bleeding

Matt Groening knows what a real theremin sounds like.

As a kid who grew up on the celluloid junk food of the 1950s and ’60s, “The Simpsons” creator heard the ghostly wail of that early electronic instrument in sci-fi film scores and in albums by his beloved Frank Zappa. Its cousin, the ondes martenot, was featured in one of Groening’s favorite classical pieces — the “Turangalîla-symphonie” by Olivier Messiaen — which would inspire the name for a lead character in “Futurama,” Turanga Leela.

So, when composer Alf Clausen was recruited in the sophomore season of Groening’s popular new show about a yellow nuclear family and answered a request to use theremin — a small lectern with two metal antennae sticking out, which a musician plays by moving their hand in the space between — in the inaugural “Treehouse of Horror” episode in October 1990, Groening immediately recognized it was a fake; it was bouncing around the scale in a way a real theremin can’t do.

“And [Clausen] admitted, yeah, it wasn’t a theremin; it was a keyboard,” Groening recalls. “And it took many years for us to get a real theremin. The downside of the theremin is that it can’t play all the notes — but it’s got a feel to it that is so great.”

Clausen quickly became a fixture of “The Simpsons,” scoring every episode from that first “Treehouse of Horror,” now an annual Halloween tradition, all the way through the end of the 28th season, which wrapped in 2017, as well as composing many unforgettably funny songs with the show’s writers. Groening often referred to Clausen as the show’s “secret weapon.”

A scene from “Treehouse of Horror XXXVI,” this year’s Halloween episode of “The Simpsons.”

(“The Simpsons” & 20th Television)

The show’s producers were always pushing to save money, Groening says, and to have the show scored with synthesizers and a drum machine — par for the course for TV music in the 1990s. But Groening felt differently. “I always thought that the music really helped the show in a way, because I thought the animation was kind of … primitive,” Groening punctuates the word with a laugh, “and I thought, man, though, if we have great orchestral music backing up these goofy drawings, it’ll mean: ‘Hey, we really meant it!’ And Alf got that right away.”

Groening was none too happy, then, when Clausen was fired by Fox in 2017. The official reason stated was the high cost of recording every episode with a live orchestra; but the veteran composer, who had previously scored TV series like “Moonlighting” and “ALF” (no relation), was 76 when he got the boot, later suing Disney and Fox over age discrimination. (Clausen died earlier this year at age 84.)

Enter Bleeding Fingers Music, a composer collective founded in 2014 by Hans Zimmer, Russell Emanuel and Steven Kofsky that has grown from its original six composers to a stable of 26. Zimmer had been a longtime go-to for “Simpsons” executive producer James L. Brooks, and he won over a skeptical Groening with his zany score for “The Simpsons Movie” in 2007.

With a composer void, Brooks approached Zimmer about taking over the series, and Zimmer proposed Bleeding Fingers — whose credits at that point included several entries in the “Planet Earth” series and various History Channel documentaries and reality shows.

Russell Emanuel of Bleeding Fingers.

(Kevin Shelburne)

“It took a long time for the decision to be made,” says Emanuel, a cheeky Brit who got his start making soundalike rock albums in the 1980s and co-formed Extreme Music in 1997, a music library company that produced EDM tracks for shows like “Top Gear.” Zimmer was an early contributor to Extreme Music, and in 2001 the company moved into his vast Remote Control Productions campus in Santa Monica.

“It was taken very seriously,” Emanuel adds. “The first I knew about it was Hans calling me into his room and going, ‘We’ve got “Simpsons.” Don’t f— it up.’”

It was an awkward arranged marriage for Groening — and a “baptism by fire” for Emanuel and his cohort. They had an ample three weeks to tackle their very first episode, a “Game of Thrones” parody titled “The Serfsons,” which featured some theremin solos. Groening asked if it was a live theremin. It was not, the new composers sheepishly replied.

“He could hear it immediately, and completely called us out on it,” says Emanuel. “We had to go back and redo that whole thing. There were two or three big issues for him — but, you know, that was part of us learning the language.”

On a recent Friday morning on the Fox scoring stage, just around the corner from Groening’s office of nearly four decades, the “Simpsons” creator was smiling as a live orchestra recorded the score for Sunday’s new “Treehouse of Horror” episode (streaming next day on Hulu). There was a woodwind virtuoso, Pedro Eustache, making wild and beautiful sounds in an isolated booth with his arsenal of flutes — and out on the stage there was a real, live theremin.

Running the session was Kara Talve, a young but dominant digit of Bleeding Fingers who has been the principal composer on “The Simpsons” since Season 30; this is her sixth “Treehouse of Horror” episode. After graduating from Berklee College of Music, she took an assistant job at Bleeding Fingers — mostly, she says, because she wanted to work on “The Simpsons.”

