“Scoring Smallville”: 9×01 – “Savior”
Monday, October 5th, 2009
We’ve been talking about this for weeks now and tonight we are VERY excited to have the first installment in hopefully a long line of features here at SHoE’s website. Smallville composer Louis Febre now has a spot here at Starkville’s House of El to discuss what he does week to week and what the show means to him. “Scoring Smallville – A Composer’s Notes” will be a weekly look behind the scenes of Smallville at what goes into the music of that week’s episode, and we are thrilled that Louis has decided to take us along on the journey for season nine. So without further delay, we thank Louis for his generous contribution to this site, and fans everywhere – here is “Scoring Smallville” for episode 9×01, ‘Savior’.
One would think that, after 8 years of doing the same thing day after day, one would be extraordinarily comfortable doing it. In the case of writing the music for Smallville, one would be very wrong.
Tuesday morning finds me at the Smallville offices, on the second floor of a large Warner Brother’s building, a place I’ve come to know, and know well. Sitting around a large conference table are a group of people that can only be labeled “professional.” Each and every one of them an accomplished individual, be it a writer, producer, music editor, and so on. I’m priviledged to be present, a part of such a distinguished panel, and our task is simple; to watch, in its entirety, the first episode of the 9th season of Smallville, Savior. After a very pleasant exchange of summer adventure stories, we get down to business. From one scene to the next, we move, covering all types of details, but with a speed and efficiency that only years of practice permit. Should the music build to a crescendo at this or that point? Perhaps it will be best to keep to a low tone there… maybe orchestral basses, maybe something more synthetic. Would it work if the music stops while the train derails and plummets to the ground? And so on, for a couple of hours the discussion continues, until finally, the end is reached, everyone wishes everyone else good luck, and we all go our separate ways.
Now the fun begins. The realization finally hits me; I have to wrtite 41 minutes of music for this episode – it’s now noon time Tuesday, and in exactly 6 days I will have to deliver this music. All of it. I have done this very thing countless times by now, in a career that goes back a mere 15 years. It is not a new experience, and I know, from past history, that I *will* finish. I will perform the required tasks on time, no question about it. And yet, rationality be damned, I feel the sort of anxiety that used to plague me at the beggining, before the hundreds of television show deliveries. It feels strangely (and perhaps disconcertingly) new.
And so my fingers finally get the courage to touch the keyboard. Perhaps an hour has elapsed while I sit there, staring at the opening scene over and over and over once again. And then I stare at it some more. There’s a strange uneasiness about putting down those first few notes, as if somehow, I have lost my ability to compose. Once I permit myself to proceed -dare- to do so, even, things start to flow more easily. Those inner rhythms, automated processes that years of practice engender, begin to take over. By the end of the day, I have written much of the opening “train” sequence, leaving only the section in which Clark intercepets the train before it crashes into the ground, wondering what I can possibly write for that particular moment. It’s so rich with drama, that I decide not to tackle it this day. Tomorrow I will be well rested and fresh, and writing such an emotional scene will be easier.
And so the days come, and they go. Sometime Saturday afternoon, I realize that things will be ok (they will, right?). As I already knew someplace deep inside, I will finish this episode and I will be able to feed my family another day. But a mountain of work still remains. I tend to spend more time on details during the first few days. Much, much more time than perhaps prudence should allow. It’s really a requirement for me. Themes need to be conceived, orchestration ideas fleshed out, overall concepts arrived at. Which simply means that there are lots and lots of minutes yet to be written come Monday morning. My deadline is Tuesday.
That time finally arrives. The inevitable conclusion. The brick wall that I have been racing right into. I need 12 or more hours to finish, but only 4 *daytime* hours remain. Naturally, there is but one solution, and it’s a solution that seems to become more and more painful with age. Try as I might, I can’t see another way.
There is something peaceful, beautiful even, to be found during those middle of the night writing sessions. Without a doubt, distractions simply aren’t there. The studio is cool, and quiet, and I am able to concentrate on the task at hand in a way that is not possible during more civilized working hours. The music seems to flow more naturally, more freely. More importantly, it also flows more *quickly.* Finally, what a few days ago seemed so remote happens; Tuesday morning arrives. I deliver what I have done the night before, drink some very strong coffee, and make that final push to finish the rest of the episode. By 2 p.m. my patient and extremely gracious music editor calls to remind me, in the gentlest of ways, that the rest of the music will be required soon. Very soon. And so I sit back, take one more listen to my work, and drag the music files from my hard drive to my editor’s server. I see the progress bar moving, slowly. 12 minutes to go. And then 7, 5 and… it’s done. *I* am done! My sense of relief is really quite a treat. For the next few hours, at least, I’m able to relax. Sure, the next episode is already here, waiting for me. But it will have to wait a few hours…
Y explicación gráfica del "salto temporal" por Snap de DI. Os la he traducido para que lo entendáis mejor: