James Horner passed away yesterday at the age of 61.  Long time readers of this website will know that I considered him not just one of the great film composers of his generation, but of any… one of the true titans of his field.  After that great group of unbelievable creativity and talent rose up together in film music in the 1950s and 60s – Elmer Bernstein, Jerry Goldsmith, Ennio Morricone, John Barry, John Williams, others – I think James Horner is the only comparable talent we’ve seen emerge.

His rise came remarkably young – his big break, Star Trek II, came when he was just 28.  He got there after he realised that if he spent his life writing music for the concert hall, it would rarely if ever be performed and nobody would hear it.  He moved back to California from London, getting work scoring B-movies for Roger Corman.  This got his foot in the door but he only got the rest of his body through there by somehow working on trash and lining it with gold – listen to Battle Beyond the Stars.  Full of an abundance of youthful naivete it may be – more than a dash of Jerry Goldsmith it may have – but it’s music, real music.  It’s no wonder he got noticed.

Whiz through the years following his big break – a remarkably diverse array of projects followed, a remarkably diverse and creative array of music written for them.  And patterns began to emerge.  That completely zany jazz fusion action style of 48 Hours – there it is again in Gorky Park – and there it is again in Commando.  The journey to his next big breakthrough, Aliens – there are the seeds of it in Wolfen, in Star Trek – and we’d hear the evolution of the same thing over the years all the way up to Wolf Totem.

James Horner collecting the Max Steiner Award at Hollywood in Vienna, 2013

Other seeds were being sown – the four-note “danger motif” nicked from Rachmaninov that appears all over the place.  That brilliant, completely unique “genius” piano sound first in Sneakers, then Searching for Bobby Fischer, then A Beautiful Mind.  The suspenseful, dynamic action style again introduced in Sneakers, then Apollo 13, Wolf Totem again.

When the internet was in its infancy, nothing was more controversial than this on film music discussion groups.  Horner… repeating himself again.  But far from being lazy, he was doing something very deliberate – he even described it very vividly when someone finally plucked up the courage to ask about it.  He saw this body of work he was building up as different paintings on one large canvas – the shade that worked here, well that one works over there as well.  Think about them and there is a certain logic to it – that heartbreaking melody in Swing Kids, a film long forgotten but a decade and a half later there’s the melody again in The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas.  And why?  Well, watch the films.  Think of Horner’s words.  It’s obvious.

The elephant in the room is the liberal amount of inspiration he got from classical giants.  He’s not unique in film music circles for that.  It’s never bothered me.  It didn’t seem to bother him, either – again he was very open when asked about it and didn’t hide away from it.  And somehow he made all those quotes from Britten, Prokofiev and the rest – well, he made them sound like James Horner.  There’s no denying they’re there; it’s up to the listener to let him or herself be bothered by it, or not; my advice – choose not.  In 2015 it would be a miracle if a film composer standing in front of a 100-piece orchestra about to play in unison to some childish junk had even heard of Britten, let alone had the ability and confidence to take inspiration from him.

I think all of the truly great film composers – and James Horner was one of the truly great film composers – had something about them that nobody else had.  And he had an approach to scoring films that matured and developed over time, but was basically always there – writing these fluid, lengthy pieces that went through scene after scene, hit all the notes, all recorded without click-track.  That gave his music a natural, organic sound that I think was a huge part of its appeal, that made it work away from the picture.  A lot of the long, expanded albums of film music that have appeared over the last few years have revealed just how much even really strong film music can suffer when it’s taken away from the film – but somehow James Horner’s music never had that problem, even when he packed all his CDs with as much music as possible.  Even on massive action films like Troy or The Perfect Storm – big, long tracks, real musical development – no click-track.

I saw him being honoured at Hollywood in Vienna in 2013, David Newman conducting an evening of his music.  Almost all of it was taken directly from the original scores, not rearranged for the concert hall – and it sounded perfectly natural in that environment.  Rich, deeply textured, unusually well-developed for film music – he was the real deal.  And of course the other thing on display – those flowing, gorgeous melodies.  Braveheart, Legends of the Fall, The Rocketeer – you know the list.  For Horner, film music was about emotion – film critics have become increasingly snarky about music that attempts to manipulate the viewer.  I’ve always thought that was pretty much the whole point of film music – to manipulate the viewer, either consciously or not (and Horner was a master at both).

In later years, Horner seemed to fall out of love with Hollywood, or Hollywood fell out of love with him, or probably both.  In Vienna, he spoke of his frustration at no longer being able to work on a score with a director – he now had committees to satisfy, had too many masters to serve.  He was becoming attached to projects, then quickly becoming unattached again.  But something seemed to happen to him at that event.  I sat no more than three or four feet away from him during the concert and it was fascinating to watch him soak in the genuine love being shown towards him from thousands of people in the hall – he was genuinely overwhelmed.  He could barely contain his emotion when he spoke at the hospitality event afterwards.  I think he really did have no idea how much his music had touched people.  But after that night, he certainly did.

Ironically, he went full circle and started writing for the concert hall again.  “Pas de Deux”, his double concerto for violin and cello, premiered last year; earlier this year, “Collage” for four horns premiered.  The notoriously shy, private man conducted some of his music at a concert in Norway just a few weeks ago.  After three lean years following The Amazing Spider-Man, he signed up for five films and tv projects to be released in 2015.  He was back.  Now he’s gone.

Star Trek II was the second soundtrack album I bought.  But my love for Horner didn’t come quickly, not really – I was for a while taken in by the hostility on the internet in the 1990s, the snarks and snipes.  Then I decided I could make my own mind up and I fell in love.  I don’t know when my iPod last broke and everything reset itself – but I do know that since whenever it was, the play counts show that I’ve spent 50% more time listening to James Horner’s film music than anyone else’s.  And I know why – it touches me, deeply.  It speaks to me.  It takes me on journeys.  It is full of zest, full of life.  My baby daughter’s eyes light up when I play her “Somewhere Out There”; my father-in-law’s when I play him “The Ludlows”.  Music has that power – James Horner’s has it more than most.

Later in 2015, cinemas will play new films featuring his music for the last time.  Southpaw and The 33 will come and they will go.  His music will remain.  Thank you, James Horner.  Your life has made my life better.  My thoughts are with your wife and daughters and I hope they take comfort from the number of people’s whose lives you have enriched.

Some favourites:
Star Trek II | Brainstorm | Krull | Cocoon | Apollo 13 | Avatar