Roger Mason: Opening The Musical Doors Of Perception

By Dov Kornits

A rusted-on player in the world of Australian pop and rock music – he’s played keyboards and toured with the likes of Diesel, Icehouse, Jenny Morris, and Wendy Matthews, and been a member of bands like Models and Absent Friends, along with playing with international talents like Gary Numan and Wall Of Voodoo – the multi-talented Roger Mason now spends much of his time composing extensively music for film (The Last Confession Of Alexander Pearce, Razzle Dazzle, Fortune, September, Man-Thing, The Extra, Dead Letter Office) and television (The Code, The Principal, MDA, Fire, Miracles, Borderland).

You’ve composed for the screen for most your career. Was that always the goal or was being in a band a priority for you?

“I now realise that at a young age I had an affinity with not only watching television but listening to the music embedded behind the pictures. Not so much the incidental score, but the themes. When I was about four-years-old, I began aping my brother and sister who were both having piano lessons. Afterward, I’d search for the notes, looking for the melody to the pieces that I heard them practice. I did the same with the songs that played behind the morning test pattern on the telly before transmission commenced for the day. But I remember being heavily drawn to the drama of the sweeping themes from movies. I was no elitist though. I used to parrot the melodies of the ads as well, no doubt driving my parents crazy. The Sunbeam ‘electrical gift is the nicest gift of all’ ad from 1964 is a standout. Disturbingly, I can recall a lot of them today.

Mum thought it was my time to have piano lessons but decided against the man teaching my siblings. She saw him hit me with a steel ruler across the knuckles when I made a mistake and felt, even by the standards of the day, that was a bit barbaric, so she approached another teacher who asked me to audition for her. I probably played a few melodies that I had picked up from the telly…maybe a butter ad. And she told my mother that she would not take me on. My mother was a little defensive and asked why not. ‘He is already improvising,’ she said. ‘If he is forced into a structure, it might destroy that. If he is still playing in two years, I will take him on. But at the moment, he is best left to develop on his own.’ I owe that woman, Mrs. Taylor, a debt of gratitude. Many people have a teacher that they praise for what they learned from them. I do for what I didn’t.”

Did you move on with piano lessons?

“When I was six, I began my piano lessons and shortly afterward was taking my second exam, this time for 1st grade. The comment from the panel wrote, ‘Roger shows a great deal of aptitude with improvisation even though it was not required. We suggest in the future that he plays the pieces as written.’ Nonetheless, in spite of the demand for conformity, they passed me. I had a talent for approximation. Of course, I didn’t understand that at the time – I was six years old. You could say my creativity was born out of laziness.”

And how did your love for music develop?

“Our neighbours’ daughter was about seven years older than me – I was about eight or nine. At a party at her house, she played a 45 of ‘Telstar’. It blew my mind and I used to obsessively ask her parents if I could come over and play it on her little battery operated player, even though I already drove them crazy, especially during summer with doors and windows wide open. Through clenched smiles, I remember how they would comment to my parents on how clearly they could hear my piano across the street. Partly the reason for that was because I would strip it down to make it louder and bash the crap out of it, often attaching a variety of objects to the hammers and strings. I guess the rock pig in me was emerging. Later, my sister began her obsession over The Beatles, eventually letting me play her records which I, in turn, obsessed over and would then try and emulate on the piano. Around that time, I heard Beach Boys’ ‘Good Vibrations’. It was complex, mysterious and evocative. Music from space. Never heard anything like it. My brother bought The Rolling Stones’ ‘Brown Sugar’ but I fixated on the B-side – ‘Honky Tonk Woman’ – and I was well and truly lost. So, I was drawn to pop songs, but I was also very aware of thematic scoring, even though I had no real understanding of the differences between the two at the time. At about fourteen, I became consumed with playing in a band, filling my school books with drawings of keyboard rigs where there should have been algebra calculations. I remember seeing a clip on Countdown of Thin Lizzy playing ‘The Boys Are Back In Town’, which comprised a lot of shots of the road crew setting up the stage for the Hammersmith Odeon. When it reached the chorus, the band was in full flight, stage lights popping, and the energy was pumping. I decided one day that I was going to play the Hammersmith Odeon. Six years later, I recorded a live double album there with Gary Numan. I played with several bands after that including Models, Divinyls, Wall Of Voodoo and Icehouse, but after twelve years, the shine was starting to wear off and I started to grow restless for something else, where I could express myself and make my own decisions.”

