Matching the music to the mood

(Image courtesy of Pixabay)

I was at a loss over what to write this week but then, while staring at that little cursor winking as if daring me to come ahead and try my best, my playlist switched to one of the most heartbreakingly beautiful pieces of music ever created for celluloid.

For some reason, Michael Kamen's theme to the TV mini series 'Band of Brothers' affects me deeply. In fact, there is a track on the album in which the voices of his daughter Zoe and singer Maire Brennan accompany the main theme and...well...I'm not saying I was moved to tears, I am from Glasgow, but there was definitely something in my eye.

Some authors don't like music as they write, some can't listen to anything with lyrics but I am one of those scribblers who uses it to assist in the writing process. I will even go to the length of selecting exactly what type of music depending on what I am writing.

Band of Brothers has been on the playlist while putting some finishing touches to an historical thriller I am writing on spec (publishers - please contact my agent!)

Unlike the series, the book is not set during World War 2 but the tone of Kamen's music is just right for the events in my story.

I also listened to the music of Fernando Velasquez, particularly his score for A Monster Calls, and Roque Banos' Alatriste.

You may have guessed that it is predominantly film and tv music I use because that is my preferred genre and I can become very evangelistic about it. I have been listening to it since I was no higher than the on/off switch on the record player but, more importantly, it covers such a wide variety of styles and approaches that I can find any mood accompaniement I want. I insist the people working in the field are among the most talented composers today because they can turn their hand to virtually anything.

I find that selecting the correct sound, or even composer if they have a distinctive style (John Barry springs to mind here), helps me hit the right tone or pace for whatever I'm writing.

Thunder Bay, my first Rebecca Connolly book, was written to John Williams' scores for The Fury and Jane Eyre as well as - poseur alert! - Rachmaninov's Isle of the Dead, which was kind of on the nose given the subject matter but its sense of dark mystery was just right.

The next two in the series, The Blood is Still and A Rattle of Bones, were predominantly soundtracked by Bear McCreary's work for the TV series Outlander. The storylines of both books hark back to events surrounding the 1745 Rising in Scotland so it seemed apposite.

Debbie Wiseman and Rachel Portman were my go to composers for the fourth book, Where Demons Hide, due out in the UK next year. The tone of this one is somewhat lighter and they had just the right touch, tinged with a bit of darkness, that I needed. I also used The Dead Zone - Michael Kamen again - and The Changeling by Ken Wannberg, Howard Blake and Rick Wilkins.

My favourite composer is Jerry Goldsmith and every one of the titles above was written to something from his extensive backlist. Whatever I need - fast-paced, exciting, moving, eerie, romantic - I'll find something that fits the bill. (And as if on cue, one of his tracks - The Edge - began playing as I wrote this paragraph. Movie moment right there).

It has to be admitted that people do tend to zone out when I bang on about the subject. In fact, there will be people who perhaps have clicked away before now. I get that, I totally do. I'm like that when people talk about sport (any sport). Not sport movies, of course, because I love them. I know - go figure.

I told you I was evangelistic on the subject, even to the extent of doing a weekly radio show for a hospital radio station in Glasgow (Radio schedulers, please note - I am available to do it professionally!)

If you are interested, it's on Southern Sound every Saturday at 4pm UK time. 

The World of Forgotten Things

Hi - Douglas Skelton coming to you from Scotland.

I'm in the process of moving house at the moment. That means I'm surrounded by boxes, bubble wrap and packing tape. 

I have so far resisted the urge to build a fort.

Thank you 'Friends' for that thought.

I've been here for 15/16 years. A lot has happened in that time and packing things away can often be a saunter down that lane we call memory.

As most people do when moving I've been playing what we in Scotland know as Keep or Chuck. 

It's when you have to decide if an item is worth hanging onto or if you should send it to dump.

I've disposed of a fair amount of stuff and more will go. I've handed over old bits of furniture to be given a new lease of life before they go to charity. I've trashed some that were beyond repair. Most of my rugs will be picked up by the local council. Years of dogs, cats and, it has to be said, me have taken their toll.

But it's when you go through drawers and shelves and pockets that you find you have entered into a new world - the world of forgotten things. Little items that are not gone, merely left, stored, placed, sitting sometimes in plain sight and yet still unseen. 

Until you pick them up.

And you remember.

They are generally inconsequential, sometimes even everyday, but they carry with them memories like dust which, as you hold them, come back as if through osmosis. These forgotten things can represent a moment in time that you cherish, a place that you haven't seen for too long, a face no longer visible, a voice no longer heard.

A pen, given on a milestone birthday by someone who was special then and is special now, clipped in the inside pocket of an old suit and long since dry.

A small hip flask, a gift never used, still in its box, but it reminds you of the day it was handed to you by the giver with whom you have long since lost contact.

A book, sitting on a shelf among others, its spine cracked and frayed, its pages dog-eared and loose. It was well-loved, well-read, and well-worn by someone who will never read again.

A concert programme brings back the excitement of seeing composer Jerry Goldsmith in Glasgow. A big deal for me.

A paw print in ink of a dog that has long since crossed the bridge.

And books from my own childhood that have been unnoticed on shelves all this time and never taken down in all these years. My copy of Tom Sawyer. A Pictorial History of World Exploration. My Ed McBain collection, some editions dating back to the 60s. Alistair Maclean. Jack London. Ian Fleming. All monuments to a young boy reading in his room and wishing he could be like them.

