- Blog #6 -
Notes on sound, story, and quiet moments
For many years I’ve written music for film and television, concerts, and live events — but with film and TV, it's been the kind of work where the music’s job is to support a scene, heighten a moment, or occasionally help a scene feel emotional even when the actors are standing very still and looking thoughtfully out a window. It’s a craft I genuinely enjoy. Writing for picture teaches you a lot about pacing, emotional timing, and the delicate art of knowing when music should speak… and when it should politely step out of the way.
Lately, I’ve also been spending time on a more personal body of work — quieter pieces that explore atmosphere, stillness, and interior emotional landscapes. These compositions aren’t written to chase a car, underline a plot twist, or announce the arrival of a dramatic helicopter shot. They exist as spaces for listening.
I sometimes catch myself wondering if anyone will ever notice the tiny moments that feel the most alive — but I’ve learned that’s exactly the point.
What’s interesting is how the two worlds keep nudging each other. Working to picture reminds me how much weight a small musical gesture can carry when it lands at the right moment. Writing more contemplative music is a chance to slow things down and see how sound unfolds without needing to explain anything. Both approaches shape how I think about sound, space, and the little emotional details music can reveal.
And living in Colorado has begun to creep into the music in unexpected ways — wide horizons, long silences, open 5ths and sus 2 harmonies, and the feeling that sometimes the most interesting things happen in the space between notes.
I’ve even started exploring a few neo-Southwestern/western pieces for the art music page, letting the landscape and light influence the sound in subtle ways.
I catch it in quiet passages, in the way chords hang a little longer, or in moments that feel like a horizon stretching endlessly before you.
- “Sometimes the most interesting things happen in the space between notes.” -
Whether it’s supporting a story on screen or unfolding quietly in a room, the music lives in the space between notes — and in those spaces, a little of the desert wind is beginning to linger.
More notes coming soon…