How did you make the move?

“Individual composers did not come to my attention until after I wrote my first score. I was aware of the music in films and TV but not so much the people behind it – until I received a scholarship to Sundance for the Composer Course in Utah. All of a sudden, I realised I had to give myself a speedy education of sorts, so that I didn’t look like a total idiot. I spent a couple of months reading up on orchestration, arranging, etc. It turned out that most of the students were either from Julliard and respected music colleges or were already working as professional composers, so I was going to look like an idiot anyway. As I did not have an academic entry into music, I had to learn about and absorb classical composers, and film composers. My world up to that point was focused on band work, but I was quickly growing tired of the monotony of the songs and the endless cycle on the road, not to mention the amount of time spent sitting around waiting for things to happen. I was keen to make the leap to the screen without really knowing how.”

In terms of composing for the screen, do you have any particular heroes?

“Bernard Hermann and Jerry Goldsmith wrote scores for The Twilight Zone which I discovered were tiny studio orchestras often between six and twelve players. Hermann was particularly skilled at punching out a dynamic score from few resources. I learnt the power of arranging and orchestration from that CD. Standout screen composers that I was drawn to at the time included John Barry’s score for Out Of Africa and Maurice Jarre’s Lawrence Of Arabia. Gil Melle’s score for the original The Andromeda Strain was the best example at the time of a progressive electronic soundtrack – and still stands up, unlike many other electronic scores which tend to date quickly. Ennio Morricone’s undeniably passionate score for The Mission, and recently, TV shows like Tin Star and DEVS are outstandingly conceived with brooding and texturally interesting soundtracks. Mychael Danna for his poignant and thoughtful score for Ice Storm. Jonny Greenwood’s demonic score for There Will Be Blood. Mica Levi for her otherworldly, creepy score to Under The Skin. Hans Zimmer’s influence is undeniable. If I had to pick one composer though, it would probably be Thomas Newman. The score to Road To Perdition is one of my favourites.”

Which part of the composing process do you enjoy – the solitary part or the collaborative one?

“I would have to say the solitary. I am by nature more of a solitary person. I’m not anti-social but I’m comfortable alone with my thoughts for long periods of time. I like that things can formulate without necessarily relying on outside stimulus. If the production is good, I can find enough to inspire in that. I do tend to immerse myself into the whole process from the concept of the score to the writing, recording and mixing. I may have developed an unhealthy fixation on controlling each aspect of it, but that’s the way I have worked for thirty-three years and I can’t see myself changing now.

I recently had a discussion with a producer who wanted me to provide stems for each part of the score. I have made it a rule of mine to only provide a finished master two track if it is a stereo mix, after a disastrous episode early in my career where large chunks of my score were omitted by accident. After I had left the mix early (I had to leave the mix a day early because I was starting a UK tour with Diesel), I’d left instructions to leave all the channels open at unity and they would be fine. They did not and the last reel was broadcast with only half the score. In Australia it was a telemovie, but it was distributed in Japan as a cinema release. The result was devastating, and I made a vow with myself that I would never leave a mix unattended nor would I ever deliver stems (unless for surround mixes, naturally) and to this day I’ve stayed firm. If a producer requests a remix or rewrite, I will always oblige but choose not to leave myself exposed to the potential for rebalancing or omittance, either accidentally or otherwise. No doubt it pisses people off but so be it.”

How do you like to work when composing for the screen – from script or finished cut film, or are you up for whatever the job requires?

“Every job is a different process. Working with different producers and projects tends to have a life of its own. I try not to replicate any of my scores. Once I’ve delivered them, I rarely listen to them again. The next project is another opportunity to try something new. Push at another boundary. That is the most exciting prospect of working in film. Often the score will jump off the page. Sometimes it won’t be so obvious. I’ll have to stew on it, usually arriving at something while walking the dogs or taking a shower – my two best resources for inspiration. More often than not these days I’m brought in at the completed script stage, although with The Commons I was asked to submit a demo on the basis of the synopsis. I had a distinct feel for the story and the main character after a couple of pages.”

Any score that you’re particularly proud of, and why?

