Writing Music for Film — Should the Audience Notice the Music?
Change the music and you can change the story — without changing a single frame of video.
Imagine a 30-second piece of film.
A person walks alone along a quiet path. The camera follows from behind. They stop, look towards a building, hesitate for a moment and then continue walking.
Nothing dramatic happens.
Now add bright piano chords, light percussion and perhaps a gentle acoustic guitar.
Suddenly it feels optimistic. Perhaps they are arriving somewhere new. Maybe they are going to meet somebody. Perhaps this is the beginning of an adventure.
Replace that music with a low drone, a slowly rising synthesiser sound and an occasional deep pulse.
The pictures have not changed.
But now we are expecting something unpleasant to happen.
Replace the soundtrack again with sparse piano notes, distant strings and an unresolved chord.
Now the same person may appear uncertain, thoughtful or mysterious.
That is one of the extraordinary powers of music in film.
The camera shows us what is happening.
Music can quietly suggest what it means.
Film Music Is Not Simply Music Added to a Film
One of the mistakes we can make when first experimenting with film production is to think of music as something added at the end.
We finish editing the video, search through some music and choose something that seems to fit.
Sometimes that works perfectly well.
But writing music specifically for the pictures opens a much more interesting possibility.
The music can become part of the storytelling.
A chord can arrive at exactly the moment somebody opens a door.
A bass note can appear as the camera reveals something important.
The rhythm can accelerate as the editing becomes faster.
The music can disappear completely just before something dramatic happens.
At that point, we are no longer simply putting music underneath a video.
We are scoring the film.
What Is Film Music Actually Trying to Do?
There is no single answer.
Sometimes the music needs to be memorable.
Sometimes it needs to disappear almost completely into the background.
The important question is:
What does this scene need from the music?
There are several possibilities.
1. Creating Tension
Tension is one of the easiest effects to demonstrate because relatively small musical changes can have an enormous psychological impact.
Imagine somebody walking towards a closed door.
With no music, it may be completely ordinary.
Introduce a low sustained note.
Nothing has happened — but we begin to expect something.
Gradually add another note.
Perhaps introduce a slow pulse.
Increase the volume slightly.
Maybe allow the notes to become increasingly dissonant.
The audience starts anticipating an event that the pictures themselves have not yet revealed.
This is an important lesson when composing for film.
Music can make the audience expect something before the camera shows it.
2. Establishing Location
Music can help tell us where we are — or at least where the filmmaker wants us to believe we are.
Instrumentation, rhythm, harmony and sound design can all suggest location.
A documentary about a historic church might use organ, choir or reverberant strings.
An urban sequence might use electronic sounds, rhythmic percussion and processed samples.
A futuristic scene might use synthesised textures that bear little resemblance to conventional instruments.
But this has to be handled carefully.
Musical shorthand can easily become cliché.
Good film composition does not simply say:
"This is Scotland, therefore add bagpipes."
Instead, the composer asks what particular combination of sound, rhythm and texture supports the specific film.
3. Suggesting Emotion
This is probably the use of film music we notice most easily.
Music can make a scene feel:
joyful;
sad;
nostalgic;
hopeful;
uncomfortable;
lonely;
triumphant;
romantic;
threatening.
The fascinating part is that the actors do not necessarily have to display those emotions themselves.
Imagine a close-up of somebody simply looking through a window.
Add warm strings and gentle piano and we may interpret the scene as reflective or nostalgic.
Add an uncomfortable electronic drone and suddenly we wonder what they are watching.
Add playful pizzicato strings and perhaps the whole scene becomes comic.
The expression has not changed.
The music has changed our interpretation of it.
4. Signalling Danger
Film music often tells us something is wrong before the character knows it.
That creates dramatic irony.
The person on screen continues walking happily.
The audience hears the music changing.
We know something is coming.
This does not necessarily require loud music.
In fact, subtle sounds can sometimes be considerably more effective.
A barely audible low-frequency drone can create unease.
A repetitive note can become increasingly uncomfortable.
A familiar musical theme can return in a distorted form.
