The art and science of making music with sound design

THE soundtrack for a Totes’ umbrella ad running in the U.S. is deceptively simple. Soaring organ notes accompany images of a whiz-kid mixing up mysteriously colored liquids in a magician’s lab. A ferocious explosion announces his invention: an umbrella with a built-in flashlight.

Unless you’re listening for it, you’re unlikely to be able to separate the music from the sound design.

In this case, the job of making that seamless transition from music to sound effects fell to Vancouver’s Avenue Music Productions. That spot is just one example of how closely intertwined commercial sound design and music have become.

Over the last two decades the processes morphed due to industry evolution and demands, but what has the impact been? David Fleury of David Fleury Music says the first move toward a one-shop model happened when sound was taken away from the editor. The second came in response to clients who dealt with music composers, then asked if they could also create sound effects.

‘At some point in the 1980s, the pretentious term ‘sound designer’ appeared,’ he says, only half-joking.

While gradual, the shift to the integration of sound and music has had far-reaching consequences for the business of putting sound to pictures. For one, music has almost become just another element of sound design, not least because of sampling technology, says David Krystal of Toronto’s Krystal Music.

‘The shades and colors of the sound design palette have increased,’ Krystal says. ‘What is sound design and what is music has become gray. You can now take the sound of anything, including voice, and manipulate it.’

Krystal says he now thinks of design and music as a soundtrack. He gives the example of a Fuji commercial for which he used a Moog synthesizer. ‘You can use it as a sound design instrument or as a musical instrument,’ he says.

Meanwhile, ever-faster computers and programs like Pro-Tools have shrunk the time required to complete sound for a project. Clients’ expectations have also shrunk accordingly.

‘Years and years ago, an agency might have asked for changes and waited a week. Since the advent of the computer they want to have one meeting and listen to the whole track, then get changes back several hours later,’ says Dave Sorbara of Toronto’s Grayson Matthews.

For the sound houses, having the ability to create both music and effects not only saves time, but ensures harmony further down the road.

‘We have three studios here,’ says Paul Airey, co-owner of Avenue along with partner Judy Harnett. ‘I can literally see what’s happening with the sound design by walking across the hallway and [finding out] there will be an explosion on that part of the music. If I know these things ahead of time, I can work around it, or set up the explosion in the music.’

Sorbara agrees. ‘Unless there is a collaborative effort from the beginning, sound design and music may not marry the next day.’

There are, however, a few notes of caution in the industry. It’s a rare composer who is also a great sound designer, says Luc Prefontaine of Montreal’s Studio La Majeure. ‘Sound design is a discipline in itself. You have to collect sounds, classify them and know when to use them. With music, you have to do the same. You could dedicate all your time just to one [discipline].’

‘Sound design is something you notice when it doesn’t work,’ says Tom Thorney of Toronto’s Great Big Music. ‘Everything has to be represented and timed with the visuals.’

Sorbara defines sound design as building toward enhancing natural sounds. For Serge Laforet of Montreal’s Audio Z studio, sound design itself has a musicality and rhythm. ‘When it’s well integrated, even something as simple as opening and closing a car door can have emotion,’ Laforet says.

For Ted Rosnick of Rosnick MacKinnon, sound design is the ‘process of painting a soundscape with different tools.’ The trick to sound design is to come up with something unique every time. ‘People have a preconception that sound design is pulling a dog barking or kids playing out of a sound library. I’ve heard the ‘man-in-pain’ sound,’ Rosnick says, mimicking a man groaning, ‘in 10 commercials now.’

Many agencies offer guidance and input into the process, but they rarely specify an exact sound they would like to hear. For one Pontiac commercial, in which a car was chased by a spaceship, Rosnick’s studio had to imagine the sound such an alien spacecraft might make.

Such surreal sounds are increasingly in demand, but restraint is key in conveying that atmosphere well. ‘You don’t want to create something that slaps people on the head or has them rolling in the aisles. You want to convey a sense of hyperreality,’ Thorney says. Arguably, every commercial sound design project is an exercise in hyperreality.

For an IKEA USA commercial, Avenue Music, for example, had to convey the reaction of people inside a VW Bug filled with IKEA furniture as it bumped its way across a hilly landscape. ‘You never saw the people,’ Airey says, ‘so we pitched their voices higher on the hills and when the furniture on top of the car hit a bridge.’

Some spot music is moving toward the same surreal feeling. Studios report that agencies are looking for ambient sounds and melanges of world music. Others, however, have requests for hip-hop or jingles. ‘We are mimickers of pop culture,’ Krystal says. ‘Right now, it’s all samplers and hip-hop.’

Yet sometimes the best sound is no sound at all. As Rosnick says, ‘A lack of sound can be brilliant sound design.’