Halloween Recommendations Part 2

by Doug Adams

The next in our series of Halloween recommendations conceptually resides half way between "well of course" and "you're kidding." It's one of those matches of music and story telling that, on paper, seems as ill fit as possible, but in practice seems the most logical forgone conclusion. I'm speaking of Vince Guaraldi's score to the perennial "It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown." Vince Guaraldi was a great jazz pianist/composer who worked on several Peanuts specials before his untimely death in 1976. (Sadly, Guaraldi was only 47 at the time of his death. In Bernard Herrmann fashion, he had returned to his hotel after finishing recording his score to "It's Arbor Day Charlie Brown" when he suffered a swift and fatal heart attack.) He first struck up an association with cartoonist Charles Schultz when he was asked to score a television documentary about the Peanuts phenomenon, "A Boy Named Charlie Brown." In 1964, "A Charlie Brown Christmas" went into production, and Schultz and company decided to use Guaraldi's jazz as an alternative to the Carl Stallings, Raymond Scott cartoon music stereotype. Guaraldi composed and arranged several songs for his trio which were later cut into the cartoon. (This special should be awarded some sort of award for Outstanding Incompetence in the Field of Music Editing however, as the music is adapted much like it was in Joe Dante's Amazon Women on the Moon. I'm sure financial limitations had much to do with it.) In 1966, Guaraldi reteamed with Schultz and company for "Great Pumpkin."

The use of jazz in these scores is an incredible case of serendipity where, by all rational thought, it should seem a non-sequitur. What does a town seemingly inhabited by nothing but large-headed children have to do with small ensemble jazz? But there is an intimacy in the writing, a certain cheerfully clubby sound that's a perfect match for this group of kids, whom all seem to share the same yards, the same school, the same free time. It's almost akin to being holed up inside some dingy little jazz club, where it doesn't really matter what's going on in the outside world because there's a universe of familiar diversity right before your eyes.

The Guaraldi tunes for "Great Pumpkin" are a collection of minor moded ditties which wisely steer clear of half-baked, prefab spookiness. These compositions are a synthesis of melodic and atmospheric influences which play towards the mysteriously playful nature of the holiday in a fairly straight way. They manage to be slickly macabre without ever hinting of withering sarcasm or put upon dramatics. The songs are scored for Guaraldi's usual trio of piano, drums, and bass, with the addition of an occasional guitar, muted trumpet, or very often, a flute. This low flute sound (either alto or very closely recorded standard) coupled with a plucked upright bass is one of the primary colors of the score. There are some moments when the slow, moody flute solos come across like a vocal moaning over the more sprightly bass rhythms. Drum-set played with brushes and Guaraldi's own dextrous piano playing make a large contribution to several tunes, such as possibly the best rendition of the ever-changing "Linus and Lucy" (it's the one song from Peanuts Specials that everybody knows).

The effectiveness of the score is undeniable, even to non-jazz enthusiasts. Anyone who still thinks that jazz is too limited a musical voice to be used in dramatic underscoring should be required to listen to this. Guaraldi was one of the truly great jazz phrasists in my opinion. Later in his career he started experimenting with a more rock/disco style sound which paled by comparison to the small-scale jazz, but it was all from a talent who is sorely missed today.

Trivia Question: What was Vince Guaraldi's nickname? Answer next week.

Nachtmusik

Speaking of song scoring, Danny Elfman's The Nightmare Before Christmas has become incredibly popular as of the past few years. Many people don't care for this work, but I think that it simply depends on one's interest in the tradition of German expressionist operettas. If you enjoy Kurt Weill's Three Penny Opera, you'll probably like this. Personally, I enjoy both. For me, Nightmare was the culmination of Elfman's "bad magic" stage which began with Beetlejuice. (His "good magic" scores peaked with Edward Scissorhands.)

Most of the songs here are done in a speech-song type of style that emphasizes repeated notes and language-based rhythms. This writing comes from Elfman's compositional style during this time period where he often took short phrases or melodic cells then modulated and rescored them as many times as interest would allow. It was an enticing type of circular scoring, though it worked far better with the songs than with the actual score, which often felt a little overstuffed with spry violin solos and grunting low woodwinds like the contrabasson and contrabass clarinet. But hey, it's a musical, so I guess the music was supposed to draw our attention.

Nightmare Before Christmas was Elfman's last voyage to this cache of two-step burlesque scoring techniques. Soon after this score he began what has become, I think, the most interesting leg of his career yet. But, if you like this style of scoring, you're not likely to do much better than this taughtly conceived work. I find it to be great fun around this time of year, and you don't need a lobotomy to enjoy it. Deservedly a classic of the old-Elfman oeuvre.

Here Comes the Bride

Finally, what Halloween listening list could not include Franz Waxman's indomitable The Bride of Frankenstein? I won't waste too much of your time breaking down the score since there's a great analysis of it by Richard H. Bush in the liner notes to the recent re-recording on Silva. The score itself it a perfect example of the scoring tradition Herrmann was trying to sever with his score to Citizen Kane, but if one is going to stereotype black-and-white monster films, it's this European music we're going to hear in our heads and not Herrmann's more brash American style. So put this on with Dukas' Sorcerer's Apprentice and Richard Strauss' Till Eulenspiegel's Merry Pranks and thank your lucky stars that American modernism had such a lush and enjoyable ancestor.

Wow, I'm out of room already. There are obviously so many more great Halloween scores to mention. With apologies to those scores I've left off, please realize these past two articles are as cursory as can be. Maybe we'll cover more suggestions next year. Heck, if you can't find anything else and don't mind being mentally engaged, go pick up the new albums of Psycho and The Mephisto Waltz on Varese. You'll be listening to those throughout the year anyway. Happy Halloween!

"Nothing but sincerity as far as the eye can see." Doug@filmscoremonthly.com