Here is the link to my final paper:
http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=dd2rcbb9_0hh4vjcgg
I can't even count how many times I change topics and directions, but I ended up in a place I'm fairly complicated in: one with a lot of implications for teaching. I was originally going to go more in an Althusserian direction, focusing on our roles as unquestioning consumers etc. ... But after reading Smith's essay, I started thinking about classroom applications. My brain went "Undergrads like music + undergrads like to complain = potential for actual critical thought??" And while it would be very nice if this worked, of course not every student would immediately "get it" and change the way he/she thinks. But if we don't try, we won't succeed, correct? =)
Since my ultimate conclusion in the paper is how we can use the topic of sound quality loss for teaching, I thought composition teaching oriented conferences would work well. The CCCC - conference on College Composition and Communication - of 2010 would have been a pretty great place to take it, the theme being "The Remix: Revisit, Rethink, Revise, Renew." Sadly, their deadline was May 1st. Oh well, maybe the year after....? Anyway, I'd feel happiest in a teaching-oriented setting with this, but just having switched from the Foreign Language dept. to English last year, I'm very open for suggestions as far as venues go!
With a few revisions to fit the theme more, my paper might work at the SLSA. After all, I am asking students to decode the world around them. Also, everyone "knows" what sound quality loss is, but the details that I discuss in my paper are unknown to most, even though music and mp3s are part of everyone's everyday life. Decoding as deconstructing is certainly something that can be part of my paper description.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Abstract
Several of our readings have indicated that we live, now more than ever before, in a time where we are surrounded by sounds – sounds that are constantly new and that at the same time can’t ever really be new. Sound recording has become part of our everyday lives, and it is safe to say that the majority of music consumers listen to recordings far more than they do to live music. With this in mind, it is somewhat surprising that these consumers embrace the relatively recent format of mp3, even though it comes at the – possibly hidden - cost of sound quality.
In my paper I want to briefly explore this loss of sound quality and to what extent it is hidden (related to this: much of today’s listening time is spent on low quality headphones and – worse! – fm transmitters in cars, making it easy to blame the lower sound quality on these instead of the format itself). I then want to talk about the implications this holds about today’s consumer in general (who apparently picks convenience over quality, and not only in the area of sound production), as well as about the industry: did the CD format take it as far as it could? Was a new format necessary not just for the consumer, but also for the producer, in order to open up a whole new area for improvement?
I would also like to compare the purchase of an mp3 album to a CD album, which can sometimes be very similar in price. However, with a CD purchase, we receive a physical object, as well as a protective case, cover art, a booklet, lyrics and other writing, photos, dedications and thank-yous, etc. I want to talk about how the relationship between listener and artist has changed; I argue that with the purchase of a CD in, say, the mid-90s, the listener feels/felt more connected to the artist, privy to information not (as) easily available to others: even reading the lyrics while listening to the CD changes the listening experience and thus makes it different from that of someone listening to the same song on the radio. Today, anything found in a booklet can most likely be found online, but the experience is different: anyone can google for lyrics, there is no “value” to knowing them anymore. In Sound Unbound, Jonathan Lethem makes the difference between a gift and a commodity, and situates music somewhere in the middle (a commodity that still feels more like a gift?). With the rise of mp3, music seems to be becoming more of a commodity for many people: you get exactly what you pay for: “only” the music. Nothing more, maybe even less.
In my paper I want to briefly explore this loss of sound quality and to what extent it is hidden (related to this: much of today’s listening time is spent on low quality headphones and – worse! – fm transmitters in cars, making it easy to blame the lower sound quality on these instead of the format itself). I then want to talk about the implications this holds about today’s consumer in general (who apparently picks convenience over quality, and not only in the area of sound production), as well as about the industry: did the CD format take it as far as it could? Was a new format necessary not just for the consumer, but also for the producer, in order to open up a whole new area for improvement?
