A Fairly Modern Nativity

Thanks to the hospitality of some close friends, I'm enjoying a breif stay in San Francisco, a place I only wish I had an excuse to live. The scope of my hosts' generosity expanded across vast regions including a ticket to a San Francisco Symphony Orchestra performance of John Adams' El Niño, the composer's interpretation of the nativity. Taken from various perspectives, including the work of several Latina poets and the New Testament Apocrypha (a collection of books/letters in the same vein as the New Testament but have been rejected from Canon by the church), and inspired ultimately by the birth of the composer's daughter in 1984, the piece is an achievement of orchestrational breadth spanning two-hours. Performing forces included full orchestra, chorus, female chorus, and 6 soloists, including soprano Dawn Upshaw. For those interested, you can view the program notes by clicking here.

The piece is undeniably impressive not just because of its length and size, but because of the inventive orchestral colors and textures for which the composer is so well known. There were some parts I absolutely loved, including the choir of three countertenor angels who created stunning harmony and tone. While I can appreciate and respect El Niño from a composer's perspective, even that side of me grew bored by the end of the first act. Mr. Adams' bag of compositional tricks is a small one, as I seemed to have them all figured out within 15 minutes and then had to endure as they were used over and over again. He is, after all, a minimalist.

As the piece chugged along I found myself thinking of the bigger picture: what place does a semi-staged, partially dramatized, 2-hour oratorio have in the modern music arena? As a composer I find myself always erring on the side of brevity. Perhaps it is the film composer in me forced to eliminate ego and retain the need for the hyper concise. Or, perhaps I have had to suffer through one-too-many over-programmed new music concerts consisting of hours upon hours of performers growling into their bass clarinets in displaced 32nd-note septuplets while someone dressed in a red canvas bag lowers a radio into a bathtub full of water. Either way, I think that the attention span of the average concert goer has been streamlined along with the rest of our society. Let's face it, most of us can't bear the thought of sitting through a red light without being able to check our email or take our turn on that game of iphone Scrabble. Part of me even wonders if you the reader will actually get this far into a blog entry...

While I may not have been particularly enthralled in Mr. Adams' music, what matters the most to me is heart. The composer spent years (years!) toiling on this work, took inspiration from the birth of his daughter, and incorporated the Latin American culture native to his Los Angeles residence - who am I to judge such a personal quest?

In truth there is always so much to be taken away from live performances, regardless of how one feels about what one is hearing. For me, just seeing a living composer conducting such incredible forces in a piece that he has written is inspiration in itself. Though I may have drifted off, my mind was filled with the warm, incomparable sound of a live orchestra. Creative juices stirring, I began to imagine my next work...

Q&A with Alexandre Desplat

This evening I attended a screening of the movie The King's Speech, an exquisite film starring Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush. Firth plays King George V, Rush plays his speech therapist. Easily one of the best movies Ive seen in a long time. One falls in love with the characters almost immediately. A brilliant balance of struggle, family, and humor. This was a particularly special event in that the movie was followed by a Q&A with composer Alexandre Desplat and director Tom Hooper. Unfortunately the session was ill-planned with hardly any time to get anything from the panelists. But, we were able to hear Desplat comment on how it was to work with and around source music. The composer showed true humility in his welcome approach to having several significant cues of classical music, including an exquisitely done sequence with the second movement of Beethoven's Emperor Concerto. From where I sat, Desplat was so gracious of such music that while watching the film it often took me a few moments to realize I was listening to music not written by Desplat. To me, such an approach is a venerable one; it shows the utmost respect for director and film. Moreso the ability to recognize the quality of art one is dealing with and the merit in their decision to use such an appropriate piece of music for their sequence. Mr. Desplat certainly has my respect and even moreso since I've seen how he has graced the most recent Potter film. Here's hoping The King's Speech walks away with all the oscars.

At the Scoring Stage with Blake Neely

Tim Davies conducting

This week I had the incredible pleasure of being invited to a session of composer Blake Neely at Warner Brothers studios. Blake is fantastic composer who has made a niche in TV, currently scoring three hit TV shows: The Mentalist, Brothers and Sisters, and, the session I was attending, No Ordinary Family. The show has a budget for a weekly session of about 50 players (strings, woodwinds, brass, timpani, and harp) - a dream gig for any composer. Blake's session was everything I like about Blake - organized, calm, and a total blast. Everyone was at ease, laughing, having a good time, and reveling in the music-making process. My kind of session.

