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previous  Spring 2001  FOLLOWING

The Tentacle Articulations

Deep-sea discourse on music-related topics

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Spring 2001 Articles

Northwest Creative Instrument Builders: A Survey (Part 1)

Davey Jones' Locker

Just Stun Me by Bret Battey

Noise-Lovin' Ned by Ffej

Catch and Release: Los Valentines (Gregg Keplinger, Reuben Radding & Wally Shoup)

More articles to come soon.

Northwest Creative Instrument Builders:
A Survey (Part 1)

Since the first set of stone chimes was invented, tools for producing sound have proliferated in human culture. Yet whenever a novel musical instrument arrives in our midst, it is usually relegated to the category of the "weird" and sometimes even the "dangerous," as was the case with the advent of synthesizers. It seems that until a newly invented musical instrument proves its commercial value, it is considered an aberration by academics and the mainstream music media; hence, few listeners are exposed to the cutting edge of instrument design.

We in the Northwest are fortunate to have among us a relatively large number of notable instrument inventors — musicians and composers who have consciously eschewed the factory-built and the conventional in favor of building their own musical instruments to capture the sounds they hear in their mind's ear. Local instrument builders range from the internationally acclaimed MacArthur "Genius Grant" awardee Trimpin to closet visionaries who build and perform on their unique creations in relative obscurity. Regardless of their visibility, these inventive musical minds and their creations are of particular interest to the Tentacle, with our mission to "sound the depths of Northwest Creative Music."

For this survey and exploration of the Northwest's creators of unique musical instruments, the Tentacle contacted more than 25 individuals who not only design their own instruments but also use them specifically to create adventurous, non-mainstream music. The responses to our questions about the respondents' instruments and inspirations reveal an impressive variety of approaches to instrument construction and the philosophy of sound. Doubtless there are others pursuing similar work of whom we are unaware; no omission is intentional. Among the musical inventors we were unable to include in the survey but would like to acknowledge are Seymour King (found object percussion instruments), Jeph Jerman (found percussion and cacti), Philip Arnautoff (a student of Harry Partch and instrument inventor in his own right), Peter Bonnett (a contributor to the Trimpin exhibit at EMP), Wynn Burke (unconventional stringed instruments), Frank Junk (mechanical percussion generators), Dan Senn, and Ellen Fullman (inventor of the Long String Instrument, currently serving a fellowship in Berlin).

We hope you will find this overview of Northwest instrument inventors as fascinating as we have. If readers have questions or comments about any of the artists and their instruments, please do not hesitate to contact the Tentacle and we'll pass on your queries. Bon voyage!

 


Troy Swanson

Troy Swanson's instruments are featured in recordings by Mabuse, Brent Arnold, Bill Horist, and a film soundtrack by Eric Ross. They have also been used in live performance settings with Mabuse, Thickness, the Matt Chamberlain and Jon Brion duo, and on Sonarchy Radio, where they were also played by Brent Arnold and Zeke Keeble. Sounds from Troy Swanson's instruments can be heard at www.speakeasy.net/~friction/corpusweb.

Instruments

Corporal callosa are specifically designed instruments using piano strings (under high tension), which have a high upper-harmonic content. They are essentially custom-size replications of the conventional piano hearth, but contain no keys resembling a hammered dulcimer. The strings are prepared (a process using mechanical stops placed at strategic harmonic nodes of the string and developed by John Cage in the 1930s) and played with mallets, screwdrivers, bows, and picks. The stop material and harmonic placement determines the timbral quality of each sound. These instruments are acoustic in nature, but are amplified by the use of pickups and processed electronically sounding through stereo Leslie speakers. They sound similar to the sounds from the gong chime culture of Southeast Asia, or more specifically, Gamelan music. By adding effects, they can generate a wide variety of sound to the point of a heavily processed rock guitar.

My prototype was built in 1995 and named the Lilith (Adam's first wife, later exiled from the Garden of Eden) because of its demonic shrillness from the effects I was using at the time. It is still being used, but I don't take it out as often. I then changed its name to corpus callosum, after the region of the brain uniting the cerebral hemispheres comprised of the commissural fibers. I think of this instrument as a hybrid, bridging the two schools of thought: acoustic and electronic.

I built the corpus as an addition to my keyboard rig (including Hammond, Rhodes, and various vintage synthesizers), rounding out the sound, and to be played on stage or in a club setting. Three instruments exist today, with plans for four more in the near future. In 1997, after playing in live stage settings, the stock Leslie speaker sound was no longer adequate because of volume vs. feedback issues resulting in distorted sound from trying to turn up with not enough headroom. I then modified the Leslie amp into a stereo Leslie p.a. I employ a bi-amp with separate sends to each individual horn and woofer with a total of 2600 watts, plenty for any house without a reinforcement system, or for use as a monitor. I also gutted the two-speed synchronous motors controlling the vibrato/tremolo effect of the Leslie and installed variable-speed, independently controlled motors for a more diverse vibrato/tremolo, which in turn creates ratio metric rhythms from the oscillations of the speakers, and further enhances the overall timbre of the instruments.

Inspirations

In 1986, while studying robotics in Spokane, I began building circuits for effects to be used with my analog synthesizers, and became involved in mixed-media performance. That same year I collaborated with Don Davis on an automated playing drum set using a 555 timer and a 16-step analog sequencer for a live performance. In 1988 I moved to Seattle to pursue robotics, only to find myself back in school a year later studying music at Cornish. I began working with prepared piano in 1989 while studying composition with Jarrad Powell and Sam-Ang Sam, a Cambodian-born ethnomusicologist. At first, I worked mostly timbrally, and then through Jarrad found the world of alternate tunings. It was there that I invented a system of bi-tempered tunings in the piano (without detuning the strings), utilizing equal and just temperaments by use of preparations, and created charts for harmonic exploration not included in Hemholtz's On The Sensations of Tone or Harry Partch's Genesis of a Music, yet drawing heavily from their inspiration. Another large inspiration came from (composer) James Tenney during his residency at Cornish. We talked about the charts I was working on, and he became excited, urging me to continue on with these studies.

In 1991 I met up with inventor/composer Trimpin and began a decade-long relationship, first as an apprentice and ongoing as his primary instrument fabricator, with the most recent sculpture being "if VI were IX" at the Experience Music Project. That year I quit school and shifted my focus toward improvisation.

In 1995, without access to a piano and wishing to continue my studies of alternate tunings, I built the corpus. I found the timbre so interesting that I actually forgot about tunings and focused on different effects and various ways of playing. With the new p.a. system, even more sound emerged and I found myself using fewer effects and relying on the acoustical properties of the sound. I went back to temperament studies, trying to find the right combination. I am currently working with a 24-tone scale described in Johannes Kepler's Harmonies of the World and based on the intervallic relationships of the motions of the planets in their orbits.

Instrument building has enhanced the way I hear music. The anticipation of hearing an instrument designed from a piece of paper while drilling and fabricating is exciting and often surprising. Sometimes I run out of sounds or ideas with instruments I've played for years, but it's refreshing to know ... there's still one more sound. In January of 2000 my wife and I had a child. We named him Kepler.



John Bain

John Bain has two degrees in architecture and currently is working in sound, video, and interactive lighting devices. To Bain, working in sound is "like practicing architecture blind." Sound samples of his Mutant Data Orchestra can be heard at (206) 736-7300.

Instrument

The Mutant Data Orchestra is a project centering around an analysis of digital culture through the elucidation of hidden sounds within cheap electronics. Through the act of circuit bending, or the extreme modification of electronic devices, I am able to produce completely alien sounds from apparently benign devices.

I find most of my devices at thrift stores for very little money, looking mostly for toy keyboards, digital answering machines or sound-making toys. When I get a device home, I'll open it up and look at the circuit board and try to determine where I should put switches and potentiometers, using my fingers to run the circuit through my body or using a clip lead with two needles to select specific shorts. Generally, I tend to look for the biggest, juiciest chips on the board, since they usually are the digital ones, which only deal with two voltages, +5v and 0v, which represent high/low or 1/0 in digital parlance.