Kara Talve of Bleeding Fingers, who has been the principal composer of “The Simpsons” since Season 30.

(Sage Etters)

“But I had to convince Russell that I could do it,” Talve says, sitting in her studio next to her boss. “I don’t think he trusted me yet. But also: Why would he, because I was like 5 years old.”

It’s quickly apparent how self-deprecating and silly they both are — Emanuel recently got a tattoo of a Spotify code that, when scanned, triggers Justin Timberlake’s “SexyBack” — but also how seriously they take this job.

“The responsibility of working on a show like this, we don’t take it lightly,” Talve says. “And because I was so intrigued by the show, and I really, really wanted to work with Russell on ‘The Simpsons,’ I went back and I listened to those old episodes — because I want to honor the musical language that Alf left, and that Danny Elfman left.” (Elfman composed the iconic theme song, which Emanuel and Talve consider “the heart of the show.”)

“And it’s a very specific palette,” she adds. “Like, not to get too nerdy about it, but there really is this harmonic language that’s only in Springfield.”

There are other, subtle ingredients to a good “Simpsons” score: For instance, the music should (usually) duck out of the way for the verbal or visual punchline. And the show has always overflowed with pop culture references and spoofs, which requires an almost bottomless well of musical knowledge. That’s one area where having two dozen other composers working in the same building comes in handy.

“There’s this adaptability that you have to have on this show,” says Talve, “and it’s every genre under the sun, and you kind of just have to figure out how to do that. And Russ was a big part in teaching me, because he’s the king of production music.” She adds that the composers in the collective also play a variety of instruments, so “I can just ask them to come in and play this line, because we can’t sell it to the showrunners if it sounds too fake.”

The average “Simpsons” episode has between five and 10 minutes of score — which might sound like easy street.

“The amount of starts is very challenging,” Talve says. “And it is deceiving. People go, ‘Five minutes? Oh, you’re just doing a bunch of stings’ or whatever. But I want to debunk this because it’s actually way harder, for me personally, to do 30 short cues for one episode than to have one long cue that’s five minutes because the amount of emotional turns that the music has to have, and that you have to hit all this stuff within 10 seconds — it’s actually really frickin’ hard.”

(In 2014, Clausen told me he always joked that “I can make you feel five ways in 13 seconds.”)

The Simpson family in a segment from this year’s “Treehouse of Horror.”

(“The Simpsons” & 20th Television)

Most episodes are recorded with small ensembles at the Bleeding Fingers facility, but the “Treehouse of Horror” chapters are special; they tend to have wall-to-wall music, and the producers splurge on a full orchestral session at Fox — just like the old days.

This year’s anthology spoofs “Jaws,” “Late Night With the Devil” and “Furiosa.” Talve’s score bobs and weaves accordingly, from big brassy horror to eerie synths to world percussion and a custom-made plastic flute.

Groening, who was full of praise for Talve’s “Treehouse” score, has gradually warmed to the Bleeding Fingers team approach — viewing it less like a factory churning out product and more like the way animators work.

“The nature of animation, with maybe two or three exceptions in the history of the medium — it’s all a collaboration,” Groening says. “We’ve got a lot of ‘Simpsons’ writers, we have a lot of voice actors, a lot of animators, a lot of musicians. I mean, one of the great things about that particular session was that these are some of the greatest musicians in Los Angeles, playing amazing music.”

He even wishes people could witness it in person.

“There should be live concerts of this music because it is so much fun to listen to,” he says.” And it gets a little constrained, you know, when it’s supporting goofy animation — but as music, it’s really fantastic.”

A WOMAN has been rushed to hospital with a head wound after she was attacked by a vicious seagull.

Lesley Wright, 70, was left with a bleeding scalp that required medical attention after being attacked by the sea bird.

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She was walking to a neighbour’s house in Moray in Scotland when the gull swooped in unprovoked and hit her in the back of the head.

Lesley was left dazed and in pain by the random attack and went to seek medical attention.

The attack resulted in a nasty scar and a bald patch with Lesley now questioning why seagulls are a protected species.

“I felt an almighty whack on the back of my head,” said Lesley.

“I didn’t know it was a seagull at the time – not until I heard it squawking after it had done it.

“Next thing I knew my head was bleeding.

“It wasn’t a big cut, but it was bleeding a lot with it being a head wound.”

The attack occurred near the home of a lash technician, Selina Ho, who Lesley had been on the way to visit.

Lesley, wanted to avoid bleeding in Selina’s home and attempted to call her.

Thankfully, a bystander intervened and knocked on Selina’s door for Lesley.

Selina brought Lesley water, a chair, and some towels to mop up the blood before the pair rushed to Dr. Gray’s Hospital.