I would also like to compare the purchase of an mp3 album to a CD album, which can sometimes be very similar in price. However, with a CD purchase, we receive a physical object, as well as a protective case, cover art, a booklet, lyrics and other writing, photos, dedications and thank-yous, etc. I want to talk about how the relationship between listener and artist has changed; I argue that with the purchase of a CD in, say, the mid-90s, the listener feels/felt more connected to the artist, privy to information not (as) easily available to others: even reading the lyrics while listening to the CD changes the listening experience and thus makes it different from that of someone listening to the same song on the radio. Today, anything found in a booklet can most likely be found online, but the experience is different: anyone can google for lyrics, there is no “value” to knowing them anymore. In Sound Unbound, Jonathan Lethem makes the difference between a gift and a commodity, and situates music somewhere in the middle (a commodity that still feels more like a gift?). With the rise of mp3, music seems to be becoming more of a commodity for many people: you get exactly what you pay for: “only” the music. Nothing more, maybe even less.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Striving for the Impossible
I thought Roumain’s little music manifesto was interesting, because it came from such an affective place. And while that is not usually desirable in (somewhat) academic writing, music is one of the fields where it seems almost impossible not to be subjective and slightly emotional. Of course, he is only giving concrete examples for something he most likely considers the overarching truth.
“you have to play your cello like a bass drum.” One of DJ Spooky’s observations comes to mind: there are no new sounds. If you cannot create something completely and truly original (and I believe you can’t), you have to make old things sound new. Later on, though, Roumain questions the reader: “are you original? Where does originality exist? Is there anyone in the world like you? No? prove it!” For Roumain, the potential for originality still seems to exist. Or is it the aspiration for originality that he finds desirable? Is he saying: there are no new sounds, but do your best to make your stuff sound original? You will never get there, but the act of trying is what will produce desirable music? I would like to think that this is (part of) what he means, because it makes a lot of sense to me. The impossibility of true creativity and originality may seem depressing and demotivating to a lot of people, but when you accept that this is how it is, it stops being a negative thing, and you (the hypothetical artist, musician, creator of anything) can strive to use all the existing things in the world to make something that looks or sounds or feels as new as possible. It’s a lot like Lacanian lack: once you know it’s there, you can stop being disappointed by life. And I certainly think that’s a good thing. =)
Another question: “ Composers are historians, documentarians, ethnomusicologists, and pathological liars.” Liars? Really? Why? Is he referring to the fact that they “steal” sources and inspirations and claim originality for their work? Is it because they deny the three classifications prior to pathological liars? I would have liked to hear more about this.
Also, I just had to bring this in: it connects more to Rhythm Science, in my opinion, or the first half of Sound Unbound, but it fits into the general discussion of copyright, ownership, and authorship. This video has been circulating on the internet recently, and has apparently been recorded and mixed by a guy on his laptop, and performed by various street musicians all over the world. So, who actually created this? The guy who recorded and mixed it? All of the performers? Or Ben E. King? All of them? I love that this is a sort of “remix” of live performances, you don’t see too many of those.
(Also, note the under-representation of women. Are we only good for harmony and backup?)
“you have to play your cello like a bass drum.” One of DJ Spooky’s observations comes to mind: there are no new sounds. If you cannot create something completely and truly original (and I believe you can’t), you have to make old things sound new. Later on, though, Roumain questions the reader: “are you original? Where does originality exist? Is there anyone in the world like you? No? prove it!” For Roumain, the potential for originality still seems to exist. Or is it the aspiration for originality that he finds desirable? Is he saying: there are no new sounds, but do your best to make your stuff sound original? You will never get there, but the act of trying is what will produce desirable music? I would like to think that this is (part of) what he means, because it makes a lot of sense to me. The impossibility of true creativity and originality may seem depressing and demotivating to a lot of people, but when you accept that this is how it is, it stops being a negative thing, and you (the hypothetical artist, musician, creator of anything) can strive to use all the existing things in the world to make something that looks or sounds or feels as new as possible. It’s a lot like Lacanian lack: once you know it’s there, you can stop being disappointed by life. And I certainly think that’s a good thing. =)
Another question: “ Composers are historians, documentarians, ethnomusicologists, and pathological liars.” Liars? Really? Why? Is he referring to the fact that they “steal” sources and inspirations and claim originality for their work? Is it because they deny the three classifications prior to pathological liars? I would have liked to hear more about this.