Sometimes the most effective musical warning is simply that the previous music suddenly stops.
Silence can become part of the score.
Silence Is Also Music
This is an important point.
Film composers do not have to fill every second.
If music has been playing continuously for several minutes, the audience may stop consciously hearing it.
Remove it and suddenly the soundtrack feels exposed.
Footsteps become louder.
Breathing becomes more noticeable.
The sound of a door closing becomes significant.
Sometimes the best compositional decision is:
Do not write anything here.
Knowing when music should stop is every bit as important as knowing when it should begin.
5. Building Anticipation
Anticipation is slightly different from tension.
Tension suggests that something may go wrong.
Anticipation simply tells us that something important is approaching.
Think about a launch sequence.
A sporting event.
A race start.
A product reveal.
A science experiment approaching its critical moment.
The music might gradually become:
louder;
faster;
harmonically richer;
rhythmically more active;
higher in pitch;
increasingly layered.
We instinctively feel that the music is travelling towards something.
Then the event happens.
That moment may coincide with a strong musical beat, chord change or complete silence.
Comedy Needs Music Too
Comedy presents a different problem.
Music can reinforce a joke, but it can also completely destroy it.
Timing becomes particularly important.
A musical accent arriving exactly as something falls over can emphasise the humour.
A deliberately overdramatic soundtrack beneath an absurdly trivial event can create comedy through contrast.
Imagine somebody attempting the enormous task of making a cup of tea.
Film it dramatically.
Add enormous cinematic drums.
Introduce tense strings.
Use an orchestral crescendo as the kettle approaches boiling point.
Suddenly a completely ordinary activity becomes an epic adventure.
Film music does not always have to agree with the pictures.
Sometimes the humour comes from deliberately doing the opposite.
Music Can Join Separate Pictures Together
One of the less obvious roles of music is continuity.
Suppose a film contains:
a wide shot;
a close-up;
a cutaway;
another location;
a graphic;
a slow-motion sequence.
Visually, these may be very different shots.
A continuous piece of music can make them feel as though they belong together.
This becomes particularly useful in promotional films, educational productions, documentaries and montage sequences.
Music creates an invisible thread running through the edit.
When the music changes, the audience instinctively senses that a new section may be beginning.
That makes the soundtrack part of the structure of the film.
Giving a Character Their Own Musical Identity
Some of the most memorable film music uses recurring themes associated with characters, places or ideas.
Traditionally this may be called a leitmotif.
The principle is wonderfully simple.
Create a short musical idea.
Perhaps only three or four notes.
Associate it with a character.
Whenever that character becomes important, some version of the theme returns.
But it does not have to return unchanged.
A cheerful version might use major harmony and bright instrumentation.
Later, the same notes could be slowed down, moved into a minor key and played quietly on a piano.
The melody is recognisable.
The character is recognisable.
But their circumstances have changed.
This is where composition starts becoming genuine musical storytelling.
The Practical Experiment: One Video, Three Stories
This is an experiment I would particularly like to demonstrate because it reveals film music remarkably clearly.
Take a 30-second piece of video.
Ideally, choose something fairly neutral.
For example:
A person walks towards a workshop, opens the door, pauses and goes inside.
Do not change the video between versions.
Now create three completely different scores.
Version One — Optimistic
Start with a major key.
Use perhaps:
piano;
acoustic guitar;
light percussion;
warm strings;
bright synthesiser pad.
Keep the tempo reasonably lively.
Allow the harmony to move forward confidently.
The character now appears to be heading towards something positive.
Perhaps they are beginning a new project.
Perhaps they are meeting somebody.
Perhaps this is the start of an adventure.
Version Two — Threatening
Keep the same pictures.
This time use:
a low synthesiser drone;
deep bass pulses;
sparse percussion;
slowly rising dissonance;
occasional metallic sounds.
Perhaps avoid establishing a comfortable major or minor key altogether.
Now the building may suddenly look dangerous.
Why is the person going inside?
Should they really open that door?
The film has changed — even though technically it has not changed at all.
Version Three — Mysterious
For the third version, try something less obvious.