Lesley said: “I didn’t want to go into Selina’s house with my head dripping with blood and get blood everywhere, so I tried to phone her to come out.

“At that point, a lady came out of her car to check I was alright, and she went in and got Selina, who came out with water and a towel and a chair to sit down on.

“We sat there until the bleeding stopped, and then Selina looked at it and said I’d better go to hospital to get it seen to, especially with it being a seagull.

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“She drove us to the accident and emergency department, where they glued it together.

“It was quite a small cut, but with a head wound, they bleed a lot.”

Thankfully, the wound did not require stitches – but Lesley was left with a nasty scar and a bald patch, which she says is now growing back.

Lesley said the attack left her uneasy around gulls, she has begun to question why the species is protected.

“If I’m out, and I see seagulls or a chick around, I tend to start looking up in the air to make sure none are coming near me,” she said.

“I’m very wary around seagulls now.

“I’ve seen quite a few incidents where they’ve been eating sandwiches out of people’s hands on the high street, and my husband says they always go for the dog at the top of the street.

“I do wonder why they’re a protected species – they’re not nice to look at, and all you can hear at three or four o’clock in the morning is them squawking.

“People call them flying rats – so why are they protected?”

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For much of the first 30-plus years of its existence, hardcore music was, for the most part, predictable. While there were outliers such as Bad Brains and Orange 9mm, many acts never veeredfar from the sound set in place by bands like Minor Threat in the early 1980s. Subgenres like metalcore (and other styles of music with “core” added) blossomed into their own scenes and sounds, but the central tenets of hardcore remained fairly constant — often with hordes of angry fans deriding anything that stepped too far in one way or another.

But over the last five to 10 years, the latest generation of musicians from punk rock’s slightly more aggressive cousin has expanded into new sonic territory. Bands like Baltimore’s Turnstile, Kentucky’s Knocked Loose and Santa Cruz’s Scowl have pushed the genre in new directions — gaining acclaim and popularity outside the hardcore scene, sometimes at the expense of its die-hard fans.

“It’s very awesome to be a part of that wave,” Knocked Loose vocalist Bryan Garris says. “I think there are a lot of bands that are bringing in new things and opening a lot of doors for everybody else. It’s like the generic saying, ‘A rising tide raises all ships.’ I truly believe there’s room for everybody to win, so it feels really good that all these brand-new opportunities are opening for everyone. You see younger hardcore bands really going for it right off the bat, and we’re very fortunate to be a part of the era that’s taking it to new heights.”

That’s why it’s only fitting for Knocked Loose to be headlining this weekend’s Sound and Fury Festival, bringing two full days of the best modern hardcore to Exposition Park. Since its inception in 2006, Sound and Fury quickly established itself as the event for hardcore and hardcore-adjacent music (from the heavier side of emo bands like Anxious to more extreme, metal-leaning acts) first in Los Angeles and then across the country. Just as the festival’s lineup and footprint has expanded both in size and musical variety over the years, Knocked Loose has seen its own popularity skyrocket as the band has continued to push the boundaries of what hardcore could be.

“From a sonic perspective, all these bands bringing in new influences to hardcore was pretty polarizing at first,” Garris says. “You had all these bands that toured and participated in the hardcore world but didn’t sound like a traditional hardcore band — and people really made that extremely controversial for an annoying amount of time. Once that barrier was broken, it allowed for so many unique artists and bands to bring new things to the table. Bills and touring packages became more diverse, and I think the coolest thing is when you put a tour package together that makes sense on paper but sonically makes no sense at all. It keeps things interesting and doesn’t create such a monotonous atmosphere at a show.”

Kentucky hardcore band Knocked Loose headlines this year’s Sound and Fury Festival

(Brock Fetch)

For Knocked Loose, one of the biggest steps outside of “traditional hardcore” it could possibly take was collaborating with pop-turned-metal artist Poppy on last year’s “Suffocate” — a gamble that paid off handsomely, introducing the band to a whole new audience and earning the group its highest-charting single and a Grammy nomination for metal performance. It’s a track that Garris still considers “definitely one of [his] favorite songs” while also allowing the band to get “weirder” and experiment in ways it might not normally consider.

While the band is already considering how it can continue to push the envelope even further without losing what makes Knocked Loose work at its core, the group is mindful of its history in the hardcore scene both as fans and artists. No scene is quicker to disown an act for its commercial success, and Garris (along with guitarists Isaac Hale and Nicko Calderon, bassist Kevin Otten and drummer Kevin Kaine) is fully aware of the line the band walks.

