Blog Post

A Score is Born

Charles Maxwell

Publisher: Music Publishers Journal

Publication: Journal - September / October 1945, pp 25, 50-53
Copyright © Robbins Music Corporation 1945. All rights reserved.

It might be of interest to laymen as well as to some of our musical Olympians to trace the development of the average score of so-called background music. There are, roughly speaking, three stages of development in the production of this musical stepchild of the movies: preparation, creation, presentation.


The procedure followed in each of these three stages varies slightly in the studios as well as with the individual cooperative elements, according to time, organization, and talent available. It is therefore necessary to generalize somewhat, basing the following statements and conjectures on experiences shared by most of our colleagues.


Before going into detail it is well to state that one element controls and dominates the activities of all music departments, and that is time, or rather the lack of it. The average score runs from 30 to 40 minutes playing time, or as long as most of the old standard symphonies. These "classic" works took months and sometimes years of labor before they were ready for performance. The same quantity of music today must be produced within the space of ten days to two weeks! To insure the quality of the output becomes often a superhuman task. The average film runs about 8o minutes and calls for 25 to 50 per cent musical coverage.


The executive head of the music department is furnished with a "final shooting script" of each picture in production for the purpose of familiarizing himself with the story. His duties very often include the preparation of a musical breakdown, meaning the selection of logical scenes to be underscored musically. When the film is completed as far as action and dialogue are concerned, the producer, director, and musical director decide which composer to get for the picture. The final choice depends on a variety of reasons and circumstances. The peculiar tendency to label and classify creative ability seems to be more in evidence in Hollywood than anywhere else. It is practically impossible for a composer to be considered for a romantic love story or comedy when he has been successful in writing scores for horror, mystery, or the current “Nazi” films. Practically every such picture demands a complete gamut of emotions from its music, and it seems very arbitrary to classify the musician according to certain ear-catching dialectic aberrations of the musical language he uses.


Whatever the reasons, the composer is selected. In many cases his duties will include conducting the orchestra as well as general musical supervision. The completed film is now run for the benefit of the creative branches, inclusive of arrangers, to decide on the musical sequences. The producer, or the director presiding, everyone is invited to air his or her views and opinions. The prestige of the composer is usually the deciding factor at this stage of the preliminaries.


At this time one very important personality enters the scene—the music cutter, most valuable technical assistant to the writing talent. His principal duties at this point consist of timing the individual sequences to the split second and frame. The speed at which film passes before the lens of the camera is exactly one and one-half feet per second. Each foot of film contains 16 pictures or “frames." By measuring the length of each sequence the cutter arrives at the number of seconds or minutes of music required. This is done with the aid of a “Moviola,” which starts, stops and reverses the film whenever desired, saving a lot of time otherwise consumed in rewinding film.

The sequences or cues may be anywhere from ten seconds to five or more minutes in length. Each timing cue sheet shows in detail the progress of the scene by seconds and feet as a guide for the writing and arranging of the music. Certain sequences may be so loaded with important cues that the quickest way is the use of a “click” or tempo track.

Popular Illusion - The popular conception of this process is somewhat hazy. According to legend, the composer retires to his studio to await inspiration and wrestle with his muse. He works undisturbed and unceasingly, except for periods of sleep and refreshment. After a while he emerges with the completed manuscript. Except for some orchestrating and copying of parts, the job is done and ready for recording. This illusion is shared by most people in and out of the motion picture industry, including executives who are otherwise cognizant of the difficulties encountered in all other branches of film production. However, the task confronting the creators of music is somewhat less simple than is generally assumed.

The writing of music for pictures is a three-part job consisting of composition, arrangement, and orchestration. No one man can successfully combine all three functions in the time at his disposal. The services of the arranger and orchestrator are, therefore, very important to the composer. On the harmonious cooperation of this trinity of talent depends the quality of the musical score brought to life on the recording stage.


The first step toward this goal is the writing of thematic material which will fit the characters and situations shown on the film. The Wagnerian principle of the “Leitmotif,” or characteristic short melodic theme, is favored by the majority of composers as offering the most direct way to the ear of the average listener. Another school of thought prefers the use of “mood” music, relying more on orchestral color and harmonic combinations with less accent on melodic lines. Both means of musical interpretation are used with telling effect by all progressive composers.

