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“Elmer Bernstein's aggressive, jazz-laden score for 1955's The Man with the Golden Arm triggered the soundtrack world's first tectonic shift; Henry Mancini struck next, with his swinging scores for television's Peter Gunn. Four years after that, John Barry's brass-heavy cues for James Bond similarly shook our senses. By the mid-1960s — back on the tube — the secret agents on I Spy, The Man from U.N.C.L.E. and numerous other imitators grooved to equally dynamic jazz cues from upstart "youngsters" such as Lalo Schifrin, Dave Grusin, Quincy Jones and Earle Hagen.
Action jazz fans' cups had runneth over for a decade. Could some other as-yet unknown jolt the soundtrack world again, in an unexpected way?
Absolutely. As the new decade dawned, a fresh name was on everybody's lips, thanks to the explosive rise of an entirely new film genre.”
- Derrick Bang, “Chapter 1: Do Your Thing: 1971”
“Lalo Schifrin gave an enlightening response, when asked to describe the difference between scoring a feature film versus a television episode.
‘If you write a letter to some relative, about a trip to Hawaii, you can write many things, all the details. [But] if you have to send a cable, you have to make it concise: reduce it to a minimum, and say as much as you can. Television [scoring] is like a telegram.’
As had been true for the past decade, Schifrin once again worked both ends of that spectrum this year.”
- Derrick Bang, “Chapter 6: God's Lonely Man: 1976”
“Call it accident, serendipity, deliberate planning or merely ironic. Just as Hollywood was losing interest in traditional instrumental film and television music, a new business model began to "rescue" and breathe new life into older, often neglected scores. Intrada, founded in 1985 and based in Oakland, California, became the first in a small wave of special-interest labels devoted to resurrecting, remastering and often expanding vintage film scores, many of which hadn't yet been issued digitally. Longtime soundtrack collectors, increasingly tired of being ignored by major labels, enthusiastically embraced this development. …
Intrada was followed by Film Score Magazine/Monthly (FSM), which released 250 richly varied titles between 1996 and 2013, when the label ceased production. Much of this book’s contents wouldn't have been possible without the efforts of Intrada, FSM and—in their wake—Screen Archives Entertainment, La-La Land, Kritzerland, Quartet (in Spain) and numerous other small tiffany labels, all of which continue to produce impeccably remastered scores generally accompanied by meticulously researched and detailed liner cotes. One need only examine this book's discography to appreciate the welcome impact these companies have made.
Although new jazz scores were increasingly scarce, it became much easier to obtain beloved vintage film and television music.”
- Derrick Bang, “Chapter 11: Freshly Squeezed: 1990-94”
For those of us who lived through it, reading the second volume of Derrick Bang’s insightful and interesting Crime and Spy Jazz on Screen Since 1971: A History and Discography [MacFarland 2020] evokes a feeling of sadness because we realize that the period it covers marks the end of an era.
No longer would musicians gather in a recording studio on a regular basis to perform and record various styles of Jazz composed to underscore and express the full range of emotions on display in films and television programs with crime and spy themes.
As the decades after 1971 came and went, Jazz, to the extent that it was performed at all as an accompaniment to these dramatic crime and spy films and TV shows, was “made,” first by using more and more electronic instruments which could produce a greater variety of “textures” thereby requiring fewer musicians and then ultimately by synthesizers which eliminated both the composed scores and the musicians who performed them.
In their place came - if the viewer was lucky - perhaps eight bars of composed music to serve as an opening theme - followed by a series of flatulent pops, eerie squeals and droning hums that are sustained for interminable periods of time to cause tension, jittery feelings and induce an aura of dread.
But things and times change and Derrick’s second volume is more than a journey through nostalgia. It’s a handy guide for those who want to relive
Crime and Spy Jazz on Screen Since 1971, as well as, a roadmap for those who’ve yet to make the trip. For both, each page is filled with who, what, when, where, and why “information booths” that Derrick has created about domestic and international TV series to help enrich the trip.
The added bonus in all of this is that not only is this a well-told story but it is written in such a way that allows you to savour it. From conception to completion, Derrick’s work is a marvel of writing that takes you out of yourself and into a world of fun-filled and interesting facts about a genre that nearly all of us have experienced but rarely though about in terms of the skills and talents at work in this musical world.
The following excerpts from his INTRODUCTION explain how he went about his business.
