Stuffing the Bravo Sausage Into Its Platinum Casing

Every season of “The Real Housewives” is shaved down from hundreds of hours of footage into anywhere from 13 to 25 hourlong episodes. Much of the series is stakes-setting — establishing the precarious perfection of the housewives’ lives — so each cast member need be truly interesting (i.e. lose her temper, faculties or inhibitions) just once or twice in a period of several months to ensure an entertaining season. Incessant quick cuts — from a woman, criticizing; to a woman on the other side of the room, being criticized; to a third woman summarizing those criticisms directly into the camera; to a close-up of decimated party hors d’oeuvres — are one reason reality shows feel jumpier and more chaotic than multicamera sitcoms like “The Big Bang Theory.” Wall-to-wall music corrals the visually disconnected footage into a cohesive narrative in a manner unique to Bravo: In contrast to other TV shows — even other reality TV shows — nearly 100 percent of its screen time is underlaid with music.

For scenes of discord, Mr. Howard said, “It’s all minor key. Usually D and C minor are like, drama.” Bombshell revelations are followed by a second of abrupt silence that leaves the words that precede it ringing in the air .

Lighter footage — what Mr. Baiardi calls “tasking” scenes — is scored with less bass, sparser, high-pitched instrumentation, and physically smaller drums. This music often accompanies scenes of soothing upper-class chores: a woman wiping a clean cloth over a countertop the size of a sparkling glacier; a woman instructing her maid on how to pack her designer luggage; a woman in a maelstrom of dinner party preparations discovering her mother’s urn tucked beside the silver condiment bowls.

The Signature Tracks guys showed off their process from Mr. Howard’s home studio, which is crammed with equipment but neat, like NASA’s Mission Control Center if just one person worked there and had a taste for purple. The room is blessed by a small plaque recognizing Mr. Howard’s work on Jay-Z’s album “Vol. 3 … Life and Times of S. Carter.”

A tense instrumental boomed from his speakers, but Mr. Howard decreased the volume until it was almost inaudible. “Now you can hear them talking,” he said. It was true; the music sounded more familiar — more Bravo-like — at a muted level. Every few seconds, three quick string notes in a minor key abruptly cut in — VHHVHHVHH — and fell silent. “There are these little string fills that give it that tension,” he said.

“They’re dropping in and out, which is creating room for dialogue,” Mr. Lasman added. “The dropouts are a really big part of actually telling the story.” They provide opportunities for close-up reaction shots. They suspend time to amplify uncomfortable moments.