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An Interview with Russell Garcia

Matthias Büdinger

A Conversation with Russell Garcia by Matthias Büdinger
Originally published in Soundtrack Magazine Vol.11/No.44/1992
Text reproduced by kind permission of the editor, Luc Van de Ven

Let’s start from the very beginning. Where were you born?
I was born in Oakland, California. That’s the San Francisco Bay area. I studied music at the San Francisco State University, classical and symphonic composition all the time. I went on the road with big bands for about 3 years – that was the era of the big bands. I was writing music and I used to play trumpet. However I decided that I wasn’t earning or progressing. So I went to Hollywood and studied with the first teachers I could find there. I learnt a lot more that way. Edmund Moross was a known teacher, Ernst Toch, Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco and…


All of them immigrants…
Yes, and I studied conducting privately with Sir Albert Coates. It was a wonderful opportunity because we had a rehearsal orchestra every Wednesday afternoon. The studio musicians sometimes just liked to come and play the symphonic repertoire after always playing studio music. So I got to conduct a tone poem and a movement from a symphony – every week for a couple years, which gave me great conducting experience. In fact Stravinsky brought his Circus Book to us and we played it for him, the first time he ever heard it. He lived up in the Hollywood hills and had a great sense of humor. I’ve been fortunate meeting a few famous composers, for instance Shostakovich. I had a 3-hour lunch with him. He was a wonderful man. If you want to read an interesting book, read his autobiography, which wasn’t to be published until after he was gone.


He passed away in 1975 I think.
Has it been that long? He made a wonderful statement. He said to me, “We get along so wonderfully on a personal level. It’s a shame the countries in the world don’t get along as well as little children. They could solve their problems.”


You mentioned Stravinsky’s sense of humor. Can you recall any particular event?
We were recording some Stockhausen music in a studio in Hollywood. The tuba player – it was an upright tuba – had to put a big mute in, about 2 or 3 feet long. But he had only a couple of bars to put the mute in and out. To do it himself he would have to put the tuba down and he couldn’t do it in two bars. So Arthur Morton, who is also a composer from way back, stood on a chair behind the tuba, reading the music. He put the mute in and out at the proper times. Stravinsky and I were in the recording booth. He put a dollar bill down there and he said to Arthur Morton, “75 cents for putting mute in and 25 cents for putting mute out.”


You have taught seminars at universities…
Yes. Sam Spence was actually a student of mine when he was a young boy. I had a lot of people who came to me because they got the ivory-tower type of music at university. They would write tone-row string quartets and all these wonderful things, but to work in the music business you have to use all these devices and you have to know how to use them in practice. So a lot of people came to me for a quick course and we went through everything they had learned. But I just showed them the practical application of it.


Did you teach film music as well?
No, what I taught was every type of music n composition, techniques, harmony, counterpoint, all these things, but in a more practical and modern way… They’ve always taught harmony here starting way back in the 16th, 17th century or whatever, and then they taught counterpoint separately. I can’t separate them. These things have to be taught together. I wrote two books on writing music, and they’ve been selling very, very well all over the world. One book is in five languages and it’s everywhere. I met music writers in Russia and even they had it. The books are actually used in universities around the world. Quincy Jones once wrote in my book, “When Russ takes the time to share his knowledge with you, you better listen.”


Were there any prominent film composers who came to your courses?
Of course. Johnny Williams was a student of mine and when Quincy Jones did his first two film scores I worked with him all through them because he hadn’t had any film experience. I even did parts of the composing.


But you didn’t get any credit?
No, I didn’t. I’ve done a tremendous amount of work without credit. I worked with Universal Studios steadily for over 15 years, just working all the time. I didn’t often get credit but on some films I would.


What was it like working more or less in the shadows? That must have been awful.
Well, I got very well paid.


Ah, that changes everything. Very often the men behind the scenes are the ones who do everything, whereas only the “big” names in the foreground get the credit.
Occasionally. My first job at Universal Studios was THE GLENN MILLER STORY. Henry Mancini wasn’t doing it. Glenn Miller’s widow had most of the arrangements they needed, the original Miller ones. There were 3 or 4 numbers they wanted to use in the film, but they didn’t know where the music was. So they asked Hank Mancini, “Who can take these off of the record, note for note, exactly like they are?” Hank said, “Call Russ”. I worked with him on that film and a couple of other pictures. If Universal wasn’t too busy at any time I would work for Disney, MGM, Fox or whoever happened to need my services.


But you never had a contract with MGM?
I always free-lance. If I did a TV series at any studio, I’d have a contract for that series. If I did a feature film I’d sign a contract specifically for that film. But you have an agent who does that. The agent never got me any work. I have to get work myself, but the agent can talk money for it. He gets me three times as much as I could. Composers don’t like to talk money or be involved in the business.


