Rachel Scott On Finding Her Frequency 

Fresh off of celebrating her three Young Arrows shortlists, Rachel is happy we weren’t speaking the day before. “I had a few too many” she laughs. Though disappointed she didn’t win, she tells me she’s just happy to be recognised and in the mix. “To be fair,” she says, “the winning work was so well done.” 

Rachel grew up just outside London in St Alban’s, in a house where music was everywhere. Her mum, a primary school teacher with a flair for melody, was “in a band once,” Rachel tells me, eyes rolling affectionately. “They weren’t a good band,” she insists, “but she played their three songs constantly.” Her mum loved harmonies so much she’d make Rachel sing the melody while she improvised over it in the car. “I had no choice,” Rachel laughs. “She’d literally say right, I’m doing harmony, you’re on melody.” 

Music was just part of the furniture. Piano lessons, jazz band, choirs, guitar. Her granddad played too - “very jazz pianist vibes”- but when it came to figuring out what to do with that love of sound, things got complicated. 

“I knew I wanted to work in music,” she says, “but I wasn’t good enough to be a musician.” She adds in a matter-of-fact way. “So I thought maybe I’ll go into music tech. Something behind the scenes.” Her teachers weren’t thrilled. “I went to quite an academic school,” she says. “When I told them I wanted to apply for music tech, they basically said no. It wasn’t a ‘proper’ subject.” 

Half-convinced to choose something safer, she landed at the University of York studying electronic engineering with music technology. “It confirmed that I’m not an electronic engineer,” she laughs. “But it did lead me to sound design.” 

In her second year, a module called Audio Visual Media changed everything. “It was basically sound design for film and TV, and I loved it.” Still curious, she stayed on for a masters in Sound Design for Film and Television. “It turned out to be the best decision” she beams. 

After travelling for a year, Rachel moved to London and landed a runner job at Grand Central Recording Studios, where she reminisces on the discipline and attention to detail that was drilled in. “You can’t unlearn that” she says. “You come out the other side with this instinct to never be sloppy.” 

It was also where she met Creative Director George Castle, who would become a guiding force in her career. When he joined No.8, he recommended her for a role there, and today, their professional paths have converged once again at Harbor. 

What she loves about her work now is the invisible magic of it. “My mum will watch something I worked on and say, ‘The music was amazing!’” Rachel laughs. “And I’m like, I didn’t do the music.” Jokes aside, there’s something she finds deeply satisfying in transforming silence into story. “It’s the best feeling when you play someone the offline - no grade, no effects, no sound - and you can tell they think it’s rough. Then you show them the final piece and it’s alive. It’s like you’ve added another dimension.” 

Her favourite part of sound design is the subtle details that most people don’t consciously notice. “I love emotive sound design,” she says. “When it’s really detailed but subconscious. It’s not about big gunshots and explosions. It’s when something’s stripped back but deliberate.” She talks about seeing The Substance in Dolby Atmos recently. “The sound design was amazing. Everything was slightly too loud, just uncomfortable enough. You felt it rather than heard it.” 

That sensitivity extends into how she moves through the world. “Since working in sound, I’ve realised how loud life is,” she says. In a mix recently she got some feedback to get rid of the bird noises. “I’m like, have you been out in central London? There are birds! They exist! Life isn’t sterile.” She laughs, but you can tell she’s serious about listening deeply. 

“I think the best thing about my job,” she says, “is that it’s never boring. You can be working on three different projects in a day: One’s dialogue clean-up, another’s explosions, another’s Foley. One minute you’re editing Michael B. Jordan’s voice, the next you’re designing a door blast. It’s not a real job,” she grins. “It’s too fun to be a real job.”