Marcus

From a musical perspective, Hornist has every right to be dead serious. I can't think of a single effort by Shore, nor of any other Hollywood composer in recent years, that has come close to "rivalling" the quality of Williams' mature writing. Ironically, given the premise of this board, this is precisely the kind of feedback likely to be dismissed as fanboy-ism... Therefore: Art is not particularly democratic, save for the one fact that hard work does pay off. And when tremendous talent, almost unfathomably vast experience and an incredible work ethic sustained over the last 65 years or more combine, what you get is something truly unique. In historical terms, I would guess that the only model that comes close, is Haydn (who also happens to be one of Williams' household gods), who had the benefit of great gifts, great training, consistent access to bettering his craft by writing for the Esterhazy court, which also boasted some of the best musicians 18th century Europe had to offer, and on top of all this, health and longevity to keep improving and refining his art... There is a certain amount of luck involved, of course, dealing superficially with external factors, opportunities, connections, providence, but the deeper luck is the combination of the above mentioned qualities (talent, training and tenacity), and the strength and energy to pursue the task of musical excellence for such an extensive amount of time. The point I'm making, is this: Williams, through his unique experience, brings something entirely beyond the usual scope of film music (especially nowadays) to any project he scores. And that shines through even moments of temp-track derivation (if indeed that they be), simply because what he does in purely musical terms is at another level altogether.

It's not a mistake. Williams deliberately altered it to a Cm/Eb chord, adding even more modal ambiguity. It lends less of a "Celtic" flavor, and more of an "English pastoral" fragrance to the passages. And as the piece is intended as an hommage to composers of that school (Delius, Butterworth etc.), it makes sense. Although it does take a little getting used to!

Well, Williams' "Elegy for Cello and Piano" (later "Elegy for Cello & Orchestra") was written as a token of empathy for the funeral of one of the Hollywood Recording Arts Orchestra's violinists' two children. But I think this is a tremendously dignified gesture of Zimmer, and one that shows great heart and compassion.

A marvellous and very important composer, and a phenomenally good reader of film. I truly wish he would have spent more time writing music beyond cinema; his dramatic instincts would have served him well in other fields, I believe. That being said, his film music legacy lives on, and is an inspiration to all of us. I had the privelege of meeting him once in London, and he seemed a very sweet person, there was an aura of tremendous warmth about him; he seemed genuinely touched when I told him of a piece of mine that I had dedicated to him, and I feel he never quite got the recognition he deserved from the classical music world. So much of his music works incredibly well outside the context for which it was written, there is a very unique sense of structure to all his scores, a kind of symphonic conception of the score entire. Very often, his scores will contain really only two or three main elements that are then separated and explored singly, before ultimately being joined to form what might serve as a "main theme". Goldsmith was actually a far more contrapuntal musical thinker than what one might suspect upon an initial listen; there is a deceptively streamlined quality to his musical surfaces, which got even more and more "simplified" in the last decades of his career. I say 'deceptively', because I think Goldsmith's "point" was often not the material at hand, but rather the exploration of what kind of mileage you could get out of these devices. There is a lot to be learnt from him!

What a lovely piece indeed! Gorgeous and wonderfully idiomatic guitar-writing -I think this, when published, stands a good chance of becoming one of Williams' most frequently performed concert works, as it so easily establishes itself amongst the very best repertoire for the classical guitar. I also love the structure of the piece, and it is great to hear this kind of destillation of style; having only six strings and not quite four octaves at his disposal, I think Williams manages to generate his signature harmonic blend quite brilliantly, and what's even better is that it ends up sounding very fresh for that particular instrument!

Well, if what you're after is a live 'replica' of the sound provided by your sample, I would opt to have your players switch stand by stand to 'ordinario' (or pos.naturale) from a complete 'flautando', going from 'pppp' (quasi niente) to 'f brilliante'. I would also add 'poco vib.' over the last part of the crescendo, or even tied with the' f'; this would emulate the smooth, even swell and 'phase shift' of your sample!

