Words by Owen Danoff

The success of Carlos Rafael Rivera flies in the face of the idiom, “Those who can’t do, teach.”

The award-winning composer has taught at University of Miami’s Frost School of Music since 2010, where firsthand experience allows him to enlighten students on the film industry as well as composition. Rivera was still teaching in 2014 when he worked with director Scott Frank on A Walk Among the Tombstones and began a relationship that would win him his first Primetime Emmy for the series Godless. The third collaboration between the pair, The Queen’s Gambit, won Rivera his second Emmy, plus his first Grammy Award.

Since then, Rivera has only picked up steam. In 2023 and 2024 alone, Rivera has scored the films Chupa and Ezra, Apple TV+’s Lessons in Chemistry, Netflix’s Griselda, AMC’s Monsiuer Spade, and the newest season of the hit MAX comedy Hacks (for which he has admittedly ceded some of his duties to co-composer David Stahl). Through it all, Rivera is quick to reflect on his hardscrabble journey as a film composer, which involves a trial by fire on a borrowed computer, and reveal he still feels as though he hasn’t “figured it out.”

But Rivera’s music speaks for itself. Whether scoring the real-life exploits of a drug lord with operatic grandeur for Griselda, painting southern France in a wistful noire sound palette for Monsieur Spade, or building biogenesis through intricate layering for Lessons in Chemistry, the composer’s thoughtful approach elevates each of his projects. What began as a conversation about Rivera’s work on Netflix’s biological drama series Griselda evolved into a larger discussion about capturing the purest form of an idea, building a sound out of budgetary and time constraints, and the entrepreneurial spirit that up-and-coming composers need to foster. Maybe it’s the teacher in him, but Rivera can’t seem to help but impart gems. 

The last time you spoke with Composer Magazine, you talked about reading the book for The Queen’s Gambit in preparation for that project. How much did you look to real sources for Griselda?

I grew up in Miami, so the story of Griselda was known amongst us Latino folks. We knew that this lady had come from Colombia and she built Miami. 1970s Miami was really kind of built by the money that she brought in. Maybe I'm exaggerating, but that was my understanding. Also, there was a movie that came out, I think in the 1990s or early 2000s, called Cocaine Cowboys, which was about her. So, I was very aware of the story, and I knew there had been attempts at it.

When this came up, it was really [that] the Narcos folks were going to make it. I was all in because I loved what they did, the level of work they were making, and the way in which they told the story. Andy Baiz is the director and Eric Newman is the producer, and they nailed so many things. It felt like it was obviously in their wheelhouse, and it was a larger-than-life story. I had to do it.

I read that an initial source of inspiration for you was Scarface, and in early discussions you were talking about synths. Is it typical for you to try a lot of different things before landing on a final sound? 

Yeah, of course. All you're doing is trying to find a way in—and a way in that they approve. When they know what they're doing, they're pretty strong minded about it, and that's the cool thing. In Griselda, it was Andy Baiz who really wanted to try Giorgio Moroder stuff. It was very clear to do synth scores. It's of the time—it played into it. Obviously, Scarface is a legendary, epic larger-than-life story. But he also sent me another playlist of classical music, and I just freaking loved it. We talked about the idea of it being operatic, and it made sense to me when I'd see the speeches Griselda would give. It felt like one of those massive dramas from opera. That’s where the harpsichord idea was born. Then, it was about scoring the larger-than-life character, so we went over the top immediately.

He sent me the opening scene, and he said, “This doesn't need music. I just want you to see it and get a sense of the character and what she looks like, because she looks different.” I was like, “Okay, okay,” and then as soon as she walks in during the opening scene and shows her hand and it has blood on it, I was like, “I have to hit that [feeling].” I started singing into my phone. Whatever I sang into my phone, I brought it to the piano, and then I sent it back to him and went, “I don't know, man. Just check it out.” He was like, “I love it.” The fact that he did that—that doesn't happen. It never goes that well that soon. But it wasn't because it was quick; it was because we'd been talking for months before I wrote anything.

You didn’t send him a voice memo, right? 

No. I would love to, but if it was that way, it’d be the easiest gig in the world. I do the voice memo—I’ll sing to picture and react—and then I’ll put the audio into Logic. Because I’m also counting timecodes, when I bring the voice memo in, I can line it up. I put that in, and then I start playing it on the piano to see what the hell I was singing—which wasn’t usually what I was singing, but it gives me the shape. I fill that out, and then I orchestrate it and build it up, and they get the demo. It's a way in. It’s not “the way I do it”, but it’s a way I do it. I would say a third or maybe a fifth of the show is usually sung into the phone. Then, the rest is just playing badly on the piano.

Is that typical to all of your projects?

All of them, because it's the first reaction I'm having. I did it for Godless as well. I try to do it on the first time I'm watching it. I'll just press record on the voice memo when I'm looking at the SMPTE timecode, and then I start going. From that point onwards, I'm just reacting; the concept of iteration, but based on a natural reaction, is the way for me.

How big were your ensembles on Griselda, and how much are you doing in-studio versus MIDI?

I always assume that the demo is final, because I'm used to the constrained budget thing. I always think it has to sound like it's complete. I don't work in templates as much as I create a template as I'm doing the project. I'm always thinking:, “What do I need to build?” For example, on Griselda, there was a guitar. I played classical guitar, but then I had a MIDI guitar that blended with my real playing to make a unique sound so it wouldn't sound like the Gustavo Santaolalla single-note thing. You’re always kind of running into people, into sounds, and we wanted to have a very unique sound for this. The guitar was really serving the intimate story side of Griselda with her kids and stuff—but for the orchestra, I used all of the Spitfire Audio Symphony Orchestra and the Eric Whitacre Choir. 

