Travellers and Composers: A Conversation with Paul Leonard-Morgan

Paul Leonard-Morgan is a classically trained composer and pianist with a diverse work profile. He has composed music for films and the concert hall, written music for video games in multiple styles, including electronica, and produced songs and albums by groups such as No Doubt, Simple Minds, and Snow Patrol. Leonard-Morgan has won a Scottish BAFTA award for the 2000 film Reflections on the Origin of the Pineapple and has been nominated for the Ivor Novello Award in the UK and an Emmy Award in the US. We spoke in May 2024 about his recent work in film and television, as well as discussing life outside the studio.

Could you tell me a little bit about your background in music and how you got into composition?

My background in music is that my mum is a music teacher and brilliant flautist and pianist but she has teeny tiny fingers so she could never do the Mozart octaves. My dad’s tone deaf, so I don’t know whose genes I got. I think I got my mum’s, and that’s how I got into it. I always liked composing and like I am the classic geek who, when we would go off to the beach in the south of England, my dad always said everyone else would be in their swimming trunks going into the sea and I was there with manuscript paper listening to David Bowie writing down the tunes of “Changes.”

PAUL LEONARD-MORGAN

I just always really enjoyed it, so when I got the chance to study music at the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama or the Royal Conservatoire [of Scotland], as it’s called now, I went to study film music, but I don’t know why because I’d never done it before. I’d just always liked writing music. I didn’t know that you could do it as a job and they were starting this new course. I’d applied to the Guildhall [School] in London and applied to the Academy and then I was just like, “Well, actually I’m Scottish, but we’ve lived in London most of our lives.” So, I was like, “It’ll be quite nice to go and see the relations and have Sunday lunch made for you and all that kind of stuff. I’ll go there for a few years.” The few years turned into like 20, 25, or whatever, but it was wicked. I don’t know that it taught me film music because the teacher buggered off after about a month to go to Hollywood. I was literally there thinking, “Okay, I’m pleased that you’re in Hollywood, but what am I supposed to do?”

I learned composition. When I say “composition,” [I mean] orchestration. I would go into the library and study [Leonard] Bernstein’s Prelude, Fugue, and Riffs, go and study [Ralph] Vaughan Williams, go and study how the sounds are made. And I had Sir Jimmy MacMillan, who’s a wonderful British composer. He taught me once a month. Sir Jimmy is awesome. He’d just done the Percussion Concerto for Evelyn Glennie, which is great. He would come in his ripped jeans, his leather jacket, and his chains, and everyone was thinking, “Hey, you can be cool as a composer.” [laughs] But, film at that stage wasn’t really on the agenda. I was just learning about music, surrounding myself with music.

ERROL MORRIS, PAUL LEONARD-MORGAN, AND PHILIP GLASS THE PIGEON TUNNEL NY PREMIERE, SEPTEMBER 2023. © NAFIS AZAD

One of the projects that you did was a collaboration with Philip Glass for the Amazon series Tales from the Loop back in 2020. How did you get connected with Glass and what was it like collaborating with another composer?

He had written a load of stuff for Errol Morris for his first four films. [Errol]’s a wonderful documentary maker. I’ve written about the last six for Errol, and I think Danny Elfman would have done one in between [called The Unknown Known]. I didn’t know Philip at the time, but then when Tales from the Loop came along, Mark Romanek, who’s the wonderful director, wanted Philip to do it and the showrunner, Nathaniel [Halpern], had wanted me to do it. […] So, we met up and I thought, “Take me to New York,” and I was gonna have a chat with Philip. We got on incredibly well. I’ve told this story before, but he basically just analysed my music before I even got there. It’d been on YouTube, and he said, “Well, Paul, you write great, great melodies, but why do you do this with your chords? They’re so simple. Why don’t you do this?” And he didn’t mean it in a bad way. He meant it purely in an analysing way. And so, he has made me a cup of tea and we go sit at this piano. He said, “But look, this is your melody, right?” He said, “You did this. Why didn’t you do this?” And I was like, “God!” And again, I’d never collaborated with anyone before that time, ever.