I had a hunch... Oh, if I were only more computer-savvy, the whole sample/software route would've been so much more feasible... As it is, I'm stuck with pen&paper, and though they are my favorite (and only) tools, it's getting to be a hostile reality for those of us who stick to such antiquated methods. For now, I get by having publishers dealing with engraving&parts, and I do piano demos when needed, but I certainly feel a lot of pressure to provide mock-ups! I've only done two feature scores (I work primarily in the field of concert music, and even there, the pressure's on to deliver mock-ups of some sort..), and was blessed enough to be allowed getting by with a piano, vocalizing and hand gestures, but as industries are getting more and more streamlined, these rather extremely traditional (and sonically somewhat limited) means of musical demonstration seem to cause quite a bit of frustration...

Try it! String players will know what you're after. (I, on the other hand, have no idea what symphobia is, but can only respond from a concert context...)

Ultimately, it's a matter of color. Keep in mind that you can still play 'f' with regular mutes (but obviously with less brilliance). Depending on the music, you might ask your players to remove mutes stand by stand (if your section is large enough, this can be negotiated fairly seamlessly). "Sul tasto" gives you a round, somewhat more hollow sound (even more so if you ask them to play "flautando", which is often the sound we composers really want when we write "sul tasto"!"), regular mutes give a slightly more brittle softness. Optionally, you could ask for wooden mutes (aka. "Shostakovich mutes"). What these do, is give you a muted sound that is less edgy, less metallic. If your 'f' later on MUST be brilliant and truly loud, and it isn't feasable to have your players switch stand by stand, I'd opt for the following instruction to be given: "Sul tasto, quasi con sordino". They'll know what you want.

A personal artistic response heavily influenced by James Horner's COURAGE UNDER FIRE. It's really a rather expected approach and reinforces the more conventional leanings of the movie. Well, Horner's Courage Under Fire may be conventional, but there is nothing even remotely conventional about the quality, integrity, sincerity and depth of Williams' score for Saving Private Ryan. It is important not to mistake a certain measure of expectedness for lack of quality. Conversely, "unexpected" has never equalled "quality". The great difference between Williams' Ryan effort and all the countless scores that may to some extent explore similar musical terrain, is that Williams imbues such terrain with a nobility and dignity unmatched by any living composer, and few historical ones. It is a question of craft, vision, and ultimately, I believe, empathy.

But Barber's Adagio, lovely as it is, isn't a response to anything particular, and certainly not WWII. It is a beautiful little piece of music that acquires a function as a bleak, perhaps tragic counterpoint to the images on screen. Oliver Stone puts it to great use, but that's neither here nor there. What I was referring to was the personal, artistic response of a composer to a (war) drama...

Williams' Saving Private Ryan score is absolutely masterful. It is extremely intelligent, compassionate, tactful, and in my opinion quite possibly the finest, sincerest, most profound musical response to a war movie in all history. Goldsmith's Patton is a perfect, very cleverly thought out score to an outstanding film. To me, what's interesting about making this comparison, is that it highlights some of the differences between two of the true titans of film scoring. I personally find the Patton march perhaps the least compelling aspect of that score. Goldsmith's strength (to my mind, anyway) is his conceptuality, his overarching idea of a score, and I think Patton sports one of the clearest examples of Goldsmith's skillful use of extreme economy in terms of building blocks. However, Williams' response to Saving Private Ryan works on so many other, extra-cinematic levels. Simply put, his work stands alone, and deals with war (in a musical perspective) very soberly, emphasizing not heroicism, but loss. And I think this is a more truthful take on the reality of war. Goldsmith's Patton is a pitch-perfect musical portrait of one of the most charismatic and enigmatic figures of WWII, but speaks rather falsely beyond this particular facet (nor did it intend to address anything beyond Patton and the bio-pic afforded him, of course). This is not meant to detract from Goldsmith's glorious contribution, but it does serve to further emphasize the magnitude of Williams' artistic voice.

There is a tendency to label mere instances of a minor mode 'cambiata' (a certain melodic shape; half step down, back to starting point, descend a third, or a reversal of this procedure) as overt "Dies Irae" references; many of the cited Williams examples are cases in point. A Williams example that is very deliberate, albeit a deconstruction of the Dies Irae motif, is in fact "Battle of the Heroes". And very fittingly, as it does indeed depict a "day of wrath".