I can't tell you how inspiring it is to see working composers using live musicians on a weekly basis. It is a rare treat that I hope is on its way back to becoming the standard in our business. TV is a serious test in speed and organization for composers, particularly when sessions are involved. Typically one has a week or less between when one gets the final cut of the show and when one gets on the scoring stage. It is nuts - there is no room for sloppiness. Sessions move lightning fast in order to get what needs to be done done. Blake's session went off without a hitch - utterly professional, no messing around. Definitely something to admire and to strive for.

An Evening with Seth MacFarlane

Ok, it's not quite what you think. This evening was the RMALA's annual benefit auction and dinner. Normally the event costs a small fortune to attend, but I was very lucky to be able to partake for free thanks to a few very generous friends. I was also able to take my dear friend and esteemed counterpart Sherri Chung, who made a fantastic date. The draw of this year's benefit was, you guessed it, Seth MacFarlane performing with his jazz big band. The event was held at the Biltmore Hotel in downtown Los Angeles - an incredibly ornate and luxurious venue reminiscent of the Plaza Hotel in NYC. Needless to say it was a very memorable evening. All of LA's best players, contractors, and composers were in attendance. Much socialization occurred, business cards given out, and of course hearing Seth perform is such a treat. I even got to reconnect with a composer friend, Blake Neely, who treated me and Sherri to a fabulous night out after the event.

For those of you who might not be aware, Seth MacFarlane is very highly regarded in the Los Angeles music scene because he is such a huge proponent of live music. All three of his animated sitcoms have live union sessions for every episode, not to mention all the performances and things he does with his own big band. Because of Seth, many musicians are working and feeding their families. He was given an award at the end of the night for the support he gives to the musicians of LA.

My one regret? I didn't get a chance to tell Seth I have a crush on him. Such a pity. ;-) Many thanks to Rob Brophy and Peter Rotter for making the evening possible for me.

Putting it Together

Once upon a time I was a pianist. Long before I ever started composing, I played (and long before I played, I sang, but that's another entry).  In my senior year of college I got on board as accompanist for the student-run theatre production of Into the Woods by Steven Sondheim. The show was produced and run by my classmates, many of whom were good friends, so of course I wanted to be involved. Having never heard of Sondheim, I thought nothing of it.... After several months of rehearsal and the news that I would be the sole member of the pit, I raised my white flag and checked into the looney bin. I could barely comprehend the rhythms, never mind carry the entire show. I learned my lesson: I am not an accompanist. It stressed me out. I would much rather be the one writing the shows than playing them.

Fast forward five years later to last week in LA when I got a call from an actor friend of mine telling me the second keyboard player for the show he was in dropped out at the last minute and they needed someone to step in. The show? Putting it Together by, you guessed it, Stephen Sondheim. I thought, well, I could certainly use the paycheck, and since the job was only playing random filler parts, it seemed like it would be doable. The first rehearsal was this past Monday and immediately I felt defeated. The majority of the run through I sat with mouth agape as the music flew by me in an incomprehensible Sondheim-grooving tempo.  I remembered why I hadn't done any performing for so many years. What the hell was I thinking?

Despite my reservations (I won't lie, I called a bunch of my pianist friends to see if they wanted the gig) I felt in my gut that this was a job I needed to stick with. Every day I rehearsed with the accompanist and thanks to his coaching (and patience!), we put it together, bit by bit. Last night we opened and I felt totally comfortable. No jitters. Now I know a collection of Sondheim tunes very well, have kicked up my performing chops, and am getting paid for it. Not a bad deal.

You might be wondering how this entry fits into a composer blog. One of the biggest lessons I've learned since moving to LA is that you never know what opportunities might lead you to bigger and better places, no matter how seemingly random and irrelevant they may appear.  The term I often hear is "planting seeds" - you make as many connections as you can, and you wait and see which ones actually take. Of course one must use one's judgment and know the difference between being part of a worthwhile gig versus being taken advantage of. Right now I have no idea what significance this show has, and it may turn out to not have any, but I do know that I'm learning, it's something I feel good about, it's giving me a paycheck, and it could just lead to an unexpected connection.

If you'd like to come and check out the show, visit the theatre's website: TheatrePalisades.org

Current Projects | Dragons and Rachmaninoff

One of the many tremendous connections I made while at USC was with an animation student named Carolyn Chrisman. I scored a project for her entitled Evenfall, which ended up being nominated for a Student Academy Award. If you haven't already seen it, the video is posted on my website. Scored for strings, harp, and flute. One of my favorites.