Whatever technique is used, the material thus selected and created will determine the true musical value of the score. The story treatment often calls for well-known songs or “classical” compositions to be utilized or incorporated in the score. This necessitates the most thorough research with librarians and copyright experts, sometimes taking days of precious time, because music publishers have been known to ask the most fantastic figures for the use of a simple little tune. Negotiations or the search for substitute material may assume an importance all out of proportion to the task of writing original music.

Technical Problems - The next phase includes coordination of all the material and the actual composition of sequences. To get the proper perspective it is well to realize that many serious musical works are rewritten and re-orchestrated after a first performance because of severe self-criticism on the composer’s part or a lukewarm reception by a disappointed audience. Unfortunately this privilege of revising is denied the film composer, who is expected to “hit it on the nose” every time. The search for inspiration often becomes a struggle against technical problems, such as sudden, unheralded cuts or additions in film footage. This demands careful rechecking of each musical sequence with the film and sometimes requires a complete readjustment of both timing and treatment.

At this stage of the game the arranger takes over a large share of the work. The arranger - very often a composer in his own right - develops the original material, composes variations, harmonies, and rhythms to fit mood and tempo of scenes assigned to him. He weaves songs and serious themes into contrapuntal and rhythmic patterns and creates new and different sounding combinations of the originally given musical phrases.

The locale or action of the film may call for the use of certain melodies, such as “Oh! Susannah,” “Till We Meet Again,” “Anchors Aweigh,” and so forth. This presents a problem in arrangement and composition challenging the ingenuity and versatility of the arranger.

First Score - The finished scoring sequences are written down in the form of augmented piano parts of two to six lines, complete in the three ingredients of melody, harmony, and rhythm. Usually there are also general indications concerning instrumental technicalities for color and effects.

The orchestrator transfers these sketches to score paper, translating them into orchestral language according to the composer's intent. To be completely effective, he must consider all other dynamic possibilities, such as dialogue, battle, and other sound effects indigenous to the scene. He should know the picture and each sequence he is orchestrating. His scope of expression will then be limited only by the size and complexity of the orchestra at his disposal and his own craftsmanship and good taste.

The orchestrations are delivered to the librarian in charge of copying and proofreading. After this process the score is ready for its presentation on the recording stage.
The third and final stage in the development of the motion picture score is the actual playing and recording of the music.

The average studio orchestra is composed of top-ranking artists of the profession. In most cases it compares favorably with the finest symphony organizations extant. The ability of these musicians to read at sight and master quickly the most difficult musical passages has amazed such visiting symphony orchestra conductors as Coates, Stokowski, and Stravinsky. Small studios and independent producers use whatever men are available, including members of established organizations. Competent leadership welds such “pick-up” orchestras into smooth ensembles, usually within the first hour of playing time.



The size of the orchestra is controlled by the importance of the picture, the allotted budget, and acoustics of the sound stage. The average large set-up includes two flutes, oboe, English horn, two clarinets, bass clarinet, bassoon, two to four horns, three trumpets, three trombones, tuba, two percussion instruments, harp, piano, celeste, eight to twelve violins, four violas, four cellos, and two basses. This apparent overbalance in woodwind and brass is not fundamentally a matter of choice but necessity. More than one half of the score often consists of dance music, and the desire to be realistic dictates frequent use of saxes and brass. However, there is lately discernible a tendency toward the judicial use of strings and woodwinds, especially under important dialogue.

Final Adjustments - Everyone connected with the preparation and development of a musical score is usually present at recording. Last-minute preparations for a smooth performance are completed. These include, for example, a breakdown of sequence according to size of orchestra, checked by the librarian; start and stop marks and important cue lines pencilled on the film by the music cutter; and loops of film containing click tracks.

The music played on the sound-stage is picked up by a number of microphones suspended above the different sections of the orchestra and channeled to the recording booth or truck. The music recorder ("mixer") controls the volume picked up by each mike through a corresponding dial on his board. It is his function to shape the music coming in through the several channels into one perfect soundstream flowing into the recording machinery. Obviously, this job requires a thorough technical knowledge of electrical engineering combined with musicianship and a feeling for proper balance. Fifteen years of experimentation have at last produced a small group of experts capable of doing this important work.

A large number of motion pictures contain musical sequences composed of song or dance routines. These must be recorded before they can be filmed, to give the director and camera man complete freedom in regard to camera angles required by action and locale of story. A musical number may run for several minutes without showing soloists, ensemble, or orchestra in actual performance. It becomes then an integral part of the musical background while the story is recorded by camera and microphone.

Pre-recordings frequently utilize up to seven recording channels, represented by as many crashes, etc. Reels which contain very little music are disposed of first to save time.
Each sequence is carefully rehearsed to get the general idea and clean up wrong notes. It is then played with the picture to check timing and correct dynamics and to get the particular interpretation the conductor or composer desires. If changes are made during rehearsals or the music is not up to expectation, it is the arranger or orchestrator who will perform the necessary surgery or give a blood transfusion to the ailing composition.

Then follows the actual recording with the picture (the "take"). The music is simultaneously recorded on film and an acetate disk, which is played back with picture and dialogue for checking. If not satisfactory on account of either timing or performance, the process will be repeated until the perfect result is obtained.

Dubbing - Space forbids more than a bare mention of the long and arduous working hours put in by everyone participating in the recording of a score. As soon as possible after the concluding session, a careful selection of previously chosen takes is made by the music cutter, conductor, and his associates for the purpose of re-recording. Technically known as “dubbing,” this is the process of combining all soundtracks into a well-balanced whole. The personnel consists of two or three sound mixers and - whenever possible - the original music recorder.

As the dialogue has been recorded with the filming of the action, the problem is now to add music and all natural sounds and noises essential to the scene without obscuring the dialogue. Unfortunately, the dubbers very seldom get the reels in chronological sequence and are thus unaware of the important part music plays in pointing up the dramatic action in certain scenes.

A first rehearsal is naturally a very crude affair, as the crew has to become familiar with the different soundtracks and their relative importance. The tendency toward realism often completely submerges the musical idiom. As a general rule, open spots without dialogue come through naturally as intended; also carefully written and orchestrated dialogue music has a chance to be heard if properly dubbed.

But unless the musical director, composer, or one of his associates is present in a supervisory capacity during the recording of all musical sequences it may turn out another case of love’s labors lost. Even scenes that have no dialogue will emerge with prominent mechanical noises or giant crickets chirping in the woodlands and meadows, while the ear barely perceives an anaemic violin or trumpet wailing in the wilderness.


Charles Maxwell née Schneefuss (1892–1962) - Reproduced from an unpublished essay Hollywood Film Music Orchestration 1930–1970 by N. William Snedden (with the author's permission).

Born Karl Max Schneefuss, Charles Maxwell attended the prestigious Leipzig Conservatory between 1908 and 1911 studying piano, violin, and composition with Max Reger (1873–1916). He arrived in New York from Bremen Germany in 1911 (citizenship application records show his profession as ‘Music Composer’) where he arranged and orchestrated for many popular music publishers, including Leo Feist Inc. and Waterson, Berlin & Snyder, and was closely associated with Arthur Lange arranging music for show producers such as Eddie Dowling, the Shuberts and rival A.L. Erlanger. He also worked on Broadway as musical director for the producer Morris Green (1890-1963). Arthur Lange brought Maxwell out to MGM in 1929 as an assistant to Dr. William Axt providing additional compositions for MARIANNE (1929) and GRAND HOTEL (1932). He worked alongside Paul Marquardt, Maurice de Packh and Leonid Raab orchestrating many scores for Herbert Stothart including TREASURE ISLAND (1934) and DAVID COPPERFIELD (1935). After 1936 he freelanced at Twentieth Century-Fox (Hugo Friedhofer, SINS OF MAN, 1936), Universal (Dimitri Tiomkin, THE ROAD BACK, 1937), Paramount (Richard Hageman, RULERS OF THE SEA, 1939), RKO (Roy Webb, LADDIE, 1940), Warner Bros. (William Lava, PASSAGE FROM HONG KONG, 1941) and Columbia (Tiomkin, THE GUNS OF NAVARONE, 1961). There are over 260 compositions and cues listed for Charles Maxwell in the ACE online repository.


Maxwell’s concert compositions include ‘Ode to a Hobo’ (1941), ‘Three Miniatures’ for flute, violin, and viola (1942), a suite for small orchestra ‘Vignettes’ (1944), a ballet for orchestra ‘Toccata and Coda Religioso’ (1946, suggested by Vachel Lindsay’s poem ‘The Congo’), an orchestral transcription of Paganini’s ‘Moto Perpetuo,’ and several overtures: ‘Plymouth Rock’ (1955), ‘Stephen Foster’ (1956), and ‘Punch and Judy’ (1959). Many of these works received their first performance by the Burbank Symphony Orchestra formed and conducted by Leo Damiani (1912-1986). Maxwell sat on the ASMA Board of Directors and was an Associate Editor of The Score, regularly contributing columns such as ‘Symphony Nights.’ He was also a past president and member of the ‘Bohemians’ of Los Angeles, a member of the National Association of American Composers and Conductors, as well as the American Music Center in New York City.

