Words We Know By Heart: Why Big Songs End Up In Films

This week has been quiet.

No rock shows, no morning commute music and no CDs to review because I am on vacation in wine country.

No Thomas Dybdahl, Carissa’s Wierd or Wilco for the scenic drive along Highway 1 because I forgot to bring the car adapter for the iPhone.

We made the drive from San Francisco to Inverness with nothing to listen to but our own voices and the sound of the road outside. Our very vocal cat lay quietly at my feet for most of the ride.

If this week were made into a film, it would probably be the kind of film for which a composer would be hired to provide music. The composer would be asked to write the kind of music that sits squarely in the background and doesn’t distract from the narrative.

But some source cues would still need to be licensed.

There was Tejano music at the flea market in Sebastopol, where we expected them to sell organic honey and candles but instead found pork rinds and soccer jerseys imprinted with the Bimbo bread logo.

There was a middle-aged Chinese truck driver who blared hip-hop from his open windows and passed us as we pedaled back up the Silverado Trail on our bikes.

Faint strains of Natalie Merchant, Indigo Girls and Neil Young could be heard above the din of the crowded dining room at Nick’s Cove, where we ate clam chowder and watched the sun set over Tomales Bay.

In the evening, after we were tipsy from the wine, we executed a loose cover of Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here.”

If this film were way over budget, I would call my favorite labels or music catalogs and ask them for suggestions to replace the cues that might not matter as much. It wouldn’t be difficult to find an acoustic singer-songwriter to replace the restaurant cues, and we could surely find some affordable (sample free, please) hip-hop and some Tejano music.

But the songs we heard during this quiet vacation, in which we made no effort to listen to music, were part of the fabric of our experience. We referenced lyrics in conversations and had conversations that started because the songs reminded us of people we knew or places we had visited.

Most of the filmmakers I work with are loathe to replace the cues in their films with a less expensive and less recognizable song. Though I come from the world of independent music and want very much for the lesser-known bands to have a shot, I can understand why a filmmaker might not want to give up a Black Sabbath cue or a Green Day cue. These songs can cost a lot, but many times I am asked to license them regardless because they evoke memories or are associated with certain experiences.

It often comes down to a question of whether the song’s value to the story will outweigh the line item in the music budget. It’s a difficult decision, but the answer is often yes.

People often ask me why directors don’t just boycott the majors and license only independent music. Most filmmakers I know enjoy and support the pluckiest underdogs of indie music. But well-known songs lend cultural, geographical and historical context to a film. This is one of the main reasons major bands and songs continue to get licensed again and again for films, television shows and ads.

In the evening, after we were tipsy from the wine, we executed a loose cover of Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here.”

If this film were way over budget, I would call my favorite labels or music catalogs and ask them for suggestions to replace the cues that might not matter as much. It wouldn’t be difficult to find an acoustic singer-songwriter to replace the restaurant cues, and we could surely find some affordable (sample free, please) hip-hop and some Tejano music.

But the songs we heard during this quiet vacation, in which we made no effort to listen to music, were part of the fabric of our experience. We referenced lyrics in conversations and had conversations that started because the songs reminded us of people we knew or places we had visited.

Most of the filmmakers I work with are loathe to replace the cues in their films with a less expensive and less recognizable song. Though I come from the world of independent music and want very much for the lesser-known bands to have a shot, I can understand why a filmmaker might not want to give up a Black Sabbath cue or a Green Day cue. These songs can cost a lot, but many times I am asked to license them regardless because they evoke memories or are associated with certain experiences.

It often comes down to a question of whether the song’s value to the story will outweigh the line item in the music budget. It’s a difficult decision, but the answer is often yes.

People often ask me why filmmakers, especially independent filmmakers, don’t just reject the majors and license only music from independent artists. Most filmmakers I know enjoy and passionately support the pluckiest underdogs of indie music. But major songs lend social, historical and geographical context to a film, and since films are mostly intended to tell a story, context is very valuable. This is why well-known music continues to get licensed again and again for films, television shows and ads.