“Gather a group of friends or total strangers. Sit them in front of a good audio source and play the first few bars — just the first few bars — of John Barry's arrangement of the "James Bond Theme," or Lalo Schifrin's "Mission: Impossible Theme." Or Mort Stevens'"Hawaii Five-O" Or Isaac Hayes'"Theme from Shaft" These recordings won't merely prompt recognition; listeners will smile.
These tunes resonate. They evoke a time when watching a particular film or TV show involved planning: getting to the movie theater on time, or shuffling housework/homework/ job responsibilities to park in front of the TV set during a given hour. (Today's 24/7 ability to watch such things on demand, no matter how convenient, eradicates the romance involved with booking and anticipating such an event, back in the day.)
So-called "crime and action jazz"— associated, for the purposes of this book, with detective, police, espionage, spy and film noir dramas and adventures — has produced some of the world's most iconic melodies. It's a genre rich with heritage, confined mostly to a "golden era" running from approximately the mid-1950s to the mid-1980s. At its peak, action jazz was the go-to choice for crowd-pleasing films and TV shows. Post-World War II generations who grew up with such stuff remember the music more than fondly; it often informs the soundtrack of their lives. Rock 'n' roll may have ruled during the later 1960s, but action jazz aficionados from roughly the same period — a little before, to a little after — can argue just as persuasively about the lasting impact of their obsession.
Thanks to increased awareness - our enhanced understanding, these days, of everything that goes into the making of a film or TV show — and the efforts of soundtrack specialty labels, such music is being resurrected and recognized to an exponentially increasing degree. Soundtrack fans in the 1960s were limited to LPs that generally contained no more than half of what a composer wrote for a given film or TV show. Worse yet, the "cues"— the individual musical segments — usually were freshly arranged into radio-friendly tracks, rerecorded with a different studio orchestra — often nowhere near as jazzy as the composer's original ensemble — and assembled out of order on the resulting album. (And oh, how true fans loathed hearing the music out of sequence!) These days, we can buy — or find, via all-encompassing bootlegs in the (ahem) gray areas of the Internet — actual full scores, as originally recorded, and tracked in the proper order. Heck, it's even possible to obtain scores that were rejected by directors or studios and subsequently replaced by somebody else's work. Imagine the fascination of a side-by-side comparison between Jerry Goldsmith's Academy Award-nominated score for 1974's Chinatown and Phillip Lambro's rejected score.
That's the enigma of artistic individuality. Hire a dozen composers to score the same film, and you'll get a dozen strikingly different musical tapestries.
Here and now, we soundtrack fans — and the subset of action jazz fans — live in a great era; there's so much more to be enjoyed, beyond the usual suspects. I've tried to hit them all: Acknowledgments of favorite films and TV shows. Reminders of others you've forgotten. Enthusiastic endorsements of many you've never heard of. All to be found within the subsequent pages.
But first...
What is jazz?
When asked, my father always gave the same two-word answer: "It swings"
Not a bad response, particularly in the context of this book. Crime, detective and spy jazz — action jazz — often does swing. The strong rhythmic foundation accelerates anticipation, tension and excitement. In the context of a TV show or film, the title theme becomes more memorable: the "earworm" phenomenon that producers and show runners crave. A carefully applied score can be just as crucial as the editing, to carry us through a narrative's highs and lows, its developing suspense and triumphant climaxes.
For the most part, so-called "free jazz"— generally bereft of rhythm and melody — isn't found in film or television scoring. It's too dissonant, weird and confrontational. If the music pulls you out of the story, then it's not being employed properly.
So, okay; let's establish a foundation of swing. That still covers a lot of territory. The pulse-quickening suspense jazz of 1974's The Taking of Pelham One Two Three is quite different than the groovy, attitude-laden funk and R&B of 1971’s Shaft, which in turn couldn't be further from the bluesy sensuality of the cues that heighten the carnality and bad behavior found within 1981's Body Heat. All are jazz, as is a lot of stuff in between. All fit this book's brief, as do hundreds of others.
Bear in mind, a detailed discussion of jazz in all films and TV shows — and/or the scores of all noir and action epics — would require multiple volumes and a page count vastly beyond the scope of these two books. Paris Blues (1961) has a great Duke Ellington soundtrack, but it's a straight melodrama. Dave Grusin is responsible for much of what you'll find herein, but his great jazz score for 1989's The Fabulous Baker Boys isn't included; it's a romantic dramedy. Ditto his work on 1999s Random Hearts and 2001's Dinner with Friends. Ralph Burns' jazz score for 1974's Lenny is terrific, but biopics aren't in this book's brief. I love John Barry's score for 1998's Playing by Heart, but couldn't include it. Rolfe Kent's soft jazz touches in 2004's Sideways also didn't make the cut. Along with many, many others.
