Right on Cue

David Lowery's The Green Knight is a brilliant, mesmerizing take on the 14th-century Welsh poem Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, starring Dev Patel as a flawed, headstrong variant on the archetypal Knight of the Round Table. It's steeped in the ancient Arthurian traditions of chivalric romance, but muddied and tarred with the grit, fatalism, and pagan supernaturalism of the time in which it was created.

It's a perfect assignment for Lowery, whose films, while diverse, are deeply thoughtful and steeped in an acute sense of the past. In both look and sound, The Green Knight straddles the line between the kind of brittle, supernatural dramas around which A24 has practically built their brand. (Also, considering its long delays due to the COVID-19 pandemic, and the subsequent re-edits Lowery sent the film through in the interim, it also feels like the kind of film that was refined until it exactly matched the director's vision.)

Part and parcel of that approach is Lowery's involvement of regular collaborator Daniel Hart, who brought him into the world of composition with his early shorts and his debut feature Ain't Them Bodies Saints. Since then, he's worked on numerous TV shows including The Exorcist and The Society, and composed music for This American Life and the podcast S Town. (And, of course, all of Lowery's films to date, including his mesmerizing score for The Green Knight.)

His work here matches the curious, mournful approach Lowery takes to the material, mixing ancient rhyme with moody, groaning instrumentation to convey a world in which civilization clashes against the supernatural. It's as expansive in scope as it is intimately connected to Gawain's personal journey as a knight and hero. Hart talks to us on the podcast about the long, sometimes arduous process of developing the score for The Green Knight, the medieval delicacy of its instrumentation, and the "Apprehension Engine" he borrowed to make it.

You can visit Daniel Hart's official website here.

The Green Knight's official soundtrack is out July 30th courtesy of Milan Records. You can listen to it on Spotify or your music streaming service of choice.

One of the best, most undersung action shows on television is Cinemax's Warrior, a stylish period piece based largely on concepts developed by the late Bruce Lee for a show that would eventually (and unfortunately) become Kung Fu.

Charting the conflicts between Chinese gangs and the American police in San Francisco's Chinatown in the 19th century, it's a show that combines some of the best, clearest action on TV (thanks to Andrew Koji, Joe Taslim, and a roster of incredible martial artists and choreographers) with a tale of America's own reckoning with its racial animus.

Adding to the cool factor is the show's jaunty, stylistically agile score, co-written by Reza Safinia alongside creative partner H. Scott Salinas. A multi-instrumentalist composer who's worked on shows like Snatch, P-Valley, and the Nicolas Cage film The Trust, Safinia scores with a decidedly meditative, deliberate approach -- no doubt aided by his years of connection to creative meditation, Daoist philosophies, and the like.

On top of his scoring for Warrior (which just received a surprise renewal thanks to HBO Max), Safinia has also been hard at work on a set of dual concept albums, Yin and Yang, which explore the flowing musical conversation between classical and electronic music.

Together, Safinia and I talked about those albums, the relationship between meditation and music, and crafting the hard-hitting score to Warrior.

You can find Reza Safinia's official site here.

Warrior is currently streaming on HBO Max, with a third season on the way. You can listen to the soundtracks for seasons 1 and 2, as well as Reza's albums Yin and Yang, on Spotify and other music streaming services.

As the Marvel Cinematic Universe expands its reach into TV, so too does its musical palate expand in turn. And so it goes with Loki, the latest Disney+ series, which will see its season finale next week. It's been a wild ride, following Loki (Tom Hiddleston) through his misadventures with the Time Variance Authority, his unlikely friendship with TVA agent Mobius (Owen Wilson), and the ongoing quest to discover exactly who's behind the TVA's implicitly sinister plans -- with the aid of a female version of Loki named Sylvie (Sophia Di Martino), to boot.

It's a strange, twisty show that befits its always-evasive main character, one as indebted to its comic book origins as it is shows like Doctor Who That requires an equally enigmatic score courtesy of award-winning composer Natalie Holt -- she's a multi-instrumentalist who throws plenty of woozy '50s sci-fi flavor into the Mad Men-meets-Brazil environs of the TVA. She received an Emmy nomination for PBS' Victoria, as well as a Royal Television Society Craft and Design Awards for BBC's Three Girls. She's also scored films like Phyllida Lloyd's Herself, and TV shows like Wallander and The Honourable Woman.

