television in terms
of the styles of music that are finding a place. You have traditional composers who write
in a thematic orchestral style that’s been established for a number of years. You have
more modern “ambient” composers who stress colors over themes. You have people com-
ing from the EDM world, from the rock world. Do you see all these diverse artists all
having a place at the table? Do you think there’s some types of music and some types of
composers that are more desirable than others?
PB: I think you have to match what you’re doing musically and what the medium is
asking for. I think this wide range of styles is a direct reflection of music in general.
An artist can create on their own and release on their own, and you don’t need a label.
Music has become democratized. Whether it gets heard, whether people find it or not,
that’s another thing. There’s a downside with that democratization: How do you find
stuff anymore? There’s so much of it. I grew up in a time when my friends and I had
radio. I was an FM radio fan before it became corporatized, when it was underground,
freeform, and the DJs actually picked the stuff that they played. I was living in San
Francisco and KSAN at its peak in the late ’seventies. They were huge at breaking
the whole punk and new wave scene. So many of the bands that I fell in love with in
the late ’seventies, whether it was Elvis Costello and Mink Deville, Ian Dury and the
Blockheads, Nick Lowe, Rockpile, Joe Jackson. It was all from a radio DJ named Bon-
nie Simmons. I had a meeting with her about a decade ago. I never met her, but she
was like a hero in San Francisco. And she stood up to greet me, and I gave her a hug
and I said, “Thank you. You single-handedly turned me on to so much music.” There
are aggregators now, and playlists, and curated music, but it’s changed.
So how does that apply to film music? I think there is a place at the table for every-
body. It just has to be good, and it has to be crafted. They have to know their craft on a
certain level, whatever that means. They are scoring to picture, not just writing music.
Editors find all kinds of instrumental music and track it as though it’s score, and it
can work. That sticks and then somebody copies it. Then somebody actually creates
something bespoke for the next film because somebody heard it somewhere. That

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happens in the avant-garde and ambient world. They don’t have the kind of budgets
on TV like “Game of Thrones” or “Westworld” that you’d have on a film. But they still
create something really cool and really effective. They’re really cool and they’re kind
of dark and moody and they fit the series. I love that kind of stuff. I like a mash up.
I grew up around an opera-loving, classical music–loving dad. But I rebelled and
listened to Zappa and Led Zeppelin for a long time. But when it came time in my
career to become an orchestra guy, working with big ninety-six piece orchestras, with
Howard Shore or James Horner, it was a world that I’d been raised in.
I also studied jazz. My college jazz teacher was one of my great mentors. I also
played in rock bands. I got involved with producing some Afropop records with play-
ers from Ghana and Nigeria. They taught me so much about polyrhythms.
I come back to the music that influenced me at a certain point in my life, and I come
back and rediscover it because I haven’t listened to it for a while and all of a sudden
this is fresh and new. Now I hear it in a completely different way. I can climb inside of
it in a way that I couldn’t before.
I’m not a musical purist. I have mad respect for John Williams, I’ve worked with
him. You can’t take a purist approach, not on a big film with the time and the money
and everything that’s at stake. But I appreciate it and I’m so grateful that I have a
chance to work on that level. It gave me great respect for writing that way and getting
the whole orchestra together and to play in real time and get a performance.
JR: Are you a professional problem solver?
PB: Absolutely. I’m a contingency planner, and that’s a form of problem solving. I very
rarely will allow myself to be caught in a situation where I’m uncomfortable because I
don’t have a plan B. I don’t know where the exit doors that the fire doors are, the fire
stairs, I don’t know how to get out of it. When something goes wrong it’s something
that I know how to handle. I was a Boy Scout. Their motto was “Be prepared.” That’s
what I have to do. I have to be prepared.
JR: Do you ever get involved in conflicts between a composer and the director?
PB: Yeah. It’s kind of like being a crisis counselor—or a marriage counselor! I’ve had
to broker relationships that went bad, but we still had to work together to achieve a
good end result.
A lot of what I do is not about music, it’s about people—about identifying types
of people. I’ve had these tough conversations with a director or a composer when
someone is resisting getting past a problem. It’s not about who’s right or wrong. It’s

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about the fact that we are making films to inspire, entertain, make people laugh, or
make people cry. I think of films like children. In a tough situation I ask, “What’s
best for the child?” I’ve had to go into a room full of people I’ve never met before
and ask about each person’s expectations. Simply talking with a filmmaker, director,
or composer to figure out what they mean when they talk about “the color blue.”
Are they talking about royal blue while you’re talking about turquoise? I try to keep
the process clear, consistent, and honest. It usually isn’t ill intent on anyone’s part,
it was just miscommunication. As my therapist says, “What can I do to help you
now?” With the emphasis on now! Just because a person is creative doesn’t mean
that they’re mature.
JR: Do you find there is a certain kind of personality in the business?
PB: My first experience in film was at the very end of the ’seventies and early ’eighties.
It was still old school, or the residual of old school along with the baby boomers. I’m
referring to filmmakers like the Scorseses and the Coppolas and the Lucases, etcetera.
I think there was more of a type. It was almost like being a member of an exclusive
country club to be a film producer for a studio. There was a certain type if you wanted
to be in that club. And then it became more of a wild west, and by the time the baby
boomers came along, they wanted to break the rules and make their own rules. I think
it became more diffuse.
The studios didn’t control everything anymore and filmmakers were now indepen-
dents. By the time I got really in the business, there really wasn’t a type. I could work
with a hipster producer who works with Paul Thomas Anderson, or I could work with
somebody that’s really old school.
JR: Do you find the newest generation of producers, directors, or writers are looking
for something different musically? Is there a different kind of composer that fits what a
younger filmmaker might be looking for?
PB: Yes, if it’s a young filmmaker who has an understanding of what music does.
There are different kinds of directors. There is the one that has their shit together,
knows what music can do for film. They make good choices in getting their composer
partner. They can express what they need, whether it’s to a composer, director of pho-
tography, production designer, or whomever.
Some directors never hired the same composer twice. I got to know one quite well
and asked about that. I found he was incredibly insecure about music, that he wasn’t
musically articulate, and didn’t know what to ask for. He was really frustrated, and

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it messed up the process of getting a score from a composer and working with it. He
could direct actors, ever though he wasn’t an actor. So, what was the difference? I told
him it’s the composer’s job to bring your choices, based on the direction you give,
what you want to achieve, and what you want to communicate in a given scene. It’s
the composer’s job to translate the director’s wishes into music.
I’ve had directors say, “This actually is probably my favorite part of making films.”
Just to be in a scoring session with great musicians doing a great performance of great
music. That’s my happiest place, too. The orchestra is symbolic of how a multifaceted
society can function together, like a flock of birds. Each one of those players is trained
at the highest level in their instrument. They come together in sections. They each
have a section leader. Those section leaders defer to the first chair, and the concert-
master, who in turn gets direction from the conductor—who may or may not be the
composer. And the conductor is getting direction from the producer or composer,
and it all fits together. It’s the social contract they’ve made with each other to function
together as a unit. It’s a beautiful thing,
JR: What are the key pieces of advice you would give a composer who wants to break
into this business?
PB: Well, it’s important to create a body of work, a portfolio, like any artist would.
Then continue to refresh that portfolio as you grow, as your knowledge and experi-
ence grows. You have the means to have an orchestra on your computer, so there’s
really no excuse not to have amazing music in your portfolio.
As for the kind of music to have in your portfolio, ask yourself what of your favorite
films do you wish you had scored? Take that film, turn the sound off and write music
to it. It doesn’t have to be the whole thing, just write one piece. My friends who were
in art school had portfolios, and they were constantly updating—taking the old stuff
out that didn’t represent where they were now. For composers it’s never been easier
to do that.
You can’t just talk about it. You have to do it. You can’t talk about songwriting. You
can’t talk about composing or film scoring if you’re not doing it. If you really want
to be in the game, you’ve got to develop the muscles and exercise those muscles and
discipline yourself to write something every day. It’s like practicing an instrument.
Listen to a lot of scores, and other music. And watch a lot of movies! That right
there is like going to film school. You have to immerse yourself. You need to find the
filmmakers and the kind of films you like and develop yourself musically in that way.
Find your voice!

