Writing Music for Boats: Creating the Sound of an A-Rater
Before the audience sees the boat, they hear what kind of story it will be
When people think about making a sailing film, they usually think about cameras first.
Which camera should I use?
Where should I mount it?
Should I film in 360°?
How do I stop the microphone sounding like it has been placed inside a small hurricane?
All good questions.
But there is another part of film-making that can completely change the way an audience feels about a boat before they have even properly seen it.
Music.
Before the sail fills, before the hull slides through the water, before the crew start looking busy and pretending they know exactly what is happening, the soundtrack has already told the audience what kind of story they are watching.
Is this elegant?
Is this dramatic?
Is this nostalgic?
Is this slightly ridiculous but done with great enthusiasm?
In the case of an A-Rater, the answer may be: all of the above.
Why boats need their own sound
A boat is not just a subject for a film. It has a personality.
A modern racing dinghy has one sort of energy. A cruising yacht in Croatia has another. A silent electric Whaly camera boat drifting gently along the Thames has a completely different feel again.
But an A-Rater is something else.
The Thames A-Rater is long, elegant, slightly improbable, and gloriously dramatic. The rig is enormous. The sails seem to reach towards the clouds. The whole boat looks as if someone started with the idea of a river sailing dinghy and then decided that restraint was unnecessary.
So the music cannot simply be generic “nice sailing music”.
It has to suggest height, history, elegance, danger, comedy, and ambition — preferably without making the audience feel they are watching an advert for luxury aftershave.
That is where writing original music becomes so useful.
Why stock music often feels wrong
Stock music is incredibly useful, and there is nothing wrong with it. For many projects, it does the job perfectly.
But it can also feel slightly detached from the film.
A lot of stock sailing music falls into predictable categories:
The corporate inspirational track
This usually starts with soft piano, then adds strings, then a drum pattern, then builds towards something that sounds like a technology company has just discovered teamwork.
It can work for a promotional film, but it does not always fit a real boat on a real river.
The epic trailer track
Huge drums. Massive strings. Possibly the suggestion that the fate of civilisation depends on whether we successfully round the next buoy.
Exciting, yes. Subtle, no.
The cheerful ukulele problem
For some reason, cheerful travel films often seem to involve ukuleles. This is fine if the film is about making pancakes in a camper van, but it may not be ideal for a classic racing boat with a mast that looks taller than some church spires. So I have to think of something else.
The smooth background wash
This is the music that does not offend anybody because nobody notices it. The problem is that boats are full of movement, tension, noise, and atmosphere. The music should support that, not flatten it.
Original music allows the sound to be designed around the actual boat, the actual footage, and the actual story.
The Wersi, synthesisers, and the home studio approach
One of the advantages of having a music setup at home is that I do not have to begin with someone else’s idea of what sailing should sound like.
I can sit at the Wersi digital organ, use the synthesiser setup, build layers, experiment with textures, and gradually discover the musical identity of the film.
The Wersi gives access to organ tones, orchestral sounds, rhythm arrangements, and layered textures. The synthesiser side adds something different: pads, movement, atmosphere, bass pulses, shimmering effects, and strange sounds that do not obviously belong to any traditional instrument.
That is useful because an A-Rater is not simply old-fashioned. It is a mixture of old and new.
The boats have heritage. Some have wooden hulls and long histories. Champagne, although built in about 1980, comes from the mould of an older A-Rater design linked to Ulva, and therefore sits in that fascinating space between tradition and practicality.
So the music can also mix old and new.
A hint of organ.
A wash of strings.
A modern synth pad.
A rhythmic pulse for racing.
Perhaps even a slightly Edwardian flavour for Vanessa, with something more polished and sparkling for Champagne.
That is the fun of composing for a series rather than choosing a track at the end.
The A-Rater sound: elegance first
For the classic boat footage, the music needs room to breathe.
A-Raters do not look right with frantic music all the time. When they are gliding past the trees at Upper Thames Sailing Club, they need space. The camera needs time to enjoy the hull shape, the height of the rig, the reflection in the water, and that slightly unreal moment when the boat seems far too tall for the river.
This suggests slower, more elegant music.
Not slow as in dull.
Slow as in confident.
A gentle tempo allows the visuals to carry the movement. The music should not force drama where the boat already provides it. Instead, it should lift the image.
A possible musical approach might include:
A slow pulse underneath, almost like the movement of water.
