Sound and Music for the Theatre

The Art & Technique of Design

Deena Kaye, James LeBrecht

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2015
• ISBN:
  9781317690573
• Edition: 4
• Topic: Medien & darstellende Kunst
• Subtopic: Theater

Covering every phase of a theatrical production, this fourth edition of Sound and Music for the Theatre traces the process of sound design from initial concept through implementation in actual performances.

The book discusses the early evolution of sound design and how it supports the play, from researching sources for music and effects, to negotiating a contract. It shows you how to organize the construction of the sound design elements, how the designer functions in a rehearsal, and how to set up and train an operator to run sound equipment. This instructive information is interspersed with 'war stores' describing real-life problems with solutions that you can apply in your own work, whether you're a sound designer, composer, or sound operator.

1 The Evolution of Sound Design

“The trouble with life is that, unlike movies, it doesn’t have background music. We never know how we’re supposed to feel.”

—Lewis Gardner, 1985

In a play, not a single word is arbitrary. The director and the actors in a production attribute a value and a reason to every action and every utterance. The set is carefully designed to work within the physical requirements of the script, as well as the specific needs of a particular production. Lights are integrated into the mood of the piece to create a specific atmosphere. To ensure their continuity with the rest of the production, costumes are not created until the director approves the renderings.

Sound design works the same way. The silences—as well as the dog barks and musical underscoring—are determined by specific aesthetic decisions. Meaning and purpose are attached to everything you do as a sound designer. Your talks and listening sessions with the director are your ground plan. Your scratch recordings are your rehearsal props. And your choices for underscoring and ambiance are the “sound scenery” within which the production moves.

As a sound designer, you may encounter the perplexed looks of others as they wonder what exactly sound design is. Tell them that sound design is the creative and technical process resulting in the complete aural environment for live theatre—just like the music and sound accompanying film.

Because sound is among the newest of the theatrical design fields, most audiences are unaware of it as a designed component of a production. Many producers and directors are embracing the wide range of possibilities that sound design can offer. They now readily incorporate the new vocabulary used in the field of sound design when approaching productions.

Most people working in the theatre tend to confuse the duties of a sound designer with those of a recording engineer, a sound supervisor, an audio master, a sound technician, production sound mixer, or a sound operator. It can be confusing because titles and job descriptions in the audio industry vary depending on which medium is being discussed. Within the world of dramatic and musical theatre productions, the job of a recording engineer is to run recording sessions and possibly help manufacture the effects and music cues. A sound supervisor or an audio master oversees the day-to-day operations of a theatre’s sound department. A sound engineer (often referred to as an A1) is usually a staff member who implements the tasks set forth by the sound supervisor. A sound technician, or A2, is a crew member who helps with the load-in and installation of the sound equipment, and who may also serve as the sound operator, who runs sound during performances. In some venues, the A2 is an intern. These very necessary positions implement the work of the designer or composer.

Be aware that many theatres do not have this kind of full staffing. At times, one person will take on the responsibility for all the jobs. Some theatres will provide a variation of these positions shared between two staff members. At other theatres, you might find that you’ll have no help at all. To make your design happen under these conditions, you’ll have to be the engineer, installer, and possibly even the operator. Luckily, this is not the case in too many places. Whatever your other duties may be, your primary responsibility as the sound designer is to make the artistic decisions that form the basis for the aural atmosphere of the entire production.

“ ‘Art’ … is being exact about things that do not seem to matter at all.”

—Max Apple, The Propheteers, 1987

All choices about aesthetic elements of the theatre boil down to a matter of the individual designer’s or director’s tastes. Every member of the creative staff has to cultivate a sense of taste in order to trust their own artistic decisions. Some directors and designers develop this quality to a lesser degree than others, as is demonstrated by some productions, which have little sense of style, form, or cohesion.

There are several approaches open to you as you begin the design process. If you’re working on a musical, your task may be to provide subtle sound reinforcement of the voices and the musical ensemble, creating a realistic blend that helps to enhance the audience’s experience. Some plays may require you to create original abstract environments or soundscapes. Others might use previously published material and sound effects that are used in whole or cut up, to create new musical ideas from familiar aural cloth, while still other plays might benefit from more traditional original music. You may shape your original music or soundscore to a production by emulating an established, easily recognizable style, or you can create your own sound entirely. Of course, all music can be said to be derivative. Intentionally or unintentionally, you can compose a Mozart-like score or a piece that sounds like a song by Radiohead. What makes your score unique is your artistic sensibilities and how precisely they fit each theatrical moment.