Use:
isolated piano notes;
a soft atmospheric pad;
unusual reverberation;
unresolved harmony;
occasional reversed sounds;
long gaps between musical events.
Now we are curious rather than frightened.
Perhaps the character has discovered something.
Perhaps there is a secret inside the building.
Perhaps we are about to learn something important.
Again, the video remains identical.
Only the music changes.
The Technology Makes This Experiment Fascinating
One of the reasons I find this area so interesting is that modern music-production technology gives us an extraordinary range of choices.
A soundtrack might begin with a conventional piano or orchestral sound.
But it could just as easily involve:
subtractive synthesis;
FM synthesis;
wavetable synthesis;
physical modelling;
modular synthesis;
sampling;
field recordings;
processed everyday sounds;
traditional organ sounds;
completely synthetic textures.
Using a DAW, virtual instruments and systems such as VCV Rack, it is possible to construct sounds specifically around the pictures rather than simply choosing an existing preset.
I can create a sound, modify it, record it, process it and then hear immediately how it changes the scene.
That creates a fascinating meeting point between music, computing, acoustics, electronics and film production.
Start With the Film — Not the Instrument
When musicians have access to a large collection of instruments and sounds, there is a temptation to start by asking:
What sound shall I use?
For film, there is a better question:
What should the audience feel?
Only then should we decide how to create that feeling.
If the scene needs to feel lonely, perhaps one simple instrument is better than a full orchestra.
If it needs enormous energy, percussion and layered synthesiser sounds may work.
If it needs uncertainty, perhaps the harmony should deliberately avoid resolving.
The instrument is a tool.
The emotional objective comes first.
Should We Use Melody?
Not necessarily.
One of the interesting differences between composing a conventional piece of music and composing for film is that a memorable melody can sometimes become a problem.
The audience begins listening to the tune.
But perhaps they should be listening to the dialogue.
A soundtrack may therefore consist largely of:
sustained textures;
subtle rhythmic patterns;
harmonic movement;
drones;
pulses;
sound design.
At other times, a memorable melody is exactly what is required.
There is no universal rule.
That brings us to the central question.
Should the Audience Notice the Music?
Sometimes, absolutely.
Think of opening titles, major action sequences, emotional climaxes or memorable character themes.
At those moments the music may deliberately demand attention.
But some of the most effective film music operates almost invisibly.
You may watch a scene and barely remember hearing music.
Yet remove the soundtrack and the scene suddenly feels strangely empty.
That is an extraordinary achievement.
The music has influenced:
your emotional response;
your expectations;
your perception of pace;
your understanding of the character;
your interpretation of the scene.
And yet you were hardly conscious of listening to it.
Perhaps the better question is therefore not:
Did the audience notice the music?
It is:
Did the audience feel what the filmmaker wanted them to feel?
Music, Film and the Modern Creative Workshop
This is one reason I enjoy the overlap between music production and video production.
Traditionally we might think of the filmmaker and composer as doing completely separate jobs.
Modern technology makes it possible to move rapidly between both worlds.
I can edit the pictures, watch the scene, experiment with a musical idea, change an instrument, adjust the timing, alter the harmony and immediately see whether the story feels different.
Sometimes a musical idea suggests a change to the edit.
Sometimes the edit suggests a completely different piece of music.
Neither has to exist independently.
They can develop together.
For me, that is where the subject becomes particularly interesting.
It is no longer simply:
How do I write a piece of music?
Or:
How do I make a film?
It becomes:
How do sound and pictures work together to tell a story?
Try the Experiment Yourself
You do not need a cinema orchestra.
You do not need an enormous film studio.
Take 30 seconds of video.
Create one soundtrack that makes it feel optimistic.
Create another that makes it threatening.
Create another that makes it mysterious.
Do not change the pictures.
Then show all three versions to somebody who has not seen them before.
Ask them what they think is happening.
You may be surprised by how different their answers are.
And that demonstrates one of the most remarkable principles in film production:
The camera records the scene.
The music can tell us how to interpret it.
Change the music and you really can change the story — without changing a single frame of video.
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