I start to bring in the sample libraries and make the most realistic demo I can. So, for the more epic moments, there is a full orchestra with winds and brass and choir and harpsichord, and those are the things that start to color it. Then, once the cue is approved, we start setting recording dates. I go to the Budapest Art Orchestra. Péter Pejtsik is the conductor, and he’s amazing. I understand how he works, the flow, and how things go back and forth, with the aid of Jeremy Levy, who is the orchestrator getting the score and parts over there to them.

Those are the things that add depth to the demo, a profundity. But it’s never night and day. It’s never like, “The demo sounds like this, but when you hear the real thing, it's like, ‘Oh, my God.’” I always tell the producers or director, “If we go to the orchestra, you're going to feel it, but you're not going to hear it.”

You’re just going to feel a broader sense of sound than the demo. The demo ends up sounding a little flat compared to when you add the analog instruments, but it’s not as apparent to a non-musician. It’s important for them to know that going in, so I always make sure to let them know. That’s the process.

You said you use Logic? I’m always curious about what DAW someone uses.

I love it only because it's what I know. Logic was a necessity at the time when I had an opportunity to do my first project, which was for Adobe. It’s a long story, but the idea was that I was going to try to score my first thing, and I called a friend of mine who was a producer. I was like, “Hey man, I have this opportunity. What should I do?” And he said, “You should get Logic.” I go, “I have Cakewalk for my PC,” and he goes, “Dude, you have a PC? No, you need to get a Mac.” A friend of my wife's had an iMac that she wasn't using, so she lent it to me. I borrowed it, I installed Logic, and I just worked with Logic. I learned how to import picture. Without knowing anything of SMPTE lineup, I was just about getting by, and it got me through my first gig. It was a trial by fire sort of thing.

I feel like I can pick out your scores because they have a certain sound. How much do you think you’ve developed a sound based on the budgets of your projects?

I've developed a sound based on the reality I'm facing. I think everybody's sound becomes unique because of the environment they're forced to be in. I made demos sound really good because COVID forced me to have to make the best possible demo. And to speak to the people that are on my team, David Stal has been with me since Godless in 2017, Asuka Ito since The Queen's Gambit, and Ray Kim came in a few years ago. He was an ex-student of mine, actually. David Stal was really good at making demos sound better than what I was doing, so I learned from him, and that helped me improve my thing. Asuka helped me improve my thing, and the same for Ray. Everybody brings something to the table that helps one grow.

When COVID hit, we weren't going to record any real orchestra for The Queen's Gambit, so I was like, “Holy crap. We have to make this sound as good.” I knew that it was going to go out, so the game went up. It was just like, “Okay, let's do it again.” I would do a lot of redoes. Back then, I was doing a lot of starting over. Now, I've gotten so much better at the process, but I'm still improving. There are things I can't quite nail. There's some automation I can't get just right, and it feels fake to me. Whenever ‘fake’ comes up, we just try to nip it immediately. But then, you're limited to time constraints. 

Guitar is something I play, not great—the joke I make is that the older I get, the better I used to be—but I can edit myself to sound really good. I edit myself to do things very ably, because I know how to edit audio well. But everybody has their sound based on the experience they do and the work they do, and you just don't know better. I don't feel like I've figured it out, that's for sure. There's never been that much confidence, even though the music sounds confident a lot of times.

I think it’s great that you’re able to teach while you’re also working in the industry. How does being a working composer color your approach to teaching? 

What’s good about the teaching part—because I'm doing it now—is that all my mistakes are current. I’m sharing with them if I get let go of something, if something doesn't work out, if I make a mistake or I get revision number 24. I’m trying to share with them what’s happening, so they understand the reality versus the fantasy. When you're a student, it's like, “The world's going to be great, and I'm going to write art, and I'm going to change the world, and I cried when I wrote this cue so you should cry when you hear it.”

The idea of indifference is the most important thing to know. [The listener] will be indifferent to the thing, whatever it is. If they don't react the way you thought they would, that's the hardest lesson. For you to grow, say, “Okay, I think we could try something else,” even though, inside, you're cringing and upset and want to cry and scream and punch and whatever. The truth is this is very normal.

What, to you, makes you feel like a student is taking the right things away from your class?

I really think that what’s important it's the entrepreneurial way of thinking. I always think of working in the industry like arriving on an island, and the boat has burned behind you, and all you have is a knife and an undiscovered island — you're going to have to eat at some point. There’s no resources. You’ve got to make it happen. It's not just being a good composer. That’s kind of a tenth of it. It's being able to be organized and find networking opportunities and places to go on your own. Go to the producers. There's the Miami Film Festival. Even at the Frost School, there’s the School of Communication. There’s all these opportunities. There’s a film school—go over there. Why are you hanging here at the music school? Go over there and be where the directors are.

There are always a few who are already actively doing that—who are starting to work on a student film, and who are doing sound design as well. They take on more than they can chew, beyond just the paper that they're going to get and the degree. If you want to get a degree, that's fine. Some people want to get into education. I think that's great, because that's what I do, and it's what I love to do. But if you're thinking career-minded, you really should be thinking about the one knife you have and the island you have to take on. It's questioning how aggressive you can be in moving forward and seeking these opportunities?  Instead of going, “I wrote this. It's really good. Why isn't anybody paying attention…”

The hardest part is having that initiative, and it's weird for me to say that because I'm a person who, without a deadline, isn’t going to do anything. Self-motivation is a really hard skill to develop. But if the opportunity comes, you do everything you can to make it happen. It’s a calling.