I discovered Conrad's address in an issue of "Starlog", a science-fiction movie magazine I've mentioned previously as my initial source for film music information, however infrequent it was reported. This was 1988 and he'd submitted a letter to the magazine regarding a Jerry Goldsmith interview they had published. It had focused on his work on LEGEND, POLTERGEIST and ALIEN NATION, the latter a score not actually used in the movie. I remember re-reading this interview often, committing details to memory and imagining what these scores sounded like, since I hadn't been exposed to them yet. In earlier issues of "Starlog", I'd devoured interviews with James Horner and Leonard Rosenman, the latter brimming with caustic comments from Rosenman, who it turns out was simply being his normal caustic self.
Anyway, at that time a person's full address could be printed in magazine letters column. On reflection, this seems both a blessing and a curse... probably more of a curse, seeing as how I took it upon myself to contact this person named Conrad, who lived in Canada. I wish I could locate that specific issue of "Starlog" in order to revisit his letter. What was it that he wrote to motivate me to respond? Did he ask for fellow fans to reply back? Honestly, it was the first such letter I'd seen from a fellow film music aficionado and I just wanted to chat. There were so few written resources available on the topic of music for the movies, at least in North Carolina, and this person Conrad seemed to hold all, or some, of the knowledge.
In the pre-net era, fans (nerds, actually) of any sort mostly met by way of personal letters, the aforementioned magazine letter columns as well as self-published "fanzines". Perennial events such as conventions began emerging in the 70's, thanks to STAR TREK and Comic-Con, but they often set up shop in places too distant for many to attend. So, it wasn't unusual to hear or read stories about small fan communities sprouting up and enduring purely via letter writing. When I would peruse excerpts from the unofficial TREK magazines, I was always impressed by the diligence and devotion of fans to stay connected and in communication in what now seems like a laborious fashion. I'm sure there were long-distance phone calls and unofficial gatherings, but it wasn't that odd to foster friendships and sometimes romantic relationships by way of putting pen to paper and stamp to envelope. So, despite my mom thinking this mysterious Canadian was suspicious (not really sure what kind of danger I was in), I initiated contact, asking all about his soundtrack collection, what he liked and where the heck could I find a copy of STAR TREK II on album.
Conrad's replies were always immaculately typed. Only his closing signature was in his own writing. It somehow made his letters more of an event to receive and read, as if they originated direct from the President of the United States. He always capitalized the full title of a movie, instead of placing it in italics or quotes, and it's a style which has carried over into my own writing here, funny enough. His impressions on film music helped shaped my own views early on. When he described how he considered the first LP of the double LP SUPERMAN: THE MOVIE set as the strongest (all that evocative music for Krypton and Smallville), it redirected how I thought about the score. He later mentioned how he rarely listened to the original STAR WARS soundtrack simply because he knew it too well, leading me to worry I could "wear out" a score, that I instead needed parcel out my listens and savor it. My paltry amount of albums and overall knowledge probably came across as naive, yet he always seemed glad to answer any question. To assist, Conrad began including with his letters black & white facsimiles of articles from UK movie magazines. Each stack of stapled copies were chock-a-block with film composer interviews, reviews and anecdotes. I sincerely hope it didn't cost him much in 1980's Canadian dollars to make these copies.
Soon enough, he offered to send cassette dubs of those hard-to-find and out-of-print LPs I inquired about, as long as I first delivered the blank tapes and return postage. Perhaps Conrad took pity on my tragic situation of sparsely-stocked record stores in North Carolina, coupled with a lack of cash inherent to being a high schooler. Either way, he suddenly became my Santa Claus of soundtracks. I felt like I could ask for almost any soundtrack that peaked my curiosity - STAR TREK II, KRULL, DUNE, RAMBO: FIRST BLOOD PART II, THE SECRET OF N.I.M.H, ALIEN.... music that elevated their respective movies (no matter what you think of KRULL) and made indelible impressions on my newly laid foundation of fandom, like messages carved into wet cement. These scores bolstered the bedrock of my fascination with the art.
Since the cassettes were transfers from LPs, slight pops and ticks were endemic to the recordings. I eventually became so familiar with these sonic artifacts that even after obtaining official versions on pristine CDs and listening to them for years, I can still hear those pops and ticks in my head exactly where they were. On the copy of KRULL that Conrad sent, a brief warble marred the last cut, the "Epilogue and End Title", as if someone had leaned on the record as it spun. I could never bring myself to ask him to revisit and re-do that particular cassette, it seemed discourteous to do so. Then I grew so accustomed to it that I half expect to hear it now when my digital version plays.
RAMBO: FIRST BLOOD PART II and THE SECRET OF N.I.M.H. helped expand my Jerry Goldsmith collection past STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE and PATTON. With the former movie, I didn't pay it or its initial installment, FIRST BLOOD, much attention at the time, but curiosity motivated me to catch its broadcast on cable, probably in anticipation of that Summer's upcoming release of RAMBO III. During the film's climactic helicopter chase through claustrophobic jungles and over twisting, shallow riverbeds of Vietnam, Goldsmith's music pounded victoriously with heart and something in the arcing string lines captivated me. And geez, did I totally dig Goldsmith's sizzling synth sounds augmenting the orchestra. I added it to my next request list for Conrad. As for the animated N.I.M.H., ever since watching it years earlier with the family on a rented Beta tape, I'd been haunted by the prickly cue underscoring a nightmare sequence of the movie's enhanced yet caged rodents undergoing sinister experiments in a human laboratory.
Tacked onto the last minutes of the cassette copy of Jerry Goldsmith's, ALIEN, Conrad included bonus tracks from the score for FREUD, from 1962, also by Goldsmith. Hearing these, plus referring to his notes, educated me on how the cues from the latter score had actually been licensed and used in ALIEN, all due to director Ridley Scott having become enamored of them during the temping process. Production trivia of this variety I absolutely adored and absorbed. It was a revelatory to experience these scores isolated from the images and yet also to understand the prolonged process of their creation, the obstacles, the wildly divergent personalities that willed these collaborative artistic endeavors into being. Story, directing and music were my favorite aspects of filmmaking. Music was often not covered in much detail in standard literary sources, so what Conrad mailed scratched quite an itch for me.
Maintaining a pen pal friendship, especially with someone from outside the States, provided me a small, insightful glimpse of life beyond high school, my family and the borders of home. Possibly a perfunctory observation, I realize, considering that this endeavor was often a scholastic assignment for many during grade school years. I'm sure there were some kids who successfully kept in touch with their pen pals long after the sixth grade ended. In my situation, though, I had reached out to a complete stranger, an adult no less, in a strange land, simply in hope of learning more about movie music, compelled by a comment published in a magazine. There wasn't much sharing of personal details between us that I can recall. It wasn't that kind of friendship. Maybe this is just standard for when men develop friendships over a shared hobby. Despite trading letters every few months over the course of several years, I never knew Conrad's age, except that he was older, nor his marital status or job. There were no phone calls, just the words exchanged silently alongside the occasional gift of music.
Contact wound down once college enveloped me. In some ways, it was akin to when one loses touch with friends left miles behind after graduation ends, friends whom you'd once been unable to live one day without. My world opened wide and there was so much new that flooded in that it seemed to wash away the old. Sadly, this included my Canadian pen pal. I certainly don't mean to diminish or dismiss the peers I made in high school, who allowed me to finally, publicly geek out in the best manner. A love of movie music was even shared by a small group of us. But Conrad fit the mold of that wise and knowledgeable elder, the Obi-wan Kenobi character who first instructed me on the art and business of film scoring. In the ensuing years, I pursued this knowledge on my own or later by way of the ever-expanded community of fans, so many brought together thanks to Film Score Monthly, but that's best saved for another post.
Lastly, it's disheartening that I now can't locate any of Conrad's letters. I thought I had been so organized, as some scattered samples survived frequent moves across North Carolina, then to Chicago and finally here to Los Angeles. I had hoped to scan them to post here. Maybe in the future, like the Ark of the Covenant, I'll uncover them amid boxes of randomness, still kept in the yellowing envelopes with Canadian postage.
In the pre-net era, fans (nerds, actually) of any sort mostly met by way of personal letters, the aforementioned magazine letter columns as well as self-published "fanzines". Perennial events such as conventions began emerging in the 70's, thanks to STAR TREK and Comic-Con, but they often set up shop in places too distant for many to attend. So, it wasn't unusual to hear or read stories about small fan communities sprouting up and enduring purely via letter writing. When I would peruse excerpts from the unofficial TREK magazines, I was always impressed by the diligence and devotion of fans to stay connected and in communication in what now seems like a laborious fashion. I'm sure there were long-distance phone calls and unofficial gatherings, but it wasn't that odd to foster friendships and sometimes romantic relationships by way of putting pen to paper and stamp to envelope. So, despite my mom thinking this mysterious Canadian was suspicious (not really sure what kind of danger I was in), I initiated contact, asking all about his soundtrack collection, what he liked and where the heck could I find a copy of STAR TREK II on album.
