A Wes Anderson Song Book: An Interview Of Music Supervisor Randall Poster

From left, Jason Schwartzman, Adrien Brody and Owen Wilson in the movie “The Darjeeling Limited.” (Fox Searchlight Pictures)

interview by Oliver Kupper

Over the past four decades, American music supervisor Randall Poster has created some of the most indelible movie soundtracks for a range of legendary film directors. For Harmony Korine’s Gummo (1997), it was a mosh pit of death metal and 1950s teenybopper balladry. For Todd Haynes’ Velvet Goldmine (1998), it was glam rock and sleaze-fuzz from the 1970s. For Martin Scorsese’s The Wolf of Wall Street (2013), it was hard-charged rhythm and blues. From blockbusters to indie darlings, Randall’s musical touch has been added to more than 100 films. But nothing has been more enduring than his collaboration with Wes Anderson. This weekend in Los Angeles, the Hollywood Bowl will celebrate the director’s 30-year filmography through three immersive concert experiences featuring performances by close collaborators, including Beck, Karen O, Devo, the LA Philharmonic, Kaoru Watanabe, and more.

KUPPER: So much of my early musical exploration has been through watching films with your musical direction, and then having to hunt down albums from physical record stores. 

RANDALL POSTER: I know the feeling of exploration and reward. It’s a beautiful thing, man. That’s been the greatest gift for me: just finding music that led me to other music that led me to other artists. It’s been the gift that has kept on giving throughout my life. 

KUPPER: This project at the Hollywood Bowl is so interesting. This is essentially a three-day Wes Anderson music immersive. Maybe we could talk a bit about how you met Wes Anderson and how you started collaborating.

POSTER: I met Wes as he was finishing Bottle Rocket. He was living in LA at the time, so we had that first meeting at the Farmer’s Market in Los Angeles and  we just got right into it. I helped him put together the first soundtrack album to Bottle Rocket and then we segued right into Rushmore. And we’ve been in musical and cinematic dialogue ever since.

KUPPER: What is your initial process?

POSTER: Well, first of all, I just want to clear up one thing on music supervisors. We don’t just pick the songs. We work and collaborate, in the best-case scenario, with visionary directors and basically become their partner in the music in the movie, the person who the director has to talk to about the music in the movie. And if there’s any inspiration, we just pursue it, in terms of gathering and collecting any piece of music or style or vein of the musical world that might have bearing on the movie. We bring it all together and see where it takes us.

KUPPER: Can you talk about Rushmore specifically? 

POSTER: In Rushmore, Wes was taken with this imagery of the British invasion of the1960s, where you had all of these English rock and rollers in suits and ties, but yet they were anti-heroes. They were playing anthems to rebel. They were harbingers of rebellion, yet they dressed in suits and ties. We pursued that in terms of tracking down all the great British pop songs of the era and seeing how they might fit into the movie. Some movies have more of a musical notion at the start, but then some movies evolve as you make them.

KUPPER: You do a lot of films, but you also do a lot of TV shows. I remember watching Boardwalk Empire. There’s this great episode where they’re in Cuba and you found these incredible 1920s Cuban tracks.

POSTER: I started to do TV, which has generally been bigger shows that have more of a cinematic quality. With Boardwalk Empire and Vinyl, I got involved by virtue of my working relationship with Martin Scorsese. I started to get work on commercials because Wes started to do commercials. The filmmakers kind of bring me into the medium.

KUPPER: Working with Scorsese must be interesting because his movies are so driven by the music. They have such quick cuts to different songs and also sometimes full songs.

POSTER: I think Mean Streets—and probably Wes would agree—was a moment where pop songs were used to drive the whole movie. His bold use of source music has been an inspiration for all of us who followed. Nobody is bolder than Marty in terms of mixing songs, mixing genres, and just allowing the music to really knock you out.

KUPPER: In terms of direction, what are the different levels of not letting the music overtake a scene or overtake the movie?

POSTER: There really aren’t many rules. My rule is to try to push the music to be as vivid as it can be, and to not be afraid of using a song. Instinctively, I think you have a sense of when a scene is playing without any accompaniment or with a more gentle approach. That’s really just instinct. You need to know where silences can help to protect the songs as well.

KUPPER: The score of a film is interesting too, in terms of how to let it live naturally with the musical direction. How do you approach it?

POSTER: Sometimes people see a movie that I’ve worked on and they’ll say, “I thought the music was the best part.” And they think they’re giving me a compliment, but it’s really not a compliment because, ideally, you want the music to be part of the cinematic fabric of the film, so it doesn’t feel like it’s a standalone component.

KUPPER: How did you start working with Harmony Korine and that world? Was Kids your first film?

POSTER: When I graduated from college, I really didn’t have any clear direction, and I realized that I’d better try to create some kind of momentum for life. So, I wrote a script with a friend of mine called A Matter of Degrees that we developed at the Sundance Institute Lab. Then we shot and made the movie, which came out in 1990. That was around the moment when what they had been calling college radio became alternative music. So, I decided during the making of that movie, overseeing the music, that what I really wanted to do was to work with great film directors, and if I made music my area of expertise, that would be the point of contact. And it kind of worked out that way. Earlier in my career, I produced two movies and then people started asking me to help them with the music in their movies. I was working with friends of mine who wanted to make movies in various capacities, and we just kind of hung together. Thankfully the directors kept making movies. Whether it was Todd Haynes or working with Killer Films and Christine Vachon or working with Wes or Richard Linklater or Todd Phillips, these are my contemporaries. I’ve made probably ten or twelve movies with each of them, so that was the good fortune of being surrounded by peers who had a real keen interest in making important or meaningful movies. And, I got to come along.

KUPPER: What is your process for finding new music?

POSTER: It’s utilizing some of your academic training. We start out with when the film is set and any musical components which are already scripted. Then we try to create some kind of musical foundation to build off of. That really is the initial task at hand. As the editorial evolves, we just figure out a way to find the right music component, be it song or score, that helps tell the story.

KUPPER: Are you watching the films and thinking about songs that work for these scenes?

POSTER: Yeah, I’m always thinking about what songs would work in scenes. That’s my curse.

KUPPER: What is that process like?

POSTER: Sometimes, you have ideas and then you get an opportunity to actually put the songs to picture and when something works, you feel it. Sometimes, you’ll be on a movie where there’s a very detailed preconception of the music and then when they come home with the film, it just is not the right thing. Hopefully, the story is telling you what music it’s looking for by virtue of the feeling you get when you hit upon the right thing.

KUPPER: Are there any major a-ha moments that stand out to you in terms of working with Wes Anderson?

POSTER: When we found “Ooh La La” at the end of Rushmore, that was a bit of a revelation. When we got in the studio with Seu Jorge during Life Aquatic and worked with him on transforming David Bowie’s songs, that was a revelation, largely based on Jorge’s genius and Wes’ skills as an alchemist. It was a really interesting learning process to explore the film music of Satyajit Ray, and the music that he made as a composer, when we did Darjeeling Limited. That was a really interesting journey in that Wes established this notion that we were only going to use previously recorded film scores. He’s always so surprising. His skillset and his ability to understand classical music has just grown and grown and grown over the course of making movies. I think he’s taught himself how to read music over the years. So, as in all things, when you find yourself in the company of a genius, hold on tight. It is as challenging as it is rewarding, and challenging in the best way to bring out the most of your own creativity.

KUPPER: What do you think the biggest challenge is for a musical director?

POSTER: Sometimes it’s about having faith that the path will emerge. When you’re aging wine, it has a dumb period where the specific charms of the wine haven’t really settled in the bottle. In filmmaking, at certain points, as the story is taking shape, you have to have faith that it will come together.

KUPPER: One of your most exciting films is Gummo, which is such a strange movie. It could only come out at a certain time in film history. What was your approach to that movie?

POSTER: I got to know Harmony while we were making Kids. I worked very closely with Lou Barlow and John Davis in making the score for that movie. Harmony, while he didn’t direct the movie, was the visionary on that project in many ways. With Gummo, which I think is a masterpiece, we took two tracks in the creative process. One, the music in the movie is relatively eclectic and runs counterpoint to the strangeness of the story and the setting. Then, we made a soundtrack album that was filled with death metal, which somehow was the spine of the movie, even if it didn’t emerge in the movie itself. Harmony and I had a fun time satisfying the movie with more of an emotional musical range, and then treating the headbangers to a death trip on the soundtrack album.

KUPPER: Yeah, you have Roy Orbison leading into death metal...

POSTER: Yeah, the Roy Orbison in Gummo is just magnificent.

KUPPER: What are some films that you saw growing up whose scores you remember well?

POSTER: American Graffiti was a big one where I saw how you could use music to travel through time and get a sense of what it was to be in that place at that time through the popular music of that moment. I would say I was affected by the use of music in Woody Allen’s movies, Manhattan probably most particularly. The Godfathers showed me the power of thematic music. I would say, more recently, as we were talking about the absence of music being a supporter of music when it steps in is, No Country for Old Men, which has almost no music in it.

KUPPER: Yeah. It’s almost atmospheric. I’m thinking about films like The Third Man.

POSTER: Yeah, I don’t know that I haven’t used Anton Karas in another movie. The theme to The Third Man is enduring; here it is all these decades later.

KUPPER: And he was just sort of discovered playing zither in a cafe.

POSTER: Yeah, and the other thing about the theme to The Third Man is that it was a number one hit all around the world.

KUPPER: Do you feel like, through your direction, especially working with Wes Anderson and people like Seu Jorge, that those discoveries bring their music to the world on a much bigger scale?

POSTER: Yeah, Wes was living in New York when he was writing Life Aquatic. We used to meet up on Sundays and I would read the new pages that he had written. And one Sunday, all of a sudden, the page said, “Pelé goes on deck and sings a David Bowie song in Portuguese.” And that was it. That was the only indication in the script. We went through and picked twelve or thirteen Bowie songs and then went to Rome where they were shooting, and were in the studio for four or five days with Jorge working on the songs. He wasn’t even necessarily that familiar with the David Bowie catalog, and that was sort of the magic. Seu Jorge was just brilliant in the way that he was naturally able to translate these songs in a way that was true to the movie and still true to David Bowie.

KUPPER: Was David Bowie involved?

POSTER: David Bowie gave us the rights to do it. When we played the music for Bowie, he loved it. I think he really responded to it, so they were very open to this translation.

KUPPER: Yeah, it’s amazing when covers sort of take on a new life. Nina Simone singing Bob Dylan brings a whole new life to that music. Licensing can be such a tricky process, are there any songs that you feel got away?

POSTER: No, nothing really ever got away, except we had a problem where we were hoping to use a couple Beatles songs in the Royal Tenenbaums, and unfortunately, George Harrison got sick and passed away while we were trying to finish up the arrangements. So Mark Mothersbaugh recorded a version of Hey Jude that actually works better for the movie than I thought the actual Beatles did. So I guess that’s one that got away, but generally, they don’t get away. I sort of pride myself on not disappointing directors.

KUPPER: Can you talk about the process of getting licensing?

POSTER: It’s mechanical to a certain degree, but also there’s no blue book of song prices or approvals, so there’s always a human dimension to licensing, especially if you have to fit some kind of budgetary boundary. I’m pretty relentless in getting what we need and getting what we want. To your point, when you’re working with directors who are known for using music well—and hopefully I’m known for working on movies that use music well—you can convince people that it’s worth the association.

KUPPER: Yeah, that makes sense.

POSTER: You’re proof of it in the sense that these movies prompted you to seek out the music and more music like it.

KUPPER: Yeah, there’s that famous story of Phil Spector and John Lennon watching Mean Streets and Lennon asking Phil Spector, “Did you give him permission to use all these songs?” And, him saying, “No, I didn’t.” But because the film was so strong, they let him use it all.

POSTER: Thats a great story. We were told a great story by Cameron Crowe that he went and saw Royal Tenenbaums with Jackson Browne. When Gwyneth Paltrow emerges from the bus and “These Days” starts to play, which I think is probably one of Wes’ hallmark cinematic moments, Jackson Browne leans into Cameron Crowe and goes, “Man, I used to play guitar like that.” And Cameron Crowe goes, “That’s you playing guitar.” (laughs) We’re gonna have Jackson Browne playing “These Days” at the shows.

KUPPER: That’s incredible.

POSTER: We’ve been asked over the years to do something like this. Finally, Wes isn’t gonna make another movie until the end of the year and we had this sort of opening, and we always thought it would be a fun thing to do to be able to play some of the film scores and have the songs intermixed. After all these years of making movie after movie, we thought maybe we’d take a breath and just have fun celebrating the music in the movies.

KUPPER: Yeah, it’s an amazing project. One final question: how have Spotify and all these different streaming platforms changed your process as a director?

POSTER: Well, it hasn’t really changed my direction. Using the streamers can often just make things smoother or faster. It used to be that I’d be in an editing room and I’d have an idea for a song, and then I’d just say, “Alright, I’ll get up early. I’ll get to Tower Records when it opens, and hopefully they’ll have the CD.” Now everything is there. I don’t really supervise music through an algorithm. I like to listen and through study and exploration and questioning experts, help find my way. With streaming services, accessing certain songs or artists is just at my fingertips. I enjoy the Apple interface—making playlists and all their credit information, which could be a lot better. I prefer the Apple interface over the Spotify interface, but I know more people are on Spotify. I obviously work on all the platforms.

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A Long Strange Trip: An Intimate Conversation With Actor, Artist and Now Curator Leo Fitzpatrick

photograph by Curtis Buchanan

A little over three years ago, I moved to New York to attend a graduate journalism program at NYU. Though I had wanted to get here forever, the very essence of being here didn’t hit me until I was record shopping at Kim’s Video and Music (RIP) in the East Village when I saw artist, actor, and now, curator Leo Fitzpatrick flipping through the bins. Fitzpatrick, to me, was something of a city landmark for young weirdoes that like fucked up art. As a bored suburban teenager I would look at photographer Patrick O’Dell’s Epicly Later’d blog where photos of Leo with his uber cool friends—from actress Chloe Sevigny to pro skaters like Jason Dill—and I saw a world and a lifestyle that I knew I wanted a part in. Fitzpatrick and his mega-famous artist buddies like the late Dash Snow and Dan Colen were my New York heroes, much like Lydia Lunch and Basquiat were to a previous generation. It wasn’t just about the work; it was the whole wasted freedom of that particular moment in downtown New York's history.

It’s been a long strange trip for Fitzpatrick since he was discovered skateboarding in Washington Square Park at age 14 by Larry Clark to star in the director’s seminal ‘90s troublemaker film Kids. Though he has remained involved in acting on and off ever since (he’s most likely appeared in at least one of your favorite shows: The Wire, Carnivale, Banshee, and a hilarious turn in this past season of Broad City as a misdemeanor prone trust fund man child), art has more or less been his primary passion since he bought his first Chris Johanson piece at age 17. He gained some notoriety for his austere and slightly brutal painting style as well as for his documented friendships with some of the early ‘00s’ most famous wild child artists like the aforementioned Snow and Colen, Nate Lowman, and Ryan McGinley.

But Fitzpatrick may have found his true calling as a curator. What sets him apart is his unbridled passion for the art that he likes. What he doesn’t like is the financial motivations that sometimes overshadow what art is supposed to be. This notion allowed Fitzpatrick to conceptualize the Home Alone and Home Alone 2 galleries with Lowman. The driving force behind the Home Alone concept was that none of the art that Fitzpatrick and Lowman showed was actually for sale. This freedom allowed them to re-imagine the gallery as a hangout. A place where ideas could flow freely and art could be displayed in interesting and surprising ways. Home Alone housed shows by artists like Adam McEwen, Larry Clark, Klara Liden, and others. The problem, of course, became money. With nothing to sell, Fitzpatrick and Lowman were losing money every month Home Alone was alive. And with Lowman’s busy schedule, Fitzpatrick shouldered much of the logistical burden behind the concept. “It’s tricky to hold up a gallery when you’re working with a friend,” says Fitzpatrick. “When we broke up Home Alone, it was mutual, but you can start to resent your partner at some point.”

But thanks to Marlborough Chelsea director Pascal Spengemann and owner Max Levai, the spirit of Home Alone lives on in the Viewing Room, a space set up in the Marlborough Chelsea location where Fitzpatrick has complete creative control and is again not worried about the constraints of selling. “Financially, [Home Alone] kicked our asses,” he says, “With Marlborough, I have support. It’s all the best parts of Home Alone, but with more stability.” In just a few months, the Viewing Room has hosted a show by 80-year old Los Angeles-based artist George Herms, and is currently holding an exhibition by iconic New York photographer Richard Kerns. “It’s his photos from the ‘80s” says Fitzpatrick. “I don’t know what he would call them, but I call them “streetscapes.” They’re all never-before-seen photos.”

After I profiled Fitzpatrick for my Forbes column last winter, he and I became friendly. I’m not going to lie: I look up to the guy. He is a singular example of someone who was able to carve out a place for himself in the art world without any formal training but a whole lot of sheer passion, hard work, and interesting ideas about the industry. We chatted in the Viewing Room about transitioning the Home Alone concept to a commercial gallery.

Adam Lehrer: How did this collaboration with Marlborough Gallery come about?

Leo Fitzpatrick: I wanted to have a body of work that was different. I enjoy discovering. I’m excited to try new things [with art] in an unconventional setting. In this space, I don’t have to worry about selling art. When you free it up like that, it’s exciting for everybody.

AL: Does making art for a gallery space feel as interesting as working in a more guerilla-type setting?

LF: There are benefits to both. I just needed the help. A lot of people remember Home Alone as something bigger than it actually was. But running a gallery is a lot of work. I don’t have the energy to start anything on my own anymore. We closed it at a good time. And I don’t think I could have gotten a job at a gallery before Home Alone.

AL: Do you see more artists trying to move outside of the conventional frame of showing art?

LF: I think people are moving towards finding ways to show art outside of the conventional gallery. Maybe your friend owns a pizzeria—put your art on the walls, and call that a gallery. I don’t see anything wrong with that.

AL: Getting work out there is more detrimental than ever, with the living costs associated with this city.

LF: The problem is finding space. Artists are living in the same spaces that they work in. It limits the kind of work they can produce. Like, a painting is much easier to make than a sculpture because it takes up less space. But I also like the challenge.

AL: Because with challenge, one is automatically forced to think differently in his/her execution?

LF: A lot of my outlook comes from skateboarding. One person might just see some stairs, but a skater sees a lot of options. How do I manipulate this to work for me? That’s how I view the art world. I can’t compete with somebody who has a lot of money or more education than me, so I have to invent a new way to do what I want to do. I’ve probably made some naïve mistakes, but that’s what you have to do.

AL: Chelsea shows have been the same forever. This is a new concept in an established space. Do you think, if it’s successful, it could be pioneering?

LF: It’s an unusual concept, so I don’t know if it will catch on. But I think it’s a great idea. I would support other galleries that wanted to try it. I never understood why the art world was so territorial. Aren’t we all trying to do the same thing? When you start talking about money, that’s when the competition comes in.

AL: How do you see yourself fighting that territorial aspect of the art world?

LF: When I came into the art world, I was a young kid. I was really intimidated by the Chelsea galleries. They were cold to me. I want to create a space for the kids who are curious. Why would you turn someone like that away? I tried to make Home Alone more of a hangout than a gallery. If one kid comes for a free beer, but gets really excited about making art or starting his or her own gallery—I think that’s really cool.

AL: Is it keeping the culture alive in some sense?

LF: Oh, yeah. You have to encourage kids to do their own thing. They can’t just sit around making the kinds of things that are going to be shown in Chelsea. Start your own movement. And kids need a place to talk about their ideas. Art is [about] growing up with your peers.


"Kids are unpolished. They’ll stay out until 4 in the morning and talk to each other and try to take over the art world. I love that kind of thing. Kids fucking up the system—to me, that’s great."


AL: What are the challenges you see for young artists?

LF: With the Internet, everything is so transparent. It must be hard for younger kids not to compare themselves to their friends. If they see their friend selling something for $20,000 and they’re only selling theirs for 10, I don’t think that’s healthy. They won’t be able to concentrate on making the work.

AL: What is your relationship to money?

LF: I have a very funny relationship to money now, especially money in the art world. I understand that it needs to exist, but it’s hard for the art world to thrive. I probably can’t afford the art that’s being shown in the gallery, but I get to hang out with it for a month. For me, the exposure is more important than the money. I just want to start a conversation.

AL: Is the role of curator fulfilling creatively in the same way making art is?