Also, I just had to bring this in: it connects more to Rhythm Science, in my opinion, or the first half of Sound Unbound, but it fits into the general discussion of copyright, ownership, and authorship. This video has been circulating on the internet recently, and has apparently been recorded and mixed by a guy on his laptop, and performed by various street musicians all over the world. So, who actually created this? The guy who recorded and mixed it? All of the performers? Or Ben E. King? All of them? I love that this is a sort of “remix” of live performances, you don’t see too many of those.
(Also, note the under-representation of women. Are we only good for harmony and backup?)
Monday, April 6, 2009
Are bought gifts the better gifts?
My favorite essay so far in Sound Unbound is Jonathan Lethem’s, particularly his take on illegal music downloads and the act of gift giving. I love that he picks up on “You wouldn’t steal a handbag” type campaigns, which I find just as ridiculous as he does. When I download a musical track, I am not depriving anyone else of that same track. I almost want to say: music should always be a gift; we don’t have many things we can give away without losing; why not make use of that ability? I’m sounding pretty cheesy here, but I’m just following in Lethem’s footsteps.
Here’s an interesting thought: music cannot be stolen, because a gift cannot be stolen. Yet I was just talking to somebody about the gifting values of CDs versus mp3s, and we agreed that a CD seems to have more inherent “value” - through its being material as well as through all the extras that come with the purchase: the case, the art, the liner notes. When I say “gifting value,” I mean that we agreed that a CD makes a much, much better gift than, say, an mp3 download coupon. Because, we found, it’s the liner notes and the art, the artists’ thank-yous and the ability to actually hold something in your hands (and protect it in a case) that makes a CD have a greater emotional and affective value. To continue with the cheesiness: we feel a CD is more of a gift, not just from a friend who buys it for us, but also from the artist. However, we are about as unlikely to steak a CD as we are a handbag. An mp3, we have no problem stealing, but the invisibility makes it not a very good present. We don’t feel as connected to the musician; we don’t feel the “value” of the music as much as we do with the CD. Even though a CD is as reproducible as an mp3, the CD feels a little more “ours.”
I also have to say, I love the term “disnial,” the kind of source hypocrisy committed by Disney. On some deep, idealistic level, doesn’t it make you want to question the legality of operating this way, taking sources for free while not letting others do the same with your material? I think that might be my copyright utopia: if you let people use your stuff for free, you automatically earn the right to use other people’s stuff. If you make people pay, you pay. Of course, we wouldn’t have a way to control the quality of artistic output any longer…. But what is quality anyway, right?
Sterling’s rant about dead media causing dead art also made me think…. Is that really a bad thing? The fact that technology evolves so fast brings it closer to oral traditions. If enough people are interested in your work, it will be translated into other languages. Again, this could serve as a quality filter…. But since I don’t like the label quality, let’s call it a popularity filter. Just like in oral traditions, popular “songs” will move on with the ever-changing technology, and it will ultimately change with it and be changed by it. And that, in my opinion, is a good thing. Of course, as Rothenberg demonstrated, you can’t ever really translate something completely. The same can be said for different media: even putting online art on a screen with a different size or resolution, or play an mp3 through a medium of lower or higher sound quality output will inevitably change the art itself. And I want to move away from the concept of the “original” version: no matter how high a bitrate your mp3 is, if you only ever listen to it on a cheap mp3 player and through an fm transmitter in your car, that resulting song will be “your” original, because that’s what you hear. Don’t refer back, only experience what is happening now.
