My Absolute Fear of Music and How I Overcome It — TES17
Published 22 days ago • 6 min read
Hi Reader,
Let's talk about something different this week. I hope it's helpful to you.
My Absolute Fear of Music and How I Overcome It
My senior year at USC, I was very fortunate to be asked to complete the remaining credits of my bachelor's degree in music theory and composition with equivalent credits in the graduate program Scoring for Motion Pictures and Television (or SMPTV, now called the USC Thornton School of Music Department of Screen Scoring), then run by the legendary Disney composer Buddy Baker. USC needed enough students to launch the program (which seems utterly astounding considering how difficult it is to get into now), and I would graduate with a bachelor's degree and a certificate in film scoring.
A pretty good deal that fell into my lap.
But at 20 years old, the truth was I was not ready for that kind of opportunity or responsibility. Other students in this graduate program were more than 10 years older than me, had at least some experience, and were much more competent than I was.
I wasn't sure what I was going to do after graduating, and as a fan of film music—and John Williams in particular—I jumped at the chance. But I was also very intimidated by the idea. Terrified, in fact.
In one way, I was very determined, confident, somewhat talented, and willing and able to do whatever work necessary to be successful—though I didn't have a structure of what "success" meant.
On the other hand, becoming a film composer seemed like a pipe dream—a party that I wasn't invited to, an idea I still struggle with today. I felt like I was capable, or was going to be, but there was always the idea of, "Oh, you want to be part of this? Well, so does everyone else. Good luck."
The SMPTV program was extremely informative, and I loved it. For the first time, I got to score to picture, write a commercial jingle, and conduct an orchestra. Pretty awesome. And at the same time, very scary. But I managed it. To a point. More on that later.
Unlike a lot of modern promises, it was different than what now seems like the endless myriad of dangling carrots that surround our industry—or sub-industry, in this case—meaning anything that promises to set you up for success and beguiles you with visions of grandeur but only serves the person selling you the idea. (The Sundance Composers Lab is another example of this—don't bother with that one.)
But fear can come from many different places, and for me, the seeds of fear were planted with my family situation. My parents had recently divorced. It hit me hard, and stability was a rug yanked out from underneath me. No foundation, no direction, no mentors. I was full of intense emotions: part joy, inspiration, wrath and heaping amounts of anxiety. My freshman year, I was a French horn major and played in the USC symphony. But one of the reasons I chose to switch majors was because I would develop "the shakes" when I played in front of people, causing my tone to warble uncontrollably. It was quite embarrassing.
But a side effect of this anxiety and family rug-pulling was the "F#@k it, I'll do it anyway" attitude that I adopted in the face of adversity. More on that later.
Anyway, at the end of the program, Buddy Baker would schedule lunch dates with students and professional TV and film composers so we could discuss the industry, ask questions, and potentially be hired as an assistant.
But when my turn came… I didn't show up.
I was fairly social in school, liked a good party, and knew how to laugh and make others laugh, but in professional situations, I was deathly shy and introverted. The idea of sitting with a working Hollywood composer scared me to death.
The next day, I went to class. There was Buddy Baker, composer for The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, The Fox and the Hound, and the "Grim Grinning Ghosts" song that plays in the Haunted Mansion, glowering at me—deservedly so—asking me, "Where were you?"
"Sick," I said. Sick from fear, I didn't add. Sorry, Buddy.
The great, the patient, the kind Buddy Baker
Of course, I should have taken advantage of the opportunity, and to this day I wonder how things would have gone differently for me, as I ended up aimlessly wandering after graduation. Had I had that opportunity ten or even fifteen years later, I would've made the best of it for sure. But back then, I was lost.
And besides, what I really wanted to do was play in a rock band. I remember being interviewed for a composer's assistant position several years later, and during that interview, I mentioned that I played in a band (Mrs. God, at the time) and wanted to keep doing that. The interviewer said, "Well, we all wish we could play in bands…." And for me, that was the end of that. It was another way of saying, "Face reality." And I had no time for that.
Starting a band requires you to not face reality. That's not how empires are built. If you did that, you'd instantly quit. It requires a heaping amount of "F@%k it, I'll do it anyway." It's the path less traveled, the long and winding road, the "not all who wander are lost" approach.
How I Overcome the Fear
The fear still pops up, but with a different voice and with endless variations of the same message—one that says don't bother doing this right, it won't matter, no one will care, no one will ever hear it. It's the pull of avoidance, cowardice really. It's a lot easier to stay in your cave, snuggled up with your hopes and dreams, than to actually put in the effort and put those hopes and dreams to the test.
But that doesn't mean that hopes and dreams are meaningless. Quite the opposite—they are essential.
It's the anticipation of Christmas that makes the season so magical, not necessarily the day itself. Our brilliant Founding Fathers knew that it's the pursuit of happiness that gives us joy, not necessarily achieving success. Because once you achieve success, the next thing you want is… more success. It's never enough.
To quote scripture:
“
More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. —Romans 5:3-5
Suffer well, people. Turns out the Bible is full of wisdom.
In the end, it's the work you do from having those hopes and dreams to begin with that matters. Not my ego, not the success of the project, but the time and effort and dedication that you put into it. Not for fame, notoriety, to make your family proud, or the admiration of your peers. Only the work. The everyday chip, chip, chipping away at the marble block. I've come to realize that I don't deserve anything but to pursue happiness.
Now when fear whispers in my ear, I say to myself, "Just put your head down and keep working." In other words, "Be a craftsman."
So much is out of my control, so I concentrate only on what is. And do the best job I can. Somehow, this neutralizes the fear. I rely on technique and inspiration.
So yes, I should've gone to that meeting, and I still kick myself over it. Not just for the lost opportunity but for the lack of respect I showed to Buddy. God rest his soul.
But looking back at my time at USC and the SMPTV program, I don't know of a single person from that first class who ended up being a film and TV composer.
But miraculously, I did.
I've created a home for songwriters, composers and fans of Abandoned Pools. If you're interested, come and see:
