An Interview with Chris Thomas

Chris Thomas is a composer for film, video games, and theme parks who also writes vibrant, story-driven music for young string players through Alfred Music. Splitting his life between Bend, Oregon and Los Angeles, he has been publishing with Alfred for about twelve years — a relationship that began, improbably, with a chance airplane conversation with Soon Hee Newbold and grew under editor Brian Balmages. For Chris, every piece starts with a story.

Q: How did you first discover your passion for composing?

This was a two-part discovery for me. The first was a very memorable moment in 5th grade: walking home from school, I realized I was authoring the musical noise bouncing around in my head. I didn’t know it was called “composing” yet, but the realization was big. The problem was, I was obsessed with cinema and wanted a future in that industry. My talent was music, but my heart was in film, and I didn’t know what to do with that. Then one glorious day, the next realization hit: I watched The Nightmare Before Christmas and discovered that Danny Elfman had written original music for the film. There it was — a musician living in service to a story. It immediately became clear what my life’s purpose was.

Q: Who has shaped how you think about music?

So many people! From my parents, who encouraged me to follow my musical interests, to my first piano teacher, who guided me in exploring and capturing my original ideas, to the composers (and filmmakers, in my case) whose work made me want to pursue this for the rest of my life.

Q: What was the first piece you wrote that made you think, “I might actually be onto something here”?

Instead of writing a book report, my 8th grade English teacher allowed me to retell a story through music. We had just gotten our first family synthesizer, capable of stacking 16 MIDI instruments, and I used it to mock up a full orchestral version of the story. My dad later told me that piece convinced him I might actually have some potential. From that moment on, he worked tirelessly to connect me with mentors and teachers who could guide me forward.

Q: What’s the hardest creative problem you’ve ever had to solve in your work, and how did you get through it?

Three years ago I wrote a piece called “Echoes of Light.” I’m still not sure I ever fully solved it, but I saw it through. The goal was to mimic the way light bounced between Los Angeles skyscrapers; creating that effect meant building tiny, precisely timed rhythmic figures across the ensemble to simulate motion in a stereo field, while still maintaining a musical throughline. It became months of slow, tedious drudgery and experimentation. The only way through was to stay locked on the effect I was chasing and refuse to settle for something easier. Some ideas just demand that kind of persistence.

Q: How has your compositional voice changed over the years? Is there anything you used to believe about writing music that you’ve since changed your mind on?

Like most artists, I think you discover your voice over time. As you move away from trends and look inward, you find the most meaningful source of creativity. Leaning into my own life path produced the best results. I started with gospel and Americana, spent years with Balinese gamelan, and then built a career in film scoring. All of those influences eventually fused into something personal. We all have that voice — it just takes time to uncover.

Q: Do you have a favorite piece on Alfred.com? What was the spark behind it?

Oh, I’d have to say “Graveyard Shift.” It really reflects my wacky musical personality: sliding strings, pipe organ, harpsichord, theremin — all my favorite things. The funny part is I didn’t come up with the concept. While visiting as a guest clinician in Kansas City, a group of string teachers swept me into a car and out to dinner and started pitching ideas for a new piece. They were especially interested in one that could teach young string players to shift from first to third position. Someone suggested a spooky piece called “Graveyard Shift.” That was brilliant, and I started sketching it that night.

Q: If there was a soundtrack for your own life right now, what piece would it be?

Well, I spend my days writing soundtracks, so whatever I’m working on tends to become the soundtrack to my life. But if I had to match something to my inner world, which is rather chaotic, it would be Regis Campo’s “Dancefloor with Pulsing” for theremin. Seriously, look it up.

Q: Where are you based, and how does your environment influence your work — or does it?

I’ve had a double life in Bend, OR and Los Angeles, CA for many years now. Since the pandemic, my tether to Southern California has stretched quite a bit, and I’m able to live mostly in the Oregon mountains now. It’s had a huge impact. I’ve traded traffic hours for more flexible days and more creative space. What used to be lost to commuting is now spent hiking and reflecting. My clients have noticed a shift in the quality of my work, and more of my voice has emerged. I’ve given up some professional connectivity, but gained a lot in authenticity.