As a composer involved in creating the underscoring for a play, you can construct your music specifically for the action onstage, as opposed to a musical or a commissioned score for an instrumental ensemble. If you are new to composing for the theatre, you may find the parameters of your composition limited in peculiar ways. A scene change that is too noisy may dictate the need for a boisterous fifteen-second interlude to fill time and cover up the sound of moving furniture. Sometimes you’ll have to adapt a lengthy theme so that it resolves within eight seconds to work with the action onstage. Some directors may fit their blocking to your composition, but that is not always the case. Directors who use sound regularly in their productions know that one of the advantages of having original music is that it can be tailored to the moment.

As a sound designer, you must determine what sounds are essential to represent the reality you want to create onstage. Too many elements in a cue might distract the audience, interfering with their comprehension of the theatrical moment that the sound is meant to support. Whereas overdesigning a show is intrusive, too sparse a design gives the production a feeling of not being fully realized. Your artistry lies in finding the appropriate middle ground—helping the audience’s understanding of mood, time, place, or situation without getting in the way. Whether to use two or six phone rings to create tension in a mystery may seem like a minor matter. But your decision one way or the other can ultimately carry as much artistic import as whether you choose Franz Liszt or John Lennon for underscoring. Attention to these details in your sound design has a major impact on a production’s viability.

As an exercise, close your eyes and listen to the sounds around you. Distill the more prominent sounds in the foreground that identify your surroundings. Then switch focus and concentrate on the less obvious sounds in the middle ground. Now listen for the more subliminal sounds in the background. Even if you are in a quiet room, there may be a ventilation system or some sort of a mechanical hum. As a sound designer, you need to be aware of the range of sounds at your disposal. If you understand the subtlety and power these textures hold, you will have a command of the full spectrum of sounds from which to choose.

The Development of Sound Design

Even the earliest reported theatrical “events” used sound effects and underscoring. Primitive ritualistic tribal gatherings for burial ceremonies, rites of spring, or harvest festivals were accompanied by drum playing. Theatre in China and India during the Bronze Age (4000–2000 b.c.) depended little on scenery or props, but was always accompanied and underscored by music and sound.

Medieval drama, which developed over nearly four centuries, served as a proving ground for many of the conventions and devices that became commonplace in the theatre of the Italian and English Renaissance. Commedia dell’arte employed abundant musical support of the action, as well as music before and after the plays. It also applied sound effects to the actions, the most recognized being the supplemental sound of the slapstick to heighten the farcical impact of physical blows. For Shakespeare’s plays, offstage sound was a necessary element of all productions. According to W. J. Lawrence, “Not all sights seen in the course of the action by the characters were (or could be) shown to the audience, but all the sounds heard by the characters could be, and were, heard by the audience. In other words, sights were sometimes imagined, but sounds, never.”¹

In the Elizabethan theatre, music functioned to create atmosphere and to effect transitions. The dumb show—a common convention of this period that pantomimed action shown later in the play—was always preceded and accompanied by music, often by the same music played before the act. Which instruments were used, and the attitude of the music, did as much to convey the message of the players as did the action.

Most Elizabethan plays included numerous indications for various fanfares and musical calls to accompany a character’s approach. The fanfare helps the audience to sense a character’s importance. It often has a dramatic effect far greater than that of helping create an air of dignity. “ ‘The sennet or a flourish’ was used if he was royalty, a tucket if he was a gentleman, and perhaps the notes of a post horn if he brought an urgent dispatch.”²

Stage directions in early prompt books sometimes described the tone of the music, calling for composers to make the “recorders doleful,” “the bells strange and solemn,” or “the pipes sweet.”

Production books indicate that many musicians were hired for Elizabethan plays. Other than the obligatory trumpeter, there would always be a drummer, and possibly a consort of recorders and viols. If the playwright wanted a broader variety of music, he could hire additional musicians.

Not only did Elizabethan theatre rely “very largely on musical mood-painting,”³ but many scripts had indications for offstage sounds or “noises off.” Bells, alarms, clocks, whistles, chimes, thunder, storms, gunshots, cannons, wolves, crickets, owls, roosters, the croaking of toads, the baying of hounds, the trampling of horses, the crash of armor, and the clash of swords are but a few of the sounds called for within the plays themselves. For the animal sounds and birdcalls, a talented imitator was usually hired to create these sounds with or without the aid of whistles or pipes.

For sounds indicated by the script, sailors with a silver ship’s bell, hunters with packs of baying hounds, and soldiers with their own arsenals were hired per performance to supply authentic noises on cue. Many theatres had “thunder runs” built into the ceiling above the audience or stage. These were sloping wooden or iron alleys with shallow steps on which cannonballs would be rolled to produce the rolls and claps of thunder. Several theatres in England have these original troughs intact and use them to this day.