Holt joins us on the podcast from Los Angeles to talk about the eerie sounds of Loki, talk Wagner's influence on the score, and provide some select track commentaries for some of the series' most interesting cues.

You can find Natalie Holt's official website here.

Loki is currently streaming on Disney+, and you can find the first volume of the soundtrack (covering episodes 1-3) on Spotify and other music streaming services.

When Ronald D. Moore's reimagined Battlestar Galactica premiered on The Sci-Fi Channel in 2003, it was a watershed moment for the genre. A gritty, moody, morally complicated redo of the cheesy '70s Glen Larson series, Moore's take on the show -- a space opera about a fleet of ships carrying the remnants of humanity to a mysterious planet called Earth, with a robotic enemy called the Cylons giving chase -- crystallized so many of America's post-9/11 fears about terrorism, splinter cells, and the tenuous lines between freedom and security.

But more than that, it had some of the best cast, most intriguing characters, and incredible production design and special effects that were possible for cable television. And the cherry on top is the critically-lauded score courtesy of then-unknown composer Bear McCreary, whose success on the show has catapulted him to a career as one of the most prolific composers working in media today. Since Galactica, he's scored everything from The Walking Dead to Colossal to Godzilla: King of the Monsters, as well as Ron Moore's current show Outlander and video games like God of War.

With all of that, though, his work still stems from his innovative work on Galactica, a highly unconventional suite of music that eschews big, bombastic Williams-ian brass for starker, more minimalist cues drawn from everything from world music to rock 'n roll. And now, the soundtracks for all four seasons of the show have been remastered and are available on music streaming services, as well as a new album of live concert renditions of some of the show's most iconic tracks, So Say We All.

I've been a huge fan of his music since BSG, so it was a treat to bend Bear's ear for a solid forty minutes, talking about everything from his humble beginnings on the project to a breakdown of some of my favorite cues and the stories behind them.

You can visit Bear McCreary's official website here.

All four seasons of Battlestar Galactica's original soundtrack are available on music streaming services, and you can listen to So Say We All on Spotify here.

During his all-too-brief stint on this Earth, John Belushi was one of comedy's greatest voices. A blustering buffoon one minute, a deeply intelligent trickster the next, Belushi's work on SNL, The Blues Brothers, and Animal House made him a household name in the blink of an eye -- before his life was tragically cut short by the very lifestyle that success gave him.

RJ Cutler's documentary Belushi is a stylish, straightforward chronicling of the man's life -- what drove him, the good and the bad others saw in him -- fueled chiefly by archival commentary from Belushi's widow. Another major driver, though, is the blues and funk-heavy score by Tree Adams, a BMI-Award winning composer who's scored a host of TV shows from Californication and NCIS: New Orleans to The 100.

Before he was a composer, he plied his trade as a touring musician (and still does) and brings a lot of that rock and roll energy to Belushi's score. There are the obvious Blues Brothers-fueled jams, to be sure, but the score as a whole seeks to capture Belushi's own musical background, as well as honors his funky highs and mournful lows.

I spoke with Tree about his long composing history, the connections between Belushi's score and his own blues background, the graphic novel he's got cooking, and a whole lot more.

You can find Tree Adams at his official website here.

Belushi is currently streaming on Showtime, and you can stream the original soundtrack score (released by Passion Pictures Ltd.) to the documentary on Spotify and other streaming services.

When the first Saw premiered in 2003, it rattled the foundations of the horror genre -- not just for its pioneering of gruesome, high-concept gory horror of a type that would come to be known as 'torture porn', but for its perversely iconic musical soundscapes. "Hello Zepp," with its grungy buildup and cacophonous, rising strings, quickly became a staple of the long-running Saw series, which is now in its ninth installment with 2021's Spiral: From the Book of Saw.

Central to those disturbing melodies is composer Charlie Clouser, who got his start in the world of industrial music, working with the likes of Rob Zombie and Nine Inch Nails. He's scored every film in the Saw series since, one of the few creatives to stick around for every installment of Jigsaw's brutal, moralistic mindgames.

