“There’s a demon in me!” Brendan McCreary sings. Next to him on stage at the 9:30 Club in Washington, D.C., there’s his brother, composer Bear McCreary, smiling at the news – there's a demon inside. Even at the most sinister of lyrics, no one can fault McCreary and the band for smiling as they play Bear’s lush concept album, The Singularity.
It’s a story full of fantasy, horror, and science fiction, which Bear has dreamed about since he was 16 years old. There’s even a song in the metal album he wrote at that age, titled “Escape from the Machines.” The album is just the beginning of The Singularity, which continues as a graphic novel and live concert experience.
The album – which features Corey Taylor, Faroese singer Eivør (Gods of War), Slash, and Serj Tankian, among many others – is a vast world similar to the games, films, and shows McCreary has scored: Battlestar Galactica, The Walking Dead, Rings of Power, Outlander, and God of War, all signature Bear works. The album isn’t without the composer’s ear and knack for horror, which includes Happy Death Day, Child’s Play, and 10 Cloverfield Lane.
Recently, McCreary spoke with Daily Dead about some of his favorite horror scores, his vision for The Singularity, and collaborating with the angelic Rufus Wainwright on a metal track.
Your office [on Zoom] looks great. What gear and fun stuff do you have in there?
Bear McCreary: I have the basics to be able to do what I do. The gear, the computers — they're all in that [other] room, so they're out of sight, out of mind. I've got my surround speakers, too, but then it's more about what gets my creative juices going. I've got this custom He-Man art here. I've got this piano over here, which has all the He-Man toys on it. This piano was in Battlestar Galactica, episode 419. I was on set coaching the actors, and all the props ended up in an auction. One of the producers bought it. It was in a prop house — it wasn't a great piano — but he bought it and raised his kid on it. Piano lessons and all that stuff for eight or ten years. Then he gave it to me when his kid grew up. So, it has ended up here. I like to surround myself with things that inspire me.
Excellent. To begin with “The Singularity,” you got Rufus Wainwright singing a metal track, which I never knew I needed in my life. How’d that collaboration happen?
Bear McCreary: "Type III," the track featuring Rufus Wainwright from The Singularity, is one of the more operatic, lyrical, and melodic songs on the record. My brother and I wrote it, along with a bunch of other songs, and we were in the process of looking for people to collaborate with. I've been a fan of Rufus Wainwright for his entire career. My wife, Raya [Yarbrough], she’s the one who introduced me to him. She's a huge fan — he’s one of her foundational inspirations.
I was at Sundance in 2020. A friend of mine, a music supervisor I’d done a film with, was hosting a private concert at the Sundance Film Festival: Rufus Wainwright in this tiny venue. I asked her if I could get in, and I sat there watching him sing just with piano. Because I was in that Singularity mindset, I suddenly thought, “Oh my God, he could totally sing on one of my metal songs.” He's got the expression, the power, and everything I look for in a singer.
So I went up and approached him and his husband Jörn — sort of ice cold. I think they were fans of The Walking Dead. Our friend came over and said, “This is Bear, he does a bunch of stuff,” and mentioned The Walking Dead. Suddenly they were like, “Oh, you do The Walking Dead? Tell me about that!” It was that simple. We got to know each other, hung out a lot, and early on in that relationship, I asked if he’d consider singing a song. I sent him the track, and he agreed.
But to think that Rufus Wainwright is singing on a metal song that also has the legendary drummer Gene Hoglan pounding away blast beats — that’s something I never would've thought would happen. But there it is, and the track’s beautiful.
When you were describing this hugely ambitious, decade-spanning concept for The Singularity – a three-part story, really – did that entice other artists?
Bear McCreary: Well, it did one of two things. It either compelled people to jump on board or compelled a very quick and polite “no thank you.” Because it’s a lot, right? It is a deluge of information. Ultimately, the thing that would sway someone to collaborate with me — if they weren't already a friend — was how the song made them feel.
If they felt they could bring something to it, then they’d usually try to get a sense of what I like to work with, either through speaking with me or with a mutual acquaintance. I've had a lot of friends vouch for me. Once you put those things together — that Bear’s cool to work with, you’re going to have fun, he knows what he’s doing, and the music is exciting — then people become a part of The Singularity.
The title of the album is funny, given it’s this mammoth album of all these influences and sounds.
Bear McCreary: I know. That isn’t lost on me.
What was guiding you throughout all this material, having it all come together as one complete album?
Bear McCreary: The thing guiding me was a deep emotional need to say something entirely on my own. Well, I did it with a large group of people, but I wanted to know what I had to say as an artist — separate from writing music for someone else’s story. I'd been scoring for 15 or 20 years by the time I started The Singularity, which became an obsession. I was learning something about myself, something that would escape me if I didn’t do this. That drove me to pull those songs together and start sending them to people to collaborate.
That collaboration became the second thing I got out of it. I loved working with people. And then the graphic novel came from a third impulse: to tell a story. I'm a narrative-driven person. Even when I put together a collection of tracks as an album, I listened to them back-to-back and thought, “Oh my God, there’s a story here — by accident.” I just can’t help it. So that’s what led to The Singularity graphic novel.
It was all driven by passion and a desire to learn something about myself, improve my life, meet new people, and explore new things. It allowed me to do all of those beyond my wildest dreams.
I did want to ask about 16-year-old Bear McCreary, because this album feels like a love letter to all the getaway art. What were you consuming when you were 16 – musically, comic books, horror movies — that really shaped your taste as a composer?
Bear McCreary: I was a consummate consumer of film, especially sci-fi, fantasy, and horror. But by the time I was 16, I was going to see everything. I was already doing deep dives into classics from the ’50s, ’60s, and ’70s, especially westerns and dramas.
I'd watch The Shadow in theaters and listen to Jerry Goldsmith’s score, then watch Chinatown and listen to Jerry Goldsmith’s score again. I was piecing it all together.
I loved comic books. I was a DC kid and grew up with The Dark Knight Returns and Watchmen and all that. It's almost tired how much everyone knows it now, but in the early ’90s, you had to go find that stuff.
Musically, it was film music. As a teenager, my heroes were John Williams, Elmer Bernstein, Jerry Goldsmith, Ennio Morricone, and Nino Rota. I started to understand rock through a cinematic lens, too. I discovered Guns N’ Roses because “You Could Be Mine” from Terminator 2. I saw The Wall, the movie, and discovered Pink Floyd. I discovered Queen from Highlander. I realized that rock, at that time, felt like film music to me.
When I found “November Rain,” my brain clicked: “Oh, I understand this. This is, like, John Williams.” But ironically, I didn’t listen to metal at all until much later. Really, not until the last 15 years. It was through personal connections and happenstance that I discovered metal, and to me, metal was the next level up.
You mentioned Jerry Goldsmith and John Williams— two of the best horror composers. Goldsmith’s Link score alone…
Bear McCreary: Link, bro! Oh my God, you win.
[Laughs] I don’t know if it’s a good movie, but the score is fantastic.
Bear McCreary: Brilliant.
What horror scores really speak to you?
Bear McCreary: First of all, Jerry Goldsmith won his only Oscar for The Omen. Think about it: if a filmmaker told their composer, “Write a ‘60s-style, upbeat, almost pop melody, then contrast that with a satanic mass.” I think a lot of composers would know what to do, but Jerry watched this movie and came up with: “This needs a satanic mass.” That alone idea? Oscar, please! One of my favorites.
The Thing by Ennio Morricone — I hate to say it – my favorite John Carpenter score that he didn’t write. Genius. Morricone took concepts from a genius, John Carpenter, and you get this interesting mix. Obviously, Carpenter had a massive influence, but there are these “other things” in there – pun intended.