372
CHAPTER 1 0
FINANCIAL CONCLUSIONS
Artistic merit and ability are no guarantee of success, financial or otherwise, in the
worlds of music and entertainment. There are countless talented artists who won’t
earn enough money to pay their bills, while others will thrive or even become enor-
mously wealthy. There is no fairness to success. The differences between the compos-
ers who find true financial success and those that don’t are attitude, professionalism,
relationship building, ambition, determination, a strong work ethic, production savvy,
imagination, and a good sense of how the business works. At the top of this list should
also go luck. Not everyone believes in luck, but it is impressive how many careers are
based on being in the right place at the right time, and there is no way to will that into
being. It happens or it doesn’t, though some people have an ability to try to go out and
find opportunities wherever they may appear.
While getting good legal and financial advice or finding an agent to function as
your advocate can lead to better and more lucrative work, composers who rely first
and foremost on themselves are often the ones who succeed most often, regardless of
partnerships and connections.

373
Epilogue
This book is loosely based on a series of articles I wrote about my early professional
experiences as a working musician, and then a working composer. I’ve come a long
way since those days, and with that time comes not only experience, but perspective
as well.
As I was working on this book, while also juggling the demands of a number of
scoring projects, the entire world unexpectedly changed. Cities and entire countries
went into a pandemic quarantine lockdown. The life of virtually every human being
on earth was disrupted. Business stopped. Market shelves emptied. Hospitals filled
to capacity and beyond. Countless jobs were lost. Millions of people got sick. Count-
less died. For most of us, this experience was a painful, even devastating, once in a
lifetime global crises.
Like everyone, I was worried and confused. Virtually nothing was known at
first about the disease that was causing so much human damage. Just prior to this
becoming the only story on the news, I had just signed on for a couple of scoring
projects—a film and a series I was excited about. Then came the brief but worri-
some news stories about people getting sick in China. Then came stories of tourists
coming back to the United States and getting ill, followed by some stark warnings
from epidemiologists that it was starting to break out in many other countries, and
there was no available treatment or prevention. This was something that had never
existed in our lifetimes, for which people had no natural immunity. Within a couple
of weeks of these stories, Los Angeles, where I live, closed down along with the rest
of the country and the world.
It was quickly announced that all film and episodic production would suspend
and shut down until there was more information on the safety of casts and crews. I
got word that both my projects were put on hold. The expectation was for the de-
lays to be no more than about a month. A month turned into three, and finally they

374
EPILOGUE
were put on hold indefinitely. All shooting and postproduction were halted for what
would end up being months.
Restaurants, cafés, museums, shops, theaters, and all “nonessential” businesses
closed. The simple act of buying food was viewed as highly dangerous. We became
near shut-ins. I could not see family or friends. Things went from bad to worse. A few
friends caught the virus, one clinging to their life on a hospital ventilator. Time came
to a standstill. I would get phone calls to see how my family and I were doing. The
phrase most spoken was “are you okay?” More than two years later, things are better
but not yet the “normal” from before. It would be safe to say this event brought the
world to its knees. Everyone knows someone deeply affected—by job losses, financial
hardship, illness, loss of loved ones, isolation and loneliness, anxiety and depression,
anger, fear, and a deep sense of helplessness.
Typically, my life is filled with people—family, friends, colleagues, musicians, col-
laborators, and team members. Traveling for work and pleasure, visiting friends in
other parts of the world, has been important to me. All that went away in a flash and
we moved to emails, video calls, and file transfers in lieu of face-to-face collaborations
and recording sessions. Even if the results are just as good (they mostly are), the expe-
rience is shallow. It certainly took its toll on me personally. And I consider myself one
of the truly lucky ones in all this.
Why include this in a book on scoring? Because as much as we feel we have control
and agency in our lives, events will arise to remind us we are not always “driving the
bus.” There will always be circumstances and situations in our lives we cannot predict
or control. It was also a stark lesson in priorities. Not just mine, but all of ours. The
musical world I’ve written about here is of vital importance to me, otherwise I would
not have written this book. That you are reading this says it is perhaps invaluable to
you as well. Whenever anyone asks me why I chose a career in music, I often say “I
didn’t choose my career, my career chose me.” It’s true. I had hoped to have a life in
music, but it was, and still is, never guaranteed.
Our unique creative world holds the opportunities we can hopefully use to express
ourselves to the world through art and culture. But if everything you thought you
knew about your world suddenly changed, what then? Would your priorities be the
same as they are now? Most of us take far too much for granted in our lives—our
health, our loved ones, our planet’s environment, our privileges and opportunities,
or just the basic necessities of life. As much as we try to feel in control of our circum-
stances, often we are simply passengers.
What’s important to keep in mind is that gratitude and a deeper sense of our
collective and interwoven humanity is what truly matters; that we all depend upon
and need one another; that each of us deserves respect and love; that we are fragile

EPILOGUE
375
human beings first and composers second. That’s who we are. The rest is simply
what we do, and how we do it.
How prepared are you for the challenges life may (or may not) present you? We
protect those things and people that are most valuable; we try to make sure our friends
and loved ones know how we feel about them. We take time from our busy lives to
reflect on our priorities and, hopefully, good fortune. Some people care about love,
some about money, some about influence, some about their careers. To all those
things, we need to add gratitude, happiness, balance, love, and a sense of connection
to our fellow human beings.
Finally, this book by no means represents an exhaustive look at making music or
developing a musical career, for it’s an infinitely deep and ever changing landscape.
Hopefully, you’ll take much of what you’ve learned to heart and apply it toward your
own very personal goals.
Good luck out there. Frankly, now that I’ve written all this, maybe I need to go back
over it myself and try to do better. See you there. Thanks for listening.

377
Glossary
accelerando: Gradual increase in the music’s tempo
acoustic treatments:
absorption panels: Cuts down on sound waves bouncing off a wall
diffusion panels: Scatters sound waves around the room more evenly
aleatoric: Music in which the players are given some freedom to improvise
ambient: Gentle music with little or no percussion or beat
ambisonic [audio] mixing: Full-sphere surround sound immersive to the listener
Assumption Agreement: Legal document placing responsibility of a party to track and pay
royalties to a writer
atonality: Music in no discernible key
audio director: In game development, the person who oversees audio and music
audio DSP: Hardware or software for altering an audio signal, such as EQ, filters, or reverb
audio interface: Handles the conversion of an analog signal to a digital one and vice versa
automation: The recording and playback of mix changes such as track levels within a DAW
back-end: Additional monies paid to a composer for broadcasts and other additional
performances
beat (in film and theater jargon): Brief, dramatic pause
block harmonies: Chords with intervals close together
bouncing: Exporting of audio from a DAW
burn in: Time code shown visually
cartage: Professional service for moving large and heavy musical equipment
cartooning: The placing of notes and accents on so many points in a scene as to resemble
classic cartoon scores
chiptune: The primitive sound capabilities found in the early game consoles
cinematic (adj.): Music with a feeling of scale, depth, and emotion
“cinematic” (n.): A non-interactive transitional scene within a game

378
GLOSSARY
click: Short for click track or metronome
click track: The metronome sound given to the musicians in sync with the musical
sequences
cloud servers: Services that back up your data to remote computer servers for additional
safety
cold opening: Initial establishing segment of an episodic television show before the open-
ing credits
compression: Audio process to limit the dynamic range of a sound
contrapuntal: Music featuring multiple independent melodic lines
cores: Components of a computer’s main processor that allow for more and faster
calculations
counterlines: Secondary musical phrases that support the main melody
counterpoint: Combined musical phrases that are offset in time
crossfade: Gradual transition of audio to avoid noticeable clicks
cue number: Sequential numerical title given to a score cue
cue sheet: Document listing all the music pieces in a project
dailies: Scenes as they come out of the camera prior to editing
DAW (Digital Audio Workstation): Software for recording, editing, and mixing MIDI and audio
developers: Teams that create video games
diegetic music: Music coming from an onscreen source, such as an onscreen musician,
singer, television, or radio. Also called “source music”
dissolve: Visual fading of one shot or scene to another
divisi: Splitting up of an orchestral section to create additional harmonies
Dolby Atmos: A format for immersive or surround sound, which supports a large and
flexible array of speakers
dub session (dub mix): Where the music, dialogue, and sound effects are mixed into the final
soundtrack
EDM: Acronym for “Electronic Dance Music”
end title: The visual listing of participants in a film, TV show, or video game that comes
at the end—often an opportunity for music
episodic: Relating to projects done in multiple related segments, typically for television,
cable, or streaming
EQ: Short for “equalizer”—hardware or software used to even out the frequencies in
audio to give a more pleasing effect
expression controllers: Hardware knobs, sliders, or other mechanisms to convert physical
gestures into data used to enhance the expressiveness of an electronic instrument
extracting: Creating an individual musician’s parts from a score file
fixer: Term in the UK for the person organizing an orchestra for recording
fps: Acronym that stands for “frames per second”

GLOSSARY
379
frame accurate: The perfect alignment of a musical or audio event on a specific desired
video frame
frame rate: The number of video frames displayed in a second
fundamental: Refers to both the first harmonic of a sound, or the root note of a chord
glissando (gliss): A continuous slide up or down between two notes
granular effects: A method of altering a sound that permits both speed and pitch to be
controlled independently
hard cut: Abrupt and often unexpected edit in a video
Head Related Transfer Functions (HRTF): Audio technology to simulate sounds remaining station-
ary as the listener moves their head
hits: Musical events that align to a specific action or edit
hook: A short, memorable, repeated phrase
interactivity: Capacity for a player to control aspects of action and sound in real time
jingle house: Specialized companies that produce music for advertisements
jump cuts or time cuts: Music that supports transitions in time and story
key switching: A function available in some sample libraries to switch from one perfor-
mance technique to another
leitmotif: A reoccurring musical phrase associated with a character, idea, or situation
loop: A section of audio that can be played repeatedly in sync with the music’s tempo
main titles: Music heard while opening credits appear onscreen
master recording: The original and final mixed and mastered recording of a musical work
master rights: The legal ownership of a recording and the ability to license that recording
into media projects
mechanical royalties: Monies paid for the sale or streaming of recordings
microtonality: Music based on scales other than the standard Western 12-note scale
middleware: Software used in video game development to make music and sound reactive
to a player’s input
MIDI faders: Hardware devices to give efficient and careful control over mixing in a DAW
MIDI Polyphonic Expression (MPE): Used for adding expression to a MIDI performance
minimalism: Style of music based in simple repeating patterns
mock-up: The simulation of an orchestral score done with samples, often as a demo for
a director before the recording of the actual players
mod wheel: A physical control found on most MIDI keyboards used to add expression
to a sound
motif / motives / motivic: Short melodic or rhythmic phrase used to create larger musical
passages
music contractor: A person that specializes in organizing and hiring ensembles specifically
for recording

380
GLOSSARY
music editor: Person responsible for organizing, overseeing, and keeping a score in sync
with picture throughout the editing process
music producer: Person who oversees the recording and mixing of music
music production libraries: Companies which provide catalogs of preexisting music for sync
into media, controlling both master and publishing rights
music supervisor: Person responsible for the selection and licensing of songs or other pre-
existing music for a film, television, or video game project
musical economy: Getting the most emotional impact with the least amount of sonic
material
orchestrator: Person responsible for translating a composer’s sequenced music into
scores and parts for recording by an ensemble
OST (original soundtrack): Album of the original music for a project
ostinato: Short repeated musical phrase or rhythm
overdub: The subsequent adding of a musical performance over another in a multi-
track DAW
pad: In electronic music, a sustained sound used mainly for playing chords
pan: Balance of a sound between left and right speaker
parallel compression: Blends some of the uncompressed audio in with the compressed
sound
plug-ins: Plug-ins can be synthesizers, sample libraries, drum machines, or other types
of instruments, as well as audio effects like reverbs, compressors, EQ, and essential
and creative devices
polyphonic: Producing more than one note at a time
postproduction: Technical process of completing a movie or TV episode, from picture
editing to final sound mixing
prelap: Music or dialogue that precedes a new scene, for dramatic effect
Pro Tools: A ubiquitous digital audio editing system for audio production made by Avid
RAM: Acronym for random access memory—the memory chips needed by computers
to store information
recap: In series television, a short montage of key scenes from previous episodes to get
a viewer caught up with the main plot points
reels: Originally, a spool that held a length of movie film. A feature length movie would
often need several reels. In modern use, a video file that contains a segment of a larger
project
ritardando: Gradual decrease in the music’s tempo
sample library: Collection of sampled instruments around a theme such as strings, drums,
world instruments, et cetera
secondary theme: Subordinate melodic ideas used to add additional character to a score
sequencer: Alternate term for DAW—software used for the composition of music

GLOSSARY
381
serialism: Twentieth-century compositional techniques that gives equal importance to
every note of the scale
show runner: In TV production, the key producer or producers who make all final deci-
sions for postproduction, including music approval
signed off: Slang term for a cue that has been approved by a director or producer
SMPTE timecode: A standardized system to keep track of your place in time within a video;
each frame is numbered using a SMPTE timecode (SMPTE stands for Society of Mo-
tion Picture and Television Engineers)
solid state drives (SSD): Computer storage devices that do not use motor-driven spinning
magnetic disks, but instead use high-capacity memory chips
soundtrack: Combination of original score and other songs used in a project
spotting: Deciding exactly where music will begin and end in a project
spotting notes: Document listing the details of a score to be written, such as start and end
times, and any requests from the director
spotting session: A meeting between a composer and director to decide the specifics of the
score while watching the video together
stems: A set of audio files grouped with elements from a single recording
stochastic: Music composed using mathematical formulae or systems
streamer: An animated diagonal line that moves across the screen to warn of an upcom-
ing transition, used for conducting without as clicktrack
subscription services: Companies offering access to a large collection audio effects, plug-
ins, loops, or sample libraries for a monthly fee
surround sound: Sound playback using multiple speakers arranged around the audience to
create a more immersive and realistic experience
sync license: Permission granted by the owner of a composition for use in some form of
visual media
tacit sheet: Placeholder sheet of paper to let an orchestral musician know they do not
play on a given cue during a recording session
telegraphing: Slang term for music that blatantly suggests something is about to happen,
thus leading on the audience
temp score: Preexisting music temporarily placed into a project while it’s being edited to
give a better sense of how music will affect a scene
tempo map: Listing of all tempo changes within a cue
templates: DAW files with prearranged collections of instruments and effects
tempo: The rate or speed of music, or life itself
tempo calculation: Process to make a specific frame in the picture align with a specific beat
of the music
theme: A distinctive melody or phrase, a unique sound or instrument, a repeating
rhythmic figure, musical riff, or just a unique set of chords