Back to your Universal days. You must have met every composer we can think of. You just mentioned Henry Mancini who worked there for six years…
We’re still very close friends. We have dinner often when I go to Hollywood. He is a wonderful person as well as a very talented composer.


I think he is one of a handful of composers who is gifted with melody.
That’s true. Well, a lot of the old film composers aren’t doing so much anymore.


But Mancini is still very busy.
Always. But the film business now is in the hands of young people. Charles Walker and I went together to Hugo Friedhofer’s funeral in Westward, California. All the film composers from our era were there and David Raksin gave a little talk about Hugo. He said, “All of us here are from the era where film composers could read music.” He got a big laugh for it, because nowadays they bring in a lot of inexperienced kids with guitars and such. An awful lot of scores are done with one person and all of the machines, emulators and such that imitate instruments. They can save a lot of money on a score if they don’t have to hire live musicians. A lot of recordings are being done in Europe because it’s expensive in Hollywood. The Unions got prices so high. A lot of composers even go to Bulgaria.


And Jerry Goldsmith himself went to Hungary for HOOSIERS, for instance.
They raised a big fuss because people wanted to give him an Academy Award, but the Unions were screaming because the music was recorded in a communist country.


Jerry Goldsmith went back to the roots of Miklos Rozsa, so to speak. What about Joe Gershenson and Frank Skinner? They worked for Universal as well.
Joe was the music director for feature films.


He was the one who always got the credits.
Yes, for he did a lot of conducting. We would compose the score. On films sometimes I do the composing, sometimes composing and arranging, sometimes the conducting. For TV I did all my own conducting, but Joe Gershenson wanted to conduct almost every feature film. One day I decided to go away with our sailboat and to sail across the Pacific Ocean, just leaving all of this. Joe Gershenson called me the day before I left and said, “Come in, I want you to see and do a feature film, Russ.” I said, “Joe, I told you, I’m going on my sailing trip.” He said, “Oh, put it off for 6 weeks. Do the film.” I replied that if I put it off for this I’ll put it off for something else and pretty soon my health won’t be good enough and I maybe too old to take a sailing trip.


What kind of man was Frank Skinner?
We were very good friends. I worked with Frank a lot, especially when I first went to Universal. If he had a film to compose he would make a sketch and then I would do the arranging. He was very talented. He always wrote very simple, clean, pure music and it always fit the film beautifully.


You also worked with Henry Mancini on TOUCH OF EVIL…
That’s true. Hank got a big check when they sold the rights for that film to TV. He sent me a good part of it. That was very nice of him. He could have just kept it and I would never have known the difference.


You must have been befriended by all the composers in Hollywood. Do you remember any funny episodes with some of them?
Very often a producer or director from Universal Studios would go back to New York. They would have a few drinks and perhaps be in a nice restaurant or bar in New York City. They would hear some pianist who may have written a nice tune. They’d say, “Oh, beautiful. We want you to score our next picture.” Of course this pianist would have no idea about setting music to film, with the timings and the moods. They have no idea how to orchestrate. So they would hire them and Joe Gershenson would call me and say, “Russ, they’ve done it again.” I’d come in and I’d have to take their themes. Even for persons like Bobby Darin, I did 2 films for him. He thought he wrote the scores because he gave me a two-bar little phrase and another eight-bar phrase. That’s what he made up and I wrote the whole film score. But I would be paid very well for these types of things. So it’s all right. I’m not in this business really for money, but…


… but you need it.
Yeah, money is not everything. It just buys everything.


“Money Makes the World Go Round,” as it is sung in CABARET. What’s your impression of the contemporary film music scene when you come from the “Golden Age” of Hollywood film music?
Some of it’s good and some of it’s just terrible. I even like some of the pop music, but some of it is so amateurish and so monotonous that I don’t like it at all. I don’t go to too many movies. I very carefully pick the ones I want to see because I get headaches from screaming pop music going all through a film.


Are there any contemporary film composers you like?
Well, Jerry Goldsmith writes some very nice things. But most of the music is done in a pop idiom now.


That sells better than symphonic film scores. It’s more exploitable.
I suppose. A lot of the 12-year-old kids go to the movies and they attract them with this type of music.


Working steadily against deadlines, was that a problem for you?
I never missed a deadline in my life. I can write very quickly. I was forever helping other people who couldn’t make the deadline. Every once in a while I got a phone call at midnight from Billy May, Johnny Mandel or whoever saying, “Russ, I got a recording session at nine in the morning. I’m not gonna make it. Can you help me out?” So maybe I’d stay up all night and write a few arrangements. Disney’s would only call me when they were in trouble with the deadline. The orchestra was coming in the next day or the day after and they weren’t going to make it, because Disney always kept all their composers and arrangers on a weekly salary and they didn’t have to pay them very much. But they had to pay me so much a page. So it cost them a lot more when they had to use me, but they knew I could work fast and well. So if they were in trouble they would call me and I worked over there if I wasn’t busy at Universal. Usually at Universal I had to write 30 or 40 minutes of music for a big orchestra each week. I had the Universal Orchestra almost every Friday afternoon right after lunch for as long as I needed to finish it.


