Tunes For Toons: Writing Music for Animation

Cartoons — they're brilliant! And wouldn't you just love to write the music? Big George Webley puts you in the picture...

One of the most rewarding jobs a composer can ever do is write music for animation. It's not an easy skill to acquire and there is no higher education course on earth that can show you how it's done. When you compose your first animated score, it really is a case of jumping in at the deep end, getting soaking wet and praying that you don't drown.

Good Advice

If the opportunity ever does arise for you to write music for an animated TV title sequence or an advert, do what you know! If all your previous work has been on a MIDI sequencer triggering sound modules and a sampler, neatly housed in a rack unit, the last thing you should think about doing is printing off a copy of the manuscript from the score edit page of your sequencer and taking that into a studio to get an orchestra to play it. Trust me, no matter how big the budget for the job, it will be a disaster. When it doesn't sound right, you can't just thicken up the cello sequence an octave above and below to see if that works — unless you can instantly hire a couple of extra cellists — and when the lead violinist asks "Do you want it played more 'Animando'?" what are you going to say? "Er... I dunno, but can you play the pitch‑bend bit at maximum velocity with a quantise swing of 33 per cent?"

You're going to have enough problems working under the constraints imposed on you by the film makers, the production company and the time available to have to learn the hard way that getting your first big‑time job won't give you instant studio experience. So do what you're good at, and if you need help, get it! This business is all about being able to work with and for people, so having someone work for you — to help score parts for an orchestra, programme a computer‑based sequencer or calculate frame numbers — isn't an admission of inability: it's the mark of true professionalism.

Triffic

BAFTA‑nominated animator Tim Searle has dealt with dozens of composers during his career. "Most are totally aware of the extreme pressures that this aspect of filming exerts and have a good approach to their side of the process. But sometimes you have to put up with self‑important idiots, usually wearing pink leopardskin spandex trousers, giving it a large one about how they see their music portraying the mood of the piece and lifting the animation to a higher plane of realism... blah blah blah. Then, when they finally deliver their work, usually way over time, it sounds like someone playing a nursery rhyme on a Bontempi Organ with one finger."

To generalise (enough for the above‑average music composer to understand), animation is produced in one of three ways: Cell, Computer Generated Animation, or Pixelation. Triffic Films have a very distinctive, some might say 'pacey', style of animation, despite using every technique available, either singly or in combination. Talking of which...

Cell

Cell animation is where a different picture is created on different layers of acetate for each individual shot. Often the only alteration to a shot is in the shape of the character's mouth. The face and body are on separate acetate, along with other characters and movable objects, laid against a stationary background.

This is a time‑consuming affair (for the animator), which works both for and against the composer. On one hand it allows plenty of time to work on the music and get a general feel for the look of the piece, as you get to see lots of different (still) pictures as they are created, drawn and coloured in. But it also means that you'll have to compose your music to an accurate template (of hit‑point frame numbers and a storyboard), which must be bang‑on when their moving pictures and your music marry up. When the pictures and the sound don't come together, it is much easier for you to completely re‑do the score rather than for them to redraw a minimum of 720 pictures per minute.

Computer Generated

Computer‑generated animation lives in the brain of an Apple Power Mac computer (PCs are rarely, if ever, used in professional animation, as reliability is a key factor in production, which is one thing PCs can't guarantee). The animation packages available get more comprehensive by the day, and can bend considerably to accommodate the groove of your music. But don't get cocky. The very versatility of computer animation means that animation sequences are re‑arranged and new ones added at the drop of a hat — so your groovy music (completely cast in stone, as far as you're concerned) may need an extra five seconds in the middle of your favourite bit, in order to accommodate the extra footage just added... and can they have it now, please, they're waiting!

Luckily, hard disk systems work just as well for composers — in fact, a good hard disk editor can often be the only way of fixing the unfixable at a moment's notice, which is all you'll get.

Pixelation

If you've ever watched the Wallace And Gromit films or The Magic Roundabout, you've seen pixelation (or single‑frame animation, or claymation). Small, precision‑made models that have joints (in their limbs) are moved a minuscule amount 12 times every second. This is an incredibly time‑consuming process for the animator (the models are designed, constructed and filmed at a rate which produces one second of finished film every two hours). This means that the composer will have a lot of time to develop ideas and a general feel for their music. However, in the end you may find you have precious little time to actually finish an accurate musical framework that fits with the animation's timing, as you won't be able to see how a scene works until it's actually complete. Having said that, there are times when an animator will be happy to work to a time‑frame that's been decided beforehand — for example, when there is a 'non‑limb moving' action scene (say, Wallace driving somewhere in his car) for which the music has been scored, recorded and plotted for a specific time‑frame (see Dope Sheets, below).