I tend to shy away from the analog sections, but these areas can be fruitful as well. The area I avoid is the amplifier section, since this area has a specific function that I need and usually only causes problems. After determining the relevant contacts I'll be using, I decide what type of switches to use and how they should be placed on the surface of the instrument. The internal design has a direct relevance to the external interface, so often I'll be using switches in arrays, or program switches layered with throw switches. I also install a banana jack into each device so that they can communicate with each other. It's a one-channel buss that is very flexible due to the wonders of banana plugs; I call it the NDB, or the Naïve Data Buss, and it has proved quite interesting in the generation of autonomous sound organisms.

Packaging is also important, so I usually go for appropriate casings. I have one briefcase that houses two interconnected Casio SK-1 samplers and four digital answering machines with 15-minute recording times each. I'm working on a larger flight case to house several keyboards and other devices as well. Coupled housings with internal power and mixing make setup at performances a lot easier. One thing I really try to do is make sure that when all of my new switches are in the off position, the device plays the way it was originally intended. Sometimes this is impossible, which is fine as well.

I have about 15 different instruments in the orchestra, each one having its own unique voice. I am always looking for more instruments to work on, and even hacked an analog test oscillator, homemade by someone else. Soon I will begin work on a telephone voice scrambler used for secure conversations. Anything is possible, and with the current and growing electrosphere, more and more different devices will surely be available in the future. I usually avoid pro gear due to the cost. And a lot of work can happen within the software realm, so it's pretty pointless to hack it.

Sounds

Shards of digital noise. When I interconnect all of the separate instruments, I often get waterfalls of layered sound working as an autonomous organism. At other times transient signals have a completely alien nature, surprising one of the possibilities within the realm of synthesis. Whenever I tune into an interesting rhythm, I'm usually attracted to it through an interest in discovering patterns that aren't available elsewhere. The sounds and patterns seem endless, so whenever I am working with these units, I like to have a tape deck available because I usually won't be able to reproduce any interesting sounds I come up with. They become highly potent sound objects, just waiting to be turned on and reveal totally new sounds.

I usually use this system in a live context, whether performing or recording. Recorded works can later be assembled into compositions, but I'm really more interested in live sound and real-time composition, with a close interaction between the performer and the instruments. It's a real-time balance between the machines surprising me while I surprise the machines through the selective pull of a switch or an added connection to another device. Ideally, I attempt to build living organisms in front of the audience where my brain has an integral place within the network. Every performance is different and encodes a certain state of mind relative to that moment.

I basically designed the Mutant Data Orchestra devices for my own use, and since I don't label any of the switches, it would be hard for other performers to use them. I have performed on them with my brother, Mark Bain, but I trust his aesthetics so it worked out well. It was at my first show with my extended kit at the 1998 Dutch Electronic Arts Festival (DEAF) in Rotterdam (www.v2.nl). He was vibrating the V2 building with a computer-controlled motor system, and I invited him to collaborate on the performance as well. The theme of the festival was "The Art Of The Accident," which seemed appropriate to both projects. Another show we did, in 1999, was at the Het Paard, a large night club in Den Haag, with me on stage controlling the MDO and him on vibrating building being fed back through the mains from several arrays of geophones. Some destruction happened as well, but that was the point of the exhibition. So his vibration projects do work well with the MDO since it adds a rhythmic element to the proceedings.

I enjoy collaborating with others but end up gravitating to those who have sensitive ears and are able to direct their consciousness appropriately. Currently I'm working with Ffej Mandel on analog synthesizer and Mishka Morris on cello and effects, which is working out well. When they are around, I also work with Tero Nauha, a Finnish throat singer who has the uncanny ability to sound like a machine, and David Ledogar, a dancer who dances to be felt and not to be seen. He channels energy from the sound and projects it into the audience as subtle energies. I don't know ... it works for me, but I tend to suspend disbelief. Eventually I want to hook him up to the NDB with an eeg device.