Jazz being a quintessential American art form, it's logical that most of the films and TV programs discussed herein emanate from the United States. But certainly not all: The United Kingdom is well represented, and some Western European films are too important to ignore. But arbitrary lines had to be drawn somewhere, lest this survey (again) become overwhelming. Ergo, don't take it personally if you don't find one of your favorite foreign films or TV shows in these pages. Such decisions resulted from practicality, not prejudice.
Even so, I fully expect to get a few outraged letters wondering how the heck I possibly could have neglected that classic (American or otherwise). Or that masterpiece. To which I can only reply, One tries one's best. And that's why God invented second editions. Suggestions are welcome, and I can be reached at this book's companion website: screenactionjazz. com.
All this said, some of my judgment calls are liable to raise eyebrows. That isn't crime/noir/action, you'll protest... or That isn't even jazz. I plead guilty: Some of my choices will be determined by historical context, or musicality, or simply because I wanted to include them. My book, my rules.
Some essential terms:
• Title theme—the primary theme of a movie or TV show, generally heard behind the opening credits, and often repeated, perhaps in a different arrangement, during the end credits.
• Underscore—traditionally the music layered behind on-screen dialogue, although now more frequently referring to the bulk of a film or TV episode score: which is to say, everything except the title and end themes.
• Cue—a single portion of an underscore: a segment written for a specific scene or sequence.
• Motif—a brief series of notes that forms a core melody, from which the greater "whole" of a theme is constructed. The rising four notes that signal Tom Selleck's eyebrow-lifting grin are a primary motif of Mike Posts "Magnum P.I." theme.
• Leitmotif—a cue associated with a particular character, place or idea. John Williams'"The Imperial March" always accompanies bad behavior on the part of evil Empire villains, in the various Star Wars films.
• Ostinato—a phrase or motif that persistently repeats, somewhat in the manner of a vamp. Isaac Hayes’ score for Shaft prompted a lot of composers to insert wah-wah guitar ostinatos.
• Stinger—a fleeting cue often associated with sudden on-screen action.
• Bumper—a short cue often designed to take the action out (or back in) between scenes (in a film), or between commercials (on television).
• Diegetic music—that which exists in the realm inhabited by the story's characters, often heard from a radio, juke box, phonograph player or live nightclub combo. In other words, the dramatis personae always hear diegetic music; sometimes they even perform it.
• Non-diegetic music—that which exists as underscore shading, to enhance or serve as a counterpoint to on-screen action. We viewers hear non-diegetic music, but the dramatis personae do not.
• "Mickey-mousing"—the act of writing an underscore cue that precisely duplicates, in terms of mood and/or syncopation, the on-screen action. It's equivalent to a drummer needlessly hitting a rim shot to punctuate a comic's on-stage joke: in both cases, considered lazy and redundant.
• Tracking—building an underscore from a library of existing cues, as opposed to composing an entirely fresh score.
• Cover—a rerecording of an original tune or theme, often (but not always) by a different musician.
Most films are scored (composed) by a single individual—or sometimes a pair of collaborators—who handle everything: the main title, any necessary character themes, and all cues employed from the opening to closing credits. If the film generates a soundtrack album, that composer gets the name credit Ergo, Jerry Goldsmith wrote the score for 1997's LA. Confidential; he's the one credited on the resulting soundtrack album. He's also the one nominated for the Academy Award (which he lost to James Horner's non-jazz score for Titanic).
This model shifted in the 1980s and '90s, with the advent and rising popularity of electronic keyboards (synth) and "jukebox scores" built from period-specific or then-current pop/rock/rap/etc. tunes. Ensemble instrumental scores became unwelcome, as the film industry embraced the hyper-editing introduced by rock videos (helmed by individuals who, in many cases, went on to become film directors). We can thank John Williams — and Star Wars— for a herculean effort to stem that particular tide, and this will be discussed at greater length elsewhere in these pages.
Television shows were a different animal from the very beginning, in great part because of the far greater musical burden involved. While some early indefatigably creative composers followed the big-screen model, by scoring (almost) every episode of a TV series — Earle Hagen and Laurie Johnson come to mind — such individuals mostly vanished by the 1970s. (Mike Post and longtime partner Pete Carpenter are notable exceptions.) It became far more common for one person to help set a show's tone by writing the title theme and then scoring one or more early episodes, after which other composers took over.