Warm chords on the organ or synthesiser.
A high string or pad line to suggest the height of the rig.
A simple melodic theme that can return throughout the series.
Light rhythmic details that feel like reflections, ripples, or rigging movement.
The aim is not to write “background music”. The aim is to create the feeling that this boat has arrived with its own history.
Racing needs a different musical language
Of course, A-Raters are not museum pieces.
They race.
And once they are racing, the music has to change.
A-Rater racing on the Thames is visually wonderful because everything is slightly compressed. The river is narrow, the wind is unpredictable, the trees interfere, the marks arrive quickly, and a boat with a very tall rig suddenly has to behave itself in a confined space.
This is where the soundtrack can become more dramatic.
The tempo can rise.
The rhythm can become more urgent.
The bass can suggest pressure.
Percussion can match the timing of tacks, gybes, mark roundings, and sudden decisions.
But even here, the music should not become too heavy. These are not offshore racing machines blasting through the Southern Ocean. They are elegant river racers, and that elegance still matters.
The challenge is to write music that says:
“This is exciting.”
But not:
“An asteroid is about to hit the Thames.”
Matching tempo to sailing movement
One of the most important decisions in a sailing soundtrack is tempo.
Sailing footage often looks slower on screen than it felt at the time. When you are in the boat, everything feels active. The wind shifts, ropes move, the boom comes across, someone says something important at exactly the moment the camera microphone is facing the wrong way, and your brain is working hard.
But on film, unless edited carefully, sailing can look gentle.
That means the music has to help the audience feel the movement without pretending the boat is travelling at 70 mph.
For elegant A-Rater footage, a slower tempo may work beautifully. For racing footage, a medium tempo with a steady pulse might be better. For chaotic moments — perhaps launching, rigging, discovering a problem with a cover, or trying to work out where everything goes — the music can become lighter and more humorous.
A few practical examples:
Slow glide past the clubhouse
Use a broad, warm theme. Long notes. Gentle movement. Let the boat look magnificent.
Raising the mast
Use a gradual build. Start sparse, then add layers as the mast rises. The music can create anticipation.
First sail after restoration
Bring in the main Champagne theme. This should feel like a reveal, not just another sequence.
Close racing near a mark
Use a stronger pulse, shorter notes, and rhythmic tension. The music should support quick decisions and movement.
Something goes wrong
Do not overdo the drama. Sometimes a light musical touch works better, especially if the situation is annoying rather than dangerous.
The hidden orchestra: wind, water, rigging and harbour noise
Music is only part of the soundtrack.
Boats already make music.
The wind in the rigging.
The slap of water on the hull.
The creak of ropes.
The sound of blocks turning.
Footsteps on the boat.
Voices from other crews.
A distant engine.
The sound of halyards tapping against masts in the boat park.
These sounds are not noise to be removed automatically. They are part of the world of the film.
The trick is deciding what to keep, what to reduce, and what to feature.
For example, the sound of water under the hull can make a quiet sailing sequence feel real. Rigging sounds can give atmosphere to a boat park scene. Harbour or club background noise can establish place. Wind noise, however, can easily become unpleasant if it overwhelms everything else.
So the soundtrack becomes a blend:
Original music gives emotional structure.
Natural sound gives realism.
Dialogue gives information.
Silence gives space.
Sometimes the most powerful moment in a sailing film might be when the music drops away and we just hear the water.
Giving Champagne her own theme
Champagne needs a musical identity.
The name already suggests something light, celebratory, elegant, and perhaps slightly dangerous if handled carelessly.
The theme for Champagne should probably not be too heavy. It should have sparkle.
That might mean:
Bright upper notes.
A rising melody.
A sense of movement and optimism.
A rhythm that suggests a boat beginning to accelerate.
A little musical “pop” or shimmer to reflect the name.
But Champagne is also an A-Rater, so the music must still carry some classic weight. It cannot be frivolous all the time. The theme needs to work when she is sitting in the boat park awaiting work, when the mast is raised, when the cover is designed, when the first sail happens, and eventually when she joins the racing fleet.
In other words, the theme has to grow with the project.
At the start, it might be incomplete — a few notes, a sketch, a promise.
As the restoration develops, more instruments can be added.
When Champagne finally sails, the full theme can appear.
That is one of the advantages of writing music as part of the series. The soundtrack can evolve with the story.
