Hollywood Studio Work

Hollywood Studio Work

Recently I completed the first draft of the book I have been writing, and am now going through the process of revising, which means a lot of editing and also re-writing. Although I will be deleting a lot of biographical information from this first version, I also realize that many people who have subscribed to my Substack page might not have a very good idea of what it is like to play for the Hollywood studios. So I will include what was to be a section from my book in this Substack post, with the hope that it may shed some light on what it is like to play in the studios……or at least what it was like in the 1970’s and 1980’s.

Hollywood Studio Work

I was never a regular in the studio scene, just a marginal player. Most successful studio players are incredibly flexible, able to excel in playing a variety of styles. A particular player might have an obvious strength in one area, but the best players were the ones who were comfortable in all types of music. Examples of this would be trumpeters Malcolm McNab, Jon Lewis and Warren Leuning. Malcolm and Jon came from a classical background, while Warren came from a commercial / jazz background. But they were able to expand their musical horizons to include all forms of music. I, on the other hand, was only a classical player, so I just got called for scores that featured classical music.

Here’s how things would work. First a player would get a call asking if they could take a session on whatever date, either a single session or a double session. The sessions were three hours long, and if it was a double session there would be a break for lunch. The really popular and successful players, such as Malcolm, Jon or Warren, quite often would go to a different studio in the evening for yet another session.

Once the session began, the orchestra would read through a cue (a particular section of the music), and perhaps the conductor or composer might say a few words. If the music was for a big movie, there might be a short rehearsal, and finally the orchestra would make a “take,” a recording of the music. However, in the case of a recording session for a TV series, because the amount of money was limited, often there would not be a rehearsal, just a take.

An expression is used in studio work, and that is “red light player.” It’s someone who plays well under pressure. That is, when the rehearsing is finished and the recording is ready to begin, a red light would come on, letting the musicians know that it was a take. And if you were going to feel any pressure, that’s when it would happen, especially if you had a difficult solo.

In those days the back of the studio had a huge screen, and so the movie was projected behind the orchestra. For a big picture, the conductor or composer would ask for lots of takes. In my own playing experience, I remember seeing numerous takes of Jack Nicholson’s nose being slashed with a knife (Chinatown) and a Gremlin thrown into a microwave (Gremlins).

One of the main aspects of studios is the money: for musicians it is great. I have no idea what the pay is these days, but even when I played in the studios it was much more than any other type of musical employment. And, to add to that, there was the concept of “doubles.” So, for instance, if I played a Bb trumpet for the session and one cue asked for flugelhorn, I would get a double, meaning an extra 50% added to my check for that session. I remember playing one session where the composer asked me for a flugelhorn on just one low note so that it would blend with the horns, and that one note made me an extra $100!

There were certain top players during my time who were so highly rated that they always got double scale, and I believe only one got triple scale. That was the legendary French horn player Vince DeRosa, and he was worth it. I only got double scale one time, and that was for the original Star Trek. I don’t know the exact story, but evidently there was a lot of contention between composer Jerry Goldsmith and the producers of the film. Goldsmith was asked to rewrite the opening of the film (and in doing so wrote the now-legendary theme). The rehearsals were delayed so much that even though the film was due to be released the following Thursday, our double session was on a Sunday. And because it was a Sunday, everybody got paid double their salary… and for two sessions. Now imagine this: for Vince DeRosa, who played both sessions, that meant six times his salary per session times two. I would consider that to be a good day’s work!