As has been pointed out time and time again, Williams' orchestrations are in effect his own: His sketches are extremely detailed, and "arranger" is really misleading when it comes to the work his orchestrators do. This isn't speculation, but pure fact, evident from his sketches. Angela Morley was certainly a very fine composer and arranger in her own right, but "Lando's Palace" owes not to "Watership Down", nor to Morley. Rather, both it and a lot of "Watership Down" owe to Debussy and Ravel, by way of Walton. I think it is fair to assume that Williams and Morley share a lot of musical references as well as preferences, also when it comes to orchestral colors...

This is an important question! I think the key is to recognize the fact that music -all music- is a language, and when we employ it, we are in fact part-taking in something universal, something shared. And just as with other languages, the more expansive vocabulary we have, the more choices we have, the less likely we are to repeat something already written verbatim (or regurgitate something unconsciously). Of course, when we're dealing with strictly diatonic music, and unless we aim for novelty through rather extreme means, such as bizarre rhythms, leaps etc., chances are our ideas might cross paths with ideas not of our origin. Rather than opting for "false complexity" (contrived melodic construction etc.), I think we would often fare better by looking at the other tools at our disposal: harmony, rhythm, texture, orchestration... There are so many ways we could take something simple, something "already heard", and re-vitalize it, give it new meaning! Given that this is a Williams forum after all, I will offer a very recent case-in-point: the "Bonding theme" from "War Horse"; here is a theme that intervallically, at least at its basis, has been heard thousands of times before: a rising and falling arpeggio. But Williams treats this as a given; that arpeggio is not the theme's sole "point". Rather, the organic, archaic simplicity and "knownness" of the melodic construct becomes a metaphor for something timeless: the ancient bond between man and animal, and is given, through Williams' signature harmonic contextualization, a warmth and, just as importantly, a "voice" (it becomes a typical "Williams" theme, rather than a generic rising and falling arpeggio figure). Of course, the rest of the theme has its relative complexities, and I think there is a lesson to be learnt from this as well, and indeed from all of Williams' melodic creations: Too often, composers will get carried away writing a "soaring" melody, and while we soar, we too easily fall prey to the undistilled (and often unconscious) sources of our own musical language, which is to say our own set of preferences, which is to say our own favoured selection of all music known to us, and all of a sudden, while we think we're flying on the wings of inspiration, we're on the brink of pure regurgitation... Williams clearly has a very "constructivistic" attitide towards creating his themes: They are sculpted and shaped very carefully, aiming to seem inevitable, but always retaining a sense of "otherness" as well; there's always a slight twist somewhere, regardless of how completely natural they feel and flow. It could be melodic, or harmonic or rhythmic. In this sense, Williams is very much like Haydn: There is a lot of effort, a lot of labor, behind seeming simplicity. And the lesson for all of us in this, is to be vigilant about what we create; to try to resist becoming too infatuated with what our minds dish up initially; to see if we can improve upon the ideas that are readily (perhaps too readily) available to us, through all or some of the means at our disposal. What we should strive for, then, is to constantly expand our vocabulary, and add to our arsenal of craft and experience, thus increasing our choices, and reducing the risk of stagnation and involuntary aping!

Yup! One thing I love about Tintin is that there's always new details to pick up. Surely someone must have already mentioned this, but in case not: I love how "The Adventure Continues" is actually a variation of Haddock's theme! Cleverly done, and similar in technique (although certainly not in style!) to Sayuri's theme being a variation of Chiyo's theme in MoaG. As to Tintin's theme, I think it's very well thought-out, and I feel that those who lament its brevity might perhaps judge it as something it simply was not designed to be: a big franchise theme! It is a perfect musical depiction of several aspects of Tintin's character, certainly, but more importantly, it serves as a core for the series' musical universe (the #4-5-1 intervallic cadence being its signature). (And, for the sake of clarity, by "Tintin's theme", I'm referring to the heroic fanfare, not the "puzzle theme", and not the "danger theme")

Thank you very much! I'll try to upload some of my music for horn in the near future!