With Spiral, though, it's a whole new ball game, with a new bag of tricks to set it apart from the grungier takes of Saws past. A soft continuation of the series, the Chris Rock-starring sequel takes a hard left into crime thriller territory, as a beleaguered beat cop (Rock) tracks down the culprit of a series of copycat murders one hot summer weekend.

Clouser keeps the screeching metal more confined to the tongue-ripping "trap" scenes in favor of a warmer, more noir-tinged palate to suit the '70s-esque cop thriller direction in which the film dabbles. And yet, when he needs to, he plays the hits -- particularly a new version of "Hello Zepp," which sounds familiar but, in keeping with the series, has its own musical twists.

For the podcast, I sit down with Clouser to chat about his loyalty to the series, the history of "Hello Zepp," and the ways in which Spiral changes the game.

Spiral: From the Book of Saw is currently in theaters, and you can listen to the soundtrack on Spotify and other streaming services, courtesy of Lakeshore Records.

In the wake of Game of Thrones' ending, virtually every streaming service has tried its hand at vying for prestige-fantasy drama supremacy, adapting book series filled with sprawling worlds and dense mythologies. The latest of these, Shadow and Bone, based on the Grishaverse novels by Leigh Bardugo, is one of the lushest and most intriguing in a good long while -- set in a war-torn steampunk world split by various warring nations. The largest of these, Ravka, is split by a mysterious black fog called the Shadow Fold, which proves dangerous crossing due to all manner of horrifying creatures that lie in the darkness.

The only hope of destroying the Fold lies with a young girl named Alina, a cartographer who suddenly discovers mysterious powers that thrust her to the forefront of a battle for the very soul of the planet.

Such expansive genre fare requires a deft musical hand to manifest, and Shadow and Bone has that in the form of Joseph Trapanese, who burst onto the scene in 2010 with his collaboration with Daft Punk for the iconic score to Tron Legacy. Since then, he's worked with Legacy director Joseph Kosinski on Oblivion and Only the Brave and scoring other works like Straight Outta Compton, Tron: Uprising, and The Greatest Showman (alongside John Debney).

With Shadow and Bone, Trapanese offers up a muscular, global-sounding score that steps up to the mighty challenge of sketching out the varying worlds and colorful characters of the Netflix series. He combines electronic elements with traditional orchestration to sell the fantastical sweep of Alina's journeys, while also incorporating Slavic voice and instruments like gamelans and balalaikas to flesh out the Russia-inspired climes in much of the series' first season is set.

I sat down with Trapanese for a lengthy chat about the challenges of scoring an entire series of such grand scope, the creative inspirations he took from the books, and the interconnecting, interweaving musical motifs of the major characters. In a first for the podcast, Trapanese also provides commentaries explaining his process for the cues "Erase the Past" and "Royal Archives Heist."

Shadow and Bone is currently streaming on Netflix, and you can stream the entire soundtrack for series 1 courtesy of Maisie Music Publishing.

When last we spoke to Henry Jackman (for Joe and Anthony Russo's creaky but sonically-fulfilling Cherry), he relished in the sense of freewheeling experimentation he got to enjoy on such a devil-may-care project. Now, he's back in the Marvel saddle with Disney+'s six-part limited series, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, which follows the titular Captain America sidekicks (played by Anthony Mackie and Sebastian Stan) as they adjust to life after the Star-Spangled Man with a Plan "retires" after Avengers: Endgame.

Sam Wilson, aka Falcon, rejects the mantle of Cap because he doesn't feel he can handle the responsibility of representing a nation that doesn't represent him; Bucky Barnes, meanwhile, is still working through some culture shock after his deprogramming as the Winter Soldier.

But the two will have to join forces, mismatched-buddy-cop style, to upend the plans of a mysterious group called the Flagsmashers, and contend with rogue elements like Baron Zemo (Daniel Bruhl) and a new government-appointed Captain America played by Wyatt Russell.

Returning to score these characters for the first time since Captain America: Civil War, Jackman brings his usual fanfare and frenetic action scoring to the table, expanding themes he originated in his previous work to a much larger, longer palette. Sam's theme, formerly a three-note quick motif between action beats, gets its own blues-tinged variation to pay homage to his Louisiana roots; Bucky, meanwhile, gets a softer, more melodic version of the Winter Soldier theme to contrast with the cacophonous shriek that heralded him in his debut feature. And the Captain America theme gets its own complications, now that the man holding the shield is a little less trustworthy than he used to be.