I was delighted when Ms. Chrisman contacted me for help on her senior thesis, an animation titled Reversal of the Heart, which recounts the tale of a mother dragon and her baby. This film would be an animation set to the first movement of the Rachmaninoff 2nd Piano Concerto - that is, she was animating to an already written/recorded piece of music. What was needed from me was a piano intro for the beginning that would start the story off and lead into the concerto. It was an interesting task for numerous reasons, the most pressing being how the hell one introduces Rachmaninoff. After mulling over it for a bit, I decided that my job was to encapsulate the drama while creating a piece of music as different from the Rach as possible so that its entrance would have maximum impact. 

For those of you unfamiliar with the Rach, it begins with the solo piano very low in its register playing an ominous (and so utterly idiomatic) chord progression executed in a strong, forceful, almost march-like manner. This meant that my piece had to be light, lilting, and in the high register of the piano. Having Carolyn's work for inspiration made it a very easy and rewarding exercise for me. The video below shows the animatic (sketch) I was given to work with. You'll hear my music at the beginning and will notice both the change in the story and the music when the Rach enters. 

BackLog: Getting LOST

This is the first of my "BackLog" posts, which will retell fun and exciting events that occurred pre-blog. 

One of the big perks of being in the Film Scoring Program at USC last year was interning on the show LOST with Michael Giacchino. It was an exceptionally lucky circumstance because last year (as I'm sure you know) was the final season of the show. There weren't enough intern spots for everyone, so we doubled up so that everyone would have the opportunity to participate. One person would be the main intern and the other would be the assistant (observer).  We essentially got to see an episode from start to finish (musically anyway). First, we attended the spotting session at Disney in Burbank. We sat in the room with Michael's music editor and watched as he, the film editor, and producers determined what music they wanted where. Then, as the session approached, I received two cues that had to be prepped in Sibelius that would be used on the session. Once those were approved by Michael's assistant, they were sent off to the copyists for printing and part making. I then showed up at the scoring date where I got to meet Michael and conduct the cues I prepared. Super fun! A few days after the session we got to attend the dub, where I basically hung out with Alex the music editor, who showed me how the dub stage worked, what his role was, and how it all came together. All in all an incredibly rewarding experience.

For musicians and composers reading, what I learned most from this experience was just how many cool things can be done with 4 trombones, particularly involving cluster effects. Often times there would simply be the phrase "cluster out" in the score. The trombones would just slide out in random directions creating the perfect noise for a cut to black. It's amazing how sometimes you really don't need to be particular about notation. Same was true for the percussion section, headed by the infamous Emil Richards. Their parts would have maybe one bar of rhythm and then say "vamp" or "groove" or "ad lib"and they would just do it. More than likely it was more effective than anything I could have notated for them!

The really amazing/lucky thing about the session was that it took place on March 11, 2010, which happened to be the first one they had since the Oscars where Michael won for Up. So when we arrived at the stage everyone was freaking out because Michael had all three of his awards with him and was taking pictures, which is how I got the photo you see above. Funny story, I suggested that we get a shot of me trying to run away with the Oscar and Michael chasing after me with his Golden Globe.... but instead he gave me a look that very clearly said "what the hell is wrong with you?" Thanks, Michael. ;-)

A Final Day with Thomas Newman

Me and Tim Rodier from Universal

Today, the last day of recording, was pretty much a breeze mostly due to the fact that it was a single session, not a double (10-1 instead of 10-5). Much to everyone's surprise, Tom ended up spending 40 minutes on one cue in the morning, nearly triple the time spent on any other. This was not because of Tom, but because both Tom and the director wanted to try repositioning the placement of one of the string entrances as well as some orchestration alterations. I tell you, it is amazing what can be done from the podium on the fly. Perhaps the coolest example of this occurred today (for all you composers reading). Apparently, it is not a big deal at all to request that basses and cellos retune their C strings down to a B (scordatura if you want to get technical). I had always perceived this to be an absurd/obnoxious/unreasonable request and would either rewrite my music in different keys or reorchestrate.... but apparently it's not necessary! All it requires is a bit of planning ahead, that is, know where you want it to happen and record all your Bs at once so the players aren't retuning more than once in any given sitting. So, write those low Bs! 


In addition to being easy, this was also a particularly special day - Tom's birthday. Of course he wanted to keep it secret, but it wasn't. My copyist partner Tim did an arrangement of Happy Birthday the day before and passed it out to the orchestra unbeknownst to Tom. At the very end of the session the concertmaster counted off and the entire string orchestra burst into happy birthday, much to Tom's dismay. There was a party after, which I got to attend - true to form I baked a batch of cookies for the event. I just can't help myself...  It was quite something to see all the people who rally around in love and support of Tom - you can feel the sense of community at all his sessions. People love him, respect him, and want to be around him. It's something I aspire to have when I reach that stage of my career. 