Storyboards

Storyboards are the first (and usually the only) clue a composer will get to how the finished piece of animation will eventually look. But it is vitally important to remember that the pace of the storyboard is not in step with the timeline of the action. One picture can account for 10 seconds of film, and 10 pictures can account for one second of film. In fact, animators more often than not have no firm pace in mind to their work at the storyboard stage. The input of a composer (who can convey musical ideas in split‑second terms) early on, can help to concentrate their minds towards setting the pace of the piece.

One of the most rewarding jobs a composer can ever do is write music for animation.

Being able to give the animator a rough demo in strict tempo (or, more likely, strict multiple tempos), with a visual breakdown of the musical hit‑points where the action and the music work in perfect harmony, is of enormous benefit. A simple way of doing this is to sequence your idea on your chosen software package, and record a single track which simply marks any useful hit points (a crash cymbal when the strings come in; the start and end point of a piano glissando, and so on).

Dope Sheets

When the animation and/or the music is cast in stone, it is mapped out on a dope sheet. This is a breakdown of every frame of film used in the sequence — background blocks, character animation, physical movements — as well as musical hit‑points. If you compose music that sets the pace of the animation and you have no knowledge as to how to dope the music out, this can be done by a line producer.

The first time you will see pictures accompanying your music is on an 'Animatic'. This is a process whereby the music track is dubbed onto a video and the storyboard stills are superimposed at the relevant points. As the animation is completed in draft form, the Animatic is updated. This process is part of another process used in animation, called Line Testing or Leica. This is where the outline of the image, without colour or background, is put onto video to see how the pace and movement look for specific scenes.

Getting Inspired

If you're writing for animated pictures, you must be able to compose music which can complement action with a resolution of 24 or 25 frames per second, depending on what process is being used. And whatever you do, make sure you know how many frames per second the animator is working to, or your hit‑points will be woefully out of sync with the pictures. Most animation shoots two frames per separate image; it can be three frames per image, but is never more than four.

When you actually do start to compose for animation, setting the tempo or tempos is a good place to start. If you use a sequencer to write on (doesn't everybody?), switch the edit page frame of reference to 'position in Milliseconds' and not 'position in Frames'. The reason for this will become evident in a moment.

Stick With The Click

Record a click track onto the sequencer, as opposed to using the automatic one that keeps time when in record mode. This will give you an audio, visual and numbered mark to where the beat falls. It's most likely that the piece you will be working on is a 30‑second sequence, therefore you should have a separate sound marking the end point. This is the point where every part of the music should have finished, and not the last beat of the tune. Once you've done this, use other percussion sounds to highlight the locations of the relevant hit‑points you wish to catch, and jot down what sound corresponds to what action. Using the relevant millisecond chart (see 'By The Numbers' box), you should be able to approximately play the hit points in live and adjust them to the exact point in the action. Then, using your musical ear, push or pull the hit points to make rhythmic sense. Most sequencer users are expert in delaying tracks in milliseconds.

As a point of interest, if it's a sudden crash, smash or bash‑type action, it will be better for your musical punctuation to fall just after the motion, as the sound should reinforce the visuals, not pre‑empt them. However, if it's a regular action, like a footstep, a clock ticking, or an off‑screen noise, it's better to make the sound fall slightly early.

You Must Be Joking

Animation music may seem like an extremely dangerous avenue to go down, but if you can cope with it there's no other medium which will ever cause you fear afterwards. Scoring a big‑budget Hollywood blockbusting movie is a trivial task in comparison to writing soundtracks for animation. And there's plenty of animation work around these days: TV signature tunes, commercials, government training videos, film school graduate shorts, art films, TV, satellite and cable station logos: the list is virtually endless. There really is every chance of you becoming one of the new breed of young, happening, serious composers.

In Britain we are blessed with some wonderful composers, in particular the girl power trio of Anne Dudley, Rachel Portman and Debbie Wiseman. Sadly, we're also cursed with a musical establishment packed to the gills with chummy PR‑influenced snobs who seem to be impressed by people who wear pink leopardskin spandex trousers. Plus, our film industry may contain the finest technicians in the world and make the most thought‑provoking films, but it can't compete with the trillion‑dollar Hollywood macho garbage that gets shown every week at your local 10‑screen (USA‑owned) multiplex cinema.

The best thing about the Hollywood system is the soundtrack music being made. That doesn't include the shameless exploitation of third‑rate tracks by has‑been artists who just happen to have a business (or marriage) tie‑up with an executive in the distribution company.

All the great composers living today work in films. If Beethoven or Mozart were alive now, the last thing they'd be doing is trying to become part of the Proms elite or South Bank chic; they'd be scoring film and cartoon soundtracks.