The sound of the MDO isn't for everyone. The first show I did was a rave at the old Eyedrop studio, and in the middle of the set a person announced that there was belly dancing in the next room, so everyone left, pretty funny for a first show. I've also worked with the (Boston-based) out-jazz group nmperign, including Bhob Rainey on soprano sax, Greg Kelley on trumpet, and James Coleman on theremin; it turned out pretty well. It was at a defunct cold war lab at MIT that had isolation pads in the middle of the room for testing gyroscopes, part of Draper labs. We had the two horn players on each pad, and surrounding them was a suspended floor of 1/2" aluminum that my brother was vibrating. It was interesting, because at the beginning of the sets the audience would be sitting against the wall, but as the sets wore on the audience would slowly move out onto the vibrating floors, some completely sprawled on their backs, like testing the water with your toe.

There are a lot of other people who circuit bend, and I would be into performing with them, especially if they could incorporate the NDB so that it would be a networked performance, but so far I am the only one who utilizes a network in this medium. I also would want to make sure that the voltages other performers send are safe for the devices.

Basically I'm performing without a net. It is very easy to flip a switch and crash all the devices, so I do have to be careful about what decisions I make. This is what makes it interesting to me the fact that I always have to work against failure. I'm working with broken gear, so failure is always part of the equation.

Inspirations

I've been interested in producing electronic music since the late 1970s. Eventually I got into the whole sampler/MIDI reality, but became less than enthralled due to its lack of "liveness." Samplers have their uses, but the sound is still prerecorded and dead to me. And MIDI? There's nothing worse than seeing a MIDI band set up their complete studio on stage, press one button and then proceed to remix a prerecorded sequence that's deader than dead. I think liveness within electronic music is important these days because so many people pass off prerecorded electronic music as being live, especially within the electronic dance community.

Modular analog gear has always been influential, especially the Buchla stuff as well as the EMS Synthi with its matrix patch board and briefcase packaging. The whole history of electronic musical instruments is of interest to me, and I especially appreciate the more odd devices like the Mixtur-Trautonium played by Oskar Sala, or the behemoth built by Thaddeus Cahill called the Telharmonium. (www.obsolete.com/120_years). Recently, I've been impressed by the work of Raymond Scott at the Manhattan Research Inc. (www.raymondscott.com).

Eventually I gravitated to researching electronic sound circuits and then discovered the plethora of cheap sound circuits in the thrift stores. I began working on the dual SK-1 briefcase when I found an issue of Experimental Musical Instruments (EMI) with an article on bending the SK-1 by Q.R. Ghazala. I tried out a few of the bends and was hooked. I ended up writing to the author expressing my excitement with the possibilities of his techniques and he even responded with a letter on his amazing stationery, covered with his drawings. He seems like a great person, and he's been doing this since the late 60s, starting out on old transistor radios.

The Japanese noise scene was also very influential. I saw a great Merzbow show in 1994 at the Bottom of the Hill in San Francisco, which clued me in to the spiritual potential of pure noise and the fact that some noise is good and other noise can be bad. Noise can have a quality that goes against the common belief that all noise is the same, and that it annoys. A lot of noise projects utilize interconnected pedals and effects that I can also appreciate from a network sensibility. One of the first people to utilize these ideas of interconnected electronics was David Tudor. I really liked his algorithmic approach to live work the composition is the setup, the algorithm.

Finally, I would have to mention the first circuit benders, Bébé and Louis Barron, who did the soundtrack to the 1956 film Forbidden Planet. For this they built several types of sound circuits and then proceeded to distress them through overpowering; then they recorded the resulting sounds for the film.

Locally, I really like the work of rebreather, who use similar techniques but produce a completely different sound than mine. Paul Rubenstein also makes some great string instruments that are auto-activated through motorized magnets. He also has a great ear with his devices and winds his own coils as well. I'm always interested in checking out what others are doing with homemade or modified electronics, since it usually reveals truly new sounds that you might not find with commercial gear.