382
GLOSSARY
theremin: Early electronic musical instrument played by moving hands near it but not
in direct contact
timbral: A reference to the tonal color or perceived sound quality of music
timecode: Technology to label each frame of a video for reference and synchronization
purposes
transitional section: A short section of music meant to bridge two larger sections
tutti: All musicians playing together
underscore: Simpler music that supports a moment in a project without calling much
attention to itself through a recognizable theme
vamp: Short repeating phrase that continues indefinitely
vibe: Music that imparts a feeling more than a memorable melody
Video Game Score Asset List: A document for organizing all the elements of a video game score
virtual reality (VR): A simulated immersive experience usually done with a head-mounted
video display and audio playback
visual timecode: Visual display of SMPTE timecode used for reference
voicing: The way in which the notes of a series of chords are spread out from one an-
other for musical effect
voxels: Points in the brain registering and measuring brain activity
WAV file: Standard format for digital audio files
window code: Alternate term for “visual timecode” or “burn in timecode”
Wwise: Popular video game software tool that allows interactivity between real time
game play, dialogue, sound effects, and music

383
Appendix
Instrument Ranges and Transpositions

FIGURE A.1
Instrument Range Chart.
Author

(continued)

FIGURE A.1
Continued.

387
Resources
EDUCATIONAL RESOURCES
A number of schools offer both in-person and online courses on scoring:
ASCAP Film Scoring Seminar: www.ascap.com
BMI Conductors Workshop: www.bmi.com
Berklee School of Music: www.berkleemusic.com
Columbia College: www.colum.edu
Eastman School of Music: https://www.esm.rochester.edu/bealinstitute/
Film Music Media Lab: www.FilmMusicMediaLab.com
Film Scoring Academy of Europe: www.filmscoringacademyofeurope.com
Musicians Institute College of Contemporary Music: www.mi.edu
North Carolina School of the Arts: www.ncarts.edu
NYU: http://steinhardt.nyu.edu/music/scoring
Pacific Northwest Film Scoring Program: https://www.pnwfilmmusic.com
Royal College of Music, London: https://www.rcm.ac.uk/composition/
San Francisco Conservatory of Music: https://sfcm.edu/technology-and-applied
-c omposition
San Francisco State University: https://music.sfsu.edu/game-scoring
UCLA Extension: www.uclaextension.edu

388
RESOURCES
University of North Carolina School of the Arts: https://www.uncsa.edu/filmmak
ing/graduate-programs/film-music-composition.aspx
USC: www.music.usc.edu
THE SOCIETY OF COMPOSERS & LYRICISTS
www.thescl.com
The Society of Composers & Lyricists (SCL) is a membership organization commit-
ted to advancing the interests of the film and television music community. The SCL:
1. Disseminates information concerning the creative and business aspects of writing
music and lyrics for film and television.
2. Presents educational seminars to provide the SCL membership with the latest tech-
nological information affecting our industry.
3. Seeks to enhance the workplace and working conditions in order to maintain the
highest level of quality in our crafts.
4. Encourages a sense of community and the sharing of experience and knowledge
among our membership and related organizations worldwide.
5. Provides opportunities for dialogue and the exchange of information between our
membership and filmmakers.
6. Establishes forums where issues confronting the film music industry can be openly
examined and debated.
The creation of scores and songs for motion pictures, television, and other media
involves unique skills and presents special challenges. The SCL assumes a central role
in helping composers and lyricists achieve their full career potential in a demanding
and ever-changing field.
U.S. PERFORMING RIGHTS SOCIETIES
ASCAP: www.ascap.com
ASCAP is the American Society of Composers Authors and Publishers, a member-
ship association of over 150,000 composers, songwriters, lyricists, and music publish-
ers. ASCAP’s function is to protect the rights of its members by licensing and paying
royalties for the public performances of their copyrighted works.
ASCAP is the only American performing rights organization whose board of direc-
tors consists solely of member composers, songwriters, and music publishers elected
by the membership. The twenty-four-member board meets regularly to set policy
and actively guide all aspects of the society’s business. In addition, there are eighteen

RESOURCES
389
board committees providing oversight and direction to management in various areas
of ASCAP’s operation.
BMI: www.bmi.com
BMI is an American performing rights organization that represents more than
250,000 songwriters, composers, and music publishers. The company collects license
fees on behalf of those American creators it represents, as well as for the thousands of
creators from around the world who have chosen BMI for US representation. The fees
for the public performances of its repertoire of more than 4.5 million compositions—
including radio airplay, broadcast and cable television carriage, internet, and live and
recorded performances by all other users of music—are then distributed as royalties
to the writers and copyright holders it represents.
SESAC: www.sesac.com
SESAC is a for-profit performance-rights organization. SESAC was founded in
1930, making it the second oldest performance-rights organization in the United
States. SESAC has thirty thousand songwriters and over one million compositions in
its catalog.
Most countries outside the United States have similar performing rights societies,
which can be found on page 344.

391
Index
Abrams, J. J., 133
accelerando, 32
acoustic treatments, 225; for studios, 157–58
action films, 16
actors, composers vs., 330–33
Adams, John, 265
Adaptation, 126
The Addams Family, 360
Addams Family Values, 275
advertising, 353
agents, 304–7
AI. See artificial intelligence
Air, 288
Air-Edel, 46
aleatoric techniques, 233–34
Alias, 133
Altman, Robert, 263
ambience, 8
ambisonics, 103
American Beauty, 360
The American President, 275
Anew, 113
Angel Recording Studios, 46
Anthem, 105
Apple TV+, 235
apprenticing, 289–91
approval seeking, 317–18
AR. See augmented reality
Arcade Fire, 288
Argo, 365
Arkush, Allan, 141
Arnold, David, 84
articulations, 189
artificial intelligence (AI), 118
Assassin’s Creed Origins, 105
Assassin’s Creed Unity, 105
Assassin’s Creed Valhalla, 105
assets, 332
atonality, 78
audio directors, of video games, 94
audio DSP, 152
audio editors, 178
audio effects software, 179. See also specific
topics
audio engineers, 41, 167
audio interface, in studios, 151–52
audio middleware, 96
augmented reality (AR), 117
Austin Powers, 360, 365
automation: data, 183; in DAWs, 183; faders,
155–56
Avengers Assemble, 230
B-52’s, 108
Baldino, Anthony, 124
bar chart, 220
Barron, Bebe, 89
Barron, Louis, 89