It’s interesting and a little daunting to reflect back on your own work. The score that I thought was perfect at the time doesn’t necessarily stand up years later. Sometimes, sounds date quicker than others – sometimes the scoring can be a bit heavy-handed or it doesn’t resonate emotionally as much as it did when first recorded. Often the film mix is disappointing. Styles change, which is another good reason as to why I generally try and stay away from established genres. So – in answer to my favourite scores – they would be generally of the fringier variety. The Last Confession Of Alexander Pearce was edgy and alternative. Tonal with acoustic instruments scraped and plucked, creating an atmosphere of tension and impending madness. September was originally an electronic chillout score until I was brought on and suggested something more connected with the film’s period setting, which invoked the innocence but optimism of growing up in the ‘60s. The Code was dynamic and textured with a lot of interlaced themes, but it was more electronic as it weaved through the espionage and tension of a spy drama revolving around the complex relationship between two brothers. The Reckoning was an exploration into the twisted mind of a serial killer. I think there are some powerfully dark moments in this score. Hungry Ghosts was an opportunity to score an Asian ghost story and create new techniques with a combination of acoustic instruments processed through synthesizers. The scores that stay with me are generally the ones that have that haunting quality that lingers well after the show has concluded. Along with cohesion and sympathy for the production, that’s what I try to aim for.”

Can you talk about your approach in composing your most recent scores for The Commons, The Reckoning and The Hungry Ghosts?

“I was sent the scripts to Hungry Ghosts and decided to emulate some element of the sound of the rural orchestras of Vietnam. They have a certain brassy harshness that I tried to include in the tone of the score. The Commons score had to walk a fine line between a story set in the future but not one that was futuristic. I had pre-written many themes for it prior to working with the images. With any project I’m involved with, I will always dedicate a month of pre-production entirely for myself to explore ideas and consolidate sounds. I spend a lot of time creating textures with my array of synths and acoustic instruments before I receive any cuts, because once the ball starts rolling, I have little time to experiment with sounds. It’s all in the prep. Reckoning was a wonderful opportunity to get into the mind of a serial killer.”

Do you have a preference in scoring longer form content or feature films, and why?

I used to have a preference for film because it was contained and complete with one viewing. It was tidy. The ideas could be formed over ninety to one hundred and thirty minutes and it was screened in a cinema. It was perceived to have prestige and generally had a decent budget attached which allowed for the potential of real players – maybe even an orchestra. That was something you could not get with television. However, HBO changed all that. Television series can be a lot more sophisticated now and demand more of the audience. These days, I actually prefer the long game – the extended thematic writing over six or ten episodes that are a lot more challenging but also more rewarding. Sure, you are less likely to have a budget for an orchestra but there are other ways around that these days. And besides, the gloss has come off movies a little as the experience has been muted by the sheer ubiquity of wide screen LCD. Not to mention the pandemic.”

What’s next – I hear that you’re writing a book and setting up a studio on the Central Coast, where you live, I presume?

“2020 was supposed to be the year where Reckoning went to a second season and a theatre show that I had written and co-written songs for was being considered for production. A couple of other unconfirmed but likely productions were looking solid after my run of the last three series. Then quarantine hit and everything disappeared overnight. The day it was announced, I went into survival mode. I walked into the studio with the intention of reviewing ideas for a solo album and trawled through hundreds of partially complete ideas. An hour later, I walked out of the studio and closed the door behind me and did not walk back in for months. I had given myself too many options and didn’t know where to start. But I had to find a project – and decided to go with something that I had trawling around in my head for a bit. It was an idea for a novel. I’d not written one before, but six weeks later, it was finished. The next day I started another much larger concept and after three months that was finished. I’m really enjoying the process and have another two planned.

Meanwhile, last May, I hooked up with Steve Kilbey from The Church, who was recording a solo album. He invited me to play on it and since then we have recorded two solo albums for him and a double album of re-imagined pre-history music (think Mesopotamia, Ancient Rome). I collaborated with Steve and Gareth Koch, who was a member of Sapphire which included The Grigoryan Brothers. We each presented pieces that we had written, and developed them in the studio, which resulted in more material than we needed. Now called Steve Kilbey And The Winged Heels, we’ve been touring it around Sydney and are picking up again in February with the release of the album. We’ll extend the tour through NSW and – if the borders remain open – will take the show interstate, which hopefully will include the festivals. But we’ll have to see if the Gods are in agreeance, because it’s been an unpredictable and hellish year. That we can all agree on.”

For more on Roger Mason, head to his official website.