Here’s an interesting thought: music cannot be stolen, because a gift cannot be stolen. Yet I was just talking to somebody about the gifting values of CDs versus mp3s, and we agreed that a CD seems to have more inherent “value” - through its being material as well as through all the extras that come with the purchase: the case, the art, the liner notes. When I say “gifting value,” I mean that we agreed that a CD makes a much, much better gift than, say, an mp3 download coupon. Because, we found, it’s the liner notes and the art, the artists’ thank-yous and the ability to actually hold something in your hands (and protect it in a case) that makes a CD have a greater emotional and affective value. To continue with the cheesiness: we feel a CD is more of a gift, not just from a friend who buys it for us, but also from the artist. However, we are about as unlikely to steak a CD as we are a handbag. An mp3, we have no problem stealing, but the invisibility makes it not a very good present. We don’t feel as connected to the musician; we don’t feel the “value” of the music as much as we do with the CD. Even though a CD is as reproducible as an mp3, the CD feels a little more “ours.”
I also have to say, I love the term “disnial,” the kind of source hypocrisy committed by Disney. On some deep, idealistic level, doesn’t it make you want to question the legality of operating this way, taking sources for free while not letting others do the same with your material? I think that might be my copyright utopia: if you let people use your stuff for free, you automatically earn the right to use other people’s stuff. If you make people pay, you pay. Of course, we wouldn’t have a way to control the quality of artistic output any longer…. But what is quality anyway, right?
Sterling’s rant about dead media causing dead art also made me think…. Is that really a bad thing? The fact that technology evolves so fast brings it closer to oral traditions. If enough people are interested in your work, it will be translated into other languages. Again, this could serve as a quality filter…. But since I don’t like the label quality, let’s call it a popularity filter. Just like in oral traditions, popular “songs” will move on with the ever-changing technology, and it will ultimately change with it and be changed by it. And that, in my opinion, is a good thing. Of course, as Rothenberg demonstrated, you can’t ever really translate something completely. The same can be said for different media: even putting online art on a screen with a different size or resolution, or play an mp3 through a medium of lower or higher sound quality output will inevitably change the art itself. And I want to move away from the concept of the “original” version: no matter how high a bitrate your mp3 is, if you only ever listen to it on a cheap mp3 player and through an fm transmitter in your car, that resulting song will be “your” original, because that’s what you hear. Don’t refer back, only experience what is happening now.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
What the Freud?
One thing that grabbed my attention when reading The Acoustic Mirror was the mention that female voices are hardly ever used for narrative voice-overs in film. Thinking back, I could swear I've seen (well, heard) a few (most likely more recent than the book), but I agree with Silverman that female voice-over narration is never quite used in the same way as its male counterpart. The unmarkedness of the male voice becomes really apparent. It seems like movie producers are saying: "Everyone can identify with a male voice!" It's just a generic voice.... almost as if it was everyone's voice in their heads. Well, the voice in my head certainly isn't a guy. In the movie Silverman mentions, Letter to Three Wives, the narrator "occupies the same temporal register as the other characters" and "is a frequent topic of conversation." I haven't seen the movie, but even though she doesn't say this explicitly, I got the feeling that female voice-overs are usually much more... chatty and gossipy. I'm not surprised that Hollywood this is how Hollywood works, but it's one more point to be annoyed at, heh. However, my question would be: are we anywhere closer today to actually being able to have an unmarked female voice-over? Surely we have come a little way from giggling, nosy housewives that chat about clothes and dinner. Things are still far from ideal today, but... would the average male theater-goer watch a movie with a female narrator and not immediately feel like he's in a chick flick? I wish I could think of an example. I should try to go find one, really.
Also, while I certainly found the book generally interesting, it was a little heavy on the Freud for me. I was always a little relieved when Lacan (the better Freud) got to take over. And while I appreciate that she turns Freud (patriarchal as he is) around and uses psychoanalysis to her own end, It does make me wonder whether there isn't a better way to go about it. The use of Freud alone makes the whole effort seem a bit like... I don't know, a reactive effort rather than an active one. I"m surprised someone so concerned with the audibility of the female voice would even consider using Freud's theory. But then again, she does seem to want to fight fire with fire. Not sure how much that works for me... her goal seems to be to castrate as many men as possible, and I'm not sure that's the best way to get rid of sexism. But then again, I understand that it's been a while since this has been published.
Also, while I certainly found the book generally interesting, it was a little heavy on the Freud for me. I was always a little relieved when Lacan (the better Freud) got to take over. And while I appreciate that she turns Freud (patriarchal as he is) around and uses psychoanalysis to her own end, It does make me wonder whether there isn't a better way to go about it. The use of Freud alone makes the whole effort seem a bit like... I don't know, a reactive effort rather than an active one. I"m surprised someone so concerned with the audibility of the female voice would even consider using Freud's theory. But then again, she does seem to want to fight fire with fire. Not sure how much that works for me... her goal seems to be to castrate as many men as possible, and I'm not sure that's the best way to get rid of sexism. But then again, I understand that it's been a while since this has been published.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Office Storm - Notes on our Soundscape
Paul Miller aka DJ Spooky says in Rhythm Science that there’s always a factor of randomness or coincidence in DJ-ing. I wonder if this can be said for most (or even all art)… it is certainly true of our soundscape. Using a recording program that scrambles, repeats, and changes the speed and pitch of recorded noises, our goal was to capture the sounds of one person alone (for the most part) in an office. In the final product, it doesn’t sound at all like just one person. Footsteps, typing and other office sounds are multiplied to a point where the listener is unable to tell how many people are part of the soundscape; but further, all the little office sounds take on a life (and a character) of their own; some of them simply sound amplified (such as the footsteps down the hallway in the beginning), and some are almost unrecognizable, giving them more of a presence, taking them across the border from unwanted background noise to desired sound. And with all the office sounds coming to life, the one person (let’s call her “Mary” – hehe) in the soundscape does not seem so “alone” anymore. Little moments of “voice” remind the listener of her presence; the soundscape’s focus is certainly not just the sound environment of the office, but just as much the human presence in it, fitting in seamlessly, down to the all-too-common “oh crap.”
Then, as the listener just got used to one person surrounded by the sounds of inanimate objects, suddenly there is an avalanche of unexpected voices. Two people stop by the office, exchanging some painfully stereotypical office small talk phrases with Mary. However, listening to it after the recording process, it sounds much more chaotic (and, surprisingly, more noise-like) than the office object sounds. It is as if a room full of people was talking at the same time; the listener can only make out parts of the conversation – even though what we recorded was a short, typical, easy-to-follow exchange. Listening to it now, it reminds me of how I used to feel at my office when I had no internet at home; I used to come in early, 7 a.m. sometimes, and for about an hour I’d be the only person on the floor of Eiesland Hall. I would get so used to having the space to myself that sometimes the arrival of other TAs would almost feel like an intrusion, and I would be so tired (and possibly not up for pleasantries yet) that any sort of communication felt more like a chore, not something I could (or wanted to) fully concentrate on yet. That is the feeling that echoes with me when I hear the soundscape, and when the two visitors leave (“Bye! Bye! Bye! Bye!”) and the scene turns quiet again, more than my eardrums are relieved.
There are other instances that can only be attributed to chance… “Oh crap!” is followed by what sounds (to me, at least), angry thunder, followed by starting rain – you figure out what the sounds actually are. The way that such cold, hard office noises turn out sounding so organic and almost liquid took me by surprise, and I think it adds a great deal to the soundscape. Of course, I listened to it over and over late at night, so I may not be the best judge of it. Maybe the piece should come with an instruction sheet, telling the listener to play it over and over and over, while refusing to sleep and drinking far too much coffee?
Then, as the listener just got used to one person surrounded by the sounds of inanimate objects, suddenly there is an avalanche of unexpected voices. Two people stop by the office, exchanging some painfully stereotypical office small talk phrases with Mary. However, listening to it after the recording process, it sounds much more chaotic (and, surprisingly, more noise-like) than the office object sounds. It is as if a room full of people was talking at the same time; the listener can only make out parts of the conversation – even though what we recorded was a short, typical, easy-to-follow exchange. Listening to it now, it reminds me of how I used to feel at my office when I had no internet at home; I used to come in early, 7 a.m. sometimes, and for about an hour I’d be the only person on the floor of Eiesland Hall. I would get so used to having the space to myself that sometimes the arrival of other TAs would almost feel like an intrusion, and I would be so tired (and possibly not up for pleasantries yet) that any sort of communication felt more like a chore, not something I could (or wanted to) fully concentrate on yet. That is the feeling that echoes with me when I hear the soundscape, and when the two visitors leave (“Bye! Bye! Bye! Bye!”) and the scene turns quiet again, more than my eardrums are relieved.
There are other instances that can only be attributed to chance… “Oh crap!” is followed by what sounds (to me, at least), angry thunder, followed by starting rain – you figure out what the sounds actually are. The way that such cold, hard office noises turn out sounding so organic and almost liquid took me by surprise, and I think it adds a great deal to the soundscape. Of course, I listened to it over and over late at night, so I may not be the best judge of it. Maybe the piece should come with an instruction sheet, telling the listener to play it over and over and over, while refusing to sleep and drinking far too much coffee?
Monday, March 9, 2009
What IS Rhythm Science? (longest blog post ever)
Rhythm Science was an interesting read. Right from the start, you can tell what Miller is doing: the book is obviously an attempt at translate the DJ-ing/sampling process into writing. The question is, does he succeed, and also: is it even possible?
I think he does a decent job. Like the accompanying CD, the parts of the text flow into each other, to the point where there really are no “parts;” there is only one whole. At the same time, it seems like he could have put the sections of the book in any random order, and it would have worked just as well. Mind you, I don’t think that this is a bad thing. Just like a good CD, especially of any sort of electronica, you can jump in at any point and get something worthwhile (or at least enjoyable) out of it.
But what, then, is it exactly that we get out of Rhythm Science? Here are the things we don’t get: a step-by-step guide to DJ-ing; a clear definition of what rhythm science actually is; a textbook. What we do get it a collections of fragments that, together, seem to become more than their sum. Individually, the fragments are thoughts and ideas about what DJ-ing is/should be, with a bunch of history, theory and philosophy thrown in. Taken as a whole, the book becomes – what exactly? Halfway though, I couldn’t decide whether I liked what Miller was doing. Wanting some opinions from the general public, what better place to look than Amazon user reviews? Here are some fun excerpts:
“This book shows that theory can be written almost poetically. A rare thing: theory that is as artistic as the art it describes.”
It’s true that the book could be described as being poetic, in the way that hip hop can be poetic, both inside the main text and on the glossy spreads featuring “remixes” of significant excerpts. Is the book then simply a demonstration of his art, translated for the non-DJ-savvy, textbook-reading public? And is it then still theory? I suppose it can be. In a way, it reminded me of Deleuze and Guattari’s 1000 Plateaus, with its non-linear, repetitive writing. Again: just pick it up, open it anywhere, and read. Jumble up the pages, and it still works. Put the tracks on Random.
“A truly terrible read... This book is written like some sort of hiphop, dada, coffee shoppe manifesto. The texts can fit into one of three categories: Self-referential boastings, references of others accomplishments (Spooky's M.O.) or some sort of patchwork rambling about technology sprinkled with fifty-cent phrases and urbanisms like "check the flow" and "flip the script." Sigh... Spooky tries to defend this garbage in the acknowledgements section by saying "try to make people think and they'll hate you." Spare me.”
I doubt this guys hated the book because it made him think. I really wonder why this person even picked up the book: it seems to me that anyone even slightly interested in the music would not trash this book quite so hard. I was almost surprised at myself, though: at no point did I consciously feel like Miller was boasting, although I can see where this reviewer is coming from. But: When you are a DJ who primarily works by sampling other people work, self-referential boasting is almost impossible. You are always, by default, referring to a multitude of other people who came before. Thinking about it in these terms, the work of a DJ seems pretty humble.
