from the writing fragments vault #10
Valerie leaned back, drew on her cigarette, and exhaled, "I have a hunch that the key to this case is to study the history of cartoon music."
Honey looked at her. "Huh?"
"Remember the golden age of animation? The Thirties and Forties? Every cartoon had music by a studio orchestra, a music department. They had staff composers-who wrote out music specially for each scene." She punctuated her emphases with her cigarette, jetting out two gouts of smoke that twirled around each other as they drifted lazily through the window and out over the Flats toward the Cuyahoga. "Arrangers and copyists who prepared the parts and scores, and girl Fridays who passed out the scores to each musician in the orchestra." She took a drag on her cigarette, nodded, and went on. "Nice-sized orchestras, twenty or more musicians. You know, real music."
"So?"
"So I miss that. Hey, even a highbrow classical composer, Bartók, imitated the style of cartoon soundtracks in his most popular work, Concerto for Orchestra, in 1943. From the sound of it, he was inspired by Tom and Jerry, whose composer was Scott Bradley. God, what a brilliant artist! Working in cartoons! It's a true American art form. But you never hear craftsmanship like that any more."
"Yeah, but cartoons they're making today still have music, they must have composers and musicians and everything." Honey didn't feel she had time for this. "Anyway, back to the case. Please? So what do you know about this guy?"
"Right, this brings me to my point. His occupation is listed as composer. Actually, he so-called composes by opening up a software program, then goes and smokes a joint while the computer automatically programs the synthesizer and simultaneously records the output. All the asshole has to do is upload the files and cash the paychecks. And they call that music." She stubbed out her cigarette butt with a grunt.
"Jeez, Valerie, this whole subject really strikes a chord with you, doesn't it?"
"Very funny."
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