Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror is one of the most unsettling visual tales ever imprinted on celluloid, with an origin story and afterlife as shadowy as its vampiric subject matter.
The 1922 German Expressionist film, directed by F.W. Murnau, first crept into this world by sinking its teeth into Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel Dracula, which prompted his estate to file a copyright infringement lawsuit against this unauthorized adaptation. As part of the settlement, all existing prints of Nosferatu were to be destroyed, but because the film had already been widely distributed, the silent cinema classic continued to circulate as an undead bootleg until it entered the public domain at the end of 2019.
Once released from its intellectual property shackles, film archivists were finally free to preserve Nosferatu in new high-definition restorations without worrying about copyright owners suing them. Likewise, musicians could now legally sync their own scores to the film, which is how Dream Chambers, Eve Maret and Belly Full of Stars were commissioned by Nashville’s Belcourt Theatre to perform a live score for Nosferatu’s 100th anniversary in 2022.
Just in time for the Halloween season, these three electronic musicians will bring their own symphony of horror to the James Theater in Iowa City, where they will provide a live soundtrack to a 35mm restoration of Nosferatu. Their score is a stunning work that envelopes listers in a kaleidoscopic wash of disembodied sound that is akin to Wendy Carlos’ two-LP masterpiece, Sonic Seasonings, or the early-1970s electronic krautrock soundscapes produced by Cluster, Ash Ra Tempel, Amon Düül II and Tangerine Dream.
The seeds for this collaboration were planted in 2018, when Belly Full of Stars (the electronic sound project of Nashville-based artist and composer Kim Rueger) began playing with Eve Maret and Jess Chambers (who performs as Dream Chambers). “We hadn’t formally collaborated on a project like this before the first Nosferatu live score,” Maret said, “but we have been friends and jammed together enough to feel really comfortable improvising.”
“The experimental scene here in [Nashville] has a lot of variety and many circles that overlap with each other — electronic, folk, jam bands, spoken word poetry, free jazz, noise, ambient,” Rueger said. “I think all of us can say that we often play on bills in town that not only cross genres, but also have a very diverse group of artists included. That openness and cross-collaboration certainly gives us a sense of both freedom and inclusiveness when it comes to exploring different types of sounds and spaces within our music, as well as who we create, collaborate, and share our music with.”
As individual artists, they have each developed their own particular aesthetics, but these three musicians are connected by their choice of instruments: modular synthesizers, analog oscillators and other old-school aural technologies that are enjoying a revival in today’s digital age. Rueger, for instance, recalls that when she was a student in the Recording Industry program at Middle Tennessee State University in the late 1990s, she spent a lot of time working and playing in the MIDI (Musical Instrument Digital Interface) Lab, where music was compressed into ones and zeros.
“Back then, us synth-oriented artists were definitely a rarity,” she said. “Happy to say that somewhat the times have changed!”
Chambers moved to Nashville in 2012 from New Zealand, where the singer-songwriter had established herself with a series of subtly orchestrated folk albums. Once ensconced in Tennessee, she fell into a vibrant underground electronic music scene. Chambers began messing around with analog synths after a friend and neighbor let her sample his modular system for a song that she was producing using the audio editing software Ableton.
“The raw power and lovely complexity of the analog oscillators became clear to me as I was editing those recordings,” she said, “and I fell in love with that sound.”
While living in Nashville, Chambers met Maret, an experimental artist and composer who cites a variety of influences that include 19th-century orchestral and choral works, the Fluxus movement, Kosmische Musik and funk. Maret and Chambers helped co-found Hyasynth House, an electronic music collective and education center for women, trans and nonbinary artists that facilitated community-wide conversations, workshops and performances to support and empower marginalized groups.
Over the past few years, Maret, Chambers and Rueger developed friendships and working relationships that paved the way for their Nosferatu score. The trio’s live performance is mostly improvised, though there are certain moments that they loosely score to emphasize what is happening in the film — such as how they play specific notes or chords to accompany the action of particular characters.
“After we spent some time becoming familiar with the movie,” Maret said, “we decided to assign different characters and settings specific sound profiles. For instance, we play in E for Ellen, and [Chambers] triggers eerie vocal samples whenever she enters the scene. We also wanted to consider the full spectrum of frequencies in creating our score. [Chambers] covers the bass and granulated vocals, [Rueger] provides field recordings and keys, and I am responsible for the rhythms/beats and arps, and some field recordings as well. Getting to know the film better also led us to refine the arc of intensity so that the music guides the listener/viewer along.”
“We have allocated sonic ‘areas’ to each of us,” Chambers added. “For example, [Rueger] — who uses, among other things, field recordings, granular processing and live sampling software, FM synthesis and an 0-coast — is mostly occupying an ambient space and adding lovely chordal pads and foley, while [Maret] is creating arpeggios and harmony on her Novation Peak and rhythm on the Moog Dfam. I am contributing bass and melodic pads using a couple Moog Mother 32s, as well as vocals processed through a Make Noise Morphagene.”
Rueger, who also loves to nerd-out about gear, noted that one of her favorite pieces of equipment used in the Nosferatu score is the Strega, a semi-modular synth and effects processor. It has an analog oscillator with an “interference” circuit that can add noise or warp and warble the tone, depending on how much it is mixed into the signal.
“I use the Strega heavily in peak moments when Nosferatu himself appears,” Rueger explained. “Its eerie, almost cackling, pitch-swooping tone can sound like an edgy version of a theremin, heard in sci-fi and horror film scores of days gone by. I also use a pair of Korg Volca FM synths for two different types of organ sounds in the sweeter moments, especially whenever Ellen appears on screen.”
In the olden days of the late 20th century, this kind of technical talk was largely the domain of men making electronic music, even though women had played instrumental roles within that realm since its beginnings. (Check out the 2020 documentary Sisters With Transistors, which explores the legacy of groundbreaking artists such as Daphne Oram, Éliane Radigue, Clara Rockmore, Wendy Carlos and Laurie Spiegel.)
Even though Maret, Chambers and Rueger feel compelled to perform with electronic instruments because they are driven by their love of music and experimentation, there is still a politics embedded in their everyday creative practices.
“Hopefully, a wonderful ripple-out effect of being onstage as women and nonbinary creators is that we can help demystify music technology for anyone who might feel intimidated by its seeming complexity,” Chambers said. “The reasons why electronic music lacks gender diversity are many and complex. It has to do with music technology spaces often not feeling welcoming or particularly comfortable for us, and access to resources, gender socialization, the pay gap, etc. It’s a complex social issue, but I feel optimistic that this is changing rapidly in a positive way.”
Kembrew McLeod was born on Halloween, the most evil of all birthdays. This article was originally published in Little Village’s October 2023 issue.
