Month: April 19, 2013

The process of breathing.

It may not be too obvious what’s going on in this music but all those sounds are coming from one person and mostly from that one person’s voice. She uses a loop station which allows her to record short bits of sound and have them to continue playing immediately after. They can be left alone or stopped and started back up and additional sounds can be recorded and looped over top the loops that are already playing. Essentially, she has the ability to be a whole acoustic band through electronic means.

What seems important here is process. Minimalist composers like Terry Riley or Steve Reich have been playing with this idea since the 60s at least but not in this way because the technology just wasn’t there. What I mean by process is that we’re essentially hearing a song being composed on the spot. In fact, Julianna Barwick has explicitly stated that her music starts out as improvisations. Improvisation is a bit different though. In that form, the music can change drastically at any point whereas, in process music, that’s not possible/wanted. It’s repetitive instead. She can’t suddenly change everything that’s being played all at once, say, if she wanted to modulate to a different key. What you’re hearing is simply one musical phrase that repeats and only changes subtly as layers are added and removed. It creates a sense of calm, because you know what to expect, but also a sense that something is happening.

To me, more poetically, it’s like breathing. Very long, deep breathing. The music naturally builds, each new layer both hides and is supported by the previous layer until you end up with a mass of sound that tends to gradually dissipate as layers are then removed again until all that’s left is that original line of sound in isolation. I imagine each song as one incredibly drawn out breathe. I’ve been thinking a lot about breathing lately.

For those who want to see how she does it:

Preconceptual tracking of a primitive perceptual individuality.

That phrase is only vaguely intelligible to me even with context so I’m not gonna try to explain it. It comes from Recanati’s Deixis and Anaphora:

Visual Indexing

The point, though, is pretty clear, and interesting. Apparently some five objects in your perceptual field can be held in some sort of automatic index that can be drawn from when making sense of your surroundings. Recanati brings this up when talking about pronouns and how it’s possible for us to make sense out of a sentence like:

Yesterday, my brother talked to the policeman about the burglar we saw. He told him he thought he had escaped, but the policeman would not believe him, arguing that someone was awake, and he would have seen the burglar if he had left.

The pronouns used here are somehow not confusing even though they could each refer to various people in the context. Recanati suggests that there is a tracking mechanism for indexing pronouns analogous to Pylyshyn’s visual tracking mechanism. What interests me more is the last sentence about an auditory analog, though. I’m pretty sure I’ve come across ideas like this for music as reasons why 12 tone music sounds completely random to most people, for instance: a melody that arbitrarily hits all 12 pitches of an octave before repeating is simply too long to keep in memory and build a gestalt from. It might explain why noisy busy music, with many things happening at once, is sometimes unnerving as well.

Think I’m gonna file this as yet another thing I’d like to look into but will never ever have the time for.

Asymmetry.

#4, from Stephen Neal’s Pragmatism and Binding:

I’m increasingly convinced that the point of semantics is to prove that we have no idea what anyone else means by anything. Communication seems to be just coincidental and we’ve only convinced ourselves that it’s real. This is why we have art. What need would there be for art if we could actually understand each other? Art is like desperately trying to claw our way into someone else’s being. It’s like a Gricean implicature, letting us know that we fail to connect on a regular basis. Or maybe I’m just not understanding what the author is saying here…

Eardrum knots.

From around 4 minutes in until the end, this track feels like it’s massaging your eardrums. It only works if you’re using headphones or have your speakers angled so that stereo sound actually sounds stereo. (Excuse the palindroming.) I imagine this is how deaf people can enjoy music.

Belong originated in New Orleans, by the way. Sooo, if anyone has any idea whatsoever where this kind of music gets played in NOLA, please let me know.

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