John Carpenter on the Music That Made Him a Horror Icon

John Carpenter knows that fear is a multisensory experience. The famed filmmaker has also composed and performed the scores for many of his own movies, including 1978’s Halloween, in which his panicked piano stabs are as disquieting as the film’s white-masked psychopath. Even when that horror classic’s killer is not seen, Carpenter’s minimal music enforces his omnipresence: Halloween’s concluding montage is simply a string of interior and exterior shots set to the inescapable theme, and almost 40 years later, it still gives chills.

In his role as a composer, Carpenter has created some of the most memorable film themes ever: The fact that you might hear The Fog or Escape From New York in your head before you picture them is unique to his tumultuous career. “It’s a compartmentalized part of me that does the music for movies,” Carpenter tells me. “I bring it out when I have to make a movie, then put it away again and enjoy my life, because otherwise I’m haunted by it.”

In the living room of a white, picket-fenced, one-story home in Hollywood that he uses as an office, the 69-year-old stirs from a reading chair and paces while talking about the sounds of his past. Wearing slim gray sweats and a loose blue T-shirt, he moves away from a framed poster of 1984’s Starman and past a figurine of Kurt Russell’s Escape From New York character on the corner of his mantle, reminders of his extensive filmography. An amiable curmudgeon, he speaks frankly and sometimes impatiently, but always with an underlying sense of humor. Regarding contemporary music at large, he’s unequivocal: “I don’t give a shit.” And when I fumble with the front door on my way out, the horror master can’t help himself. “You’re trapped!” he jabs. 

As the son of a music professor in 1950s Kentucky, Carpenter was forced to play violin at an early age. There was one problem, though. “I had no talent,” he admits. “None.” Instead, he transitioned to keyboard and guitar. By 26, he was composing music for his feature-length debut, 1974’s Dark Star.

But it wasn’t until 2015 that he released his first official album of non-soundtrack material. Created with his son Cody and godson Daniel Davies (whose father is the Kinks’ Dave Davies), Lost Themes is a collection of sinister, propulsive synth pieces that could summon a full moon at 2 p.m. After another original record and a few tours, Carpenter’s latest music project is Anthology: Movie Themes 1974-1998, a rerecording of his film compositions with modern synthesizers and audio equipment.

Carpenter’s most overriding quality, something that equally helped and hurt his career, is his decisive taste: He knows precisely what he does and does not like. As I learn, worthwhile things include the Beatles, first-person shooter video games (today he is playing Borderlands 2), and performing live music. Things that suck include Frank Sinatra’s voice, classifying Steely Dan as soft rock, and hallucinogens (“There’s no fucking way I’m going to do that”). This makes his sincerity about things he cares about feel more significant, maybe even indelible.

Ray Anthony & His Orchestra: “Dragnet” Theme

I heard this theme on the radio, and the scene was very dramatic. I knew it was a theme for a television show, but we did not have a television. I wanted a TV so badly. That’s why it stuck out in my head. It was a wish fulfillment, like: Why can’t I have a television set to watch these shows?

Domenico Modugno: “Volare”

I remember singing this song as a kid in 1958. It was the No. 1 song that year. It’s a stupid song, and I still cannot get it out of my head. I sing it when I take a shower, or when I’m walking by myself. It’s unbelievable—sometimes your brain allows something in, and you can’t get it out.

As a kid, I was out of place where I lived in Kentucky, so I hid in the movies. It was a fantasy world for me. I loved science-fiction and horror movies, and I would go all the time.

Skeeter Davis: “The End of the World”

My dad was a music professor, but he was also a session musician in Nashville, Tennessee, and he played on this particular song. It’s a pretty song. I don’t know what you’d call this. Country music? Pop music? [starts singing] “Don’t they know, it’s the end of the world…” I’m not going to sing this shit.

The Beatles: “Hey Jude”

In this period of time, I had just gotten to USC and was wandering around campus. I went into the student center, and there were the Beatles singing “Hey Jude” on television. The place was full. The Beatles were hated back home in the South, because John Lennon had put down Christ, but not out where I was going to school. I had to hide everything I did in the South, just because it was the Jim Crow South—it still is. I knew what was going on back then, it was everywhere. But now? Oh my god. That’s a wake-up call.

The O’Jays: “Love Train”

Pinball had come back after years of being on the wane, and there was an arcade right up here on Sunset Boulevard. So I was playing pinball the first time I heard “Love Train” by the O’Jays. I just started bopping along. My game got better as I was listening.

Warren Zevon: “Werewolves of London”

Peter Fonda introduced me to Warren Zevon once. I said, “Where did this song come from?” He said, “I was trying to write a dance record for the Everly Brothers, and I wrote this, and they didn’t do it, so I did it.”

As we were making Halloween, I remember that song playing over and over again in my head. It’s ridiculously funny. I mean, I’ve never heard a line like, “And his hair was perfect!” Why? The rhyme pattern, “Little old lady got mutilated late last night.” Just the tap-a-tap-a-tap-a-tap-pa-pa. It’s really unique.

I was also listening to Blue Öyster Cult’s “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper,” around this time and wow, what a song. They claim it’s a love song. Shit. It’s not a love song. It’s a suicide song. It’s about: Come on, don’t be afraid.

Toto: “Africa”

When I first heard this song, I thought, my god. The studio production is perfect. It’s an achingly beautiful song, and I had it at home on vinyl. It just made me feel alive—get up in the morning, have some coffee, let’s hear Toto. This was 1983, and my son was born the next year.

Belinda Carlisle: “Heaven Is a Place on Earth”

Belinda Carlisle, baby. She was a member of the Go-Go’s. I heard them, and then I heard her do this solo, and I really liked it. Around this time, I turned away from listening to music on the radio and started listening to political talk radio, because the music had changed. It started going toward stuff I didn’t care about. The great songs weren’t being written anymore. They had a lot of good songs in the ’80s, but it was the end of a particular time. They Live came out in 1988, and that movie was the scream in the night at the ’80s. Scream at Reaganism. Scream at conservatism. Then I got it out of my system.

Boyz II Men: “In the Still of the Nite (I’ll Remember)”

Boyz II Men was a great vocal group, beautiful singers. Probably still are. I’ve heard a couple of them in a commercial singing, and they sounded great. “In the Still of the Night” was an old song from the ’50s, and I’m a kid from the ’50s, and they did a great job with it. I didn’t listen to much else that year.

Elton John: “Candle in the Wind 1997”

The only reason I chose this is because it’s an old song. It’s a song I recognized and wanted to hear more than just two seconds of. It’s a song I liked that was about Marilyn Monroe. You can’t knock that. This version was about Princess Diana.

But, oh man, music from this era is not my stuff. It doesn’t speak to me. It’s like listening, in the old days, to Frank Sinatra—I hate his voice. It irritates me. I don’t want to listen to it. That was my parents’ stuff.

Dixie Chicks: “Not Ready to Make Nice”

They’re kind of a throwback band. They did this song after the whole thing blew up about them criticizing George W. Bush. They performed it on the Grammys, I believe. I love that song.

Alicia Keys: “No One”

I like this song because she did it; she’s better than the song is, I would say. Am I invested in these more recent years? Not at all. Everything in music had changed away from what I loved when I was younger. Occasionally, a great song will come out. But hardly ever.

Katy Perry: “Roar”

She’s a cool girl, a great performer, and she knows how to deliver a song. She just has an innate talent. It’s a girl empowerment song, and I appreciate that. I like that song. There you have it. You got it out of me.