Q: How do you spend most of your working hours: composing, teaching, performing, or some mix of all three?

Composing, without question. Film, video games, and theme parks run on production schedules, not creative ones. It’s constant revisions, new notes, and rewriting cues. When I can, I love jumping back on cello and playing with an orchestra, but most days are long and intense. I wouldn’t wish the hours on anyone, but I do love the circus.

Q: Where did you study, and how much of what you do today traces back to your formal training versus what you figured out on your own?

I studied primarily at the University of Oregon and the University of Southern California (with a few political science detours along the way). My training leaned heavily into old-school counterpoint, more than most programs, which really stuck with me. A lot of what I write now was developed on my own, but that intense foundation in voice-leading continues to shape my writing, especially for strings and choir. For those skills, I am forever grateful!

Q: Did you grow up in a musical household, or did music find you some other way?

I grew up in a very musical household. My parents are both musicians, and my siblings followed suit — my brother and I now work in music full-time. Most musicians I’ve met forged their way into music under protest from their families; encouragement and support was hard to come by. My story is the complete opposite. I had a family of cheerleaders encouraging me every step of the way. I know how lucky that is.

Q: How long have you been publishing with Alfred, and how did that relationship start?

It started about twelve years ago when I happened to sit next to Soon Hee Newbold on a flight to Seattle. How cool is that! I’m such a big fan. We had a great conversation about music and our lives as composers and string players. Soon after, she shared my music with the rockstar composer Brian Balmages, who became my first editor. When he launched a new label at Alfred, I followed. Brian has been my home base ever since, and he’s had a huge impact on my growth as a composer. He singularly shaped my career in the publishing world, offering a lifetime of wisdom and skill to help me craft better music for our audiences. For this, I will be forever grateful!

Q: Outside of composing, is there another role in music — educator, clinician, performer — that’s been just as central to who you are?

I really enjoy the educational side of music. I’m not a full-time instructor, but I occasionally teach graduate courses, work as a clinician, or conduct regional or all-state ensembles. I had so much support growing up that I feel a strong responsibility to give that back. Honestly, I fear my very karmic alignment depends on repaying a rather large kindness debt! Nothing makes me happier than encouraging young musicians.

Q: How has the music education publishing world changed since you started, and how has that shaped what you write?

There was already a shift underway when I entered the field, moving away from rigid, purely pedagogical writing toward something more personal and musical. Instead of exercises disguised as music, there’s now a focus on music that’s genuinely engaging and educational. My editor has always encouraged me to lean into my quirks, prizing my uniqueness over pedagogical orthodoxy. As with other composers in the catalog, he encourages us to maintain an original voice, to further broaden the musical personalities available to young musicians. Today, orchestra music is fun, vibrant, and far more diverse. It’s both a beautiful and seismic shift.

Q: What’s a type of piece or repertoire gap you think the industry still hasn’t figured out yet?

I’d love to see more accessible integration of electronics and multimedia. Coming from film and video games, that’s a natural way for me to think about music — blending live performance with pre-recorded sound, spatial audio, and visuals. It’s getting easier to implement all the time, and I’d love to help make those experiences more widely available. You know, I think I’ll get working on that one right away!

Q: What do you want your body of work to add up to — is there a throughline you’re consciously building toward?

For me, music has always been storytelling. Most of my work — in film, games, theme parks — is narrative-driven, and that carries into everything I write. I rarely start with a musical idea alone; it usually begins with character, place, or tone. So far, I think it all adds up to a collection of small musical stories. When I’ve finally written my last note, I’ll be content knowing I lived as a musical storyteller.

Q: Is there a favorite piece of yours that may not be your most popular work but resonates really strongly with you?

I’d have to say Rainfall in Vernazza. It’s probably my least popular work in the catalog, which is fine — that kind of composer-audience disconnect is normal. The piece came from a fleeting moment. Sitting in a small café in Vernazza, I watched a woman stare longingly out over the ocean. As a light rain began to fall, others gathered inside, and I noticed the same quiet, comfortless expression pass across their faces. Someone mentioned it was the first rainfall of the season. That shared, unspoken melancholy stayed with me, and took shape in the form of that song.

Browse Chris’s titles on Alfred Music and bring something meaningful to your next concert.

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