And more. Ornaments. Old photographs. A poker chip that came from who knows where but which, for some reason, I keep on my desk.

They are all time machines transpporting me across the years to when life was simpler, or better, or happier. 

I have a friend who says that as a matter of course if she has not used, touched or worn something for six months it goes.

I can understand that ethos but there is something within me that cannot part with these and other items, so they are packed away and will find a new home with me. 

The world of these forgotten things is one that I will carry until I am part of it.

What's the score?

Happy Monday from Douglas in Scotland.

One of the many common questions put to authors is whether they listen to music while they write. 

I do listen to music while I bang away at the keyboard. And I can grow quite evangelistic about the sort of music I prefer.

Ever since I was a lad I have appreciated, enjoyed, nay, loved movie scores. This goes back to even before I was fully aware that people actually wrote them. I'm sure I didn't believe they just arrived whole from the heavens but I couldn't at that time name a composer. 

It was predominently western themes that caught my interest at first, with a smattering of TV themes. The Big Country, The Magnificent Seven on the big screen, Doctor Who, Mission:Impossible, Man in a Suitcase among the small screen offerings.

I still have the first album I ever bought with my own money - well, my parents' money, because I was at the time without funds of my own due to not being in gainful employment, child labour having been effectively outlawed in the UK for a number of years. 

It was a collection of movie themes on the United Artists label and it cost me the princely sum of 21 shillings. That's £1.05 in today's decimals. And yes, it had versions of The Big Country and The Magnificent Seven.

And just to prove it -

As I grew older I realised there was a whole world of such music out there. There was a snag, though.

Simply this - it wasn't cool.

I was met by superior smirks and sneers when I professed a love for the compositions of John Barry, Elmer Bernstein and Lalo Schifrin (whose music was cool even then but they didn't understand that. I give you one word. Bullitt. I rest my case).

In fact, it was Schifrin's theme to Enter the Dragon, complete with Bruce Lee's vocal stylings, that had a sales assistant actually laugh in my face when I requested the single. It wasn't Bowie, or T. Rex, or even Perry Como, who I could have been buying for my mother. This was the tune to a film, for goodness sake! And because he never saw it on Top of the Pops or The Old Grey Whistle Test (two shows popular here in the UK back then showcasing pop and rock) I was a figure to be scorned. The mocking look irritated me then and it does now. 

I refused to be bullied by these arbiters of cool. My love of movie scores grew. At that time they were called soundtracks but that had to change as more film makers opted to use pop and rock on their movies. If custom-written music was used it was released as the Original Score. That is, when it was released, or at least available here in the UK.

So when I'm writing, it is more often than not film music blasting over the speakers - and I will often select it to fit the storyline and, on a meta level, the particular scene I am writing that day. If it's something soft and perhaps lyrical then James Horner might come into play. If it's an action beat then Jerry Goldsmith is the man for me. Incidentally, he is my all-time favourite composer and no matter who else I mention here, no matter what I'm writing, there will be at least one of his compositions also used. Thought you'd want to know.

For a long time I thought I was alone in this but in the past few years I've discovered that there are other authors who take the same approach. 

There is a reason for this.

Film music should be about story and emotion and atmosphere. The best composers, past and present, have to be storytellers as much as the screenwriter and director. They have to understand pace and mood. They have to know what will work in a particular scene in order to bring out its intent. A good composer can also make a mediocre film more exciting than it actually is - Jerry Goldsmith was a master of that. 

That is why I find such music so helpful in my writing. It's all about the feels.

When writing my first Rebecca Connolly book 'Thunder Bay', my scores of choice were, among others, 'The Fury' and 'Dracula' by John Williams but also some classical pieces, particularly 'Isle of the Dead' by Rachmaninov and various bits of Sibelius. I wanted that dark, brooding feel, you see, and they deliver that in spades. 

For the next in the series, 'The Blood is Still', I went for Bear McCreary's music for various series of 'Outlander'. There was a Jacobite rebellion connection to the story and the music worked perfectly. Obviously! (Also, he is one of the best composers working today). Because there was a childhood memory element, I also used Elmer Bernstein's 'To Kill a Mockingbird.'

For three months I have been battering away at a spec novel that has been in my head for years. Around 100,000 words since November. I will pause here for you all to say attaboy.

It's an historical adventure/thriller and for its score I relied on two Spanish composers - Fernando Velazquez and Roque Banos. Their work is dark, mysterious and richly romantic, making it just the job for my storyline. 

The book may never see the light of day but I had a ball writing it and the music had a lot to do with that. Roque Banos' music for the Spanish period film 'Alatriste' is an absolute joy and contributed greatly to what I hope is the spirit of my book.

Am I listening to something as I write this?

Well, I am, thank you for asking.

I have Daniel Pemberton's music to the revamped 'The Man from UNCLE' blaring right now. It's bright, breezy and carries enough of the spirit of the 60s and Lalo Schifrin cool, mixed with some John Barry and Ennio Morricone, to make it work in the film, as a listening experience and as a nostalgia piece. My only gripe is that it doesn't feature the original theme to the TV show at any stage. 

Guess who wrote that? 

Clue - his first name was Jerry...