In October 1937, Charles Maxwell, along with Leonid Raab, Wayne Allen, Ray Heindorf, and John Leipold helped to found the American Society of Music Arrangers (ASMA) in order to promote and protect the general interests of orchestrators and arrangers and to gain greater recognition for its members. In 1987, ASMA changed to the American Society of Music Arrangers and Composers (ASMAC), recognizing the fact most members were also practicing composers as well.

Biographical details expounded from The Grove Dictionary of American Music (2 ed. Oxford University Press, published online 2013) which in turn are from Music and Dance in California, edited by José Rodriguez (Hollywood: Bureau of Musical Research, 1940): 393-94. Also “Charles Maxwell Obituary”, LA Times, (August 23, 1962). For a time Maxwell went by the name Charles Maxwell Smith as will be found in trade journals prior to 1928. For example, see review of sketch “Desperate Sam” presented by Morris & Greene featuring former Ziegfeld Follies comedian Bert Gordon in Variety, Jan 5, 1927.

by Quentin Billard 30 May, 2024
INTRADA RECORDS Time: 29/40 - Tracks: 15 _____________________________________________________________________________ Polar mineur à petit budget datant de 1959 et réalisé par Irving Lerner, « City of Fear » met en scène Vince Edwards dans le rôle de Vince Ryker, un détenu qui s’est évadé de prison avec un complice en emportant avec lui un conteneur cylindrique, croyant contenir de l’héroïne. Mais ce que Vince ignore, c’est que le conteneur contient en réalité du cobalt-60, un matériau radioactif extrêmement dangereux, capable de raser une ville entière. Ryker se réfugie alors dans une chambre d’hôtel à Los Angeles et retrouve à l’occasion sa fiancée, tandis que le détenu est traqué par la police, qui va tout faire pour retrouver Ryker et intercepter le produit radioactif avant qu’il ne soit trop tard. Le scénario du film reste donc très convenu et rappelle certains polars de l’époque (on pense par exemple à « Panic in the Streets » d’Elia Kazan en 1950, sur un scénario assez similaire), mais l’arrivée d’une intrigue en rapport avec la menace de la radioactivité est assez nouvelle pour l’époque et inspirera d’autres polars par la suite (cf. « The Satan Bug » de John Sturges en 1965). Le film repose sur un montage sobre et un rythme assez lent, chose curieuse pour une histoire de course contre la montre et de traque policière. A vrai dire, le manque de rythme et l’allure modérée des péripéties empêchent le film de décoller vraiment : Vince Edwards se voit confier ici un rôle solide, avec un personnage principal dont la santé ne cessera de se dégrader tout au long du film, subissant la radioactivité mortelle de son conteneur qu’il croit contenir de l’héroïne. Autour de lui, quelques personnages secondaires sans grand relief et toute une armada de policiers sérieux et stressés, bien déterminés à retrouver l’évadé et à récupérer le cobalt-60. Malgré l’interprétation convaincante de Vince Edwards (connu pour son rôle dans « Murder by Contract ») et quelques décors urbains réussis – le tout servi par une atmosphère de paranoïa typique du cinéma américain en pleine guerre froide - « City of Fear » déçoit par son manque de moyen et d’ambition, et échoue finalement à susciter le moindre suspense ou la moindre tension : la faute à une mise en scène réaliste, ultra sobre mais sans grande conviction, impersonnelle et peu convaincante, un comble pour un polar de ce genre qui tente de suivre la mode des films noirs américains de l’époque, mais sans réelle passion. Voilà donc une série-B poussiéreuse qui semble être très rapidement tombée dans l’oubli, si l’on excepte une récente réédition dans un coffret DVD consacré aux films noirs des années 50 produits par Columbia Pictures. Le jeune Jerry Goldsmith signa avec « City of Fear » sa deuxième partition musicale pour un long-métrage hollywoodien en 1959, après le western « Black Patch » en 1957. Le jeune musicien, alors âgé de 30 ans, avait à son actif toute une série de partitions écrites pour la télévision, et plus particulièrement pour la CBS, avec laquelle il travailla pendant plusieurs années. Si « City of Fear » fait indiscutablement partie des oeuvres de jeunesse oubliées du maestro, cela n’en demeure pas moins une étape importante dans la jeune carrière du compositeur à la fin des années 50 : le film d’Irving Lerner lui permit de s’attaquer pour la première