Composer Dick Walter grew up in a musical family. He translates this as: “My mother was described as a ‘useful pianist’, and my father played the violin, and later, without much success, the flute.”
Music was everywhere around him. For years, Dick’s childhood Christmases were regaled by both his dad and uncle singing Edwardian popular songs. During his school years, he “had a few years of, in hindsight, fairly unsuccessful piano lessons, followed by weekly clarinet lessons, courtesy of my local education authority,” as he recalls.
Amongst all the classes and attempts in his suburban living room, Dick got to also play the clarinet in a small, 7-8 piece orchestra, of which his parents were, too, members. Run by violinist Major Baker, the orchestra played music from ‘South Pacific’, ‘Oklahoma’, and “some of the lighter classics.” Dick took this seriously enough, to the point where he began improvising on the clarinet as accompaniment to weekend morning shows on the BBC. “All of this seemed a bit pointless,” he admits, “until my older brother overheard me and said something encouraging. That made me think that maybe music was my thing.”
Despite studying history at Nottingham University, right after graduating Dick joined the Barry Jazz Summer School in ‘67, where he finally found “his tribe.” There, he also met jazz composer Mike Gibbs, who in turn introduced him to pianist and arranger Bob Cornford, which then led to working with Jeff Wayne and the chance for Dick to cut his teeth in-studio.
He joined the National Youth Jazz Orchestra, which he wrote for, and eventually began writing arrangements for the BBC, sometimes the BBC Big Band, and TV shows like ’The Two Ronnies’, ‘Morecombe & Wise’, ‘Seaside Special’, and many others. From a potential ‘thing’, music became Dick’s lifeline.
Commercially speaking, he composed for the long-running, and iconic, Yellow Pages campaign, starting with the classic J R Hartley film, British Airways, Tabasco, and Heineken, among others. As his portfolio stands today, Dick has composed over 20 albums for the KPM Recorded Music Library, across multiple genres, and three CDs of original songs. Among the KPM Music Library records, in an album called ‘The Editor’s Companion’, Dick created one of the arguably most famous suspense (or suspense-resolving) tunes – Shock Horror (A), or maybe better known as ‘DUN DUN DUNNN!’.
Dick founded Score Production Music in 2011 and to his delight, the company hits a milestone next month with the publication of their 300th album. “I had no idea we’d ever get to album 300 - it feels like a great achievement. Looking forward to the next 300!”.
LBB> Dick, your work spans jazz, orchestral, and commercial music. How do you approach composing in different styles, and do you have a favourite genre to work in?
Dick> I was first drawn to jazz, and specifically big band jazz, and my early attempts at writing were in that field. But I liked all styles of music and having an ambition to work in the recording studios, I realised that jazz was, at that time, pretty unfashionable. If I was going to make a go at it, then I needed to be versatile and go easy on the jazz content. Most of the people I was drawn to in the business, whatever their commercial credentials, came from some sort of jazz background, and so I felt at home with them. Who knows? Maybe they saw a young and naïve kindred spirit in me?
Dick> That stint dates back to 1983 and it was part of a comprehensive set of short music cues for the KPM Music Library, ‘The Editor’s Companion’. Any inspiration was probably from hearing my mother play bits of melodramatic incidental music from Victorian and Edwardian dramas. That’s pretty non-specific, but she played a lot for drama groups and their repertoire was often from that era.
Technically it relies on the tri-tone – the least stable musical interval – and I would have known that the tri-tone would play a crucial part in the composition. All four seconds of it. You can’t predict what will be popular or successful. People often think they can, but I’ve learnt that there’s really no point in trying.
Dick> I think it works because of that unstable interval – everything is left hanging… It doesn’t seem to need pictures to make the point, and people know, just from the audio, that there’s tension afoot somewhere.
Dick> I remember Bill Nighy, in an interview, being asked whether he really wanted any more recognition, (answer: “No!”). I think a lot of us who work in production music enjoy anonymity and privacy.
Dick> That was probably the most enjoyable job I’ve done. Why? Because creative director and writer, David Abbott, when asked what he wanted, said two words: ‘Something whimsical’. That was it. I did a piano demo, and he said, ‘See you in the studio’.
Music in commercials fundamentally needs to be (very quickly) recognisable. That Yellow Pages track is recognisable after three notes.
I worked in advertising music for fifteen years and you have to give the director, or writers, what they want. Even when they say things like, ‘…oh, I’ll know it when I hear it’. You have to realise, however daft it sounds, they’re being serious, not difficult.
Dick> Score was always going to be a company that was built around the composer. You don’t get any music without a composer, and that’s the ethos that we’ve tried to keep central to the company. But as important is to remember that the producer or director is looking for a certain quality or character to the music they choose. You can suggest something a million miles from their original brief, but they have to get a spark from what they choose. If, as a composer, you get a spark from writing it, maybe someone will get that same spark when they listen to it.
Dick> Probably not. But what is especially rewarding is when a piece that was exciting, or fun to write, but then sleeps for a while, suddenly gets picked up. It’s nice to know that the initial enthusiasm, during the writing, was not misplaced.
Dick> I think there are a couple of characteristics that production music needs, and in no order of importance: either a great hook, melodic, harmonic or rhythmic, it doesn’t matter, or a great atmosphere. The latter could simply be textural. Productions often need an audio track that simply sits there providing the right atmosphere. No pressing need for a tune or a crunchy beat in every cue.
Dick> I really don’t know the way the business will evolve. AI is probably the biggest challenge that the creative industries have ever faced, and it’s a completely new landscape. I’m not sure that the people who make the rules really appreciate the contribution we make – culturally as well as financially. Potentially, very depressing.
Young composers? Simply do what you do best, and what gives you the most satisfaction. If you have something to offer, someone will notice.
Dick> I can’t answer that. For example, I think that Stephen Sondheim’s work was remarkable, but I think I’d be completely unable to work with him because I wouldn’t see my contribution as having any value. That may be silly but it’s my immediate reaction. And, with the exception of my son, David, whose expertise and knowledge as a guitarist I’ve used, I’m sure it’s significant that I’ve never collaborated with anyone.
Dick> When I’m writing for something visual, for example a TV drama, then generally, the director’s instructions will take precedence over anything else. If I have a free hand, then I’ve learnt that, very often, my first reaction is the thing to go with. Actually, that seems to be true even with a director leaning over my shoulder…
Dick> The second most rewarding thing about writing music is discovering that there’s somebody out there, (the director, the producer, the audience), who finds the music I’ve written useful, enjoyable, or as we would say: in the pocket.
The first thing is the initial kick of writing something that works.
If the music doesn’t work, either for me or the client, there’s no point. So that’s what I want to carry on doing: writing music that works.