Advice for instrument inventors

First of all, I would check out www.antitheory.com and Q.R. Ghazala's excellent articles on basic circuit bending techniques and the sample shuttle article on bending the Casio SK-1. Then I would just start messing around with shorting circuits in cheap electronics. Of course you have to take precautions when working with electricity, so if you are unsure of what you are doing, either give up or just use batteries. I'm pretty much self-taught on electronics, but that is why I started this work: to demystify the workings within electronics, especially digital electronics.



Susie Kozawa

Susie Kozawa is a sound artist, composer, and performer who works mostly with sound collages and site-specific installations in which the gathering of sounds is a primary activity. Her current project is a collaboration with choreographer A.C. Peterson and set designer Erin Shie Palmer on the House of Dames production of "Silk Road," to be presented at Consolidated Works in April 2001, and including fabric music boxes that are played by the dancers.

Instruments

I make many kinds of instruments out of found objects, kelp, modified toys (or in the case of natural materials, they sort of make themselves). They tend not to be electrically amplified. They have different timbres and personalities. I feel they are tools for listening to a space and exploring what different spaces sound like. In many cases my instruments are derived from others, for example, hum bows (rubber band or tape attached to bamboo sticks) came from my hummers (paint-stirring sticks with rubber bands, rudder, and string). It's all part of the process.

I've always been interested in what objects sound like, and in what different spaces sound like. These instruments help me to play with a space and serve as a listening tool. I like to augment the sounds that are already there. My first performance with found objects was in 1987 for Alex Souldancer's Fire Ceremony at Carkeek Park. I made flute, trumpet, clarinet, and oboe instruments out of bull kelp, and still use some of them now. My first improvised performing was with Lori Goldston and Matthew Sperry for the Seattle Improvised Music Festival at On the Boards in 1993. I then found out how much fun it was playing with others. However, many of my instruments are not tunable to specific predictable pitches, so harmonic counterpoint is difficult with traditional tuned instruments.

Many others have played my instruments, including dancers, whose movements make the sounds. Bill Blauvelt and Esther Sugai especially, from our group Aono Jikken, have played my instruments in many performances including live accompaniment to silent films. A Page of Madness, a CD made though Jack Straw Audio Center's Artist Support Program, is an expansion of the themes of the live music accompaniment to the silent Japanese film of that title. This features some of my instruments including kelp horns, bass baliphone (ABS tubing, film canister, and balloon), scrap 2" x 4" wood studs, and toys.

Inspirations

I first heard New Music at Seattle University in Contemporary Counterpoint classes taught by Louis Christensen in the early 1970s. This was the first time I felt "Yes." David Mahler inspires me because of his focus on listening to a space. Stuart Dempster, because of his being seriously unserious. Trimpin and Jarrad Powell help me because of their generosity of spirit. There are many others who inspire me, including Dave Knott, Ellen Fullman, Ela Lamblin and kids, because they invariably come up with different ways of making sounds out of objects that I never thought of.

Also, nature, and what cityscapes sound like.

Advice for instrument inventors

Listen to what things sound like. How many different sounds can one object make? What does it sound like in different spaces?



Ela Lamblin

Seattle resident Ela Lamblin is a composer, inventor, and performer who creates musical sculptures and utilizes them in performance and on recordings. He co-directs the performance company Lelavision, which is pioneering a new genre called Physical Music. He has three recordings to date: "Sculptaural" (1996), "Tone Pond" (2000), and "Raga to the River" (2000). He is also featured in the compilation book and CD Orbitones, Spoonharps, and Bellowphones, and in the book Musical Craftsmen of America. More info can be found at www.lelavision.com.

Instruments

I have invented a number of instruments including the Stamenphone (a bowed sculpture with piano-wire strings); the Rumitones, (large and small spinning aluminum chime-vibes); the Singing Stones (100 rocks suspended on music wire from a wooden sound box, played with rosin gloves); the Livewire (a longitudinal harp played with rosin gloves); and the Bellwheels (a percussion instrument made from a bicycle wheel and tuned brass telephone bells). Currently I am working on the Pandamonium (an organ-like instrument utilizing a rubber reed). Most of my instruments are tuned to concert pitch, and are thus capable of playing all sorts of music.

Primarily I make instruments for my own use in performance and for recordings. I have released three CDs featuring unique instruments, and co-direct a performance company with my wife (choreographer Leah Mann) that combines my musical sculptures with dance to create what we call "Physical Music." These shows are presented in theaters and typically feature 2-6 performers. I spent four years providing musical accompaniment for the Vashon Island–based physical theater company Umo Ensemble. I have also sold instruments to other musicians including local artist Bill Blauvelt, who featured a Bellwheel on the (Aono Jikken) CD A Page of Madness.

In the last 10 years I have made around 40 instruments, and I figure I'll be alive another 70 years, so I'll probably make around 280 prototypes in my lifetime!

Sounds

Kind of like a hybrid of a sitar and a cello, the Stamenphone has a distinct long-ringing resonance caused by the use of harmonics, and also by sympathetic ringing of the 16 strings. The Stamenphone is pretty adaptable to any stage or situation. Many other instruments, however, are so large and complex to set up that they require days to prepare and tune.

Inspirations

My parents told me they would not buy me toys, but would help me make anything I wanted. I was home-schooled, and they had a very good collection of ethnic instruments. When I attended art college in Georgia, I began combining sound principles with sculptural form. I have been making sound-sculpture ever since.

Mostly I have been inspired by ethnic instruments from around the globe. Trimpin is a visionary in this field; I am always encouraged by his commitment to acoustic sound, even if it is triggered by a computer.

Advice for instrument inventors

Most important, I think, is to try ideas without worrying about success or failure. It is in the process of making something that the genius is discovered. Most of my good ideas started out pretty crude, but by solving problems as they come up, I have been able to turn a basic idea into something extraordinary.



Eric Muhs

When not inventing instruments, Eric Muhs teaches physics at Shorewood High School.

My theses :

Instruments

And much, much more ...

rocketpix: From one of a hundred performances using a four-track tape loop system to record and manipulate input sounds, in this case from a one-string stick, equipped with contact mic, used guitar string, and tuning peg. Any instrument I make eventually gets fed to the tape loop to build enormous textural edifices.

PIart: Got a bass with a wobbly neck and no fingerboard for $2.50 at a garage sale on Whidbey Island. When I was looking for a metal plate to stabilize the neck, I came across a hinge: Cool! So the neck is on a hinge and can completely fold over: tremendous wailing sound with distortion as the strings tighten! Drilled a hole for a piece of electric conduit with a tuning peg for a single bass string. A piece of ABS pipe slides up and down the conduit for all kinds of sliding and stretching maneuvers. Spray painted it all silver and put a big porta-potty sticker on it. Not all at once, because these things grow ...

Davey Jones's Locker

Milt Hinton (1910–2000)
One of the titans of jazz bass, Hinton's career spanned the greater part of the music's history, including collaborations with Louis Armstrong, Count Basie, Cab Calloway, Duke Ellington, Dizzy Gillespie, Benny Goodman, Lionel Hampton, Billie Holiday, and Frank Sinatra, and countless others.

Milan Hlavsa (1952–2001)
Leader of the defiantly political art-rock group Plastic People of the Universe, which he founded shortly after the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968 and maintained until his death from cancer in January 2001.

Jeanne Lee (1939–2000)
Perhaps the best-known jazz singer to have embraced the "New Thing" of the 1960s, Lee's unique vocalizing enriched the music of Archie Shepp, Marion Brown, Ran Blake, Oliver Lake, Carla Bley (the legendary Escalator Over the Hill), Cecil Taylor, Derek Bailey, Han Bennink, Lester Bowie, Anthony Braxton, Peter Brötzmann, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, John McLaughlin, Sunny Murray, Evan Parker, Roswell Rudd, her husband Gunter Hampel, and many other notable innovators.

Harold B. Rhodes (1911–2000)
Inventor of the touch-sensitive Rhodes electric piano, whose luminous sound was central to the development of electric music and of jazz-rock fusion in particular.

Iannis Xenakis (1922–2001)
We learned of the passing of this revered composer and pioneer of electro-acoustic, stochastic, and spatial music at press time and hope to include an encomium in the next Ink edition of the Tentacle.