I think one of your greatest gifts is versatility. You can write in any style.
Well, at Universal one week it was a big love story with strings, the next week it would be a detective story with jazz, the next week a science-fiction film and who-knows-what. Because of my name being Garcia, in the beginning a lot of studios would call me for big Latin productions. They thought I must be an expert in this but I’m no more Spanish or Mexican than you are.


You are no longer in the film business, are you?
I work here and there, but not a tremendous amount, because I live in New Zealand and I’m there 5 or 6 months a year.


The rest of the year you spend in Hollywood?
Well, wherever there’s work for me. I work in New Zealand. I conduct pop symphony concerts and I do radio shows with orchestra and choir, whatever they want and need. Sometimes I work in California. Pop singers make their tracks for their guitars, bass, keyboards, drums and their voices. Then they want strings, French horns, flutes or whatever. They call me and give me a cassette of what they’ve done. Most of them don’t read a note of music. I listen to what they’ve done and then I write string parts. Occasionally, if I’m in Hollywood and somebody needs something for a film and they know I’m there, they call me. For instance, two years ago they had a very brutal thing in a Sofia Loren film. They decided they wanted music coming out of a hifi set in this apartment instead of scoring the brutality. They wanted “just source music”. They called me and told me they wanted something in a Glenn Miller – Benny Goodman – Tommy Dorsey style, because the film was set in the forties. So I did 3 or 4 pieces in that style. I do little jobs like that. But you have to be in Hollywood all the time to be working. I left that. I write a lot of symphonic music now and I do albums in the jazz field quite often.


You just mentioned your symphonic works…
Oh yes. It’s like Miklos Rozsa. I don’t think he does too much film work any more, does he? He would like to become known more as a symphonic composer, which he does quite well. I guess we would all like to get into that field, I’ve written many symphonies.


Are there albums with your symphonic works?
Not really. I recorded a lot for radio but there are a few things on recordings of classical compositions. I did ‘Theme and Variations for Ten French Horns’. That’s recorded on Capitol Records. I got tapes of compositions with the Hamburg Radio Orchestra and orchestras in New Zealand of course, but no big albums. I did a couple of films in Berlin, for instance a Francis Durbridge “Krimi” called NULL UHR ZWÖLF (12 MINUTES AFTER MIDNIGHT). I recorded that in Berlin many years ago. Then I did some short things in German films. I also worked in Vienna. They used to give me a symphony orchestra together with a big band. I used to do big productions for the Austrian Broadcasting Station.


Your career has included arranging and conducting with Judy Garland, Andy Williams, Oscar Peterson, Ella Fitzgerald and many others, no important names are left out…
The list goes on and on, Sammy Davis, Mel Torme, everybody. I acted as their arranger and conductor for record albums.


And concerts as well?
Yes, some of them. I conducted Louis Armstrong at the Hollywood Bowl. He had his little jazz group and we had the Hollywood Bowl Symphony which is the Los Angeles Philharmonic.


Wasn’t Henry Mancini’s wife one of Mel Torme’s singers?
Yes, she also worked for me. Recently she said that she met me before she met Henry.


So you could have been Henry Mancini. That’s the same story Henry once told when he met Blake Edwards; he came out of a barber shop. Hank wondered if Nelson Riddle had come out…
We’re recalling the old days. A lot of us in Hollywood had these little offices in this big old building – a big cement building that used to be the first film studio in Hollywood. These were all dressing-rooms but then the studio grew all around it. In all these dressing-rooms we had offices. Nelson Riddle had one. Dick Hazard and a lot of the writers. Nelson was starving then. We’d go buy a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter and have to eat this for a couple of days.


Yes, another one who could have lived much longer. And someone like Irving Berlin got 99 years old! Did you know him?
I met him once. We did a show of his in Los Angeles. I did all the orchestration and arranging on this show. They needed a ballet sequence and had me write the ballet. When Irving Berlin came up a week or so before the show, he said, “I never heard of this guy. You can’t have somebody write a ballet in a show of mine.” They played it for him and he loved it. That’s the only time I’ve met him.


Do you know Leo Arnaud? The ‘Composer Arranger Society’ had a dinner honoring him. He was very talented and did an awful lot of ghost-writing, like I did. In fact there are a few well-known composers that would have been nothing if he hadn’t been behind them. He was a so-called arranger, but he went on doing more composing.


Like yourself. It’s a shame you didn’t get credit. What do you think of the film business now?
Films are such a great media. They can be so artistic, so wonderful. But they put out so much junk now. It’s a shame. You really have to search for the good ones now. I get to busy that most of the films we see are on airplanes. Once in a while we go to a movie.


With special thanks to Joanna Jenkins and Monica Barber.

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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