I think the first time I ever played a studio session was for a movie called The Rievers, which starred Steve McQueen. In those days, studio trumpeters only played Bb trumpets, and there was a specific cue that was written for C trumpet. Even though I was quite young and looked even younger I think Tom Stevens recommended me, and I showed up quite early to the session. I asked the contractor where I should sit, and she told me I would be playing first trumpet on everything, which at the time seemed pretty intimidating. Actually, it seemed really intimidating! But then as I was warming up the other trumpet player entered the room. He was a fairly iconic player in the studios, and as soon as he saw me sitting on the first trumpet chair he went up to the contractor and said, “I’m not sitting behind a fourteen-year-old kid.” So the contractor told me that I would only be playing first on the C trumpet cue and would be second trumpet for the rest of the session, which was fine with me. But then when that iconic player came to the trumpet chair he told me, “That was her idea, not mine.” He obviously didn’t realize that I had overheard him talking to the contractor. And that was my first experience playing in the studios.

But not all great studio players were like that. I remember doing a session with Don Green, who was my age, when we were still in college. Don played first, I played third, and George Wirth played second. George was a well-established studio player, and also a great gentleman, and he spent the entire session supporting Don and myself, giving tips to help us.

Once I was somewhat established as a classical freelancer in Los Angeles, I would occasionally get a call to play in the studios. I didn’t do a lot of studio work simply because I was not flexible enough—I was just a classical musician. But I remember one time playing a session for a movie called Uncle Joe Shannon, which was sort of a spin off from the Rocky story. In the movie Uncle Joe Shannon was a lead trumpet player in a big band, so a lot of the music was jazz oriented. And the one session I played had a trumpet section of six trumpets, all of whom (except for me) were top commercial players. My method was always to arrive early and sit on the lowest chair, so I was sitting on the sixth chair. I remember there was one place in a cue where the first five trumpets were open and my part was muted, so I asked the conductor/composer Bill Conti if there was a mistake. His reply was, “ No, your part is supposed to be Miles Davis.” And of course I was the straightest guy in the room.

Although he wasn’t at the session I played, Maynard Ferguson did the overdubbing when Uncle Joe Shannon played, and Bill Conti told a very funny story about him. I never saw the movie, but I guess there is a scene in which Uncle Joe is at his lowest point in the film, stumbling in a side alley at three in the morning with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and his trumpet in the other. As Joe staggers down the alley, hunched over, he occasionally picks up the trumpet and plays a few notes. That was the first time Maynard played the movie, and so the producers had Maynard look at the film several times so that he would know exactly where to play. Finally, after looking at the film several times Maynard said he was ready. So they ran the film and when Uncle Joe picked up his horn Maynard played a few incredibly high notes at a very loud volume. No!!! the producers explained, Joe is drunk and depressed, and not capable of any high notes!

I’m not sure why, but I began to occasionally get calls for movies where Jerry Goldsmith wrote the music. I remember playing Inner Space, Gremlins, an unsuccessful movie called Baby, and of course the first Star Trek. Goldsmith will be remembered as one of the great film composers of all time, who could write both fast and well. And I sort of played one other soundtrack he wrote very quickly, but not really. That was for the film Chinatown. I was hired for one session, but the composer was not Goldsmith, it was another composer. Director Roman Polanski was not happy with the music, so he fired the composer and hired Goldsmith, who had to write the music very quickly. He only used one trumpet, who was the great Uan Rasey, another real gentleman and great player, and the film won Goldsmith an Oscar.

Here are a couple of quick stories about playing the movies:

When I played Gremlins, I was sitting on a sofa talking with tubist Tommy Johnson, and an unimpressive, scruffy-looking guy came by and said, “How is the mother ship today?” To which Tommy replied, something like “Doing great.” When the person left, Tommy said, “Do you know who that was?” When I answered no, he said, “That was Steven Spielberg.” Tommy was Spielberg’s tubist of choice, and was the tuba soloist on many of the great John Williams scores, including Jaws (the opening scene) and Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

In a way I was lucky that I didn’t play all that many studio sessions. I noticed that there were some players who referred to their work at different studios as “accounts.” Very much a business-like approach. But it was different for me……almost every time I played a session I felt like a kid in a candy store. It was just that impressive for me. And of course, sitting next to some of the greatest players on the planet was always a huge learning lesson!