Catch and Release

Catch & Release is a department of subjective reportage and opinion. Our contributors' views may not reflect those of the Tentacle Collective or its members.

Los Valentines (Gregg Keplinger, Reuben Radding & Wally Shoup)
January 16, OK Hotel, Seattle

Watching Gregg Keplinger at his drum kit puts me in mind of the Clouzot picture Wages of Fear, in which nitro is transported across mountainous terrain by some desperate truck drivers who don't have anything to lose if it all blows up in their faces. Keplinger erupts and recedes, taking it to the edge of the cliff, wheels hanging over the precipice, then slowly and carefully manipulates his rig away from the chasm, keeping the audience tensed in anticipation of an explosion that could blow the joint sky-high.

Keplinger sits at his drums like a machinist. Ultra-aware of the slightest mis-calibration, he constantly checks each bolt that holds it together. Always adjusting, perfecting, and aligning; all the while pushing the kit further in his exploratory intensity control. More than a drummer, Keplinger is a drum scientist. Analytical and unafraid, pushed on by tradition yet never falling back on history, he places the highest demands upon himself and the band. When the soliloquies and conversations have run their course, dynamics build on dynamics to crashing and clipped climaxes that stop the players cold. He knows where it ends and he knows how to end it.

Los Valentines' first set was among the most perfectly controlled experiences in free jazz to grace Seattle's musical history. No staleness, no self-indulgence, no distraction. Alto saxophonist Wally Shoup and bassist Reuben Radding had the unlimited freedom to take it wherever they wanted while the drummer supported them wherever they went. As a bandleader, Keplinger was a reconnaissance storm trooper who cleared the way for wild flights of unbridled exhilaration.

Any band can make an audience dance, but these guys made the audience want to sing. The dense crowd was so mentally engrossed in the music that they were almost part of the band. Had someone been passing out horns, there would have been at least another half-dozen musicians on the bandstand, adding their voices to the excitement that gripped the room.

— Whitey Black

Whitey Black is an itinerant blues musician.

Just Stun Me

by Bret Battey

"The five tones deafen the ears." — Lao Tzu

"Don't let the best become the enemy of the good" — proverb

At the end of December, Isaac Sterling posted an e-mail to the Canadian Electroacoustic Community list (cec.concordia.ca) promoting the Francisco Lopez/rebreather/Steve Barsotti + Jon Tulchin Seattle concert [that month]. The post triggered a discussion of whether most professors of electronic music don't "get out" enough — whether there was some kind of exclusive canon of electronic music in academia that excluded a lot of other music, such as that which would be on the concert. There were a variety of responses from both academics and non-academics, from people who tried to keep up with latest trends in underground musics and incorporate them into the classroom to those who consciously focused on a smaller corpus of "classical" electronic works. As a doctoral student in composition at the University of Washington, I submitted the following message to the thread, edited and expanded for presentation here at the invitation of the Tentacle.


Folks have made a few observations regarding why there might be this repertoire boundary in academia. I'm not convinced that this boundary actually exists in a monolithic sense, but some items mentioned ring true to my own experience as a teaching doctoral student:

And here's a practical argument for not covering every genre new and old: simply convincing people that there are worthwhile musics and ways of listening outside of what they have already been exposed to is task enough. In the introductory classroom setting, just demonstrating that music doesn't have to have a beat or a melody is a revolution for many. If I am able to bring introductory students to take seriously one work that lies far outside their previous experience, then I have, in fact, done well. Those of us who know a great deal about some topic easily forget that the initiate climbs one step at a time.

But in my case at least there is also another issue: being honest with myself and others regarding my belief – or lack thereof – in certain musics.

In high school and college, an important part of my sense of identity was the fact that I was always peering into old record bins and listening to obscure radio shows late at night (Seattle's KRAB!) to hear the New and Strange and Novel. Note how I worded that: not only was I interested in this obscure sound art, but that interest was in some way wrapped up with my sense of identity. In retrospect I have a theory:

Perhaps I was not always interested in the experience of the art per se as much as the experience of the way it positioned me vis a vis the rest of the world.

