'I recently produced a jingle for McDonald's in Singapore. Like most of my American peers, the brand's in my DNA. While I'm hardly the world's most accomplished jingle guy, I do have a process I like for making commercial music that's been working thus far. A lot of people are asking how I go about doing this work, so I thought I'd share how I do things. Whether you're a musician, songwriter or producer, this approach can help to refine your process.
First, the fundamentals. Ads have predetermined lengths, usually 15 or 30 seconds (but sometimes shorter) which are hard limits. I set up a session with markers at the start and end of that time value and sync up the reference video (if there is one). Next, I comb through the reference looking for important cues. For instance, let's say a hypothetical commercial has a fade-in, a VO with a street scene, a product reveal, and a title logo. For such a situation I make markers at the beginning of each transition and do my best to find a tempo that feels natural. It won't always work out perfectly, but you can usually add or subtract a beat somewhere and finesse it. One mistake I've made before is to underestimate how obvious transitions need to be. As a musician, it feels like a real development to do something subtle like add pads or a new layer of lead lines at the beginning of a new section. Often, however, that ends up sounding weak. It's generally a good idea for transitions to be bold and emphasize rhythm, as opposed to little blips and bloops. Once I've got the marker skeleton worked out, it's time to think about the ad's texture. This is where I look over the brief for what the client wants. It's also where I interpret what the client wants, because they're usually not musicians, that's why they've hired me! Briefs will say things like “we want an airy, bright, energetic & futuristic vibe” and then attach some electronic dirge as a musical reference. Bewildering contradiction is often the rule and so reading between the lines is an absolute necessity. Maybe that dirge has a gorgeous, bright pad in the bridge? There's nothing wrong with clarifying if it's really not clear, but the truth is the closer you get without coddling (and the faster you deliver) the more likely you are to win the bid. The actual composition of the underlying music should be strong – unlike some contemporary pop music which is dominated by murky textures, drums and not much else, melody & internal rhythm is still king for ads. A strong melody married with an appropriate chord progression (even one which is merely implied) will win over a cool vibe that doesn't go anywhere. Clients aren't averse to flashy production tricks – in fact, they often ask for them – but those tricks are not viable substitutes for a memorable melody which has tonal & rhythmic shifts that reflect the ad's transitions. Finally, revisions – an aspect of working for hire that can be difficult. Erykah Badu said “I'm an artist, and I'm sensitive about my s**t,” and so am I. I've worked on a game where I had to read the opinions of no fewer than 10 people on the soundtrack! While I don't personally believe music is helped by such a process, it's not my decision. At the end of the day it's important to deliver what the client wants and still make it as good as possible. When they insist a flute solo is appropriate for selling chainsaws, I can laugh internally, but eventually I have to come round and figure out how to do it. I'm constantly working on improving my emotional state while working for clients. All jobs require that you can take constructive criticism – but freelance music production means being a professional rejectee. I read one guide to composing for film & television that suggests winning one out of every five bids is a healthy ratio. Assuming I'm there now, that still means 80 percent of my time I didn't deliver what the client wanted and even during the 20 percent of the time where I did, I still have to do one or two rounds of revisions in which my precious creation will be sliced, diced, diluted, sanitized or neutered. This means you cannot be overly attached to any part of what you do. You must adopt a Buddha-like detachment and a child-like enthusiasm for tweaking & changing the music into something new. A revision is not a scold, it's an opportunity to make something even cooler. Ultimately, writing commercial music can be very rewarding. The stakes are high and the process can induce stress. But the universe is not obligated to dole out music jobs, and music, even of the corporate variety, is best when it's an expression of gratitude. Maintaining this perspective is the whole job and with a bit of luck it will land happy repeat clients. All the disrupt in the world won't change that!
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The 80s are maligned by many "serious" music listeners, who generally hold that it was a decade of cocaine, tech worship and disposable tunes. Now that we're entering a new era of same, it's instructive to look at the ways 80s music got it right. And it did! Often! Ska captured white England's attention sometime in the late 50's. These culture-starved hooligans fell in love with the Jamaican take on American R&B and formed cultish subcultures that remained faithful on through the reggae era. However, purists bristled at the introduction of synthesizers in the early 80s. For tons of non-Jamaicans, this is where they get off the train, thank you! The overt sexual imagery and aggressive riddims of what became dancehall alienated Marley acolytes. But there's nothing good about looking for 'purity' in anything other than beer. Aside from the cultural implications of [mostly] white men decrying what Jamaicans actually like, there's just a huge amount of incredible reggae, dancehall and hybrid breaks-type stuff that simply hasn't had its time in the sun. You know about Sly & Robbie, but do you know about Rhythm Killers? So, lately I've been digging this record U-Neek by Eek-a-Mouse, released in 1991. He gained a little notoriety recently for releasing a forgettable track on Soundcloud with an unforgettable hook "Banned from reggae, the Marleys banned me from reggae" -- I'm paraphrasing, but it was something like that. Eek-A-Mouse is a big guy with a little voice, and his music is consistently creative, politically contrarian and texturally innovative. Speaking of 'purists,' plenty of selectors and producers alike in Jamaica were loath to embrace hip hop -- it was a process that happened slowly. When Eek-A-Mouse released U-Neek, I don't think it landed the way he would have liked. But no worries, it's incredible. It's lightly produced with a sense of humor and takes plenty of risks. It's got that bouncy, clean, late 80s-early 90s sound of DX7s, SP1200s, spray paint and optimism. I love these lyrics! Pops into my head when I'm feeling particularly full of myself, which is of course the marker of a great hook. The "uuhnn-na-na-uhhnn-na-na" chant is weird and awesome. A reminder that musical ideas should be committed to "tape" before deciding whether or not they work. "Let the Children Play" has a timeless chord progression that calls New Order to mind and another perfect hook -- "Let them play, let them play ..." -- just try not to sing that in your kitchen after it's done! I'm in love with those pads in the background, which were ubiquitous from Duran Duran to Erasure to ... everything else ... they sound a bit like the Kawai K3. The K3 is a fascinating synth that combined digital oscillators, very lush analog filters, and an utterly impenetrable editing system. I was lucky enough to hear one at a good friend's old apartment in Brooklyn. It is, however, the property of a non-keyboard playing dominatrix so I'm not likely to get my hands on it soon. That's life!
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