Max Steiner, the Movie Composer Injected With Amphetamines By Emily E. Hogstad

    

Max Steiner, the Movie Composer Injected With Amphetamines

By Emily E. Hogstad

  

Max Steiner, hailed as the “father of film music,” is one of the most influential composers in the history of Hollywood.

Over the course of a career that spanned half a century, Steiner crafted some of the most iconic scores in cinematic history.

Steiner was no stranger to the world of classical music. In fact, he took massive inspiration from Richard Wagner, his tutor Gustav Mahler, and even his godfather, Richard Strauss.

Today, we’re looking at the life of Max Steiner and his impact on the world of cinema…including the taxing work assignment with a deadline so tight, it required twenty-hour workdays and amphetamines to meet.

Max Steiner

Max Steiner’s Family Background

Max Steiner was born on 10 May 1888 in Vienna.

His family’s roots in Viennese arts and culture ran deep. He was named after his grandfather Maximilian Steiner, the theater director who popularised Viennese operetta and convinced Johann Strauss II to write for the genre.

Later, Maximilian’s son Gábor followed in his father’s footsteps and became an impresario himself.

Gábor’s wife Marie was also a music-lover and was a dancer early in her career, before giving birth to her only child, Max.

Max’s godfather was none other than composer Richard Strauss!

A Musically Precocious Childhood

Max’s voracious love of music was obvious from an early age. By the age of six, he was taking multiple music lessons a week.

He also started improvising on the piano, and with his father’s encouragement, writing the improvisations down.

At twelve, again with the support of his father, he conducted a performance of composer Gustave Kerker’s operetta The Belle of New York.

Max Steiner’s Musical Education

In 1904, he began attending the Imperial Academy of Music. While there, he was tutored by Gustav Mahler.

He breezed through four years of curriculum in one, studying composition, harmony, counterpoint, and a veritable orchestra’s worth of instruments.

Around this time, he also composed his first operetta, The Beautiful Greek Girl. No doubt to his disappointment, his father passed on staging it, claiming it wasn’t up to his standards.

Max rebelled by offering Greek Girl to another impresario. To his satisfaction, it was a success, running for a year.

Max Steiner’s London Career

The success of The Beautiful Greek Girl led to a number of conducting opportunities abroad.

A British production invited him to conduct The Merry Widow, an operetta by his father’s former colleague Franz Lehár.

Steiner moved to London and stayed there for eight years, conducting The Merry Widow and other operettas.

Escape to New York

Max Steiner

However, the onset of World War I brought his career to a screeching halt. Britain declared war on Austria in August 1914. Steiner was twenty-six years old.

Because of his nationality, he was interned in Britain as an enemy alien. He was only released because of his friendship with the Duke of Westminster.

Despite that friendship, he was ultimately ejected from Britain and his scores compounded, ending up in New York City with just $32 to his name.

A Broadway Career, and a Start in Film

Steiner soon found work on Broadway, orchestrating, arranging, and conducting. He conducted works by George Gershwin, Jerome Kern, Victor Herbert, and others.

He began watching the development of the nascent movie industry with great interest, speaking to studio founders and directors about the potential of music to accompany silent films.

In 1927, he orchestrated and conducted a Broadway musical by composer Harry Tierney. When Tierney was hired by RKO Pictures, he urged the studio to hire Steiner, too.

At the time, the potential of movie music was yet to be fully understood. It was thought by studio heads that soundtracks should come from a library of cheap pre-recorded tracks, as opposed to being written for specific films (an idea that Steiner would push back hard against). Steiner was hired as the head of the music department at RKO, but only on a month-to-month contract.

He scored Dixiana, the Western Cimarron, and Symphony of Six Million. Symphony of Six Million, with its extensive score, was a landmark in cinema history, and it helped to convince film executives of the impact that a soundtrack could have on a movie. 

Max Steiner’s Hollywood Career

King Kong

Throughout the 1930s, Steiner was on the front lines of establishing the language of movie music, influenced by figures like Richard Wagner and Richard Strauss.

He scored King Kong in 1933, finishing the iconic score in a jaw-dropping two weeks. It has often been called the most influential soundtrack of all time, demonstrating for executives, producers, and audiences once and for all what exactly a custom-written score could do for a movie.

Steiner relied on the Wagnerian idea of leitmotif, i.e., playing specific themes during the appearance of specific characters or ideas.

King Kong (1933) – Beauty Killed the Beast Scene  

He also composed for and conducted many of the Astaire/Rogers musicals.

In 1937, Steiner was hired by Warner Bros, where he continued his extremely productive output.

Scoring Gone With the Wind

Gone With the Wind

In 1939, Steiner was hired by Selznick International Pictures to score Gone With the Wind.

He composed the score to the nearly four-hour film in three months. At the same time, in the year 1939, he composed the score for twelve other films.

Producer David O. Selznick had concerns that Steiner wouldn’t be able to finish in time, so he hired Franz Waxman to write a backup score.

However, it wasn’t needed. Steiner ended up delivering by working twenty-hour days, aided by prescribed injected amphetamines. He also had the assistance of four orchestrators.

Today, it’s widely regarded as one of the greatest film scores of all time. 

Max Steiner’s Academy Awards

Gone With the Wind didn’t win an Academy Award for best score (it lost out to The Wizard of Oz), but over the course of his career, Steiner would win multiple Oscars.

In 1936, he won for his score to the thriller The Informer. In 1943, he won another for the drama Now, Voyager, and yet another in 1945 for the wartime drama Since You Went Away.

Other classics that he scored during this time include Casablanca, The Big Sleep, Mildred Pierce, and others.  

Max Steiner’s Late Career

During the 1950s, changing tastes in movie music meant that Steiner’s lush, operatic style began to fall out of fashion.

He had one last major triumph with the theme for A Summer Place in 1959, which spent nine weeks at number one in 1960. It beat out Ray Charles, Ella Fitzgerald, Elvis Presley, and Frank Sinatra at the Grammys for Record of the Year.   

Sadly, his health and vision began deteriorating later in life. He died of congestive heart failure in 1971 at the age of 83.

Max Steiner’s Innovations   

Steiner was one of the first composers to employ a measuring machine to guarantee exact timings in a score. Before him, most composers just used a stopwatch, but Steiner felt it was important to sync his score with the film more closely than a watch’s second hand would allow.

He was also among the first to embrace click tracks. A click track consists of a series of holes punched into soundtrack film, creating a metronomic effect. Headphones can then be used and instruments played along to an exact tempo.

Throughout his career, he was on the cutting edge of developing ideas and principles about what scenes should and shouldn’t have music in them, as well as how loud music should be relative to dialogue.

He was also fascinated by the power of diegetic music (i.e., music that is played within the scene, that the characters also hear). Think of the famous renditions of “La Marseillaise” or “As Time Goes By” in Casablanca.   

Max Steiner’s Modern Influence

Max Steiner conducting the score of King Kong

Steiner’s influence continues even today.

John Williams has cited him (as well as Steiner’s compatriot Erich Wolfgang Korngold) as a major influence, as has James Newton Howard, who scored the 2005 remake of King Kong.

He also pushed for film composers to earn residuals, helping to create an expectation that composers would be fairly compensated for their work.

It’s clear that for as long as movies exist, Max Steiner’s influence will continue to be felt.

AUDIOJUNKIE: Summer song surge

By Punch Liwanag

Published Mar 9, 2026 07:22 am

Recently, Donna Summer made a big splash into pop culture’s collective awareness by surging atop the Billboard dance charts with her classic 1978 song titled “MacArthur's Park.”  Summer, who passed away in 2012 at the ageof 63, is one of the original divas of the disco genre. She was a few shy of her 30th birthday when“MacArthur’s Park” first became a hit. But this was after a long slog for Donna Summer, who first played in Europeas a theatre singer-actor in the musical Hair, and then as a recording artist, where she had her first real break working with producers, including one named Giorgio Moroder. 

Donna Summer (Images courtesy of Facebook)

Written by Jimmy Webb, “MacArthur’s Park” was a 1968 song recorded by the actor Richard Harris (who played Dumbledore) and was originally a ballad. Moroder turned the song on its head, so to speak, and was instrumental in making this into one of Donna Summer’s biggest hits. 

Hearing the song has again emerged to the top of the dance charts, not more than a fortnight ago, just got me waxing a bit nostalgic. The first time I heard “MacArthur’s Park” was not through Donna Summer or Harris’ original, but through a local rock band. 

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Believe it or not, it was The Dawn that I first heard this peculiar tune. Peculiar, because when Jett Pangan sang it, it stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb, only because I was more attuned to Jett singing “Love Will Set You Free” and “I Stand With You” than this melodramatic dribble about ‘melting cakes out in the rain’ which, ‘I don’t think I can take it / because it took so long to make it / and I’ll never have that recipe again,’ etc. 

Cup of Joe

There’s an inherent kitsch in it. It was there when The Dawn covered it as an overture in their epic “Dream Storm” concert (back in ‘88), and it was there when Donna Summer sang it. 

But man, was it epic! Especially with Donna Summer’s voice singing the dramatic, lyrical soliloquy, it was raised to a grander scale. I didn’t know then that Giorgio Moroder produced this, but hearing it at the recent Winter Olympics, I can recognize some of Moroder’s touch in the production. After all, Moroder’s own 1984 hit “Together in Electric Dreams” is one of my all-time fave songs from that amazing year in pop. 

From Richard Harris to Donna Summer/Giorgio Moroder, to its recent resurgence thanks to the iconic Alysa Liu, “MacArthur’s Park” has had quite a 58-year journey. 

Up Dharma Down

Speaking of surges, the Viva Music Group is having a victory lap. The label is now behind the first two OPM songs to reach 500 million streams on Spotify in the Philippines. 

“Tadhana” by Up Dharma Down is the first Filipino track to hit the half-a-billion milestone. Released in 2012, “Tadhana” is UDD’s most recognizable song in the alt-electronica band’s catalog. Viva Music Publishing manages UDD’s master recordings after Terno Records turned over its ownership. 

And some bands have all the luck. Cup Of Joe now has the distinction of being the second act and the fastest to reach the 500 million mark for their song “Multo.” It is now the most-streamed OPM track in Spotify’s history and holds the longest number one streak on the platform’s Philippine Daily Charts. Maybe that’s why they’re all systems go in solo headlining the Philippine Sports Arena this coming May 23, 2026. 

Yuja Wang magic

 

Many people play this as an encore but her performance was perfect. She walks onto the stage looking like she is unsure of where she is. But once she sits down, its pure Yuja Wang magic.

Prokofiev Piano Sonata No. 7 in B Flat Major, Op. 83, III https://www.ganjingworld.com/s/OJar21gOnZ

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The Best Waltzes by the Great Composers

by Emily E. Hogstad  March 2nd, 2026

Few musical forms have evolved as extensively as the waltz. It began as a rustic Austrian dance in triple meter, scandalous for bringing men and women together so physically close. By the 19th century, it had shaken off its early controversy and conquered Vienna’s glittering ballrooms. By the 20th, it had become ironic, decadent, grotesque – even apocalyptic.

Using just three beats per bar, the waltz can suggest intimacy, seduction, nostalgia, aristocratic splendour, demonic frenzy, or even civilizational collapse.

The following ten works trace the evolution of the waltz from Schubert’s salon to Ravel’s catastrophic whirl and beyond. Together, they show how composers transformed a simple dance into one of classical music’s most versatile and revealing genres.

Franz Schubert – Valses nobles, D. 969   

Schubert wrote hundreds of dances – waltzes, Ländler, etc. – for domestic music-making in Vienna. But the Valses nobles, D. 969, written in the final year of his life, are something finer.

These aren’t ballroom miniatures; they’re personal statements. Harmonies turn unexpectedly inward; phrases stretch and sigh. Each is fleeting.

Their interiority and small scale make them an intriguing early evolution of the genre. They mark one of the first moments when the waltz became something to listen to, rather than something to dance.

Frédéric Chopin – Waltz in C-sharp minor, Op. 64, No. 2   

Chopin rarely intended his waltzes for dancing; they’re more psychological studies disguised as salon music.

His Waltz in C-sharp minor, Op. 64 No. 2, alternates between elegant charm and darker introspection.

Its shifting moods and subtle rubato transform the triple meter into something fluid and conversational. At times, it gets sarcastic or even acerbic, due in part to its minor key and unstable middle section.

Franz Liszt – Mephisto Waltz No. 1   

Liszt’s Mephisto Waltz No. 1 was not a waltz written for polite society.

Inspired by a scene from Nikolaus Lenau’s verse drama Faust, the Devil interrupts a village wedding and seduces the dancers into frenzy. The music is dazzling, demonic, virtuosic beyond reason.

Here, the waltz becomes temptation itself: it’s seductive, theatrical, dangerous.

Johann Strauss II – The Blue Danube, Op. 314   

If one piece defines the Viennese waltz, it is The Blue Danube.

Over the course of his career, Strauss perfected the formula: a graceful introduction, a sequence of unforgettable melodies, and then a glowing coda.

The rhythmic lilt feels effortless, as though the orchestra itself is gliding. This is the traditional Viennese waltz at its most radiant: aristocratic, irresistible, and intoxicating.

Johannes Brahms – Waltz in A-flat major, Op. 39, No. 15   

Brahms was a huge admirer of Strauss’s work, but his own waltzes are more private.

The A-flat major Waltz, Op. 39, No. 15, is brief and tender. Its warm harmonies and gentle phrasing feel nostalgic, or even autumnal.

Brahms distills the Viennese dance into something intimate and reflective. It’s a waltz meant for a quiet room, not a grand ballroom like Strauss’s.   

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky – Waltz from Swan Lake    

In Tchaikovsky’s hands, the waltz became a theatrical spectacle.

The Act I Waltz from his ballet Swan Lake is sweeping and luminous, filled with expansive melodies and rich orchestration.

It evokes aristocratic celebration, but Tchaikovsky’s gift for bittersweet harmonies also lends it an undercurrent of melancholy longing.

Claude Debussy – La plus que lente    

By 1910, almost a century after the genre’s ascendance, some waltzes had become nostalgic, even ironic.

Debussy’s “La plus que lente” (“slower than slow”) is both affectionate and gently mocking. The harmonies drift, colours blur, and the musical gestures seem to sigh.

This is a waltz that is filtered through French aesthetics and weary Belle Epoque sophistication.

Maurice Ravel – La valse   

Ravel’s La valse begins in a murky haze. Gradually, fragments of rhythm emerge from darkness, eventually coalescing into a glittering Viennese dance.

But then the elegance grows distorted. The orchestration becomes violent, grotesque, even unhinged.

Ravel always claimed that La valse wasn’t meant to be a portrait of the collapse of Europe after World War I. But it still feels like an autopsy of the collapse: the waltz falling victim to its own sophistication and grandeur.

Sergei Prokofiev – Waltz from Cinderella        

After Ravel’s shattering waltz, Prokofiev restores glamour to it – but with a similar edge.

The grand waltz from his ballet Cinderella is lush yet harmonically angular. The melodies shimmer, but the harmonies and rhythms here carry a modern bite.

This is fairy-tale elegance viewed through the darker, more jaded lens of the turbulent 20th century.

Dmitri Shostakovich – Waltz No. 2 (Suite for Variety Orchestra)    

By mid-century, the waltz had become a vehicle for irony as much as elegance.

Shostakovich’s Waltz No. 2 sounds charming at first, almost kitschy. But the sweetness is slightly exaggerated, the orchestration a touch garish. There’s something theatrical and faintly tragic beneath the surface.

This waltz music is smiling through clenched teeth.

Conclusion

From Schubert’s Viennese miniatures to Shostakovich’s Soviet irony, the waltz has proved remarkably adaptable.

It can whisper or seduce. It can glitter. It can burn the ballroom to the ground…all in ¾ time.

If you had to choose a favourite, which waltz would it be?

Frédéric Chopin’s 10 “Easy” Piano Pieces

 by Hermione Lai  March 1st, 2026

Frédéric Chopin! The name alone conjures a sense of profound intimacy. His works for piano take us into a world of almost otherworldly beauty, with melodies that become as engaging as the human voice.

The music can be fragile, dance-like or fleeting, and infused with a sense of great nostalgia or melancholy. And then there is this emotional fragility, like emotions changing in mid-sentence. Chopin’s music feels so vulnerable, seemingly confiding in the listener. It’s emotion in its purest form.

Rudolf Schuster: Fryderyk Chopin in the salon of prince Antoni Radziwiłł

Yet we all know that his music is famously challenging to play. In the hands of experts, it sounds effortless, floating through the air with a passion that’s always under control. But if you have been studying the piano, you know that the technical challenges of playing Chopin are substantial.

For Chopin’s birthday on 1 March 1810, let’s do something special by presenting 10 of his easiest piano pieces. In their original scoring, there are none for complete beginners, sorry. But if you are an intermediate pianist, here are 10 pieces that are surprisingly approachable.

On the top of my list of approachable Chopin piano pieces is the Prelude in E minor, from the Op. 28 set. This piece even looks approachable on paper. No glittering runs or thundering octaves, and no crazy fast arpeggios.

To be sure, the slow tempo and simple left-hand accompaniment are immediately inviting. No violent leaps or intricate crossings, with chords unfolding regularly. Of course, it’s all about the weight of each chord and how one harmony resolves into the next.

The melody is pure simplicity, essentially an expressive sigh that hovers above the broken chords. You will be able to learn the notes of both hands relatively quickly, but can you make the piano sing? Technically, it is approachable, but to convey the emotions is much more difficult. 

The set of 24 Preludes in Op. 28 contains some wonderful pieces for intermediate pianists. Take the A Major Prelude, Op. 28, No. 7, as an example. It’s one of the shortest piano pieces Chopin ever wrote, and it feels like a fleeting smile.

While the left hand keeps a steady and lilting accompaniment, the right hand sings a folk-like melody. No wild leaps or complicated passagework in the left hand, and a very pianistically unfolding melody in the right hand. No acrobatics here at all.

The notes should come to you rather easily, but can you find the elegance demanded from this small dance? It should never sound mechanical, with the left hand breathing softly. But don’t slip into sentimentality, as it is naturally beautiful.     A number of Chopin waltzes are glittering showpieces, but Op. 34, No. 2 is different. This one is a far gentler affair. And it’s difficult not to be swept up in the flowing rhythm of the dance.

What makes waltzes difficult to play on occasion are extreme jumps and brutal stretches. In Op. 34, No. 2, the familiar waltz pattern is, of course, present, but the technical demands here are not punishing. There are some ornaments in the right hand, but like much of Chopin, the entire melody lies comfortably under the fingers.

Did you notice that this waltz is scored in the minor key? There is a celebration for sure, but it feels more like a memory than an actual celebration. Passion is everywhere, but it is all viewed through a veil.

Mazurka in A minor, Op. 17, No. 4   

Let’s stay with the dance idiom for a bit, although the Mazurka in A Minor, Op. 17, No. 4 is slightly more challenging. Still, it isn’t a showpiece that glitters and sparkles, but another deep personal recollection.

There are some broken patterns in the left hand, but with the unhurried tempo, an intermediate pianist can learn the notes. Chopin opens up a sparse texture, with the left hand always supporting the melody, not battling it. And what a fantastic piece to learn all about rubato.

Technically, it gets a bit more challenging in the middle section. However, it all feels rather introspective. The gently swaying rhythm carries you away to the Polish homeland Chopin missed so much. Whatever you do, don’t try to overpower this emotionally very fragile music.

Prelude in B minor, Op. 28, No. 6   

Technically speaking, we should count the Prelude in B minor, Op. 28, No. 6 among the 10 easiest Chopin pieces. And on the surface, that is certainly true. It all seems rather simple, with the left hand playing marching chords while the right hand quietly presents a fragile melody.

What might be technically simple is frequently emotionally challenging. This particular prelude is pure melancholy. The weight of each chord should never destroy the sense of fragility, and it’s easy to get carried away with the rubato.

A great pianist once said that by listening to Chopin, audiences should feel as if the composer is confiding in them. And that’s the melody in this prelude. Every single note is a secret, whispered to you in great confidence. And it is never ashamed to do so.

Frédéric Chopin: Waltz in B minor, Op. 69, No. 2   

For another approachable piece in B minor, let’s turn to the Waltz Op. 69, No. 2. It is approachable for an intermediate pianist as the technical challenges are manageable, but the music just sounds deceptively easy.

We do find the gentle waltz pattern in the accompaniment, and the melody offers flowing phrases and lyrical lines. Yet, there are plenty of subtle shifts in dynamic, in delicate accents, and the rubato simply has to sound like natural breathing.

If you play this mechanically, it will immediately lose all charm. There is so much restraint and intimate tenderness that is incredibly difficult to express. While the notes might be suitable for young fingers, the emotional content certainly isn’t.

Mazurka in G minor, Op. 67, No. 2    

The Chopin Mazurkas are never really that easy to play, but technically, some are accessible to intermediate pianists. These Polish dances are at the heart of Chopin’s piano music, and they always carry a sense of melancholy and longing.

The mazurka rhythm flows gently and steadily throughout, with the lyrical melody clearly written by an expert pianist. There are no uncomfortable leaps and jumps, and no blazing runs from the top to the bottom of the keyboard. The notes can be learned.

The most challenging part of this piece is that the pianist has to shape the mood. The phrases must breathe, and the off-beat accents gently navigate you between a memory of joy and a sigh of sorrow. You won’t be successful if you only think of virtuosity and speed.   

Every aspiring pianist wants to play a Chopin Nocturne, and the C-sharp minor is probably one of his most approachable. Steady arpeggios won’t kill your hands if you know how to rotate your wrist, and the melody is one of the most natural creations ever written by Chopin.

The melody is delicately emerging over the accompaniment, and it needs very careful attention. The real difficulty comes from shaping that melody. Everything relies on expressive timing and gentle dynamic nuance. And don’t let that rubato run away with you.

There is plenty of passion in the opening section, and some real drama in the central part. Each change of harmony and turn of melody becomes a reflection or unspoken emotion that can be felt immediately.   

Since Chopin died at such an early age, a number of pieces were never prepared for publication by himself. They were discovered among his manuscripts and shared with publishers later.

One such treasure is a gentle waltz in A minor, featuring a steady accompaniment and a naturally flowing lyrical melody. This gem is entirely approachable for intermediate pianists, and it carries all the expected emotional intensity.

There is nothing dazzling in this dance. Rather, Chopin almost shyly immerses us in a melancholic quality that feels entirely personal. Since it was discovered only after Chopin’s death, it carries an extra sense of quiet mystery.

Prelude in C minor, Op. 28, No. 20    

Sometimes, the Prelude in C minor, Op. 28, No. 20 is nicknamed “Chordal Prelude.” And that pretty much describes the technical aspects. Thick chords carry the melody, and it is very manageable for intermediate pianists.

Yet, this quietly powerful miniature carries immense emotional depth. It feels like a march, maybe even a procession of memory. Emotion is contained in every single chord, and also in the silences between them.

You need more than technical proficiency to play this one. You need great sensitivity, a sense of patience, and empathy. It’s like a moment of reflection that has been suspended in time.

Bonus Time

Portrait of Frédéric Chopin by Eugène Delacroix, 1838

Here then is a little bonus selection, the famous “Raindrop” prelude. Every aspiring pianist is eager to play this little gem. And you already know about that hypnotic A-flat in the left hand.

It gets a bit stormier in the middle section, but the raindrops need to be soft and consistent. As soon as you start to force this repetition, the entire mood will be lost. Everything must sound as natural as possible.

I am sure you have already noticed the Chopin paradox in 10 of his easiest piano pieces. They are technically approachable and relatively simple, yet deeply emotional and profound. These might be playable by young fingers, but it will take an entire lifetime to probe their emotional depth.