Musicians have a knack for multi-tasking; jumping from late night to early morning sessions with gigs and practice in between.  And then, there is William Ross. As a composer, orchestrator, arranger, conductor and music director,  Maestro Ross exemplifies the creative mastery of  skill, diversity and artistry that few achieve. His influence in almost every major realm of the music industry is legendary.   Here is a short list: Scoring for feature films such as: “Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets” with John Williams,   “My Dog Skip”, “Tale of Desperaux”; arranging for artists the likes of Michael Jackson, Sting, Quincy Jones, Celine Dion; receiving  an Emmy for “Tiny-Toons Adventure” and collaborating with Barbra Streisand as her Musical Director for the past two decades.

 

During his recent visit to Berklee this past spring where he met with students in clinics and master classes,  William Ross sat down with FUSION MAGAZINE editor Michael Hazani  “for a talk” which soon became a fascinating foray into the world of ideas, and Ross’ personal quest  to communicate meaning through music.

 

MH: You’ve managed to cram several lifetimes’ worth of work into one career; you’ve scored hundreds of films, arranged and orchestrated music for a myriad of artists, and composed in almost every conceivable genre. Looking back, what has been your most fulfilling experience, or an accomplishment you take great pride in?

WR: The score to “My Dog Skip” is something I take a lot of pride in because to me it’s one of the most through-composed pieces of music I’ve written; I felt that almost every bar is functioning at a high level of personal achievement – and I love the themes, I thought the themes were all terrific… I like the way it was spotted and recorded. That was a great experience for me, which also introduced me to another director, and that led to other good things. So almost everything about that movie was enjoyable for me, and the outcome happened to be one that I like a lot. I love to do crossword puzzles; you work your way through it, find the difficult spots, and you solve them: and once it’s done, you get the experience of solving that problem. For me, in an odd way, writing music is similar. When I start an arrangement I have no idea what the final product is going to be; but I dive in and I work on it, and pretty soon it’s done – and when I play through it, if I’ve done well, I enjoy the sense of ‘solution’; just to play through it feels like I’m connecting to it. That’s one of the things that I appreciate about “My dog skip”; when I go back to it I get those feelings again and I really enjoy that. It felt like a puzzle well-solved.   I love to do  crossword puzzles…you work your way through it…“The score to “My Dog Skip” felt like a puzzle well-solved.

Also, my experience working on Harry Potter with John Williams is very close to the top of the list, because it was one of my personal goals as a human being. As a person who was trying to find his way in life, I’d set that up as a meaningful goal – being able to write even close to John Williams’ level. So to be asked by John to do that was right out of a Hollywood script! To want to be able to write like John, and then to have him be the judge of how I wrote was absurd! And having him tell me at the end that he couldn’t be happier and express his appreciation was a wonderful validation of a goal I’d set for myself. It was a really powerful moment.

MH: How is it that someone at your level still relishes having a mentor approve your work?

 

WR: Look, one of the fundamental things we do in writing music is create meaning. It’s just like speaking; if I put words in a certain order and you hear it, and there’s communication, it feels good. The same thing is always going to be a factor in any music you write, no matter what level you’re writing it at or where you are in your career. It’s this goal to do something that has meaning to you, and you take this added pleasure in seeing ‘the light bulb go off’ in other people, in terms of the meaning.

MH: You  speak of  composition in terms of ‘problem-solving’, of locating and working through specific challenges.. The distinction between the ‘analytical’ and ‘creative’ sides of the brain comes to mind. How are you able to tap into that creative part of yourself, while still being focused on the problem you have to solve?

 

WR:  For me, it’s like speaking; I may not know why I choose one word over another, but there’s definitely some reason for it. And that is the act of giving meaning. By the way, the word “problem” has a very negative connotation – for me, what it means is ‘something you have to go through, to get to the other side’. When I sit down to write, my first mission is to find out what I want to do. That’s a question; asking yourself that question is fundamental to your success. And the process of elimination is a wonderful tool. Look, if you have an entire symphonic orchestra, you have to have some reason to decide what instruments you’re going to use, and when to use them. Now, one might ask “but what about art? What about music? Which societal problems do they solve?” – well, maybe, and I’m just tossing it out there, whereas a chair solves the problem of giving meaning to where we sit, the artist is dealing with some of the most fundamental problems that we have to deal with as people.  I recently read a brilliant lecture delivered to a freshman class about the importance of art, and the professor pointed out that after tragic events, such as 9/11, one of the first things we do is sing, or turn to a play, or whatever – we find some kind of outlet in these artistic expressions. . Maybe that’s something we can look at as a society; seeing if we can give our lives more meaning by getting more involved in the arts.

MH:  Does the problem solving approach relate to writer’s block in any way? Do you ever get blocked?