Alien, Aliens, and oh, Alien 3 by Elliot Goldenthal. It is one of the greatest scores of the ’90s. A go-to for me for action-horror. How do you make an orchestra make a sound so aggressive and off-putting that it makes you uncomfortable? Elliot Goldenthal crushed it on Alien 3.
The old Hammer horror films — so many great ones. So many set the template for great horror scoring. The Exorcist, I mean, the use of “Tubular Bells.” Foundational. Oh, Bram Stoker’s Dracula by Coppola — amazing.
There’s a grandeur for most of these. My scoring for horror often tends toward subtle, like the first episode of The Walking Dead — it's so quiet. But when I look back at the horror scores I loved, there’s a bold muscularity to them that I find inspiring.
Oh, another one, Psycho by Bernard Herrmann — foundational. My Walking Dead main title reminds me of something… Psycho. When I look back at the horror scores I loved as a kid, there’s a bold muscularity to them that I find inspiring.
When you started co-writing and working on the graphic novel, what images were really important for you?
Bear McCreary: I was working with a brilliant writer, Matt Groom, based in Australia. He’s becoming a fixture in comics, and I got lucky to get him early in his career. He wrote this outline about a character who changes forms and is reborn into a new universe. The universe is destroyed usually after there's a harbinger of doom, this character with yellow eyes; we recognize the main character by their blue eyes. The outline was filled with fantastic imagery. He was imagining steampunk universe, dinosaur universe, sci-fi Blade Runner universe, Viking fantasy universe, just on and on and on. It was incredible.
I read it and I said, Matt, “I want you to take out every visual reference. I don't want to read any of this… yet. I want you to write a three person play that could be put up on a single black stage in a 99 seat theater. You get to play with three main characters – yellow eyes, blue eyes, and red eyes. I just want to read what their emotional arc is, what their conflict is at any given point. I want to know what their conflict is. In the end, what is learned?”
What was most important to me, it was not the imagery at all – it was the character arc. I'm a narrative person. We worked on that for a year. Finally, when I was reading this outline, and I'm moved and understood the dynamic, I said, “Matt, here we go. Put all the fantasy stuff back in – the dinosaurs, the robots, the zombies, vikings, the monsters – everything.” And then we started working with visual artists that could bring all that to life.
Do you see the live experience as a continuation of the story? A new chapter?
Bear McCreary: I view the live experience as a different lens through which to experience the songs and graphical. Seeing something live is the most incredible communal experience. We all come together to celebrate. I must say, on my Themes and Variations tour — including many pieces from The Singularity — I’ve had this moving experience with fans singing along to songs from the album. To be on stage in a foreign country, hearing fans sing a song my brother and I wrote — it’s a level of connection I’d never experienced before. And that is part of The Singularity, at least for me.
How cathartic is it to go from the solitude of composing to sharing the music live with audiences?
Bear McCreary: I’ve always performed live and in concerts, but it was never the focus of my life. For 20 years, I worked in studios, making recordings heard by, in many cases, millions. Despite that global audience, it’s not the same performing in front of people and getting the immediate energy back. That’s why I created The Singularity.
One of my first notes to myself in my phone said, write the kind of music you want to play live. At Battlestar Galactica concerts, some pieces worked live — like “All Along the Watchtower” or “Prelude to War” — others didn't do so well, because they were score cues contingent on the drama on-screen. So I started writing songs. I thought it’d just be me, my brother, a few friends playing The Whisky here in L.A. I never imagined debuting it at the Fonda Theatre with Slash on stage with me. Certainly I didn't imagine that, but that's where it started from because I craved that. I love being on stage, I love performing, and it's a part of my life that I need regularly.
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To keep up with Bear McCreary, including The Singularity album, graphic novel, and concert experience, visit:
A film journalist with over a decade of experience writing for Slash Film, The Credits, and High Times Magazine.
A film journalist with over a decade of experience writing for Slash Film, The Credits, and High Times Magazine.