“I love his music, I love what he does with sound, I love how he is able to draw so many disparate elements to play to create sound-worlds that are immersive, instructive, and wildly engaging. Too bad he just won't shut up sometimes. (…) So, bottom line from a huge fan of the MUSIC: the book is beautifully designed, gorgeous to look at, and virtually unreadable. Skip it. Consider it a nice CD holder.”
Oh. So it is possible to love the music and hate the book. This fan tries to find the positives about the book, praising the design. I did like the design, although I at first feared it might end up being too distracting. But you do get into the flow, you start expecting the rhythm of the glossy pages that don’t contain any “main” text. There’s a lot of things that can be said about Rhythm Science, but I don’t think I’d call it unreadable. Even if some of the passages don’t seem to make (immediate) sense: you can’t always understand all the lyrics in a song, but it can still be a good song.
“This book is not academia, it is hip hop. By that I mean it is a manifesto encoded into rhythmic, visual passages that don't always make sense right away. Eventually, if the reader is open to it, his consciousness begins to adapt to Miller's, and ideas that once seemed like gibberish begin to make sense. I highly recommend this book. It is short but the knowledge is incredibly dense/intense. It has absolutely changed the way I look at identity and cultural evolution in the information age, and it accomplishes this subtly.”
There: this guy does think the book is a good song, but he claims that if you listen to it (closely) enough, it will start making sense. I’m still conflicted as to whether all of the book necessarily needs to make sense to the reader. Much like music, the general idea seems to be that you can take away from the read whatever you like. Any sound can be you.
“we are at a place and time in hiphop/electronic music/performance art/ avant garde practice that is rather sad...where to be involved in so many different practices one has to water oneself down to satisfy everyone...The text is vital and not long enough. i do not think Miller is a bad writer but perhaps a very select audience is ready to deal with this work.”
A limited target audience, whether this book is to be considered a textbook or poetry, is pretty much a given. In fact, I can hardly imagine a more accessible book on something as specific as “Rhythm Science.” And speaking of which, what exactly is this rhythm science? He does talk about it at great lengths, but seems to deliberately avoid giving a definition of it. And really? I’m fine with that. “Nothing is direct,” Miller says on the final pages of the book, and that might just as well be the title of his work. Nothing is direct. Not in Rhythm Science, not in DJ-ing, not in life, he seems to suggest. And that, I would say, is fair enough.
***********
On p. 57, Miller mentions that “average kids from the street” would most likely not be able to make the connection between Derrida’s deconstruction and “turntablism’s mixes.” He’s keeping it general, but I wonder what this means for DJ Spooky’s, specifically the CD that came with the book. If a listener is not familiar with the theory, does that diminish listening enjoyment? Or even the “value” of the music? It is music for English majors?
Also, how much does it add to the listening experience if you know who he’s sampling? Personally, I liked the whole CD, but I do have to admit that it was always fun to recognize samples…. Kurt Schwitters’ Ursonate comes to mind. I don’t think not knowing some of the sources diminished what I got out of the CD, but I wonder if the same can be said for not knowing the theory.
In addition, what does all this mean for other DJs’ music? Rhythm Science often sounds as if it was offering the key to DJ culture in general, but how generalizable is it, really?
Can we assume that there is as much of a thought process behind other musical artists who use sampling in their work? Take for example the Avalanches’ Frontier Psychiatrists:
Listening: Frontier Psychiatrists
It certainly brings up it’s own set of questions and assumptions. What it has in common with DJ Spooky’s work is that most of the samples immediately sound anachronistic in the setting of the electronically influenced track, only that the effect of this track is more humorously entertaining than DJ Spooky. Having read Rhythm Science, I want to ask: is there a chance that I might actually enjoy Frontier Psychiatrists even more if it came with a book about the band’s understanding of DJ-ing and sampling? I don’t think I’m quite 100% serious asking that question, but really: can we compare DJ Spooky and other DJs or sampling bands on these terms? Or is he a phenomenon completely detached from mainstream music. Again: is DJ Spooky Music for English majors?