 

WR: Oh, yeah. One of the worst things you could do for yourself is think you’re writing ‘for the ages’. The more you say “It’s gotta be perfect”, the more you’re going to have to deal with writer’s block. Personally, the most difficult arrangements I have to write are when someone says “we’ve got the so-and-so orchestra, it’s gotta be the best ever!” When I was starting out I remember thinking “oh my God, this is going to be heard around the world” – and I remember being debilitated by that. It got in the way. I think it’s helpful to see writer’s block as a challenge, rather than to embrace the ‘hopelessness’ approach of “I’m never going to make it”. There are a lot of very analytical tools to help you through writer’s block. Writer’s block might be like wanting to take a trip and not knowing where to go; if you don’t know where to go, how are you going to know whether to turn left or right? Once you have a direction, everything gets easier. And in scoring for film, you can break down a lot of the big questions into small decisions you make before writing a single note. Sometimes you have to ask the very basic questions: does this moment even need music? I’ve had moments in spotting where the emotion was so intense, the acting so superb, that anything I’d have done would have detracted from the moment rather than added to it.

 

MH:  Talking about “problem solving” might give the impression that all the opportunities were simply there, and all you had to do is choose between two or three options. But in reality your career path was never a default choice; you’ve really created your own opportunities. How did that happen?

 

WR: By being interested in so many different kinds of music, and different aspects – for example, conducting. I became fascinated by conducting, I took lessons, I read books about conducting, and I found that it’s a hodge-podge of ideas; everybody has their own opinion about it. So, through my own process of working with musicians, I’ve developed my own sense of what I believe is important about conducting, at least at the level of what I need to do. So, that’s an example of a skill I developed that allowed me to solve certain problems. I didn’t control [my learning process]: the way it works is somebody has a problem – they need music for something they’re doing, and your goal is to become the answer to their problem. And hopefully you get repeat business, which means the next time they come into that problem, they’re going to use you again. Look at John Williams and the career he’s made out of repeat businesses; here’s a guy who knows how to take care of a client!

So these skills that I’ve developed for myself – all they do is allow me more opportunities, which is what you look at when you see the different things I’ve done. They’re just opportunities when somebody said “why don’t we use Bill for this?”. Somewhere down the line, my name came up as a possible solution. Maybe I wasn’t always the first choice – it doesn’t matter: somewhere down the line my name was in the “yes” slot. And there’s a topic for an entirely different conversation – how to keep yourself sane until you get your name in the “yes” slot. It’s really easy to take the “no” slots personally, and I know that from personal experience.

 

 

MH:  Do you ever find that your idea of a project’s meaning conflicts with someone else’s idea of the same project’s meaning?

 

WR:  I’m presenting something – yes, it’s a work for hire, but I think there are very few works that aren’t done for hire—

MH: Such as the Sistine Chapel as an example of  a work for hire?

 

Yes, exactly. That’s just an acknowledgement of how somebody supports themselves, and little else. Now, yes, I think there’s the capacity for conflict, but it all goes back to problem solving. If somebody disagrees with my view about a certain place in the score, I have a couple of options: I can try to educate them (which may or may not be a fool’s errand), I can tell them I quit, or I can say “I’ll write it your way, and show you an alternate”. If nothing else, it shows that I’m putting my efforts where my mouth is: that I believe in it enough to put in the extra effort to show it. I’ve won some of those battles – certainly not more than 50% – and I think that’s part of the challenge; being able to find meaning in what you’re doing, while also being respectful of the other person’s view. Overall, throughout my career there’s only been a handful of moments when I wasn’t proud of anything I did [in a specific project].

MH:  You’ve worn many different hats in your career, and yet – correct me if I’m wrong about this – you seem to find composing for film the most appealing. Why is that?

 

WR:  I do love writing to picture. I happen to be fascinated with the possibilities that exist in tonal music and Aleatoric music – the organization of sounds. I love the way the orchestra sounds, as well as chamber music, or the way certain synth sounds – like filtered percussion and RMX – I love all that, and I resonate with that emotionally. I feel that film music offers the biggest pallet I could use – a much bigger pallet than when arranging for song. That’s just the reality of the case; songs tend to cater to certain kinds of markets and audiences, and some of the musical ‘spices’ I’m interested in would seem very out of place in a pop song.

Another thing I love about film is that so many of the parameters are already there; I know what my mission is [when composing to film]. Personally I’m more comfortable when I have a sense of “how am I going to define my success here”. My goal is to really bring out the moment [in the film], and when I’m happy with what I did I feel that I’ve created some kind of meaning that really moves me. That’s the really great thing about those ‘problems’ – they’re opportunities. They’re challenges that should be embraced, and one must realize that the way to deal with them is to go through with them, not to walk away from them. What I’ve been talking about is the tools and ways to get through the problems, in order to get that feeling of accomplishment.