392
INDEX
Barrow, Geoff, 288
bass traps, 226
the Beatles, 363
beats, 21
Beethoven, Ludwig van, 264
Being John Malkovich, 126
Bendall, Haydn, 46
Biggie Smalls, 108–9
Big Wednesday, 274
Billboard, 301
biographies, 297–98
Black Hawk Down, 38
Black Panther, 122, 230
Black Rain, 38
Blade Runner 2049, 253
Blades of Glory, 124
Blanchard, Terence, 288
Blangsted, Else, 240
block harmonies, 191
Blood Simple, 131
Blue Lagoon, 274
Bobby, 360
Bogdanovich, Peter, 280
“The Book of Boba Fett,” 122
borrowing, 35
Bowie, David, 108
bowing changes, 204
Box, 299
brain scans, 75–78
branding, 325–26
breath marks, 191
the Brothers Johnson, 135
Broucek, Paul, 1, 365–71
Bruckheimer, Jerry, 140
The Bucket List, 275
budgets, 332–33, 350, 363–64; basic
example, 340; composition of, 358–59;
spreadsheets, 213
The Buggles, 288
burn in, 173
Burwell, Carter, 87, 126–31
Bush, Kate, 46
Call of Duty: Infinite Warfare, 105
Call of Duty: Modern Warfare, 105
Call of Duty: WWII, 113
Call of the Wild, 230
Captain Fantastic, 360
Captain Marvel, 230
career: advice on, 301–4; apprenticing, 289–
91; cities best for, 292–93; demos and,
293–94; starting, 283, 299–301
Carpenter, John, 294–95
cartoonishness, 25
“Cavatina,” 254
chain of command, 49
chairs, 184
Chaka Khan, 135
Chazelle, Damien, 266
Chef’s Table, 105
The Chemical Brothers, 288
Cher, 135
Childish Gambino, 122
chiptune music, 93
choirs, recording, 218–19
chords, 191, 192
The Chronicles of Narnia, 235
City Slickers, 275, 277
clarinet, 167
clarity, 234
classical music, 166
clearances, 364
click tracks, 197
clip launchers, 156
clips, in DAWs, 160–61
cloud servers, 180
cloud storage, 149
Coco, 132
codecs, 149
cold opening, on TV series, 61
Coleman, Lisa, 138–44
commodities, 332
“Community,” 122, 124
complexity, 26, 27; musical economy and,
76

INDEX
393
compliments, 303
compression, parallel, 251
computers: cores of, 148; CPU speed,
147–48; I/O ports, 150–51; monitors,
149–50; operating systems, 150–51; RAM,
148; storage capacity, 148–49; in studios,
147–51
Conan the Barbarian, 271, 274
conch shells, 40–41
conducting patterns, 197
conductors, 197–200
conflict resolution, 318–19
consistency, 11–12
continuity, 25–26
contrapuntal writing, 78
contrast, 25–26
conversation wheel, 109
Cooder, Ry, 262
Coogler, Ryan, 124–25
Copeland, Stewart, 288
Copland, Aaron, 34, 313
Corea, Chick, 247, 263
cores, computer, 148
Corigliano, John, 84
Costello, Elvis, 368
counterline, 192; counterpoint vs., 77
counterpoint, 76; counterline vs., 77
COVID-19 pandemic, 373
CPU speed, 147–48
Crash, 263
Crazy Rich Asians, 365
Crimson Tide, 255
Crosby, Stills and Nash, 134
crossfades, 29
“Crossing Jordan,” 138
Cruise, Tom, 256, 263
Crystal, Billy, 279
cue numbers, 175
cues: beginning, 20–21; in dub stage, 229;
ending, 33–34; placing, 15–19; signing
off on, 41–42; transitions and, 22, 29–30;
tying together, 29–30; writing, 20
cue sheets, 342, 347, 348; language of, 174–
76; reels on, 175
custom demos, 82
Daft Punk, 73, 267, 269, 271
dailies, 364
Daily Variety, 301
Danna, Mychael, 366
Dangerous Minds, 138, 140
The Dark Knight, 134, 242, 253
The Dark Knight Rises, 365
DAWs. See Digital Audio Workstations
The Day the Earth Stood Still, 89
DC, 366
deadlines, 303
DeCrescent, Sandy, 359
The Deer Hunter, 254
“Defeated Clown,” 92
demand, 329
demos, 288; artistic philosophy of, 83–86;
career and, 293–94; covers, 298–99;
custom, 82; folders, 14; general, 82; goals
of, 81; length of, 82; material selection,
294–95; musical style on, 294; ordering,
82–83; plagiarism on, 296–97; self-
introduction via, 81, 297–98; sending,
299; skills reflected on, 297; technical
specs for, 83; themes on, 296; for TV
series, 56–58; variety and sequence on,
295. See also portfolio
De Niro, Robert, 368
De Palma, Brian, 263
“Derry,” 188
Despicable Me, 242
Desplat, Alexandre, 84, 366
Destiny 2, 113
developers, video game, 94
Deville, Mink, 368
“Dexter,” 271
diegetic music, 103
difficult people, 326–27
diffusion, 226

394
INDEX
Digital Audio Workstations (DAWs), 30,
158–68, 178; automation in, 183; delivery
with, 167–68; development of, 119; loops
and clips in, 160–61; notation in, 163–64;
plug-ins in, 161–62; templates in, 160;
tempo calculators in, 31; tempo maps in,
31; video in, 162–63. See also sequencers
diplomacy, 315–23
directors, sketch sharing with, 13–15
Disco, 83
DISCO, 299
dissolves, 29
dissonance, 73
divisi, 234–35
documentary scoring, 116–17
Dolby Atmos, 153, 226
Donkey Kong, 93
Doom, 93
Douridas, Chris, 360–64
Doyle, Patrick, 260
dramatic transitions, 28–30
driving, texting and, 75–78
Dropbox, 83, 299
drums: recording, 219–20; software,
179
dubbing mixers, 238–39, 251
dub mixes, 311
dub sessions, 34
dub stage, 227; cues in, 229
Dudley, Anne, 288
dues, 341
Dun, Tan, 84
Dune, 253
Dunkirk, 253, 365
dynamics, 189
economy: musical, 26, 76; in theme
composition, 67
egos, 303
Eilish, Billie, 87
electronic music, 73. See also DAWs; plug-
ins, synthesis; synthesizers
electronic stem list, 167
elements of style, 68
Elfman, Danny, 84, 141, 242
Ellington, Duke, 265
emotional arcs, 79–80
emotional clarity, 35–36
emotional markets, 191
emotional storytelling, 73
“Empire,” 247
end titles, on TV series, 61
entrepreneurship, 286
Ephron, Nora, 280
episodic composition. See TV series and TV
series composition
ET, 121, 242
Ethernet, 171; synchronization with, 172
Eureka, 254
Evans, Gil, 265
Eventide Audio, 46
executive suite, 365
expression data, 202
faders, automation, 155–56
failure, 35
Fairlight CMI, 253–54
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,
134, 365
Fargo, 126
fees, 340–41
A Few Good Men, 275, 277
film music: defining, 34–35; literary form of,
xviii. See also specific topics
Film Music Network, 269
film scoring, 2–3
Final Fantasy, 93
Final Fantasy 7, 113
final mixes: delivering, 228–29; file
organization, 228; for TV series, 58
“Firefly Lane,” 138
first meetings, TV series, 53–54
The First Wives Club, 275
fixers, 212, 354

