It’s been a while since I last posted on this site, and I decided to do so because of some important news. Last week, something happened in the world of composers and computer workers that turned many people’s routines upside down.
Basically, the company that makes a widely used software (Finale) announced that they were ending development on that program. They advised users to switch to Dorico, and even offered the opportunity to purchase it at a discounted price. However, this news understandably left many in a panic.
This article is intended both to reassure those who work with music notation software, and to stimulate discussion among colleagues about the future preservation of our works.
Let’s start with the most immediate solution to understand what steps to take.
The quick fix to the problem is this: make sure you save all your Finale files, in XML format, preferably in version 4.0, which is the most advanced. Afterwards, you can import them into Dorico, you can obviously find dozens of tutorials online on how to do it. They will not be scores that are completely identical in appearance to the originals written years ago but, with a good degree of approximation, they will give us back a large part of the work created.
Let’s start from this question to start a series of reflections that concern the activity of us composers, in particular those who deal with music for the cinema, let’s start from the particular to arrive at broader considerations. We can open the door to a very important reflection for us modern composers, which differs significantly from that of composers of the past.
When Mozart or Beethoven completed their works, these were first copied by hand by copyists and then printed, for their immediate diffusion and, consequently, for preservation for future generations. Once a work was printed, the problems were essentially solved: the hope was that the music could circulate as much as possible. Today, however, we cannot say the same.
We live in a completely different world, characterized by a speed and a capacity for preservation that pose new challenges. For example, about three months ago, I participated in a study conducted by some universities, which interviewed composers, especially those who deal with music for cinema. The topic was the preservation of soundtracks, a delicate and very important topic for me. As a child, I dreamed of becoming Indiana Jones, I also have studies in Archaeology and conservation of cultural heritage, and I have developed a real passion for the problem of the preservation of musical heritage and for the history of music. However, in our contemporary era, musical preservation rarely occurs. Today, when a soundtrack is published, it tends to remain “frozen” within the film, without an autonomous life outside of it.
Music written for a film rarely finds space in concert life, unless it comes from a very famous composer. Often, modern soundtracks also have little melody and poor reproducibility, being composed often of drones and electronic sounds. In many cases, there are no real musicians, only layers upon layers of sounds that overlap, accumulating. This reality makes it difficult to reproduce many soundtracks live. This is not a criticism of electronic music, which I appreciate and have played and composed, but an observation: electronic music tends to age more quickly and disappear more easily, since it is complex to transcribe and difficult to reproduce live.
I have always loved writing and experimenting, even with electronics. A recent album of mine, written for string quartet and electronics, has achieved interesting results, and I hope to continue exploring this combination.
While these techniques are fascinating, in terms of preservation and reproducibility of sound, they often do not offer the same guarantees. If I want to study a composition by Mozart or Beethoven, I can always consult the score and understand the composer’s intentions. The musical writing is clear and consolidated: each note is specified in such a way as to guarantee a faithful reproduction. In contrast, many modern musical productions, especially in pop and electronic music, can be difficult to reproduce in the future. A song by Lady Gaga or Rihanna, for example, will be performed in thirty years, but recreating the original sound will be difficult. The techniques used, such as certain synthesizer presets, are often complex and not always documented.
Classical music, on the other hand, is written in such a way as to be immortal. Writing and transcribing allow works to be reproduced in the way they were conceived. However, many modern soundtracks are based on electronic sounds and sampling, which makes them less recognizable and more susceptible to being forgotten. This reflection leads me to conclude that, when we write music for films, we must consider not only the needs of producers and directors, but also the importance of passing on our music. It is essential to find a balance so that our works are transcribed and reproducible over time.
In many cases, the music is not even released on CD, let alone on vinyl. So, physically, it does not exist on any medium, apart from DVD or Blu-ray. Think about how many series are born and die with streaming: soundtracks are totally virtual. They may be present on platforms such as Netflix or Amazon Prime and on Spotify, but all of this is impalpable. In ten years, they will probably no longer exist, since these platforms could decide to remove that content. If there is no adequate marketing of the DVD or Blu-ray, nor is there a physical disc, and the soundtrack is only available on Spotify, which could disappear for any reason, the volatility of the product and the lack of preservation becomes a serious problem. For me, it is essential to maintain a good habit: to print all my compositions, whether they are good or bad, small or large. I have a part of my library dedicated to this, with many volumes that collect all my works, even the simplest ones. They serve to retrace my career and leave something tangible for the future. Beethoven said that the composer writes out of fear of death, to leave a legacy. Our profession is intangible, so having something physical is important. At the end of my career, I want to be able to say: “This is what I did”, whether it is soundtracks, music for video games or concerts. Making the intangible tangible, through the printing of scores, is essential. As for formats, the only one I would bet on is vinyl, since reproduction is mechanical and not digital. In a context of apocalyptic crisis, it is more likely to be able to rebuild a vinyl player than a DVD player or an MP3 player. I have a habit of printing everything and saving everything as PDF, because I have never fully trusted notation software. Everything is temporary and provisional, and programs can disappear at any time. Therefore, each work must be archived in an orderly manner. Many worry about having thousands of scores to convert now that Finale has stopped being commercialized, but once composed and printed, how many times do you go back to those scores to modify them? If a composition has been written and archived, it is there when you need it. I hope these considerations stimulate a collective conversation and reflection. I invite you to share your thoughts and discuss these issues, in order to understand where we are going in the evolution of music, especially soundtracks.