Yet somewhere along the way since then, the New and Strange and Novel have stopped having as much self-justifying appeal.

Does that have to do with my academic career? I don't think so. In fact, it happened even more rapidly during five years I took out of academia. I'm inclined to think instead that it has something to do with the reformulating and maturing of my identity in general, the fringe music stance no longer being so relevant to making a statement of who I am. That is, I don't self-justify by declaring myself to be fringe, so I expect my engagement with music to be about more than declaring myself to be fringe.

It is not enough for me now for music to be merely interesting. Instead, I am looking for Something Else. Not that I know what the Something Else is, precisely. I do know it has something to do with some difficult-to-define words: excellence and depth and profundity.

Why, then, might I now be someone who "doesn't get out much?" Perhaps because I am a person who finds that, when I do go out, I am often disappointed in what I find. This is true whether going out means an experimental music show in town or an academic conference. No longer being satisfied with the New and Strange and Novel in themselves, I often sense beneath such things ... seeming emptiness.

I struggle with this. Is my mind closing? Am I not trying hard enough? Maybe this is all a reflection on some failure of my listening and thinking to evolve? Am I letting my love of the best become an enemy of the good?

Or maybe I am developing strong and worthwhile convictions about what constitutes musical excellence, and I am more able to distinguish between wheat and chaff, and this is inseparable from the maturing of my own artistic vision. I recall that Virgil Thomson argued for such a developmental model of the composer: The composer goes from being interested in everything, to pretending to be interested, to finally not even pretending to be interested in work other than his or her own. I'm not willing to give in to that model. At least not yet.

But I can honestly say at this point in my life path and composerly career that I would take one stunning experience of artistic, soul-reaching depth over a dozen radio shows and conferences of music self-justified by their "Newness" and "Being Different From That Other Stuff."

As a teacher, I believe I would do more to open the minds and ears of students by being able to passionately and honestly teach on a few pieces that have tremendous impact than by creating a listening list of pieces and composers of 100 different genres of New Music out of some sense of duty.

Maybe that's why instead of ordering a ton of new CDs and downloading MP3s of the latest self-declared genre creators, I've been spending some of my free time recently studying the last movement of Mahler's 9th Symphony. A work nearly 100 years old. No electronics. In our context, it represents no fancy new conceptualizations of timbre, gesture, meaning, social context, or means of creation. No noise onslaughts, no fancy verbiage declaring how revolutionary the work is, no proud declarations regarding the technologies involved, no self-justifying philosophies of contempt for the mainstream.

Just something that stuns me at a level transcending the intellectual.

As a human being seeking wisdom, I consider honesty and clarity regarding my motivations to be a first and foremost priority.

As an artist seeking that Something Else, recognizing and responding to what draws me powerfully and deeply is another foremost priority.

And I will argue that these are also foremost priorities for an academic. Because authentic passion makes a greater teacher than formulas for diversity.

Or else I will indeed simply be conservative in the worst sense: merely a replicator of other people's visions of what should be.

Dear Composer: I don't care about your chosen sub-medium, or your post-facto ideological rationalizations of your taste, or what you are trying to be different from, or whether you are in academia or not.

Just be excellent.

Just stun me.

Bret Battey, a composer and videographer, currently teaches computer music at the UW. His installation Uroborous was recently at Jack Straw and can be viewed online at www.bathatmedia.com. Bret is also part of the team behind Terraform I, an installation at the Henry Art Museum showing until April 19.

Noise-Lovin'Ned
by Ffej

Flotsam & Jetsam

There used to be a weird music group in Pittsburgh, named "Mikro-Crimefighter and the Undesirables," which used to open up for my old rock band. Their lead singer (a very short girl in black leather, I guess she was the "Mikro" in the group's name) played "tapes."

The first time they played with us, we were delighted to find out what it meant that she played tapes — she had a big box filled with cassette tapes, and she would beat on them, with a stick!

— Chris Koenigsberg

 

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