By the 1970s, very few shows had the luxury — or budget — to request wholly original underscores for every single episode. The first half-dozen episodes might get original underscores from one or more composers, and their various cues — for car chases, fist fights, gun battles, suspenseful skulking, romantic overtures, whatever — would establish an ever-expanding library used to track subsequent episodes.
Starting in the 1980s, many shows warranted only an original title theme, and otherwise were sweetened solely by jukebox soundtracks. Action jazz all but vanished, particularly when many television programs began to abandon opening themes and title sequences (and you'll learn why in the subsequent pages). Many big-screen films similarly gravitated toward synth and jukebox scores. Today's music fans rarely have the opportunity that was so ubiquitous back in the day: to get sucked into a film or TV show by a killer opening theme.” [Emphasis mine]
Which brings us to these observations and comments in Pat Irwin’s FOREWORD to Crime and Spy Jazz on Screen Since 1971:
“It's safe to say that on February 9, 1964, popular music changed forever. All music changed. Everything changed. The Beatles' debut performance on The Ed Sullivan Show drew an estimated 73 million viewers and touched countless more. TV could do that: It could bring millions and millions together, to watch a single performance at the same time.
I was one of the countless viewers inspired to pick up the electric guitar after seeing The Beatles on Ed Sullivan. But it was when I first heard the theme for Goldfinger that I knew how I wanted that electric guitar to sound. It wasn't long before I was tuning in to The Man from U.N.C.LE., Mission: Impossible and Hawaii Five-0, just to hear their opening themes, By the time I heard Lalo Schifrin's score for Bullitt and Isaac Hayes'Theme from Shaft, I was in deep. I was hooked for life.
Derrick covers this music in vivid detail. If you're a fan of soundtrack music, you might know it as "crime jazz"; sometimes it's "action jazz." Loosely speaking, this music sets the scene for secret agents, detectives, private investigators, cops and criminals. More than likely, there will be fast cars and heart-pounding chase sequences. And chances are, if your heart pounds just a little bit faster, it's because the soundtrack is pulling you a little bit closer to the action.
This volume covers 1971 through 2019. Film and television are given equal weight and respect, and not all of it comes from Hollywood or the major networks.”
A half century is a long time but not when one considers the geometric pace of change affecting the entertainment arts associated with crime and spy Jazz on screen from 1971 to 2020. What’s more, during this particular 50 year time frame, an evolutionary pace of change was replaced by a revolutionary one which culminated in a world where Cable and Telephone companies now own motion picture companies and television studies and create content that streams over the internet to be viewed on mobile phone screens no bigger than a note pad.
And yet, all is not lost for as Derrick points out in his EPILOGUE:
“And where do we go, from here?
Although the current visual mediums remain indifferent — if not downright hostile — to orchestral scores of any type, a few outliers remind us that jazz hasn't vanished entirely. Canada's charming Frankie Drake Mysteries, which debuted in late 2017 and is set in 1920s Toronto, gives composer Robert Carli plenty of opportunities to affectionately reference the flapper era's old-timey swing ("moldy fig" jazz, today's purists would sniff).
The rise of original programming from streaming services such as Netflix, Amazon Prime and Hulu — and a rapidly increasing number of competitors — naturally included some crime and detective shows. Netflix The Good Cop deserves mention for its score by composer Pat Irwin, who began his music career as a founding member of two avant-garde "No Wave" bands; he then spent two decades with the B-52s, before shifting to composing for independent films, His pleasantly understated, old-school jazz score for The Good Cop is deliberately arranged for a small combo that evokes warm memories of bygone days.
That wasn't accidental. ‘I went for a 'crime jazz' vibe, and pulled from influences like Bullitt, Peter Gunn and The Man with the Golden Arm" Irwin acknowledged. "Anything by Henry Mancini and Lalo Schifrin would point me in the right direction.’"
If you are tired of Zooming or binging on streamed services during the current pandemic-induced lockdowns and are looking for a fun thing to do together with family and/or friends, here’s an idea: Why not get copies of Derrick’s books and used them as a guide to searching out the movies and tv programs he references, watch them while listening closely to the music and comparing your impressions with his commentaries. Feel free to disagree and write your own opinions and share them with him on his website.
Click on this link to order Derrick Bang’s new books on Crime and Spy Jazz on Screen direct from McFarland, its publisher.