Cory Stillman
As both music editor and composer, Shie Rozow has over 150 credits to his name. But not every piece of music a composer writes makes its way to a film…just imagine all the incredible material lost in the ether. Fortunately, when a recent project did not quite come to fruition, Rozow had the clever idea to convert his work into a standalone album, and Let Me Tell You a Story is now eligible for a Grammy in Best New Age, Ambient or Chant Album as a result.
“I was proud of my work on the film, and disappointed when it became clear it would never see the light of day,” says Rozow. “I had always imagined creating a soundtrack album, but that didn’t make sense without a movie, so I moved on. But it kept nagging at me, and something in me just couldn’t let it go.”
That intuition paid off, as Let Me Tell You a Story is as cinematic as any great film score, featuring everything from piano to analog synths. And much like any great score, the album musically conveys a strong narrative arc.
“The film was about a relationship, and so I decided to break things up into chapters of an imaginary love story, each track imagining a different stage in a relationship,” says Rozow.
But while the album’s cinematic roots may have lent it a certain narrative structure, its diversion from the medium also afforded Rozow certain opportunities.
“Since this was purely an album, I didn’t have to worry about sound effects, dialogue, or any other sounds a film has, which meant I could feature certain melodies or sounds more prominently than I would on a film,” he says. “It affected the spatial placement of certain sounds, the overall dynamic range, and in some spots I even muted certain elements that I felt were no longer needed to feature the live instruments more.”
An album, unlike a film, also does not need to be experienced in a single sitting, and Rozow kept that in mind while building out the final product,, “allowing the listener to decide how they want to experience the music, in 7 parts or as a singular piece.”
Check out our full conversation with Shie Rozow below as he dives deeper into his creative process and the surprising origins of Let Me Tell You a Story.
Hi Shie! Let Me Tell You a Story began as music for a film that ultimately never came to fruition. What inspired you to revisit the material and develop it into a standalone album, and how did you determine which musical ideas would best represent the project in its new form?
Yes, this is a unique situation and a first for me. I was proud of my work on the film, and disappointed when it became clear it would never see the light of day. I had always imagined creating a soundtrack album, but that didn’t make sense without a movie, so I moved on. But it kept nagging at me, and something in me just couldn’t let it go. Then last year I had an idea of how I could rework the music into an album, which is a different approach than doing a soundtrack, and so I got to work. First, I went back to my mix stems and remixed the music, then I made my way through it and started “trimming the fat,” meaning getting rid of bits where I might have stretched things to fit the picture it was originally written for. Then there were areas where I always wished I had more time to develop themes or ideas than the picture allowed, so I reworked those sections thinking purely musically rather than having to fit a visual narrative. Slowly but surely, I found the musical essence of the music, and what was left felt to me like an album rather than a soundtrack.
When developing the musical identity of Let Me Tell You a Story, where did you begin creatively? Did the compositions emerge from particular melodies, emotional ideas, or narrative themes, and how did those initial ideas evolve throughout the process?
Since this was originally a score for a film, it started with melodies meant to be themes within the film. I got the job by scoring an early trailer for the film as a demo. In that demo, I introduced two themes that appear in the very first track, both featuring piano. That was the seed from which everything evolved. I came up with a sound that combined electronic sounds with a piano (performed by GRAMMY® nominee Robert Thies), and the rest all sprouted and emerged from those original ideas, which were expanded by adding a cello (Stefanie Fife), then a string quartet, then bass (Kfir Melamed), drums (GRAMMY® winner MB Gordy), and eventually guitars (Jim Lum). When I finished composing and recording everything, I reached out to Jameson Nathan Jones to add analog synth layers in specific areas and complete the sonic landscape of the work. And the final step is mastering, which is that final polish that really helps make everything shine, thanks to the wonderful work of mastering engineer Maor Appelbaum.
The album’s title suggests that the music itself can take listeners on a narrative journey. How did you approach shaping its emotional progression, and what role did the sequencing of the tracks play in creating a cohesive listening experience?
Initially, I had stitched all the music into a single continuous piece of music that was a little over 71 minutes long. Creating an album with a single super-long track seemed weird, and after talking to some friends and colleagues, they thought I should break it up into multiple tracks, which prompted me to try to break it up into smaller pieces and see if that made sense to me. That’s when I came up with the title and the concept of Let Me Tell You a Story. The film was about a relationship, and so I decided to break things up into chapters of an imaginary love story, each track imagining a different stage in a relationship. First, the couple meets – track 1 “They Met.” Then, after dating for a while, “They Fell In Love,” which became track 2. Then, as the relationship continues and they learn more about one another, questions arise, as is often the case: track 3 – “Whispers of Doubt.” I tried to think of different stages of a relationship and considered each track like a chapter in a book, ending up with 7 tracks. I almost released the album like that. But I really liked the piece as one continuous whole, too. I consulted with friends, asking whether I should release it as multiple tracks or a single continuous piece, and there was no consensus; opinions were evenly split. Realizing this would be a digital release, meaning no physical length limitations of vinyl or a CD, it occurred to me: why not do both? So that’s what I did, and track 8 is “The Whole Story,” allowing the listener to decide how they want to experience the music, in 7 parts or as a singular piece.
As you developed the album, were there particular compositions or musical moments that took on a different meaning for you over time? How did revisiting the material influence your decisions about the final arrangements and overall sound?
There’s a track called “Heartache & Hope,” and I remember when I came up with that name, I thought this paralleled the process of creating this album. It came out of the heartache of a project that didn’t work out, which was heartbreaking, yet I found a way to revisit the music and reshape it into something new that will hopefully find an audience and touch people. It’s the darkest track on the album, and by the end, it became the most uplifting track on the album, which parallels the process I went through.
As for the overall sound, I discussed remixing the music. Since this was purely an album, I didn’t have to worry about sound effects, dialogue, or any other sounds a film has, which meant I could feature certain melodies or sounds more prominently than I would on a film. It affected the spatial placement of certain sounds, the overall dynamic range, and in some spots I even muted certain elements that I felt were no longer needed to feature the live instruments more, creating sections where there are no electronic instruments anymore where originally there were some. I felt the music could be more exposed, intimate and vulnerable as an album, vs. when it was designed to accompany a scene with dialogue and sound. For example, in Track 5 “Then He Was Gone,” there’s a section which originally featured piano over synths and other soundscapes, but for the album I felt the piano on its own was more emotionally impactful and stood well on its own. You get some idea of what those elements I took out were, as some of them come in later in the piece, though even there it’s not the same as it was originally. I felt less is more.
Without the accompanying film to establish a visual narrative, the album allows listeners to create their own interpretations of the music. What do you hope audiences experience as they listen, and are there particular details or emotional layers you hope they discover over multiple listens?
First, I hope that listeners like the music and enjoy listening to it. And if, in doing so, they feel like they’ve been taken on an emotional journey evoking a range of emotions – excitement, apprehension, love, sweetness, heartache, grief, pain and ultimately hope – evoking memories or experiences, or ambitions from their own lives, then I’ve managed to do something that transcends just being an enjoyable listening session into a meaningful experience. I hope the music moves the audience, each in their own way. And I hope if they listen more than once that they experience it both as individual tracks and as a complete continuous piece, because I think it hits the listener a little differently. There are lots of nuances in the layers of the music; there are themes and motifs that are revisited in different ways, hopefully enough to make each listen a different experience where the listener might notice something they didn’t notice before. To go back to your previous question, I discovered some of these types of things when revisiting the music; there were nuances that I forgot about that I got to rediscover, which was really special, and I hope if the audience chooses to re-listen they’ll have a similar experience.
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