It was an especially cool evening on the set of The Walking Dead, as it was the beginning film  week of Season 3 in the month of May.   The Senoia forest around us was now rich with green vegetation and the sounds of night dwellers and cicadas ruminating about.  There was a wetness in the air, as the somewhat chilling breeze swept across our faces.  The murky ponds below were alive with croaking frogs and lively water bugs, and an occasional owl could be heard in the distance.  We had just spent a long day capturing the scenes of Rick and his tattered gang storming the prison compound and slaying the indeterminate amount of ambling corpses.  The final shot had been fired, and now, in the still backlot at Raleigh Studios the cast and crew gathered in the lightless black of night.  This is where I was first touched by the inflamed spirit of Emily Kinney’s unaccompanied melodies.

I had first come on the show at the end of Season 2 when the zombies in the barn had just been slaughtered, and Sophia had been revealed as a found, but grotesquely turned walker.  Since I had only worked on the show for two episodes that year I really hadn’t gotten a chance to know Emily very well.  Yes, I had watched the shows which led up to this evening at the prison, but having not worked with Emily much, she was still quite foreign to me.  This beautifully pitched performance changed my connection with this great star.

As the boom operator I witness every take within every scene as a professional doing my job.  When installing or maintaining a wireless microphone on their person I bond with the actors in a more personal way.  It’s a warm and comfortable moment that I don’t take for granted.  I love getting to know them outside their focused performance time.  It’s quite special, that within the confines of a TV show filled with so much horrible death and suffering, that there is an even greater amount of shared camaraderie and love amongst us filmmakers.  Well, that night, amidst that campfire gathering of  Rick Grimes’  and his golden fire lit survivors, I witnessed harmonic greatness in the making.

Inside my headphones bellowed the crackling fire, the cicada accompaniment, and the tender spirit of an unusually talented girl from the corn field sheltered town of Wayne, Nebraska.  It was her rendition of a traditional Scottish and Irish song from the 18th Century, The Parting Glass, that whelmed me closer to this sweet and little known treasure who was living out the post apocalyptic life of Beth Greene.

The background zombies had mostly turned in their pay vouchers and gone home.  Only a few remained within the inner fences, snarling as Rick strolled by on watch.  I was most fortunate to be standing outside the sacred circle as Glenn, T-Dog, Herschel, and Lori, took hold of Beth, then Maggie singing “…Oh, all the comrades that e’er I had…”  I watched as Carol and Daryl folded in, and Rick sundered in to be present.  At the time I wasn’t aware of this parting ballad, but it took no time to absorbed the delightful cadence yet irregular punctuation of two talented performers sing a song that dates back further than Auld Lang Syne.

The song, and the scene, cut such a chord into the tone and story of that episode.  It was a time in the journey when terrible things had been forced upon the survivors, yet calmness and rest were now afforded.  It was a precious moment to treasure some feeble victories, and say goodnight to a new family within the fences of a somewhat safe haven of a defunct yard of a prison.  I knew then how the unique talent and spirit of a blond Emily Kinney had brought her to this moment.

As most long days of filming The Walking Dead, I had thought about when we would wrap, and how I still had a long drive home.  But, there are scenes like this one that make the difficulties of filming a post modern TV show quite a bit more enjoyable.  To listen to a song be recorded live is one thing, but to experience it within the surroundings of a deep dark forest with absorbing acoustics was another.  This evening, around that roaring campfire, with the golden hues bathing every character, was enlightening.  It, mixed with the solemn and well paced harmonies of Lauren and Emily, belied the magic that lies within great performers.

Of all the money that e’er I spent

I’ve spent it in good company

And all the harm that ever I did

Alas it was to none but me

And all I’ve done for want of wit

To memory now I can’t recall

So fill to me the parting glass

Good night and joy be with you all

Oh, all the comrades that e’er I had

They’re sorry for my going away

And all the sweethearts that e’er I had

They’d wish me one more day to stay

But since it falls unto my lot

That I should rise and you should not

I’ll gently rise and softly call

Good night and joy be with you all

As Herschel stated at the end of this extraordinary , “Beautiful”