STILL FROM TALES FROM THE LOOP

So suddenly I was working on [the video game] Cyberpunk 2077 with Marcin [Przybylowicz] and P. T. [Adamczyk] over in Warsaw, which was kind of weird for me, getting used to an electronica type of collaboration. At the same time, I was working with Philip. And so, Philip’s suddenly doing this. I’m going, “You ‘Philip Glassified’ my melody. This is kind of weird, but nice as well. OK, that’s great.” […] but he’s so, so lovely, and this is my first meeting with him, so I’m still not gonna say an awful lot. When the series happened, we would be collaborating; Philip would send over some themes to me and then I’d start the other way around. I’d start putting chords underneath, as opposed to our meeting. So, he’s like, “Yeah, I like that, but what if I did this with the chords?” I was like, “That’s good,” and then I just kind of took a deep breath and said, “OK, but that melody, I feel that I could kind of transform it,” and I didn’t know what he would say because it takes a while to get on someone’s wavelength, whether it’s a director, whoever it is you work with. He said, “I love it. Love it!” Then I thought, “OK,” and suddenly you realize he’s just another human being, an incredibly talented human being, but you’re just being honest with each other and suddenly you’re two artists working together. And from that moment, it just became this meeting of minds. We’ve done a couple of other collaborations since and it’s just about getting on each other’s wavelength.

You collaborated again on The Pigeon Tunnel.

The Pigeon Tunnel was just immense because Errol phoned up and said, “Look, you’ve done the last, whatever it is, six films with me. I would love to have just one where it was you and Philip and me. I love what you did for Tales from the Loop. Would you be up for it? I don’t know if Philip would be up for it.” They’re really good friends anyway, and they go back ages. And obviously Philip had done the one that Errol had gotten the Oscar for [called The Fog of War]. It was almost like, “OK, well, let’s see how it goes.” And it was just such a ride, because everything about that documentary went well. It was on John le Carré, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, the prolific author.

You also did a set of piano arrangements from Tales from the Loop that was just released in May. What was the impetus for doing some reworkings of those things, and what was it like to revisit that music after having been away from it for a few years?

When Tales from the Loop came out, it was bonkers. We got over a thousand people making arrangements of it. I remember every single day there were people just doing their own versions of it. It was lots of the songs but one in particular, “Walk to School,”. There would be thrash metal guys doing [sings metal guitar lick], and then a drummer doing his own version, […] there’s a crazy accordion player who did a version of it, a vibraphone player doing a classical version, and so on. I’ve never had music where it just transcended style, where it just reaches people. On that piece, I’d written the tune, Philip had written the chords, and the fact that people reacted so well to it was cool. Everyone was asking for sheet music and I can’t release sheet music […], so I went away and did some piano versions of it, to see where I get inspired. I started doing it and the showrunner, Nathaniel, he’s like, “This is beautiful, this is beautiful.” So, I did an album of it and then couldn’t get permission to release it! [laughs] The Disney lawyers were kind of like, “Oh, my God,” and it’s not that they’re not nice, it’s just there is so many people involved. And then Richard Guerin, from Philip’s little label, Orange Mountain Music, he was speaking to them about something else. I think Philip had done a track for Bob’s Burgers, or a version of Koyaanisqatsi or something. I asked if we could put out the piano arrangements, and [Richard] said, “Of course you can.”

I went away and recorded them properly and [the album] just came out. It was lovely doing these reimaginings because obviously you can’t reproduce everything on Tales from the Loop with the quartet and piano, but there’s still a lot of “quartet,” lots of triplets and so on, which yes, you can play on piano, but it sounds very different, so there’s no point trying to do exact replicas of what these pieces were.

“I start off every score with an intellectual argument with myself, almost planning what I want to do with it. Most of the time it doesn’t work, but you’ve gotta start somewhere.”

That “Walk to School” track was used at the start of the Ukraine War. A little kid was playing it in a hotel when all these bombs were raining down and the Washington Post posted it and were asking for comments. I’m thinking, “This isn’t a press thing. It’s not a PR thing. I’m not doing anything to do with this.” For me, it was a sign of hope as much as a sign of, “God, life is awful,” because I’ve got no idea what’s going on. Someone had posted a couple of months ago about the hotel. This is what’s left, and the piano’s smashed up, and you see bombs lying around the place. But for me it was a case of if music can bring something to someone who’s going through utter shit and he’s playing our piece at a piano there to give him some kind of serenity, and again, no idea what’s going on in his head, but from my point of view, the fact that that’s where he’s gone to was such a powerful, beautiful thing.