As the Restoration, Neoclassical, and Romantic periods of theatre evolved, emphasis on offstage sound and music went in and out of style. As costumes, sets, props, and lights became more lavish, sound was no longer needed to establish so many of the production elements. With the introduction of gas lighting in 1820, production values changed significantly. Scenery became a “set,” elaborately constructed and furnished, with an emphasis on realistic settings and conversational dialogue.

Realism (not to be confused with naturalism, a movement that preceded realistic theatre) presented the play as a scientific document, a slice of life. Nemirovich-Danchenko’s and Stanislavsky’s 1898 production of Chekhov’s The Seagull at the People’s Art Theatre (later known as the Moscow Art Theatre) challenged the methods of established theatres. What was revolutionary to theatre in this production has become today’s standard for the realistic form.

In addition to the visible scenery, this production used a large number of sound and lighting effects. For example, at the beginning of the play: “Darkness, an August evening. The dim light of a lantern on top of a lamp post, distant sounds of a drunkard’s song, distant howling of a dog, the croaking of frogs, the crake of a landrail, the slow tolling of a distant church-bell … Flashes of lightning, faint rumbling of thunder in the distance.”⁴

As realism and, later, expressionism evolved as accepted theatrical styles, the technology for the use of sound also developed. The demands for sound in an expressionist play such as Thornton Wilder’s Our Town spurred on a new creativity. In a note at the beginning of the script, Wilder states: “The use of many props is indicated in this script, but except for those used by the Stage Manager and for the umbrellas in Act III, it must be understood that all are imagined.” For Our Town, the challenge of creating a complete environment against the bare walls of a stage relied on the connective tissue of the character of the stage manager, the commitment of the actors to this innovative staging—and sound.

The first production of Our Town in 1938 used no recorded sound. It relied on effects created backstage by the actors and stagehands to supplement the onstage action. While live offstage sound was nothing new, Jed Harris, the director of the original production, pioneered a modern theatrical trend by deciding to use live sound to underscore the mimed action.

The simplicity of the show dictated a similar style in producing the effects. Keeping the reality of Grover’s Corners contained within its own microcosm was best accomplished by having the sound come from within the stage structure, as opposed to sound coming from above the stage or from house speakers. Live offstage effects were used to produce train and factory whistles, school bells, and church chimes. Attention was given to where these sounds originated, indicating location. Newspapers were thrown offstage in accordance with an onstage actor’s movements; grinding coffee in a coffee mill imitated a lawnmower; thunder in the second act was created with a manual thunder drum. All environmental sounds—the rooster, chickens, Bobwhites, crickets, horses—were created vocally by an actor or by a multitalented stagehand.

In the Lincoln Center’s 1988 revival of Our Town, there was an earnest effort to re-create the original concept for the sound. Most of the same images were reinforced with live sound coming from backstage, sounds almost identical to those used in the original production. Again, because of the nature of the play, live sound proved to be a better choice than taped or recorded effects.

The use of prerecorded sound effects was limited until the mid-1930s, when sound effects recordings for the stage became readily available. Bertolt Brecht incorporated recordings into his productions in the 1930s, but cited Piscator’s 1927 production of Rasputin recordings (where a record of the voice of Lenin was played) as being the first to make use of such. With the introduction of the long-playing record in 1948, the amount of material that could be stored on a disc was greatly increased and the sound quality vastly improved.

Consider how difficult it must have been to cue double turntables during a performance. Even with records specially pressed with the cues for a production, the timing might be inaccurate. At busy cueing times, it was difficult to do clean starts and fades; if the record were scratched, it would skip. A cue consisting of complex sounds, necessitating the use of two turntables simultaneously, would complicate the process even further.

By 1952, tape recorders had begun to replace turntables for general use in the theatre. However, if the show had many cues, records were still used instead of tape. Renting turntables was more affordable, and there were many more effects available on record than on tape.

In 1956, Garson Kanin directed a charming but short-lived production of A Small War on Murray Hill that used recorded sound effects extensively. There was no sound designer to find the effects or to fit them into the production; the stage manager found effects and music, and Kanin approved them. A gifted electrician operated numerous tape decks, playing over three hours of continuous sound—comprising 150 sound cues—during every performance. Kanin used sound on a regular basis, and it was always an important element of his shows.

Many Broadway productions of the 1950s made the attempt to incorporate sound. Directors with Hollywood backgrounds, such as Garson Kanin and Arthur Penn, seemed to be the most innovative. They tried in earnest to emulate the sound of the cinema. But for shows that opened out of town, many of the original cues were cut by the time the shows came to Broadway. Tapes and records were not complete...