INDEX
395
Flesh and Blood, 274
flexibility: personal style and, 72–75; sources
of, 73
folk songs, 10–11
Forbidden Planet, 89
Foster, Jodie, 263
The Founder, 126
frame rates: 24 frames per second, 169;
video, 173
frames, consecutive, 169
free music, 332
Free Willy, 271
frequency content, 243
“Friday Night Lights,” 235
front doors, 7–8
frozen improvisation, 90
“Game of Thrones,” 369
general demos, 82
George of the Jungle, 275
Gerrard, Lisa, 244
ghost writers, 37, 291–92, 322
Giacchino, Michael, 1, 84, 132–34
Gladiator, 38, 235, 242, 244, 253
Glass, Philip, 84, 87, 117, 131, 258
Glover, Donald, 125
The Godfather of Harlem, 263
Goldenthal, Elliot, 84
Goldsmith, Jerry, 87, 132
Golub, Peter, xix
Goodbye Christopher Robin, 126
Google, 83
Göransson, Ludwig, 1, 122–26
Grace of My Heart, 360
The Graduate, 140–41
granular effects, 90
Gravity, 365
The Greatest Showman, 267
The Great Gatsby, 365
Gregson-Williams, Harry, 45, 242
Guðnadóttir, Hildur, 84, 92
Guild Wars 2, 113
Hackman, Gene, 254
Haines, Thomas, 285–87
Hairspray, 275
Halo, 93
Hanks, Tom, 280
Hannibal, 242
happy accidents, 89–90
“Happy Birthday,” 10, 11
“Happy Endings,” 124
Happy Feet, 230
hard cuts, 29
harmonizers, 50–51
Harry Potter films, 121, 365
headphones, studio, 157
Head Related Transfer Functions (HRTF),
102–3
Heat, 361
Heffes, Alex, 73
“Heroes,” 138
Herrmann, Bernard, 7, 65, 89, 132
Hill, James, 162, 247–52
Hitchcock, Alfred, 65
hits, 21–25; at different tempos, 23; shifting
for, 22; tempo changes for, 31
The Hobbit trilogy, 365
Hocus Pocus, 275
Hollywood, 293, 322
The Hollywood Reporter, 301
Holmes, David, 73, 288
Holst, Gustav, 234
home studios, recording in, 225–26
hooks, 8
Horner, James, 369
horror films, 16, 294–95
hours, 174–75
How to Train Your Dragon, 230, 258
HRTF. See Head Related Transfer Functions
human experience, music and, 6
The Hunt for Red October, 271
Ian Dury and the Blockheads, 368
Ice Age, 258

396
INDEX
iCloud, 299
In and Out, 275
Inception, 242, 253, 365
The Incredibles, 132
independent contractors, 340
Indiana Jones, 121, 132
inspiration, 9
intellectualism, 78
interactivity, of video games, 96
internal sync, 172
Interstellar, 365
interviews, 315–16; for TV series, 52–53
I/O ports, computer, 150–51
Iron Man, 242
Isham, Mark, 140, 263–66, 288, 312
It, 188
Jackson, Joe, 368
Jackson, Peter, 366
Jagger, Mick, 263
Jaws, 7
Jay-Z, 363
jazz, 85, 122–23, 265, 369
John, Elton, 134
Jojo Rabbit, 132
Joker, 92, 365
Jones, Ricky Lee, 134
Judas and the Black Messiah, 263,
266
jump cuts, 28
Junkie XL, 73, 288
Jurassic World, 132
Jurassic World: Dominion, 132
Kamen, Michael, 73
Katzenberg, Jeffrey, 262
key switching, 204
The Kid, 276, 278, 280
King, Shaka, 263
King Kong, 132, 134
Kleiser, Randal, 274
Kung Fu Panda, 242, 258
Lady and the Tramp, 269
Lara Croft and the Temple of Osiris, 113
The Last Samurai, 242
lawyers, 324–25
layers, in video game scoring, 99–100
Led Zeppelin, 369
The LEGO Movie 2, 365
leitmotifs, 7
Licht, Daniel, 271
Ligeti, György, 84
Lightyear, 132
limited series, 313
lines, 76–77
Linkin Park, 267
The Lion King, 235, 253
listening, xviii; learning personal style by,
68–72
literary form, 6
literary structure, 72–73
Little Fires Everywhere, 263
live orchestras. See orchestras
logistics, 47
loops, in DAWs, 160–61
The Lord of the Rings, 365
The Lost World: Jurassic Parker, 133
Low, David, 355–59
Lowe, Nick, 368
Lumet, Sidney, 263
M83, 73, 288
“Mad Men,” 247
Madonna, 108
main themes, 65
Malick, Terrence, 258, 260
Mancina, Mark, 288
Mancini, Henry, 46
“The Mandalorian,” 122
Mann, Michael, 361
Man of Steel, 242
Mansell, Clint, 288
Mario Brothers, 93
marketing, 325–26

INDEX
397
Martin, Max, 125
Martinez, Cliff, 73, 288
Mary Poppins Returns, 275
Maserati, Tony, 108–9
Mass Effect, 109, 112
Mass Effect 2, 110
mastering, 178
master rights, 343
Medal of Honor, 133
melodies, 10, 12–13
melodrama, 80
Melvoin, Wendy, 138–44
memory, computer, 148
“Mercy,” 138
Metallica, 122
Metheny, Pat, 122–23
Meyerson, Alan, 1, 162, 242–46
Miami Vice, 247
Michael, George, 247
microphones: placement of, 250; position
of, in orchestral sample libraries, 206; in
studios, 154
middleware, 96
MIDI, 33, 119, 159, 171, 232; file
exporting, 166; prep work, 210;
quantizing, 206–7; slop factor and,
190; synchronization with, 172; timing
accuracy of, 206–7
MIDI controllers, 205
MIDI Time Code (MTC), 171
MIDI/USB keyboards, in studios, 154–55
Midler, Bette, 275, 279
Milius, John, 273
minimalism, 8, 73
Les Miserables, 271
Misery, 275, 277
Mission: Impossible, 132
Mission: Impossible 2, 235, 253, 256
Mitchell, Joni, 247
mixing, 176–80, 238–39, 247–49; final
mixes, 58, 228–29; for orchestras, 207–8;
sketches, 177–78; for stereo, 226–27; for
surround sound, 226–27; tips, 177–78;
while writing, 166–67
MixTape, 83
modern scoring, traditional scoring vs., 88–91
modern technology, 89
mod wheels, 205
monitors, computer, 149–50
Mortal Kombat, 113
Mothersbaugh, Mark, 73, 288
motifs, 140
motivic writing, 11
MTC. See MIDI Time Code
multitasking, 76
Murphy, John, 288
music, stories and, 75–78
musical economy, 26; complexity and, 76
musical emotion, 242
musical style, on demos, 294
music contractors, 212, 354
music degrees, 283–84
music editors, 15, 41, 240; on TV series, 54
musicians: finding, 212–13; recording,
211–12, 216
music prep, 194
music producers, 43–44, 145
music supervisors, 15, 360
Myers, Stanley, 254
Myst, 93
“Mythic Quest,” 247
Nero, Peter, 132
The Nevers, 263
“New Girl,” 124
Newman, Randy, 288
Newman, Thomas, 262
Newton-Howard, James, 73, 84, 134–37, 230,
242, 245, 366
Night at the Museum, 230
No Country for Old Men, 126
“Northern Exposure,” 361

398
INDEX
notation, 166, 178; clear, 194, 195; in DAWs,
163–64; editors, 164; software, 193
No Time to Die, 253
“No Tomorrow,” 138
Notorious B.I.G., 108–9
nuance, 79
Numan, Gary, 258
“Nurse Jackie,” 138
Oblivion, 267
Ocean’s 8, 365
Oingo Boingo, 141
Olympus Has Fallen, 247
O’Neal, Ryan, 280
on spec, 300
opening titles, 40
operating systems, computer, 150–51
orchestral sample libraries, 200–201, 206
orchestral scores, 73; blank pages, 203
orchestral stem list, 167
orchestras: assembling, 354–55; composition
of, 208; live, 197–200; mixing for,
207–8; musical expressiveness of, 205–6;
recording, 217; seating chart, 208; sonic
character of, 201–6
orchestrators, 41, 192–93
originality, 85
ostinatos, 83
Ouimet, Bénédicte, 106
overdubs: in recording, 214–15; rooms, 215
ownership, 342–43
pace, 79
Pacino, Al, 368
packages, 341–42
parallel compression, 251
Parental Guidance, 275
Paris, Texas, 262
parts extraction, 194–95
passing tones, 192
passion plays, xvii
Patch Adams, 275
payment: reuse, 357; for TV series
composition, 350–51; for video game
scoring, 351–52
payment for composers, 348–49; in film,
349–50; rates, 349. See also specific topics
Peacemaker, 255
“Penny Dreadful,” 247
percussion, recording, 219–20
Performing Rights Organizations (PRO),
343–48
Performing Rights Societies (PRS), 343–48
personal style: defining, 87–88; development
of, 63–68; elements of style, 68; flexibility
and, 72–75; learning by listening, 68–72;
scarcity of, 87; value of, 87
Peter Gabriel 4, 258
Phoenix, 288
phrasing, 189, 202
pilot episodes, 50, 56
ping, 226
Pirates of the Caribbean, 242, 253
plagiarism, on demos, 296–97
plug-ins, 89, 162, 176–77; DAW use of, 161–
62; development of, 119
Poledouris, Basil, 273–75
politics, 315–23
pop songs, 6, 108–9
portfolio, 293–94, 371
positive attitude, 281
post-production schedule, of TV series, 52
Powell, John, 230, 242, 258–63, 272
pre-dubs, 44
prelap, 21, 70
prep work, 209; MIDI file, 210;
miscellaneous, 211; scratch audio, 210–11
Presonus Audiobox USB96, 151
Prima, Louis, 132
Prince, 138–39, 142
Prince of Egypt, 263
Print Master, 240
PRO. See Performing Rights Organizations
production music libraries, 352

INDEX
399
production schedules, TV series, 54, 60–61
programmatic music, 261, 264
project coordinators, 145
project organization, 43
Pro Tools, 44, 228, 229, 238–39
PRS. See Performing Rights Societies
Psycho, 7, 65
publicists, 325
publicity, 325–26
Purple Rain, 141
The Pursuit of Happyness, 235
quantizers, 32, 190
quantizing, MIDI, 206–7
QuickTime, 170–71
The Raid 2, 267
The Raid: Redemption, 267
Rain Man, 255
Raising Arizona, 126
RAM, computer, 148
Ratatouille, 132
Rat Race, 230
recaps, on TV series, 61
recording: changes during recording
sessions, 224–25; choirs, 218–19;
composer in recording sessions, 215–16;
cost estimation, 213–14; drums, 219–20;
in home studios, 225–26; musicians,
211–12, 216; orchestras, 217; overdubs in,
214–15; ownership of, 343; percussion,
219–20; remote, 223–24; singers, 218–19;
time estimation, 214; world musicians,
220–23
Red Dawn, 271
Redford, Robert, 263
ReelCrafter, 83, 299
reels, 43, 174–75, 228; on cue sheets, 175
Reich, Steve, 131, 259
relationships, 323–26
remote recording, 223–24
residuals, 341
reuse payment, 357
Revell, Graeme, 288
reverb, software, 179
reverberation, 226–27
Reznor, Trent, 73, 84, 87, 288
rhythm, 12
Richter, Max, 84, 87
“Ride of the Valkyries,” 234
Ridgeway, Stan, 247
rip-offs, 362–63
ritardandos, 32
A River Runs Through It, 263
RoboCop, 271
Rob Roy, 126
Rodgers, Nile, 108
Roeg, Nicolas, 254
Roget, Wilbert, 1, 113–15
Rogue One, 132
the Rolling Stones, 363
Rona, Jeff, xviii–xix
“The Rookie,” 235
royalties, 343–48
RPGs, 109
Rudin, Scott, 278
rules, 72–73
RuPaul, 108
Ryan, Meg, 280
Sakamoto, Ryuichi, 73
The Same, 126–27
sample libraries, 119, 179; orchestral, 200–
201, 206
sampler hosts, 179
samplers, 38, 40; software, 179
sampling, 90; of orchestra tracks, 200–201;
strings, 202
Satriani, Joe, 122
scarcity, 329
scenes, purpose of music in, 19
Schachner, Sarah, 1, 105–8
Schindler’s List, 121
Schumann Film Scoring Program, 285

400
INDEX
scores, 165; making, 187–96; tempo changes
in, 32, 32–33. See also specific topics
Scott, Ridley, xviii, 37–38, 41–42, 44–46
scratch audio, prep work, 210–11
screenwriting, 69
secondary themes, 65–66
sections, in video game scoring, 97–98
sequencers, 30, 158–68, 178; arrangement,
189; stem optimization with, 168
serialism, 78
“Shades of Blue,” 138
Shaiman, Marc, 275–80
Shapiro, Theodore, 124
The Shawshank Redemption, 256
Shepperton Studios, 46
Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows, 242
Shinoda, Mike, 267
Shore, Howard, 366, 369
showrunners, 48
Shrek, 258, 360
Sibelius, 193
sight-reading, 197
Silvestri, Alan, 230, 262
Simmons, Bonnie, 368
simplicity, 78, 245
Simpson, Don, 140
singers, recording, 218–19
Sister Act, 275
sketches: mixing, 177–78; sharing, 13–15
Sleepless in Seattle, 275, 277, 280
slop factor, MIDI and, 190
Smalley, Adam, 235–41
SMF. See Standard MIDI Files
SMPTE timecode, 169–71, 228; counters,
171
social media, 289, 325
software: audio effects, 179; drums, 179;
notation, 193; reverb, 179; samplers, 179;
in studios, 178–80; synthesizers, 178
solid state drives (SSDs), 149
Solo: A Star Wars Story, 230, 258
Something New, 138
Soul Food, 138
SoundCloud, 83, 299
soundtrack albums, 354
Spartacus, 261
spatial audio, 103
speakers: placement of, 184–85; in studios,
153
Spider-Man: Homecoming, 132
Spider-Man: No Way Home, 132
Spielberg, Steven, 133, 255
spotting, 15–19; on TV series, 55–56; in
video game scoring, 95
spotting notes, 17, 18, 19, 236; on TV series,
56, 57
spotting sessions, 15–16, 236; on TV series,
55–56
spreadsheets, project budget, 213
SSDs. See solid state drives
Stalling, Carl, 28
Standard MIDI Files (SMF), 187
A Star Is Born, 365
Starship Troopers, 271
Star Wars (original trilogy), 121, 132, 262,
271
Star Wars: First Assault, 113
Star Wars: The Old Republic, 113
Star Wars: Vader Immortal, 113
Steiner, Max, 132
stems, 111; delivery, 59; electronic stem list,
167; orchestral stem list, 167; sequencers
optimizing, 168; for surround sound
mixing, 227; in video game scoring, 102
stereo, mixing for, 226–27
Sting, 263
stochastic methods, 78
storage capacity, computer, 148–49
storytelling, 5, 8–10, 69; basic storyline
archetypes, 118; emotional, 73; emotional
arc in, 79–80; music and, 75–78; in video
game scoring, 106–7
Straight Outta Compton, 267
Stravinsky, Igor, 90