MH:  Talking about “problem solving” might give the impression that the opportunities were simply there, and all you had to do was choose . But in reality  you’ve really created your own opportunities. How did that happen?

 

WR:  By being interested in so many different kinds of music, and different aspects – for example, conducting. I became fascinated by conducting, I took lessons, I read books about conducting, and I found that it’s a hodge-podge of ideas; everybody has their own opinion about it. So, through my own process of working with musicians, I’ve developed my own sense of what I believe is important about conducting, at least at the level of what I need to do. So, that’s an example of a skill I developed that allowed me to solve certain problems. I didn’t control [my learning process]: the way it works is somebody has a problem – they need music for something they’re doing, and your goal is to become the answer to their problem. And hopefully you get repeat business, which means the next time they come into that problem, they’re going to use you again. Look at John Williams and the career he’s made out of repeat businesses; here’s a guy who knows how to take care of a client!

So these skills that I’ve developed for myself – all they do is allow me more opportunities, which is what you look at when you see the different things I’ve done. They’re just opportunities when somebody said “why don’t we use Bill for this?”. Somewhere down the line, my name came up as a possible solution. Maybe I wasn’t always the first choice – it doesn’t matter: somewhere down the line my name was in the “yes” slot. And there’s a topic for an entirely different conversation – how to keep yourself sane until you get your name in the “yes” slot. It’s really easy to take the “no” slots personally, and I know that from personal experience.

MH:  Have you ever felt like you bit off more than you could chew?

WR: I did, and it’s something worth thinking about; unfortunately LA is a small town, and if you do get yourself in a position where you promised and you can’t deliver, it’s not a good thing for you. There’s an awkward balance of saying “yes” to everything, and yet trying not to put yourself in harm’s way.

Billie Byers, who was a genius of an arranger, called me once to come over for a singer whom he was doing an arrangement for, and he needed someone to play the piano while she sang so that he would be able to record a sketch for himself. I showed up, and these were pieces I didn’t really know. Now, I’m not the world’s greatest piano player. So here I am, sitting there with this genius arranger and great singer. Billy had the sheet music in one key, but wanted to try it in a different key – a tritone away! So I didn’t know the song, and I had to transpose it a tritone away… And Billy’s response was “yeah, and what’s your point? That’s why you’re here”. I felt horrible – he had to step in and do the job, and I ended up just sitting there. I’ll never forget that story. He couldn’t have been more kind; but for me, it was everything that’ I’m not about. Basically, I was the guy who showed up with one tool in his toolbox: “yeah, I can sight read the song quite nicely in the key it’s written in. Oh, wait, you want a different key? I don’t have that tool for this song.”

MH: There is much honesty in telling this story.

WR:  Oh, believe me, all of the things I say come from my own experience. The one thing you don’t usually get to hear about [me]is that I’ve made so many mistakes, and struggled with so many things. That’s one thing I wish I could say to everybody that listens to me: I wish I could reach out and say “I don’t know what you’re going through, I don’t know what your demons are in terms of self respect and self esteem, what’s your own sense of value – but I’ve struggled with that my whole life, and I hope you’ll be more gentle with yourself than I’ve been. That’s probably the biggest mistake I’ve made: causing myself pain by wishing I were a different person. As musicians, we’re emotional beings, and those emotions come from the thoughts we tell ourselves. Is some of our suffering coming from the thoughts we tell ourselves – “I’m not enough, I’ll never get this, I don’t know what I’m doing”? Imagine if you had to deal with that whole mindset as you were learning to walk! It would have made the process horrible! So I encourage people to build support systems and friends. You go through life and you have the opportunity to make it a pleasurable experience – or an excruciating one – and that’s a choice that you have. That’s an important point, and I’m TALKING  from personal experience.

 

 

MH:  You worked on   one of the best selling singles of all time, Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On”. Did you know at the time  that it was going to be such a massive hit?

 

WR: Walter Afanasieff produced this record – he called me up one day and told me about this song he was going to produce for Celine [Dion], and said he thinks this song is going to be really big. But, you know, the title was “My heart will go on”… When I heard it I thought ‘yeah, it could be big’ – but that big? No, I didn’t have an idea. Nobody had an idea – maybe (composer) James Horner did, but I certainly didn’t, and Walter didn’t. He thought it was going to be a big song, but [not on that level]. I don’t think it’s good to look for those moments. I think that goes back to the writer’s block, the perfection and everything – I think all that stuff gets in the way of it. I treat every song I’ve ever arranged as if it’s going to be ‘that’ song. It gets my fullest attention. Even when I personally think “what a horrible song!”, I do everything to make that song as good as I can. I treat every project with the same identical respect and commitment. Sometimes it’s hard to do that due to time or budget constrictions – but the desire is to treat them all the same.; I’m thinking “what can I do to make this song as good as it can be?”.  I think that’s a good way to orient yourself towards whatever you’re doing, and the nice thing about it, is that when something comes along where everybody says “oh, this is it, this is the big one!” – you’re not going to be intimidated. Every stage you get on is Carnegie Hall, every song you work on is “My Heart Will Go On”, so what you’re doing is practicing giving your best. Earlier, a student prefaced a question with “When I become a film composer…” – I stopped him and asked him “Are you interested in writing for film? Then you are a film composer. Today you start writing. And keep writing every day. Eventually you’ll start to see yourself as a film composer – and [when you get an actual job writing for film] it’ll feel like a minor shift – one day you’ll be writing for an actual film, as opposed to what you were writing yesterday.”