fois au genre du thriller/polar au cinéma, genre dans lequel il deviendra une référence incontournable pour les décennies à venir. Pour Jerry Goldsmith, le challenge était double sur « City of Fear » : il fallait à la fois évoquer le suspense haletant du film sous la forme d’un compte à rebours, tout en évoquant la menace constante du cobalt-60, véritable anti-héros du film qui devient quasiment une sorte de personnage à part entière – tout en étant associé à Vince Edwards tout au long du récit. Pour Goldsmith, un premier choix s’imposa : celui de l’orchestration. Habitué à travailler pour la CBS avec des formations réduites, le maestro fit appel à un orchestre sans violons ni altos, mais avec tout un pupitre de percussions assez éclectique : xylophone, piano, marimba, harpe, cloches, vibraphone, timbales, caisse claire, glockenspiel, bongos, etc. Le pupitre des cuivres reste aussi très présent et assez imposant, tout comme celui des bois. Les cordes se résument finalement aux registres les plus graves, à travers l’utilisation quasi exclusive des violoncelles et des contrebasses. Dès les premières notes de la musique (« Get Away/Main Title »), Goldsmith établit sans équivoque une sombre atmosphère de poursuite et de danger, à travers une musique agitée, tendue et mouvementée. Alors que l’on aperçoit Ryker et son complice en train de s’échapper à toute vitesse en voiture, Goldsmith introduit une figure rythmique ascendante des cuivres, sur fond de rythmes complexes évoquant tout aussi bien Stravinsky que Bartok – deux influences majeures chez le maestro américain. On notera ici l’utilisation caractéristique du xylophone et des bongos, deux instruments qui seront très présents tout au long du score de « City of Fear », tandis que le piano renforce la tension par ses ponctuations de notes graves sur fond d’harmonies menaçantes des bois et des cuivres : une mélodie se dessine alors lentement au piccolo et au glockenspiel, et qui deviendra très rapidement le thème principal du score, thème empreint d’un certain mystère, tout en annonçant la menace à venir. C’est à partir de « Road Block » que Goldsmith introduit les sonorités associées dans le film à Ryker : on retrouve ici le jeu particulier des percussions (notes rapides de xylophone, ponctuation de piano/timbales) tandis qu’une trompette soliste fait ici son apparition, instrument rattaché dans le film à Ryker. La trompette revient dans « Motel », dans lequel les bongos créent ici un sentiment d’urgence sur fond de ponctuations de trombones et de timbales. Le morceau reflète parfaitement l’ambiance de paranoïa et de tension psychologique du film, tandis que les harmonies sombres du début sont reprises dans « The Facts », pour évoquer la menace du cobalt-60. Ce morceau permet alors à Jerry Goldsmith de développer les sonorités associées à la substance toxique dans le film (un peu comme il le fera quelques années plus tard dans le film « The Satan Bug » en 1965), par le biais de ponctuations de trompettes en sourdine, de percussion métallique et d’un raclement de guiro, évoquant judicieusement le contenant métallique du cobalt-60, que transporte Ryker tout au long du film (croyant à tort qu’il contient de la drogue). « Montage #1 » est quand à lui un premier morceau-clé de la partition de « City of Fear », car le morceau introduit les sonorités associées aux policiers qui traquent le fugitif tout au long du film. Goldsmith met ici l’accent sur un ostinato quasi guerrier de timbales agressives sur fond de cuivres en sourdine, de bois aigus et de caisse claire quasi martial : le morceau possède d’ailleurs un côté militaire assez impressionnant, évoquant les forces policières et l’urgence de la situation : stopper le fugitif à tout prix. Le réalisateur offre même une séquence de montage illustrant les préparatifs de la police pour le début de la course poursuite dans toute la ville, ce qui permet au maestro de s’exprimer pleinement en musique avec « Montage #1 ». Plus particulier, « Tennis Shoes » introduit du jazz traditionnel pour le côté « polar » du film (à noter que le pianiste du score n’est autre que le jeune John Williams !). Le morceau est associé dans le film au personnage de Pete Hallon (Sherwood Price), le gangster complice de Ryker que ce dernier finira par assassiner à la suite de plusieurs maladresses. Le motif jazzy d’Hallon revient ensuite dans « The Shoes » et « Montage #2 », qui reprend le même sentiment