Director Richard Bell writes... I'm not sure how to write about music, but then again, only really talented people do. I certainly don't know how to talk about music. Thankfully, when I worked with Bramwell on the score of Eighteen, I didn't need to. I could say, "this needs to be more... uh... purple," and he’d look at me with that gleam in his eye and he’d know what I meant. He didn't even bat an eye when I requested - for one sequence where two heroes thrillingly race down a hill - that "this needs to be more John Williams." We mostly worked at Bramwell’s old home, which incidentally, was also Jeff’s bedroom, Jenny’s living room, Pip’s parent’s dining room and backyard (many thanks, and apologies, to Mrs. Tovey). In one scene, Pip disrupts a garden party thrown by his estranged parents. The rooftop in which he makes his dramatic entrance was also the cottage Bramwell and I worked on Eighteen’s score. While other men have a "man cave": a big-screen and an Xbox and framed Canucks jerseys, Bramwell's sanctuary was like the Library of Alexandria: books, music books, everywhere, and peppered throughout, great tomes about history and the Wars. It was a fitting crucible. We worked on Eighteen's score surrounded by these things: Bramwell hunched over his baby grand like an alchemist, me laying on the carpet, looking at the ceiling... listening, thinking, frowning when something didn't feel right, leaping to my feet when it did. Sometimes I would go into the main house and come back with two mugs of tea. One time, I returned to the cottage and Bramwell was hammering out "In a Heartbeat", which would later become the most celebrated piece on Eighteen's playlist (and gave Bramwell and me a Genie nomination). We had decided the song needed to sound like an original piece from the Second World War years, something akin to As Time Goes By or I'll Be Seeing You... moments later, its melody was effortlessly being forged. "I'm just playing a heartbeat," Bramwell grinned. I went away and wrote the lyrics, and when I returned to the cottage a while later, I bashfully warbled it for Bramwell. He thought it was good, and then naturally fine-tuned it. Months later, we recorded the soundtrack at CBC Studios in Vancouver. I sat in a booth with people all around me fiddling with knobs and switches. Through a glass screen, I saw the musicians laid out before me. Sitting in my big swivel chair, I felt like I was at the helm of the Enterprise, with everyone looking back at me for guidance and feedback. Coming back to earth, what it really was was costing us $50, 000, for two days. There was no time for mistakes. Bramwell had raised the money himself with a more-than-generous contribution from the Telus Foundation. What composer procures their own financing for a film score? And then gets paid one dollar for composing and conducting it? Bramwell. On the second day, at the session with the entire symphony, Bramwell was in a car accident on the way to the studio (dog-tired, he had been rewriting all night). I remember meeting him out front, in the rain. He approached me looking fragile and shaken - but there was no question about cancelling the recording. The show had to go on. And it did. Bramwell brought Eighteen's music to life with authority, great humour, and tenderness. Really, I was just a witness. It was one of the most compelling creative experiences of my life. Creating the music with Bramwell was a private, personal and nurturing experience; getting it on the screen was a real baptism under fire. I won't go into it all here. There was agony and ecstasy. But it was an unforgettable education in film scoring. Later, when Eighteen entered the world, yawning and squinty-eyed, Bramwell was its proudest parent. Out of everyone involved, he promoted and actively championed it wherever he went. I will never forget his enthusiasm for my little movie. I will never forget his generosity of spirit and talent, or his unshakeable belief in me. I can't wait to work with him on the next one.