You’ve been dubbed the “Scream Queen of Scoring.” How did that name come about, and what are some occupational hazards of writing so much horror music?

I actually can’t quite remember how that name came about. I think some people started calling me that because I was writing music for so many horror films, and it just sort of stuck—and I love it! I’m a huge fan of the genre, and I love the horror community. They’re some of the most wonderful and supportive people I’ve ever met, and I’ve made many close friends working within the horror genre.

It does, however, come with some occupational hazards—like the time one of my neighbors heard the screams coming from the horror feature I was working on and sent the cops to my house to see what was going on. I was so confused (and honestly frightened) when two officers started pounding on my door and asking who else was in there with me. It wasn’t until they told me a neighbor had reported hearing screams—and then quoted a few exact lines from the scene I’d been working on—that I put it all together! I was relieved (and embarrassed) to tell them it was the horror movie I was working on. They still didn’t believe me and asked me to show them the movie, so I brought them into my studio and played that scene for them—and then they couldn’t stop laughing! Tensions immediately de-escalated, and we all had a good laugh and a chat about our favorite horror movies. They wished me a great rest of the day and went on their way. I’ll never forget that day!

You’re known for using unusual sounds—like neon signs in Open 24 Hours. What other objects have made their way into your scores, and how do you know when a sound is “musical” enough to include?

I absolutely love experimenting with sounds, and it’s in all that experimenting that you discover what will work and what won’t. I typically like to record some sort of element that’s connected to the film itself, to see if I can make it work as a unique sound somewhere in my score. Sometimes they end up working for pulses, textures, hits, or even melodically, but they give me signature sounds for my scores.

I recorded a bunch of balloon sounds for ClownTown that turned out really cool for pulses and hits—they became the sound when we saw the creepy clowns. I recently finished the score for a horror feature called The Other (formerly Psychopomp), which is debuting at film festivals this month—it’s my most experimental score to date. I recorded sounds from a bucket of slime, my detuned cello, birds, and the sounds of me dismembering a Barbie doll (sorry, Barbie!!) for this score. I then edited and mangled them with effects and imported them into my synth to use—and everything worked so well! The score still has character themes and a throughline, but with such a unique sound, thanks to all these “instruments” I created. And I don’t want to give anything away, but when you see the film, a lot of what I used and recorded makes total sense.

Writing the Emmy-nominated main theme for Cabinet of Curiosities seems like it was a unique challenge. Since the main title is the only recurring musical thread across episodes, how did you approach crafting a theme that felt cohesive but still left room for variety?

This is an interesting question because I hadn’t seen any of the series’ episodes prior to writing the main title theme. I only knew a little about the show—that it was a horror anthology Guillermo del Toro was doing—and I was given an animatic of the show’s main title sequence to work with. That was what really guided me. Based on that, I knew it had to have a certain structure and energy.

I wanted it to be haunting yet also beautiful and exciting, based on the visuals I was given—and most importantly, to have a strong melodic identity. The visuals show us traveling through what almost feels like a museum of the macabre. The artifacts we’re seeing look twisted and dark, and yet they’re these beautiful pieces of art that feel elevated. That’s what led me to a more orchestral, classical feel for the main title theme.

Working with Guillermo del Toro on it was pure joy. He is brilliant and very musically minded, and he really helped shape it into the final version that we hear.

Looking back on those all-nighter years—writing until sunrise while juggling day jobs—was there a moment when you thought, “Okay, this is actually going to work”?

Ha! I would love to be able to say yes to that, but the honest answer is “no.” I never knew if things would work out for me. I just knew exactly what I wanted to do (from about the age of eight), and I’m stubborn! I’ve just gotten up every day and put one foot in front of the other in whatever way I needed to that day to keep moving forward.

I think it’s important for people to remember that it doesn’t all go in a straight line. There are lots of ups and downs and zig-zagging involved, so don’t get frustrated! Keep going. Keep trying. When I look back on that little eight-year-old version of me with a dream (and a bad ‘80s perm), I’m sometimes amazed at where I am now. It took a lot of hard work and sheer bravery to get here—and there’s, of course, still plenty of that ahead of me.

Your love of tiki culture shows up in both your personal life and your music. What draws you to that world, and how did you get connected with The Donn of Tiki?

It’s funny because one of the main elements of tiki culture is escapism, which I feel like is also a main element of film and television. Within the tiki world, you feel like you’re on a tropical island, on vacation, somewhere in another time—and the hustle and bustle of the city just disappears, which I really enjoy.

We used to visit my grandparents in Hawaii every year when I was a kid, and it was just magical. As an adult, I really love going to tiki bars and events and listening to 1950s exotica from Les Baxter and Martin Denny to relax and get a respite from the stresses of being a composer… and then I was drawn into writing that style of music.

I heard that a documentary was being made about Don the Beachcomber (The Donn of Tiki), and I knew I had to be part of it! I basically semi-stalked them and sent over some music. Then we did a Zoom meeting, became immediate friends—and the rest is history. This was such a special project to be a part of, and I pretty much pinched myself every day I was working on it! We got to record the score in LA with a tiki band I love called the Hilo Hi-Flyers, and they were fantastic—a super fun crew to work with! The movie has had a successful festival run and should be coming out this year.

For composers who aren’t as familiar with horror scoring, how do you balance musical restraint with going full tilt into the scare factor? Do you have any personal tricks or techniques for building tension?

I think a lot of it depends on the actual film, but one thing that’s very important to me is the use of silence in a horror film. Having complete silence as a character walks through a dark hallway toward something unknown can be much scarier than putting music under it.

The music can often “lead” in a horror film, and sometimes, in order to build tension and maintain the element of surprise, it’s best not to have any music. Then, when things go full-on bonkers, you can really go for it musically! I think using a lot of peaks and valleys in the score within a scene can build tension as well—and maybe even elicit a false sense of safety for our on-screen characters.

Interview by Jocelyn Scofield

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