Danny Elfman on Halloween and His Current Stage Show: ‘It’s Completely Crazy’

As the composer for films like Beetlejuice, The Nightmare Before Christmas and Corpse Bride, Danny Elfman’s name is nearly synonymous with Halloween. And though his most widely known work is probably The Simpsons theme, “This Is Halloween,” “Tales From the Crypt,” “Dead Man’s Party” and other creepy classics from Elfman’s pen have become a new soundtrack to late October.

Before Elfman brings his musical mayhem to the Bay Area on Sunday, Nov. 3 — a massive show spanning his work with Oingo Boingo, Tim Burton and more — he chatted with KQED about the spooky season, his inspirations and missing his longtime friend Pee-Wee Herman.

Interview has been edited for length and clarity.

First of all, Happy Halloween — this must really be your time of year. Do you decorate your house? I’m imagining your front yard looking like the album cover of Dead Man’s Party.

It used to! I lived for 17 years in a house in a nice, flat neighborhood. And my son Oliver, as a little kid, he took charge with decorating the house. It was completely done up. He took it really seriously; he called himself a director. We decorated every year.

But now I’ve moved and I’m in a house that has all these steps, up the hill, and we don’t get many visitors. It’s kind of sad, you know? But we had some good years of doing the house up every year.

Tell me a little bit about what people can expect from these shows you’re doing this weekend. How crazy are they?

It’s completely crazy. It’s something I put together a couple of years ago for Coachella. I pitched it as this mashup of everything — old songs, new songs, film stuff — in a way that made no sense whatsoever. Backstage, I felt like I was walking into a trainwreck of my own design, that was going to go off the tracks into a fiery blaze. It just seemed like the worst idea ever. What was I thinking?

And I went out there and did it. And I loved it! And then the second weekend, my God, it was like the crowd had doubled. So we just took that short set at Coachella, and this is the longer version of the same thing, with a rock band, a full 60-piece orchestra and a choir behind me. I call it From Boingo to Batman to Big Mess and Beyond. One third of it is new work; one third of it is my old work from 30, 40 years ago; and one third of it is film work, and it all just jumbles together in a crazy way. It makes no sense whatsoever. But neither do I.

Several years ago, after seeing Hans Zimmer and John Carpenter on tour, I thought: Are film composers the new rock stars? How do you feel about this resurgence of film composers, going on tour and playing big arena shows?

I started doing it 11 years ago, at the Royal Albert Hall in London, for a retrospective of Tim Burton’s film work. I put together 15 suites. It was my first time singing in almost 20 years. I didn’t know what the reaction was going to be, but it was such a warm response that I decided to keep doing it.

There was a point some years later where I saw Hans [Zimmer] backstage, and he goes, “I’m so happy you’re doing this. I’m going to do my own version of it.” And I said, “Great!”

I talk with other film composers, like Alexandre Desplat, and I go, “You know, it’s the only way you’re ever going to get a break.” You try to get a holiday, but you’re on a film schedule. The schedule shifts, and you go, “Well, I’ve had this holiday planned for a year,” and they go, “We all have holidays planned, you’re not leaving.” So this was a way to get me out of town, and it’s a contract, so when you go to a studio and say, “I’m going to be out of town,” they understand that, right? I honestly think it was just a way to get me out of town.

As a film composer, does your brain just start soundtracking random situations you find yourself in real life? Like, are you cracking an egg in the morning and suddenly hear a tuba riff to go along with it?

Just out of my own head, no. If I’m in the middle of a score and I’m deeply obsessed in it, I will get odd ideas in the middle of the night, or when I’m making breakfast — or more likely, unfortunately, when I’m driving the car.

Ideas hit you at the worst possible time. The Batman theme hit me flying on a 747 — the whole thing slammed into my head and it’s like, “My God, how am I going to remember all this?” And The Simpsons theme hit me in the car on the way home from meeting Matt Groening, where he showed me a pencil sketch of the opening. I had this concept driving home, and I remember racing home, running down the stairs to my studio, and I couldn’t talk to my wife, couldn’t talk to anybody. It was just like, “Can’t talk, can’t talk! I gotta get this idea down!”

I have to ask about Pee-Wee Herman — Paul Reubens — with whom you were so close, personally and professionally. It’s now been over a year since his death. What do you miss the most about him?

It’s just his spirit. On my birthday, I would get a barrage of crazy little videos all day long. And I love that Paul, Paul as well as Tim, is equally responsible for me having a film career. I didn’t understand that ’til later.

Tim knew of my band and we met and hit it off. But Paul had heard the work I’d done five years earlier on a midnight cult film for my brother called Forbidden Zone. And he wrote my name down and he said, “If I ever do a film, I have to call this guy.” And to my amazement, he kept that piece of paper. Five years later, sitting with Tim, he was like, ‘I have somebody we should call.’ So Paul is very much responsible for me having a 38-year, 110- or 120-film career behind me right now.

And I adored him. Towards the end of his life — I didn’t know was the end of his life — we bonded again when both of our mothers had dementia. It made me so glad to have the few years that I did have, with him onstage doing Nightmare Before Christmas. But I miss him terribly.

Danny Elfman performs ‘From Boingo to Batman to Big Mess and Beyond’ on Sunday, Nov. 3, at the Shoreline Amphitheatre in Mountain View. Details here.