Conrad's replies were always immaculately typed. Only his closing signature was in his own writing. It somehow made his letters more of an event to receive and read, as if they originated direct from the President of the United States. He always capitalized the full title of a movie, instead of placing it in italics or quotes, and it's a style which has carried over into my own writing here, funny enough. His impressions on film music helped shaped my own views early on. When he described how he considered the first LP of the double LP SUPERMAN: THE MOVIE set as the strongest (all that evocative music for Krypton and Smallville), it redirected how I thought about the score. He later mentioned how he rarely listened to the original STAR WARS soundtrack simply because he knew it too well, leading me to worry I could "wear out" a score, that I instead needed parcel out my listens and savor it. My paltry amount of albums and overall knowledge probably came across as naive, yet he always seemed glad to answer any question. To assist, Conrad began including with his letters black & white facsimiles of articles from UK movie magazines. Each stack of stapled copies were chock-a-block with film composer interviews, reviews and anecdotes. I sincerely hope it didn't cost him much in 1980's Canadian dollars to make these copies.
Since the cassettes were transfers from LPs, slight pops and ticks were endemic to the recordings. I eventually became so familiar with these sonic artifacts that even after obtaining official versions on pristine CDs and listening to them for years, I can still hear those pops and ticks in my head exactly where they were. On the copy of KRULL that Conrad sent, a brief warble marred the last cut, the "Epilogue and End Title", as if someone had leaned on the record as it spun. I could never bring myself to ask him to revisit and re-do that particular cassette, it seemed discourteous to do so. Then I grew so accustomed to it that I half expect to hear it now when my digital version plays.
RAMBO: FIRST BLOOD PART II and THE SECRET OF N.I.M.H. helped expand my Jerry Goldsmith collection past STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE and PATTON. With the former movie, I didn't pay it or its initial installment, FIRST BLOOD, much attention at the time, but curiosity motivated me to catch its broadcast on cable, probably in anticipation of that Summer's upcoming release of RAMBO III. During the film's climactic helicopter chase through claustrophobic jungles and over twisting, shallow riverbeds of Vietnam, Goldsmith's music pounded victoriously with heart and something in the arcing string lines captivated me. And geez, did I totally dig Goldsmith's sizzling synth sounds augmenting the orchestra. I added it to my next request list for Conrad. As for the animated N.I.M.H., ever since watching it years earlier with the family on a rented Beta tape, I'd been haunted by the prickly cue underscoring a nightmare sequence of the movie's enhanced yet caged rodents undergoing sinister experiments in a human laboratory.
Maintaining a pen pal friendship, especially with someone from outside the States, provided me a small, insightful glimpse of life beyond high school, my family and the borders of home. Possibly a perfunctory observation, I realize, considering that this endeavor was often a scholastic assignment for many during grade school years. I'm sure there were some kids who successfully kept in touch with their pen pals long after the sixth grade ended. In my situation, though, I had reached out to a complete stranger, an adult no less, in a strange land, simply in hope of learning more about movie music, compelled by a comment published in a magazine. There wasn't much sharing of personal details between us that I can recall. It wasn't that kind of friendship. Maybe this is just standard for when men develop friendships over a shared hobby. Despite trading letters every few months over the course of several years, I never knew Conrad's age, except that he was older, nor his marital status or job. There were no phone calls, just the words exchanged silently alongside the occasional gift of music.
Contact wound down once college enveloped me. In some ways, it was akin to when one loses touch with friends left miles behind after graduation ends, friends whom you'd once been unable to live one day without. My world opened wide and there was so much new that flooded in that it seemed to wash away the old. Sadly, this included my Canadian pen pal. I certainly don't mean to diminish or dismiss the peers I made in high school, who allowed me to finally, publicly geek out in the best manner. A love of movie music was even shared by a small group of us. But Conrad fit the mold of that wise and knowledgeable elder, the Obi-wan Kenobi character who first instructed me on the art and business of film scoring. In the ensuing years, I pursued this knowledge on my own or later by way of the ever-expanded community of fans, so many brought together thanks to Film Score Monthly, but that's best saved for another post.
Lastly, it's disheartening that I now can't locate any of Conrad's letters. I thought I had been so organized, as some scattered samples survived frequent moves across North Carolina, then to Chicago and finally here to Los Angeles. I had hoped to scan them to post here. Maybe in the future, like the Ark of the Covenant, I'll uncover them amid boxes of randomness, still kept in the yellowing envelopes with Canadian postage.