Vanessa and the sound of restoration
Vanessa suggests a different musical world.
As an older boat with restoration at the heart of the story, her music could lean more towards history, craftsmanship, and patience.
This does not mean making everything sound like a sepia photograph. But the tone could be warmer, more reflective, perhaps with hints of older dance forms or Edwardian atmosphere.
A Vanessa theme might use:
A slower melody.
Organ or harmonium-like tones.
Strings or woodwind-style sounds.
Gentle percussion rather than a strong beat.
More space and a sense of memory.
The music for Vanessa should make the viewer feel that this is not just a boat repair. It is a return.
A return to the river.
A return to racing.
A return to being seen, heard, and sailed again.
Branding the A-Rater series through sound
Branding is not just logos, colours, clothing, thumbnails, and titles.
Sound is branding too.
A strong musical identity can make a YouTube series feel more professional and more memorable. If the same theme appears in the intro, the episode transitions, the title cards, and the closing sequence, the audience begins to associate that sound with the project.
For the A-Rater series, the soundtrack can help connect several different types of content:
Restoration updates.
Boat park problem-solving.
Racing footage.
Historical explanations.
Interviews.
Workshop design.
Merchandise and branding work.
The first sail.
Bourne End Week.
The Queen’s Cup.
The wider A-Rater fleet.
Each episode can have its own mood, but the series should still sound like one world.
That is the goal: not just music for a video, but a recognisable sound for Champagne, Vanessa, and the A-Rater story.
Practical workflow: from footage to finished soundtrack
The process usually starts with the film, not the music.
I need to see what the footage is actually doing. A piece of music that sounds wonderful on its own may fight the edit completely.
A practical workflow might look like this:
1. Watch the rough edit without music
This is where the film reveals its natural rhythm. Are the shots long and elegant? Is the edit fast and practical? Is this a technical explanation, a story sequence, or a dramatic moment?
2. Mark the emotional turning points
Where does the audience need to feel anticipation?
Where does the mood lift?
Where should the music stop?
Where does the boat reveal itself?
3. Build a simple theme
Start with a melody or chord sequence. Keep it simple enough to return in different forms.
4. Add layers gradually
Use organ, synth pads, strings, bass, percussion, and effects only where they help the picture.
5. Mix natural sound back in
The music should not bury the boat. If we cannot hear water, ropes, voices, or the atmosphere of the river, something has been lost.
6. Test it on ordinary speakers
A soundtrack that works beautifully in the studio may not work on a phone, tablet, or laptop. Since many people watch YouTube on small speakers, clarity matters.
The danger of too much music
There is one big trap in writing your own soundtrack.
You become attached to it.
After spending time creating a theme, adjusting layers, finding the right sound, and convincing yourself that this particular chord change is essential to civilisation, it is very easy to make the music too loud.
But in a film, the music is there to serve the story.
If someone is explaining how the rig works, the music must move out of the way. If there is useful natural sound, the music should leave space. If the scene is already emotional, the music may only need to support it gently.
The best soundtrack is often the one the audience feels without consciously analysing.
Unless they are musicians. Then they will notice everything.
A personal reflection: why this crossover matters
This is one of the reasons I enjoy running Philip M Russell Ltd. The work rarely fits into one neat box.
Teaching leads to video production.
Video production leads to sound design.
Sound design leads to music.
Sailing leads to engineering problems.
Engineering problems lead to workshop projects.
Workshop projects lead back into teaching.
The A-Rater project brings all of this together.
Champagne is not just a boat. She is a story, a restoration project, a filming subject, a branding exercise, a musical theme, and probably a source of many future moments where I stand in a boat park wondering what I have done.
And that is exactly why she needs her own sound.
Conclusion: the boat should sound like the story it carries
A sailing film is not just a record of what happened on the water.
It is an attempt to make the audience feel what it was like to be there.
For an A-Rater, that feeling is unusual. It is elegant, historic, slightly mad, technically fascinating, and visually spectacular. The soundtrack should reflect that.
Stock music can fill a gap, but original music can do something better. It can become part of the identity of the boat. It can make Champagne feel like Champagne. It can give Vanessa a sense of history and return. It can turn a sequence of clips into a recognisable series.
Before the audience sees the boat, they hear what kind of story it will be.
And with an A-Rater, the story deserves a theme of its own.
No comments:
Post a Comment