d’urgence que la première séquence de montage policier, avec le retour ici du motif descendant rapide de 7 notes qui introduisait le film au tout début de « Get Away/Main Title ». La mélodie principale de piccolo sur fond d’harmonies sombres de bois reviennent enfin dans « You Can’t Stay », rappelant encore une fois la menace du cobalt-60, avec une opposition étonnante ici entre le registre très aigu de la mélodie et l’extrême grave des harmonies, un élément qui renforce davantage la tension dans la musique du film. Le morceau développe ensuite le thème principal pour les dernières secondes du morceau, reprenant une bonne partie du « Main Title ». La tension monte ensuite d’un cran dans le sombre et agité « Taxicab », reprenant les ponctuations métalliques et agressives associées au cobalt-60 (avec son effet particulier du raclement de guiro cubain), tout comme le sombre « Waiting » ou l’oppressant « Search » et son écriture torturée de cordes évoquant la dégradation physique et mentale de Ryker, contaminé par le cobalt-60. « Search » permet au compositeur de mélanger les sonorités métalliques de la substance toxique, la trompette « polar » de Ryker et les harmonies sombres et torturées du « Main Title », aboutissant aux rythmes de bongos/xylophone syncopés complexes de « Track Down » et au climax brutal de « End of the Road » avec sa série de notes staccatos complexes de trompettes et contrebasses. La tension orchestrale de « End of the Road » aboutit finalement à la coda agressive de « Finale », dans lequel Goldsmith résume ses principales idées sonores/thématiques/instrumentales de sa partition en moins de 2 minutes pour la conclusion du film – on retrouve ainsi le motif descendant du « Main Title », le thème principal, le motif métallique et le raclement de guiro du cobalt-60 – un final somme toute assez sombre et élégiaque, typique de Goldsmith. Vous l’aurez certainement compris, « City of Fear » possède déjà les principaux atouts du style Jerry Goldsmith, bien plus reconnaissable ici que dans son premier essai de 1957, « Black Patch ». La musique de « City of Fear » reste d'ailleurs le meilleur élément du long-métrage un peu pauvre d'Irving Lerner : aux images sèches et peu inspirantes du film, Goldsmith répond par une musique sombre, complexe, virile, nerveuse et oppressante. Le musicien met en avant tout au long du film d’Irving Lerner une instrumentation personnelle, mélangeant les influences du XXe siècle (Stravinsky, Bartok, etc.) avec une inventivité et une modernité déconcertante - on est déjà en plein dans le style suspense du Goldsmith des années 60/70. Goldsmith fit partie à cette époque d’une nouvelle génération de musiciens qui apportèrent un point de vue différent et rafraîchissant à la musique de film hollywoodienne (Bernard Herrmann ayant déjà ouvert la voie à cette nouvelle conception) : là où un Steiner ou un Newman aurait proposé une musique purement jazzy ou même inspirée du Romantisme allemand, Goldsmith ira davantage vers la musique extra européenne tout en bousculant l’orchestre hollywoodien traditionnel et en s’affranchissant des figures rythmiques classiques, mélodiques et harmoniques du Golden Age hollywoodien. Sans être un chef-d’oeuvre dans son genre, « City of Fear » reste malgré tout un premier score majeur dans les musiques de jeunesse de Jerry Goldsmith : cette partition, pas si anecdotique qu’elle en a l’air au premier abord, servira de pont vers de futures partitions telles que « The Prize » et surtout « The Satan Bug ». « City of Fear » permit ainsi à Goldsmith de concrétiser ses idées qu’il développa tout au long de ses années à la CBS, et les amplifia sur le film d’Iriving Lerner à l’échelle cinématographique, annonçant déjà certaines de ses futures grandes musiques d’action/suspense pour les décennies à venir – les recettes du style Goldsmith sont déjà là : rythmes syncopés complexes, orchestrations inventives, développements thématiques riches, travail passionné sur la relation image/musique, etc. Voilà donc une musique rare et un peu oubliée du maestro californien, à redécouvrir rapidement grâce à l’excellente édition CD publiée par Intrada, qui contient l’intégralité des 29 minutes écrites par Goldsmith pour « City of Fear », le tout servi par un son tout à fait honorable pour un enregistrement de 1959 ! 
by Quentin Billard 24 May, 2024
Essential scores - Jerry Goldsmith
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