Together, Jackman (now a new dad!) and I talk about all this and more, including the behind-the-scenes challenges (and opportunities) of rescheduling the show in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, the show's approach to issues of Blackness in America, and expanding the often-underestimated Marvel musical canvas.

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier is currently streaming on Disney+, and The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: Vol. 1 (Episodes 1-3) is available on digital courtesy of Marvel Music, Inc.

Corinna Faith's chilling supernatural horror film The Power charts one horrifying night in a dank, dreary hospital in 1974 London for Val (Rose Williams), a nurse in training whose idealism and naivete brushes up against the insular, competitive world of the hospital she's been assigned, one with its own morbid history of ghosts and the violence of the past.

Stuck in the dark with little but her own fears, the animus of her colleagues, and the terrifying specter of a mysterious presence that haunts the hospital, Val's in for a bone-chilling night that will touch on not just her own personal traumas, but the collective trauma of abused and disbelieved women throughout history.

Underpinning all of Faith's bone-chilling terror is The Power's score, courtesy of English avant-garde musician Elizabeth Bernholz, also known as Gazelle Twin, collaborating with composer Max de Wardener. Gazelle Twin's music (which you can hear in brilliant albums like Unflesh and Pastoral) is harsh, brittle, and confrontational, experimental works that jab a finger at the English patriarchy and advocate for the spirits of the dispossessed -- fitting thematic links to The Power's feminist fury.

Together with de Wardener, himself an experienced composer with similar predilections towards deconstruction (see: Music for Detuned Pianos), the pair seamlessly meld droning '80s synths with eerie, delayed vocals and scratches that blur the line between scoring and sound design.

It's harsh, disquieting work that absolutely nails Faith's sense of atmosphere, and chills to the bone even before you get to Gazelle Twin's distorted, ominous single that closes the film, "The Well."

I had the pleasure of talking to Bernholz and de Wardener about their collaboration on The Power, how the film's themes and settings match their respective works outside the scoring world, and collecting the roster of rattles, scratches, and shatters in the score from the very same hospital in which The Power was filmed.

The Power's original soundtrack is currently available digitally courtesy of Invada Records, with a vinyl release to follow.

From 1963 to 1976, famed French serial killer Charles Sobhraj traveled the so-called Hippie Trail, the path counterculture enthusiasts took through Southeast Asia in the 1970s to escape the conformity of Western life and seek transcendence and culture in the Far East.

There, he killed at least twelve people, gaining their trust with his good looks and charm before drugging them and eventually killing them after taking their valuables -- often with the help of accomplice Ajay Choudhury and lover/partner Marie-Andrée Leclerc.

Sobhraj's story has been dramatized in many forms, the most recent being the Netflix/BBC co-production The Serpent, starring The Mauritanian's Tahar Rahim as Sobhraj and Doctor Who veteran Jenna Coleman as Leclerc. There, directors Tom Shankland and Hans Herbots chart Sobhraj's crime spree in sumptuous period detail, right down to the wide-collared costumes and groovy '70s needle drops.

The show's got its flaws -- it's structured in an admittedly frustrating series of fragmented timelines that jump back and forth so often it's hard for its characters to cohere, and Coleman's performance is as affecting as her French accent is muddled. But one element that grips is Dominik Scherrer's eerie, period-warping score. The Swiss-born British composer is a regular collaborator with Shankland (he scored previous Shankland series Ripper Street and The Missing), and his score for The Serpent slithers appropriately between period grooviness and nail-biting suspense.

Not only that, it's a score steeped in the Southeast Asian locations in which the show is set; he composed much of the score while shooting in Bangkok, and recorded a good portion of it in Thailand with Thai instruments and performers, leading to a sound that blends the slick '70s cool that Sobhraj exudes with the exotic locales in which he does his dirty deeds.

For the podcast, I sat down with Scherrer to discuss the unique challenges of the project, that line between being period-appropriate and too on-the-nose, and working with some of the most interesting instruments and period synthesizers of the day to craft the haunting, tension-laden score for The Serpent. (He also talks -- and plays -- us through the winding tension of the series' title theme.)