INDEX
401
Streisand, Barbra, 280
strings, 137, 167; sampling, 202
studios: acoustic treatments for, 157–58;
assembly of, 180–85; audio interface in,
151–52; automation faders in, 155–56;
clip launchers, 156; computers in, 147–51;
essential peripherals, 151–58; headphones,
157; home, 225–26; ideal setups, 181;
importance of, 184–85; microphones in,
154; MIDI/USB keyboards in, 154–55;
software in, 178–80; speakers in, 153; top-
end, 182
subscription services, 179
subtlety, 79
subwoofers, 153
Sundance Composers Lab, xviii
Superman, 121
surround sound, 153, 248; mixing for, 226–
27; stems for mixing in, 227
Swizz Beats, 263
Symphonie Fantastique, xvii
synchronization, 169–74; with Ethernet, 172;
with MIDI, 172
sync licenses, 352
synthesizers, 89–91; software, 178. See also
plug-ins, synthesis
taceting, 224
tacit sheets, 191
Taft-Hartley Law, 356–57
Taylor, Cecil, 265
technology, 253–54; art and, 118; studio,
145–46
telegraphing, 80
Tempereau, John, 307–10
templates, DAW, 160
temp love, 320–21
temp music, 82
tempo, 30–33; calculators, 31, 163; changes
in, for hits, 31; changes in scores, 32, 32–
33; musicians playing changes in, 32–33
tempo maps, 30; in DAWs, 31
temp scores, 37, 270
Tenet, 122
Tent Pole, 366
texting, driving and, 75–78
Thelma & Louise, 38
thematic writing, 10–13
themes, 12–13; defining, 65; on demos, 296;
economy in composition of, 67; main, 65;
memorable, 67; overuse of, 67; secondary,
65–66; variations on, 66
theremin, 89
The Thin Red Line, 235, 258
“This is America,” 122
Thomas, John Ashton, 230–35
Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri,
126
Tillman, George, 263
timecode, 17, 169–74; functions, 173;
SMPTE, 169–70, 228; use of, 171–73;
visual, 173
timecode numbers, 17
time cuts, 28
time signatures, 196
time stamps, 57–58
timing accuracy, of MIDI, 206–7
title music, TV series, 61
tone poems, xvii
Toto, 134
“Touch,” 138
traditional scoring, modern scoring vs.,
88–91
The Tragedy of Macbeth, 126
transcription, goal of, 189
transitional segments, in video game scoring,
101
transitions, 22; cues and, 29–30; dramatic,
28–30; in video game scoring, 100–102
Trapanese, Joseph, 267–72
trombones, 231
Tron: Legacy, 267, 271
trust, 315
tutti, 76

402
INDEX
TV series and TV series composition, 47;
chain of command, 49; cold opening
on, 61; demo delivery on, 56–58; end
titles on, 61; final mixes for, 58; first
episodes, 56–58; first meeting, 53–54;
further episodes, 59–60; getting started
with, 48–52; grind on, 52; interviews for,
52–53; music editors on, 54; payment
for, 350–51; pilot episodes, 50, 56; post-
production schedule of, 52; premise of,
59; production schedules, 54, 60–61;
recaps on, 61; spotting notes on, 56, 57;
spotting on, 55–56; spotting sessions on,
55–56; title music, 61
24 frames per second, 169
Twilight, 235
Ubisoft, 106
underscores, 66–67
unions, 341, 356
university education, 283–84
Vai, Steve, 122
vamps, 33–34
variations: on themes, 66; in video game
scoring, 98–99
Venom, 122
Verhoeven, Paul, 273, 274
versatility, 322
vibe, 7
video: in DAWs, 162–63; file playback,
169–70
video frame rates, 173
video games: audio directors of, 94;
developers, 94; interactivity of, 96; music
mixing for, 102
video game scoring, 1–2, 346; asset list, 95;
blocks in, 97–98; to do list, 95–96; genres,
103–4; layers in, 99–100; organization
of, 94–95; payment for, 351–52; sections
in, 97–98; spotting in, 95; stems in, 102;
storytelling in, 106–7; structure of, 97–98;
testing, 103; transitional segments in, 101;
transitions in, 100–102; variations in,
98–99
video servers, 180
violence, 50
virtual reality (VR), 117; audio, 102–3
visibility, 325–26
visual timecode, 173
Vivaldi, Antonio, 264
viz code, 173
VR. See virtual reality
wages, 329–33
Wagner, Richard, 234
Wall, Jack, 1, 108–12
Wallfisch, Benjamin, 188
Walsh, Fran, 366
War for the Planet of the Apes, 132
Warner Bros. Pictures, 365
warning licks, 216
“The Watchman,” 262
Waters, John, 275
Water Tower Music, 365–66
WAV files, time stamps on, 57–58
Wendy and Lisa, 73, 138–44, 288
“Westworld,” 369
WeTransfer, 299
What’s Up Doc?, 280
When Harry Met Sally, 275, 277
Whitaker, Forest, 263
White Squall, xviii; score for, 37–46
Who Framed Roger Rabbit, 262
Will.i.am, 263, 369
Williams, John, 1, 7, 84, 121–22, 132, 234,
242, 245, 271
Wilson, Stanley, 121
window code, 173
Wine Country, 138
Wonderstruck, 126
Wonder Woman, 365
work for hire agreements, 333–39
A World Apart, 254

INDEX
403
world instruments, 221
world musicians, recording, 220–23
writing cues, 20
Wwise, 97, 110
XML files, 187
YouTube, 29, 69
Zappa, Frank, 369
Zimmer, Hans, 1, 37, 45, 84, 242, 244, 253–
58, 259–60, 288, 366

405
About the Author
Jeff Rona is an accomplished and award-winning con-
temporary composer for film, TV, and video games,
as well as a recording artist and producer. He studied
music, art, and photography, but left school to pursue
music as his life’s work.
Rona soon became an in-demand studio musi-
cian, arranger, sound designer, synthesist, and music
programmer working in Los Angeles and New York.
Among his projects, he recorded and performed as a
member of Jon Hassell’s highly regarded group, co-
composing and producing their acclaimed City: Works
of Fiction record for Opal/Warp Records, and touring
and performing with legendary producer Brian Eno.
After working with legendary record producers such as Maurice White, David Fos-
ter, Albhy Galuten, Malcolm Cecil, and dozens of others, he focused his efforts on film
music, most notably collaborating with Philip Glass, Mark Isham, Lisa Gerrard, Basil
Poledouris, and in longstanding musical relationships with composers Hans Zimmer
and Cliff Martinez. Rona collaborated on dozens of films before landing his first solo
composing project, scoring the groundbreaking television series “Homicide: Life on
the Street” for director Barry Levinson, which launched his successful musical career.
Rona has scored dozens of other film and television projects with legendary film-
makers including Ridley Scott, Steven Spielberg, Wong Kar-wai, Robert Altman,
Steven Soderbergh, Mark Pellington, Stephen Hopkins, Jonathan Demme, Frank
Darabont, and many others.
He toured with artist Lisa Gerrard (solo) and the band Dead Can Dance, orches-
trating and conducting a symphony orchestra and adding his own music to their
Jeff Rona
Author

406
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
concerts. He composed music for the 2008 Beijing Olympic Games, including live
symphonic performances of the music throughout Asia.
Rona’s music has been described as a unique and savvy use of electronics with orches-
tral and world musicians, taking inspiration from minimalism, EDM, twentieth-century
orchestral and pop music and blending them into a personal and recognizable style.
As a committed and passionate protector of animal rights and global ecology, Rona
has given time to score several landmark documentary films, most notably collaborat-
ing with Canadian filmmaker and activist Rob Stewart, whose film Sharkwater led to
the near global ban on shark finning.
Rona has written music for multiple AAA video games including the epic God of
War III, Far Cry 4, Marvel vs. Capcom: Infinite, Transformers, Resident Evil 2, Devil
May Cry 5, Quantaar, and many others.
Rona’s music appears in numerous Oscar, Peabody, BAFTA, and Emmy award–
winning projects, in addition to countless film festival honors around the world. He is
a recipient of several ASCAP Film and Television Music Awards and the Hollywood
Music in Media Award. Beyond many soundtrack albums, he has released several
albums of his own music.
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jeffronamuzik
Twitter: https://twitter.com/jeffrona
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jeffrona