George Doering doing his thing

Once the string players left and the party was underway, I assumed that was the end of the day.... but funnily enough, it wasn't. Yesterday I saw men lugging guitars and various equipment into the booth. Today I come to find out it is all the personal apparatus of George Doering, a legendary guitar player here in LA. He sat in the booth with his getup and played various effects and whatnot into some of the cues Tom had been recording that day. Must be nice...


All in all I had a tremendous time this week. The copyists were deeply appreciative of my help, I made a good impression on numerous members of Tom's team, and I managed to learn quite a lot in the process (Tim even showed me how to correct and tape parts). It would appear I've managed to carve out a position for myself, which is an achievement that still hasn't sunk in yet for me.... is this really my life?

Lord it's going to be tough to follow this blog entry...

Lessons from Tom Newman

Tom at the Podium

Perhaps the most valuable part of a gig like this is what one can learn and absorb simply by being at the stage. What makes Tom Newman such a revered and unique voice in the film music world is his ability to create music that complements drama so effectively, yet at the same time is so completely and incomprehensibly unobtrusive, it is as if the music was birthed by the picture itself. My prolonged fascination with how Tom does this always leads me back to one word: simplicity. A quick glance through the scores from the session reveals a straightforward harmonic palette that is realized through pedal tones and simply executed chord progressions. Throughout all 60 minutes of recorded string music, there was only one cue that used eighth-notes - all the rest were whole-note chords brilliantly voiced with the occasional quarter-note for melodic reference. What this means is that Tom's music, much like the man himself, is devoid of ego. He has such a complete understanding of his role as a film composer that he is able to write exactly what is needed, nothing more, nothing less. That is what makes him A-list. For young film composers like myself, this is a very important lesson in humility.

Observing how Tom approaches each cue from the podium offers even further insight into his craft. A young, foolish composer like myself might get up to conduct one of Tom's cues and think "they're just whole notes," and then just push it through and get it done. But regardless of how simple the music looked to me from sitting at the copy desk, Tom took the time to rehearse each cue before recording while constantly consulting with his orchestrator. No nuance was left undiscussed - every phrase was carefully shaped, dynamics adjusted, string techniques considered. Often times they would get a recording, Tom would go into the booth to listen and discuss, then he would return to the podium with something different. For a while this baffled me, but then I realized that all of these considerations were not being made for the sake of the music, but for how it sits with the drama of the picture. Hence, there is no musical gesture that is insignificant when writing to picture. Yet another invaluable lesson.

Rest assured that though I have discussed the simplicity in Tom's approach, I do not at all imply that it lacks effectiveness or emotional depth. In fact, the sound coming from that stage was often times astonishing, which is only exacerbated by the fact that it often comes from just an eerily well-voiced chord progression spoken perfectly by the strings. Mind-blowing genius. For any composers reading who are wondering how this happens, I can offer this: 30 violins, 12 violas, 8 cellos, and 6 basses. The lesson here? Save your money for live strings. :)

At the Scoring Stage with Thomas Newman

Sometimes there are moments when you stop and think... is this really my life? This post falls into that category. As most of you know, I had the extraordinary opportunity to have Thomas Newman as my mentor while attending the SMPTV program at USC. Because of the connections I made both with Tom and his copyists (the wonderful guys at Reprise Music of Universal Studios), I've been able to maintain contact beyond my graduation at USC.

This week, I am playing the role of music librarian as Tom spends three days at Fox Studios recording strings for his current project, The Adjustment Bureau, starring Matt Damon and Emily Blunt. I sit at the copyist desk, observe, and assist the guys in any way they need - passing out parts, corrections, double checking edits with Tom, keeping track of changes made on the podium, etc. It was an incredibly busy session, but a total blast to be sure. Thrilling can barely describe how it felt to be in the thick of the action - I really felt I was part of the team. Perhaps my favorite role is my job as the "A" giver, a position given to me by Tom's contractor Leslie Morris at the first session I attended in Dec 2009. Whenever the orchestra needs to be tuned, Tom turns to me from the podium and says "Dave, can we have an A please," at which point I leap up, scurry to the piano and play an A. It's amazing. 

I arrived at Fox this morning and got a hug from Tom, a hug from his music editor Bill, and a hug from his music contractor Leslie.... is this really my life?

More photos and anecdotes to come in the remaining days.