A terrific question! And one that cannot be answered simply (and, I suspect, never completely), but I find, in performances of my own music and that of others, that it is often a question (beyond the pre-requisites of technical control) of a "point-of view". Some of the best performances I've witnessed, have at times been surprising to me: They have revealed something previously "unknown" to me, or shown me a new aspect of that which might be very well known, perhaps even too well known, in certain cases. I often prefer (almost always in solo works, most often in chamber works, frequently also in orchestral or choral works) having performers "surprise" me when it comes to my own music, given that I feel certain that the material has been mastered (technically, that is). I know the music as written, and I certainly have an idea how the piece should sound, but there are always a lot of variables: I might write all kinds of dynamic indications, or be very specific regarding tempo, or add lots of information pertaining to character, but these are almost always relative to the context of a specific performance. And there are other factors that play into this as well: The acoustics of a performance space, the audience present, the type of event and on and on and on... And it is precisely with all these variables in mind that I say I prefer to hear the point of view of a good performer (or ensemble/choir/orchestra/conductor), rather than "my own point of view", in an attempted precise reflection. Granted, everything is still contingent on the music that's on the page. But what it boils down to, is someone's sincere attempt at offering music with conviction. I think this is really the essence of interpretation. Now, the concept of interpretation is of course very individual, and sometimes an individual approach conflicts with a sort of unofficial "consensus". One might be easily appalled by a performance deviating completely from a given set of expectations (which tend to build up over time as repertoire settles). It then becomes a question of whether or not these deviations truly add anything new, reveal anything new, or simply ring true or not. Often, a so-called original take (and indeed the very concept of originality!) can be purely ornamental; superficial, inconsequential and pretentious. But I find it surprisingly easy to tell the difference between a truly convincing fresh take, and an immature, shallowly original approach, and I suspect most keen listeners will feel the same way, although it can be hard to pin-point exactly what constitutes an audible "sincerity"...

Greetings! So I'm inching my way up the ladder of computer savvy-ness rung by rung, and thought I'd share a movement from my Sonata for Cello and Piano, phenomenally played by two fine Norwegian virtuosi: I've uploaded the first, second and fourth movements so far, and will add the third and fifth shortly (followed by other select items from my catalogue, including a couple of film scores). Hope you'll enjoy!

I dearly, dearly hope Williams wins for Lincoln. And I think it would be poetic in a way, since both Abraham Lincoln and John Williams are such icons of American culture.

This technique is for real, as some members have already pointed out. It was prevalent in Golde Age scores by Steiner (who did this a lot!), Korngold and others, and I'm wondering a little whether this technique might actually be endogenous to film music! I certainly can't recall encountering it in any other genre. And it makes sense in a way: It is really a matter of sonic "branding". The Steiner Gone With the Wind-example is a very good one, but there are countless others. Korngold would actually at times more or less set to music an entire opening crawl, as in The Adventures of Robin Hood. Whether or not Williams does this consciously, I couldn't say, but I don't see why not, as this is a practice he is certainly very familiar with, and it would be completely in tune with his hommage-approach to a score such as Star Wars. And the later practice of theming a score on a main title song is sort of related to this, I suppose.

Actually third. I believe I was actually "first" on this one with Umea4ever released back in April But seriously, though, it's a wonderful and remarkably flexible instrument! I had the greatest of fortunes working with Norwegian virtuoso and ECM recording artist Frode Haltli, whose skillful, elegant and expressive playing really turned me on to the many possibilities of the accordion, beyond the more generic role typically assigned to it (in film scores and elsewhere). To John Williams' credit, Tintin shows a lot of the accordion's potential as an enhancer of orchestral timbres, as well as its capacity for virtuosity.

It is a separate theme, but based on the same basic shape. Actually, as with Tintin and a few other recent Williams scores, there's a strong sense of unity between the main melodic ideas. Basically, it is a matter of designing a "thematic universe", rather than designing a leitmotif or single melodic identity. At least three of the War Horse themes tend to climb towards the major third, either by steps or by arpeggio (just as in Tintin, the #4-5-8(1) movement is used as a general "investigatory" motif, and is shared by several of the main thematic ideas). It is indeed symphonic! Structure and development on a grander scale!

Yes, it's Williams' theme.

Well, I've seen one in either Williams' or Herbert Spencer's hand (at least in handwriting that is fairly inseparable from other statements in the score) that does specify a couple of motifs in places where it looks like the kind of detail that might be addressed from the podium; instances where such information could sort of clarify a little for the players, or at least provide entertaining "trivia" during a strenuous recording session...