The Soundtrack to Your Demise - An Introduction

that's right, we've got a new recurring segment baybeeeeeee

Time to dust off the music writing clown hat, because we’re talking soundtracks and how they add to horror storytelling!

Legitimately will take any excuse to post this, I can feel spooky season approaching in my bones.

the sound of doom

I am not going to lie, dear reader, I am both obscenely pleased with the title for this new recurring segment and very excited to explore something that, to me, feels like a vital element to horror storytelling. Sound, or in some cases the lack of it, can add atmosphere, can contribute to unease and dread, can even alert you that danger is nearby (looking at you, ki ki ki ma ma ma, we will GET TO YOU). Soundtracks and sound have played a crucial role in cinematic horror storytelling from the off, and therefore it would be remiss of me not to be able to go in depth on some of those iconic uses of sound and music (meaning that I won’t just be talking soundtracks, I will also be spotlighting uses of sound itself).

As an introductory post, I thought I’d share with you three of my favourite pieces of music from horror films, all main titles. If you have been reading The Horror! The Horror! for a while now, they will surprise you not a jot.

Or maybe they will…

Main Theme from Candyman (Philip Glass, 1992)

What, you didn’t think a movie which is essentially about storytelling, folklore and urban legends based on a Clive Barker short story was one of my favourite horror movies of all time??

Bernard Rose’s Candyman, to me, feels like a perfect cinematic distillation of autumn. A crisp chill in the air, thick roll neck sweaters, long trench coats and gloves, grey skies and crunchy leaves on the floor. This main theme, composed by the legendary Philip Glass (who apparently did NOT care for this movie but has been quoted as saying he’s grateful for the residual cheques it gives him for composing the soundtrack), also adds to that autumnal feeling. Ominous, thick organ and piano sounds accompanied by choral chanting underscores an opening credits sequence which takes us along the Chicago highway in a very pleasing fashion.

It sets the tone for what’s to come and settles us into the world of the film while leaving viewers with a distinct sense of unease (told you) on their shoulders.

Suspiria from Dario Argento’s Suspiria (Goblin, 1977)

Or “The Goblins” as they’re credited here (❤️)

Goblin and Dario Argento go together like peanut butter and jam. Their collaboration (which started with Profondo Rosso in 1975 and lasted eleven films) truly feels like the essence of matching each other’s freak; Claudio Simonetti just gets Argento’s vision and it produces absolutely batarse audio masterpieces like the opening theme from Suspiria.

Starting off with a cacophony of drum rolls, building up to a crescendo with razor sharp violin and ethereal chanting, the opening theme succeeds immediately in the film’s ultimate goal, which is to put you on a sensory backfoot from the get go. As the black and white credits (with a font so seventies it may as well be wearing flares) come to the film’s title, the drum rolls come to a climax, before it transitions into the more recognizable music box prog rock odyssey section. Midway through the credits, the opening narration sets us up with the bare minimum of what we need to know: we’re about to meet Suzy Bannion, on her way to study dance at Freiburg Tanz Akademie…

Ave Satani from The Omen (Jerry Goldsmith, 1976)

Celebrated composer Jerry Goldsmith has, among many other award nods, 18 Oscar nominations under his belt. By the time he scored Richard Donner’s The Omen, he had eight prior nominations and no win. This is the score (and the song) that won him his Oscar.

Ave Satani, a maximalist Wagnerian choral piece with incredibly dubious Latin grammar in its lyrics (apparently I am REALLY into choral chanting but only on horror soundtracks, we’re learning already) and performed by the National Philharmonic Orchestra and choir sounds like it’s come from hell itself to warn you about the birth of the Antichrist. It stands as the soundtrack’s demonic centre point, and I dare you not to at least feel a little bit unnerved listening to it.