LF: Maybe more so. I get more out of supporting other artists than I do supporting myself. I’m not very ambitious. I don’t really consider myself an artist; it’s just something I do. If I get asked to do an art show, that’s cool. But if I confirm that I’ll be showing an artist that I’ve been trying to get for months, that’s like, “fuck yeah!”

AL: What has been your favorite part of curating?

LF: Hanging an art show is more satisfying to me than anything. I always tell the artists to not worry about the art they give me. My job is to make it seamless. They get to make whatever they want to make, and I figure it out. And I’ve loved experimenting with how the show is going to look. You want the art to get exposure, but you don’t want it to be too conventional.

AL: Is showing artists that you feel are under-appreciated important to you at all?

LF: That’s not always the case. I’ve done shows with artists who have had a lot of exposure. But I prefer otherwise. George Herms is an 80–year-old from California. He’s a dying breed. He’s a photographer, a sculptor, and a painter. His whole life embodies art. I want this show to set the tone for the rest of the gallery.

AL: Are there other curators that inspire you?

LF: Not really, no. But I do follow a lot of little galleries. I like to support the underdogs. These little galleries are the underdogs, and they’re doing really cool stuff. If I was to compare myself to contemporaries, I would compare myself to these tiny, scrappy galleries that are just trying to get by. I’m not trying to compete with a big gallery.

AL: But if that did prove to be the evolution of it, would you be opposed to it?

LF: As long as you keep your heart in the right place. But I don’t think about competing with the art world. I have ambition, but that doesn’t mean making money. It means putting on great shows that leave people scratching their heads. I also want to prove people wrong. To the people who say, “You can’t do that,” I say, “Let me try.”

AL: Have you had to attune your business savvy to deal with those challenges, or are you letting Pascal and Matt take care of that?

LF: No, I do everything. If you’re a smaller gallery, people might be more eager to help you out than if you’re a more established Chelsea gallery. So we’ve gotten a lot of support. But I deal with a lot of rejections.

AL: For all of your lack of pretentiousness and mellow attitude towards what you do, the name Leo Fitzpatrick is one that is known in the New York art world. Are people starting to recognize you for your connection to the art world as much as your acting career?

LF: Kids have come up to me on the street. At first, I thought they were going to talk to me about my acting, but then they said, “We really like Home Alone.” To me, that was the best feeling in the world. I think of acting and the art world as two different careers. And if you’re not going to sell your art, a kid stopping you on the street to say they like your work keeps you going.

AL: How do you go into choosing work for the gallery?

LF: The work has to excite me first. Everything I show gives me a gut reaction. There aren’t any politics to it. It’s not the artist who is hot at the moment. I’d rather show people who aren’t in the limelight, and give them the exposure. I’ll do more research, dig in the trenches, and try to find artists who were forgotten or who don’t get the respect they deserve. Hopefully, the rest of the audience will find it interesting, too.

AL: What you do makes people realize that it is possible not to come from a certain world or scene, and still be able to do what you want to do.

LF: For sure. I think we need to give these guys a little heat. If you can’t compete on their level, and you still attempt to create (whether it be art or a gallery or whatever), that shows that you have a lot of drive and hunger. From the beginning, you’re setting yourself up for failure, but you say, “Fuck, I’m going to do it anyway.” That’s awesome.


AL: You once said to me that the art world needs a grimy side. Do you think griminess can exist in this Chelsea system?

LF: Grimy can mean so many things. I think it’s the youth that will provide the “griminess.” Kids are unpolished. They’ll stay out until 4 in the morning and talk to each other and try to take over the art world. I love that kind of thing. Kids fucking up the system—to me, that’s great. It’s probably a good idea to get on those kids’ sides.

AL: How should they go about that?

LF: A kid just reached out to me from London and said—“Hey, I want to do a Home Alone in London.” You don’t need my permission. You can even use the title Home Alone. I don’t own it. It’s just an idea. You can sell art out of the back of your car and call it a gallery. Just fucking do it, man.


You can catch Leo Fitzpatrick's current curated show, Viewing Room: Richard Kern, at Marlborough Chelsea until December 23, 2015. You can follow Leo on Instagram: @lousyleo. text and interview by Adam Lehrer. Follow Autre on Instagram to stay up to date: @AUTREMAGAZINE


Leo Fitzpatrick and Richard Kern by Adam Lehrer