“We’ve never been writing a song and felt like we had to check in with how [hardcore fans] would feel about it, but when it comes to how we present the band, that’s where we keep hardcore in mind,” Garris says. “That’s where we come from and what we’re used to. Even though we know the band is obviously not going to be playing crazy small DIY, no-barricade hardcore shows anymore, it allowed us to create an experience on a much bigger stage. Then we do things like play Sound and Fury or put hardcore bands that we like on our bills because we still feel very passionately about these things. We’re very fortunate to be able to play these massive shows and have conversations about [pyrotechnics] and lights, but we’re still hardcore fans and that’s never changed.”

With acts like Knocked Loose, Scowl and England’s Basement on the bill this year, Sound and Fury continues to show why it’s arguably America’s preeminent hardcore festival, bringing together dozens of rising bands with just enough nostalgia acts (such as this year’s Forced Order reunion and Poison the Well) to remind the younger generations of those who came before. It’s a lineup you won’t see anywhere else, with a DIY hardcore vibe that fit just as well when hardcore fans and artists Sean Riley, Robert Shedd and Todd Jones held their initial event at the Alpine in Ventura 19 years ago.

“There are a lot of festivals in the mainstream rock atmosphere where the lineups are essentially the same,” Garris says. “For example, two years ago or so, every major rock fest in America was headlined by Metallica. That’s no diss at all, but Sound and Fury is such a different thing and the lineups feel so organic and exciting. They’re very good about scratching an itch that you didn’t know you had.”

“I think [hardcore fans] are seeking more context than what they’re getting from the mainstream — and since most of the people here arrive through that filter, it makes for a very open and welcoming space,” Riley adds. “So whether it’s being straightedge and eschewing drugs and alcohol, or whether you are someone who likes wearing corpse paint in public, or you’re a person who likes to dance at shows, this is a place you can come and be yourself without judgment. Combine that with hardcore shows being, in my opinion, the rawest form of live-music experiences you can find, it’s a freeing experience.”

Although Riley is the only one of the three original founders still working on Sound and Fury — currently teamed with Martin Stewart and Madison Woodward — he’s made sure to keep it as true to the hardcore ethos as possible year after year. Despite numerous venue changes and growth that many corporate festivals could only wish to have, Sound and Fury today is as instrumental to and beloved by the hardcore scene in Los Angeles and beyond as it’s ever been. It’s found a way to speak to multiple generations of hardcore kids (and adults), and now some of its biggest fans are the ones onstage.

“[Sound and Fury] has never been our ‘day job,’ but more of something we do in our off time that can hopefully inspire people — knowing how empowering and meaningful this DIY world has been for us and our lives outside of this music scene,” Riley says. “We’ve seen attendees start bands that play the fest, put out zines that they sell at the fest, start businesses or become food vendors that operate at the fest, and even people who now help us run the fest and have actual ownership stakes in the festival. Seeing it grow year after year in a very organic way really validates our approach and hopefully means it’s serving its purpose.”

“When we were preparing our year, [Sound and Fury] was one of my most anticipated shows of the year because I am such a fan of the festival,” Garris adds. “I’ve gotten to watch the festival grow from a fan’s perspective, and I remember going to the fest when it was like 1,000 people total. To see what it is now is amazing. It’s setting the bar for hardcore every single year and taking it to new places, because it was never supposed to be that big. The people that put it together care so much to protect the festival and to scale it to these unimaginable places — all while keeping it feeling DIY and like a hardcore festival. We’re just so excited to be a part of it.”

Or, as Scowl vocalist Kat Moss put it, “I would argue Sound and Fury is the best hardcore festival ever.”

Wimbledon mixed doubles champion Sem Verbeek says his “heart is bleeding” over a change in format at the US Open that means he and partner Katerina Siniakova will be unable to play there together.

The duo beat Britain’s Joe Salisbury and Brazilian partner Luisa Stefani 7-6 (7-3) 7-6 (7-3) in the final on Centre Court on Thursday.

The US Open will hold its mixed doubles competition as a standalone event before the start of the Slam from this year onwards in an attempt to attract top singles players to participate.

Several eye-catching partnerships have been announced for the new-look event, including British number one Emma Raducanu teaming up with two-time Wimbledon champion Carlos Alcaraz.

But it means the vast majority of doubles specialists will miss out on playing in the mixed competition in New York.

“It’s a shame they decided to do it,” Czech Siniakova, the world number one in women’s doubles, told BBC Sport.

“I think it’s a marketing step, but they are taking [away the] chance of doubles players.”

Dutchman Verbeek agreed, adding: “As two athletes that would love to play it, it’s a shame to obviously know that we can’t.

“I’m not going to actively root against it for it not to be a success. The positive I can think of is that there’s going to be more people that can see the top single stars earlier in the tournament when they are maybe a bit more accessible to the public.

“But as a doubles athlete, my heart is bleeding.”