At the same time I was doing that, I’ve been doing my own album of Etudes for Piano and Cello. I’m sitting down at the piano for this wonderful cellist who studied at Juilliard and really, fantastically talented artist. I’m classically trained, work with loads of bands, done some pretty hardcore electronica soundtracks, and suddenly my happy place at the moment is just piano and a cello or piano and a quartet. I don’t know why. Your brain just kind of gradually evolves, doesn’t it? Sometimes it needs thrash, sometimes it needs massive strings. Other times, there’s an intimacy to just a few players and the piano, because then it’s about the melody and the harmony, rather than relying on the production techniques to try and make you sound good.

That’s a perfect segue into what I wanted to talk to you about next, which is your score for Fellow Travelers, which I believe is also piano and string quartet.

Yeah, piano, quartet, and then Kristin [Naigus] on some weird and wacky bass flutes and alto flutes and any wind instrument out there. She was over in Florida. We recorded piano and quartet together over here, and then I was like, “Oh, I need a base flute. Crap! Kristen, can you do this?” “Sure!” It’s so weird, but you never meet these people. Travelers was a really special one.

What was it like to try and craft different themes or motifs for characters?

I start off every score with an intellectual argument with myself, almost planning what I want to do with it. Most of the time it doesn’t work, but you’ve gotta start somewhere. Fellow Travelers is a beautiful love story. Now, it’s also about Washington, it’s about DC, it’s about power, it’s about not being able to be yourself. It’s about, “Am I gonna get found?”, so it’s a thriller as much as anything else. But fundamentally, it’s about Hawk and Tim, these two characters. For those of you that haven’t seen Travelers, it’s about McCarthyism, 1960s and basically, if you were gay, then you’re encouraged to report these people that were gay so they could then be basically kicked out of government because communism is a very bad thing, and clearly, if you’re gay, you’re a communist. What was horrific for me was I didn’t know any of this shit because obviously being brought up in the UK and again, whatever your political beliefs are, that’s absolutely abhorrent that you just couldn’t be yourself, that you just basically had to hide.

 

STILL FROM FELLOW TRAVELERS

I was starting off thinking, “Well, that’s horrific, but there is this wonderful love story through this.” Tim, who’s this young person who’s just started off, is an assistant in DC as opposed to Hawk, who is this high-flying person, has been in the army, and is untouchable, “bulletproof,” as he says, and gradually it changes. Tim becomes tougher and Hawk becomes gentler, thinking, “My God, I need someone in my life.” Hawk’s married, but that’s his pretence, and all the lies in his life. I’m looking at this thinking, “Tim should be very tender, he’s a very innocent boy,” so for me that was about the piano. And then I thought, “If he’s got this kind of theme, how do we put that when Tim and Hawk are together?” You have all these things: you have the piano, you’ve got the cello and when the two characters are together, they combine and the cello is this beautiful sound. It’s always been one of my favourite instruments. But then melodically, you’ve got the Main Theme. “Well, okay, if that’s gonna be our instruments, then how are we going to do this?” The Main Theme actually descends into this world of chaos and for me that was Hawk losing his mind. [Sings] “Bump-bump-bump-bum, Bump-bump-bum, Bump-bump-bump.” There are these little motifs over the top, but basically was [sings arpeggios simulating violin and piano]. There’s a little pizzicato going, [sings] “Bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum,” which is a sitting-on-the-edge-of-your-seat thing.

As the series goes on, all these melodies combine, but they never resolve, so you’re always sitting on the edge of that seat. I’ve said this before, but sometimes a resolution can just be the most wonderful thing, but also it gives you a chance as a viewer to breathe. The music has gone I-IV-V-I. OK. Whereas if you don’t resolve… [sings]… “Just play the last note, please play the last note!” […], because Tim and Hawk as a relationship never resolve […]. Ron [ Nyswaner], the showrunner, did the same – with his scenes, he never resolved them. The resolution of the scene was always the next scene, so when the next scene starts, that’s almost given the full stop, the period to it, which I thought was a really interesting process, because then the only time you get resolution is literally the last 6-1/2, 7-minute cue of the whole series when one of them died but they have a resolution in their relationship. You begin these intellectual arguments and then some work, some don’t. But then the quartet over the top, this [sings arpeggios again] is really freaking cool because that’s adding an intensity to it. I think you get more intensity from the quartet than you would if you had 50 strings. There’s something about that quartet live at United Studios with the old 60s mics over the top. It just gives it a feel of authenticity.

You mentioned that last cue in the series, […] “Beyond Measure”.