You’ll build your process, and everything will be in place, so that you won’t show up having to play a song that written a tritone away [laughs].

 

MH:  Have you always kept a strict writing schedule, even when you didn’t have anything to write for?

 

WR: Yes, in general it’s true. I know it’s true, because that’s how I got here. That’s how I started: when I started moving into music I’d study scores. I’d take a piece I loved, I’d figure out why I loved it, took it apart, then wrote something like it – which is really crazy, but I really recommend it. Then I’d try to see where I fell short, I’d take it to other teachers and see what they thought, I’d get people to play it – that’s how I approached the whole thing.

MH: That’s certainly a useful approach for a student at Berklee.

 

WR: Definitely. I think we’re all self-taught. The teacher may say certain things, point you to examples, show you the direction – but ultimately the only way it happens is when you say “I’m going to do this”. We’re all self-taught, and teachers will tell you they’re only as good as their students.

MH: Is there someone you’ve always wanted to work with?

 

WR:  I’ve always wanted to work with Frank Sinatra, and unfortunately, I’ve missed that opportunity. I did write something for him, I just wasn’t there to hear him do it. I always wanted to write for Aretha Franklin.

MH:  Are there any major musical trends you’ve noticed in recent years? What are your expectations for the future of these trends?

 

WR:  Before answering, let me explain something that I think is worth observing: I’ve talked about the importance of repeat business. If you take a look at my arranging credits, you’re going to see only a handful of producers! You’re going to see David Foster, who’s a titan among titans – songwriter, producer, this guy is a genius. You’re going to see Walter Afanasieff, Babyface… A handful of others. Yes, there are lots and lots of arrangements, and the ones listed on my resume don’t even begin to cover them all – but there’s a handful of producers that account for 90% of them. That’s a really important observation for someone who’s looking at my career: the real message here is that I’ve made a career out of repeat business in the arranging world, as well as in film scoring. That’s something that’s worth studying, because it reaffirms the importance of being a ‘problem solver’ that people go back to again and again. I can’t emphasize that enough. I’ve made it my goal to be easy to get along with, to help people realize their dream. That’s my mission. All you see in my resume comes from that mentality; I know it does because I’ve been told, many times, ‘well, it came down to you or the other guy, and the other guy is so difficult to get along with – if you couldn’t do it we’d be miserable.” It all comes down to that same thing.

MH: One of the most curious items on your resume is writing music for theme park attractions.

 

WR: Yeah, I’ve done several of them – some played at the top of the Empire State Building, some at Bush Gardens, San Francisco – there are certain particular considerations in writing them; the ‘slope’ of how and when you start the music is a little different, because a lot of it is driven compactly into a 4-minute ride. Another one is the question – what are you competing against? Do the seats move? You may want to support it, by creating chaos, like I did for Dino Island – the end result felt like you were in a tornado. The fact that I did that for Dino Island 1 and got Dino Island 2  is another example of  repeat business. Whatever happened in Dino Island 1, they used me again for Dino Island 2.

MH: Is there a quality or trait  that sets your work apart both in film music and in popular music? –

WR: That’s so hard to answer – I’ll try to dive into it. The first answer is that it’s not about me. Whether I’m dealing with Barbara Streisand or John Williams or anybody else.  These people are my bosses, and the way I orient myself to that is that it’s not about me, but about them being happy. It helps me orient myself  to ask the right questions . This perspective helps me bring my skills to their service, and in the process, create things that are meaningful to me. That statement is so powerful – it has to do with everything you write.

I can’t tell you how many pieces of music I’m  asked to listen to have  the wrong message of “look at me!”. [They have the goal ]flipped around.  After learning to master any art, it takes a certain kind of maturity – and I myself am only barely getting there – to realize that the meaning, the message is the most important thing, and that my technique  helps only in the sense that it furthers the message… I don’t know if I can sum it up better than that …I think there’s a lot of truth in that.

Michael Hazani graduated from Berklee in Spring 2010.

The Editors wish to thank Professor Dan Carlin for making this interview possible.