Scoring the Unseen: the Psychology Behind the Meat

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Sound Design, Saturation, and the Sonic Psychology Behind Meat the Movie

MEAT (Upcoming Queer Slasher by Roger Conners)

As film scoring evolves, so too does its relationship with sound design and psychology. What once followed the strict traditions of orchestration has expanded into a vast, malleable terrain where sonic texture often matters more than musical notes.

“It’s not just about what the audience hears—it’s about what they feel before they even realize it.”

While strings and harmony remain foundational, the expectations around them are shifting. In today’s creative landscape, composers like Hildur Guðnadóttir (Joker) and Mica Levi (Under the Skin) are pushing sonic boundaries. Their scores aren’t accompaniment—they’re immersion. They're not telling us how to feel—they're helping us become the feeling itself.

Beyond Melody: Sound as Experience

Although orchestration is still crucial, it often follows paths shaped more by cultural norms than by the fluidity of human experience. In Meat the Movie, I leaned into sonic manipulation as a way to mirror thought patterns—distractions, memories, and the blurred edges of consciousness.

For instance, I:

• Transformed dialogue into instruments—stretching and warping voices into ghostly textures.

• Used micro-sounds—like an eraser tapping on a table—then pitch-shifted and drop-tuned them into percussive impacts.

• Layered fluctuating audio with its original source to create distortion-heavy textures that felt unstable, unsettled, and very alive.

  
  

This wasn’t about key signatures or melodic motifs. It was about saturation: sonic density and emotional weight layered in a way that mirrors how we experience reality.

The Mind as Mixer

“Imagine walking into the kitchen for your keys, getting distracted, and suddenly forgetting why you're there.”

That mental detour? That’s the terrain I wanted to score.

Film allows us to replay and remix reality. It lets us interpret. And scoring within that framework means exploring emotional cues that don’t always have a name—but they do have a sound.

Inspired by the Greats, Rooted in Contrast

Vangelis' Timeless Sound: Blade Runner

I drew inspiration from Vangelis’ iconic Blade Runner score, particularly the way he merged legato horns with wide, ambient synth pads. That combination of breath and space offered a calming effect. In Meat, I applied this same principle—building serene soundscapes just before moments of violence or dread.

“You can’t have love without hate. You can’t have aggression without peace.”

The contrast became the point. The more beautiful a scene sounded, the more brutal the next could feel. That sonic tension—between hope and desperation—was the film’s emotional current.

The Blurred Line Between Composer and Sound Designer

Historically, the sound designer augmented the subjective experience through Foley—footsteps, doors, punches, cloth movement. You still see this legacy in Looney Tunes, where confusion had its own iconic “boing.” But now, as tools evolve, composers are claiming space in that world too—embedding emotion directly into the sound bed, not just sitting atop it.

This convergence means filmmakers need to understand the deeper interplay between sound and score. They’re not separate domains—they’re a dialogue. And when approached as a unified sonic language, the result isn’t just heard—it’s felt.

Final Thoughts

In Meat the Movie, scoring was less about writing music and more about shaping emotional resonance. By using saturation, distortion, layering, and subconscious sonic cues, I was able to explore a musical language that mirrors the mind—elastic, fragile, saturated, and human.

Understanding this process isn't just for composers—it’s crucial for directors, editors, and storytellers. Because when sound and music blur into one, the film breathes in ways that no camera can capture alone.