I took a risk. The thing is, it’s not often that you get to do a 6-1/2, or whatever it is, minute cue. It was one of the few cues that [Ron] really pushed me and just said, “It’s good. I think it could be better.” God, what are you talking about? [laughs] And, for me, the whole point of film and TV music is that it’s a collaboration. There’s not that much buzz when you just write music underneath and someone goes, “Oh, that’s great. Thanks.” For me the fun comes when someone goes, “I love that. Let’s try this. Let’s try that.”, because it’s art. It is art and you are artists collaborating together. You suddenly realize, when you stop thinking of it as a job and you start thinking of it as, here’s the wonderful cinematography, here’s a wonderful script writer, here’s a wonderful composer. You’re all just trying to bring your own styles into it, because suddenly you’ve got this collaboration that’s not just between two people, but maybe four or five or six, and then the wonderful actors and so on. All of those things together combine into something. Ron had really pushed me on that last cue and said, “I’m not gonna have much dialogue here. It’s gonna be a little bit of bird sound. It’s all yours. Go for it. Don’t be scared to take over.” And I felt that the acting was so wonderful, but I didn’t want the music to overpower it. And he’s just like, “Oh, please, this is the one moment I really feel you can.”

Your most recent project that you’ve completed was the series Bodkin on Netflix.

[…] Absolutely batshit crazy is the only way I can describe it. It’s a slow burner, like more about the way that this crazy world is than actually what happens in this wonderful, odd place, Ireland. It could be anywhere and the way I described it was Twin Peaks meets Father Ted, and Jez [Scharf], who was one of the writers goes, “Oh my God, you’ve nailed it. That’s exactly what it is.” One of the other guys asked, “What’s Father Ted,” and clearly didn’t make it over here. Father Ted was this really wacky Irish comedy, airing probably about 15 years ago. They just get batshit crazy. [Bodkin is] set in Ireland. It doesn’t have to be, but there are many things that do happen. There’s Will Forte’s American podcast coming over. For me, what was great about it was that it starts off again, going back to that intellectual challenge of a soundtrack. What kind of sound do you want to create? [The producers said they] wanted it to have a Celtic feel to it. I said, “Do you, because it’s gonna be a bit twee.” Yeah, it’s set in Ireland and it’s got a traditional Celtic soundtrack.

I asked to go and just do an episode. Because they were mucking around on Episode 1 and recutting a few bits and bobs, I asked for Episode 2, which they gave me. In Episode 2, they were still trying to find the tone and the colour. As it happens in every series you try and find the tone of, it starts evolving as you’re editing or you don’t get the shots that you wanted, and you start changing it a little bit, but they knew what they were doing by Episode 2. I went and scored it and I just got this cittern, which is basically like a mandolin or a dulcimer or an Irish banjo. And it’s got a wicked sound and very distinct. We have that over the top and a fiddle, but not a traditional kind of Celtic fiddle, which is very twee. We call them “snaps,” like Scottish snaps. [sings the “snap” rhythm] So, I’m gonna have a fiddle doing the tune and the cittern at the top, but feel it’s quite bandy. I did a mock up, got a few real instruments in and they’re like, “This is really cool.”.  I said to Netflix, “Let me go and record everything in Glasgow for a week. I’m not gonna go over and get drunk. I’m just going to go over to the studio,” and the incredibly brilliant music department there, on the basis of that one episode saying, “Yeah, we can picture it, the sound of it.”, just let me go and record an entire band. We picked up the cittens, picked up the banjos, got some drums in, Ross on bass and guitars, and it was just fucking bonkers.

[…] But I think the best story for me on Bodkin, just briefly, was when I was doing that mock up on Episode Two. I just got my violin out and came up with some crazy glisses, and again, detuned it. I was really into experimenting and it was shit what I’d done but put down an octave and two octaves and use Decapitator, it’s like a Soundtoys plug-in, and then put it through a bit of Apple gear that I’ve got there and then tons of reverb, it sounded really cool. It’s creepy and it’s supposed to be creepy. And then, Maya, this violinist, came up to record it properly. It was too good. I said, “Can you make it a bit worse?” I have to tell this to everybody: Maya is an absolutely brilliant violinist and the half of the violin stuff that you hear on [Bodkin] that’s good is her, but the stuff that’s really crappy is not her. It’s intentionally crap and that’s me detuned. But it’s funny when you got something, it’s just too good. It’s like, “I can’t make you sound bad. You’re just too good.” She said, “I can be bad.”, but you really can’t, can you? [laughs] So, there’s my story on Bodkin.