**************
Listening: Erratum Errata
Erratum Errata, the installation Miller did for the Museum of Contemporary Art, is available online for anyone to go and listen to; but even more: you don’t just get to hear it, you can also play with it: by using the control panel and by dragging and dropping the visual objects on the screen, any visitor can change the sound and appearance of the piece. In the book, Miller says that DJ-ing always involves an amout of randomness and chance; this installation, in a way, makes the viewer/listener the DJ. The visuals and the words are Duchamp’s, the initial combination of them with musical elements is DJ Spooky’s, but everything else is up to the visitor of the webpage. We are remixing the remix. Is Miller bringing out the artist in all of us? Playing with the webpage quickly gave me the feel that there is no right or wrong. Some combinations sound better than others, but very, very many just sound equally… adequate, for lack of a better term. The question, then, is: given access to the right “found objects,” are we all artists? Does everyone who visits the website immediately start making art? Or is it only art when there is a certain intentionality to how we control the piece? Is there such a thing as random art? Accidental art even? Does an object turn into art simply by being “found?”
***************
Other questions and remarks about the text:
- Miller says in several places that there are no new sounds, only new ways of hearing. To what extend is that true? Now that we are surrounded by technology, is there no new place to go for us, sound-wise? Is that why sampling is something that is happening now as opposed to at a time when new instruments were still being invented? We don’t need to invent instruments anymore, because we can digitally recreate any sounds we want. It’s sad, thinking about it like that, but on the other hand it opened us up to hearing “old” sounds in a way we never have before. I personally very much enjoyed the incorporation of old recorded readings into his work.
- Somewhat related to the above: Miller claims that creativity means “recontextualizing the previous expressions of others” (p. 33). Does this indicate that creativity as we know it (creating something new, original) does not really exist? Is everything a copy of a copy, almost to a Beaudrillardian extent?
- On p. 61, Miller says, “Identity is about creating an environment where you can make the world act as your own reflection.” I’m not sure I understand what he is trying to say. I would have not even given this sentence a second thought if he had written “DJ-ing” or “rhythm science” instead of identity. But identity? To what extent is identity formed by creating an environment in which the world acts as your own reflection? Is he saying that identity can only exist within the context of other people validating it? And to what extent can you actually create that world? I suppose being an artist would help….
I think he does a decent job. Like the accompanying CD, the parts of the text flow into each other, to the point where there really are no “parts;” there is only one whole. At the same time, it seems like he could have put the sections of the book in any random order, and it would have worked just as well. Mind you, I don’t think that this is a bad thing. Just like a good CD, especially of any sort of electronica, you can jump in at any point and get something worthwhile (or at least enjoyable) out of it.
But what, then, is it exactly that we get out of Rhythm Science? Here are the things we don’t get: a step-by-step guide to DJ-ing; a clear definition of what rhythm science actually is; a textbook. What we do get it a collections of fragments that, together, seem to become more than their sum. Individually, the fragments are thoughts and ideas about what DJ-ing is/should be, with a bunch of history, theory and philosophy thrown in. Taken as a whole, the book becomes – what exactly? Halfway though, I couldn’t decide whether I liked what Miller was doing. Wanting some opinions from the general public, what better place to look than Amazon user reviews? Here are some fun excerpts:
“This book shows that theory can be written almost poetically. A rare thing: theory that is as artistic as the art it describes.”
It’s true that the book could be described as being poetic, in the way that hip hop can be poetic, both inside the main text and on the glossy spreads featuring “remixes” of significant excerpts. Is the book then simply a demonstration of his art, translated for the non-DJ-savvy, textbook-reading public? And is it then still theory? I suppose it can be. In a way, it reminded me of Deleuze and Guattari’s 1000 Plateaus, with its non-linear, repetitive writing. Again: just pick it up, open it anywhere, and read. Jumble up the pages, and it still works. Put the tracks on Random.
“A truly terrible read... This book is written like some sort of hiphop, dada, coffee shoppe manifesto. The texts can fit into one of three categories: Self-referential boastings, references of others accomplishments (Spooky's M.O.) or some sort of patchwork rambling about technology sprinkled with fifty-cent phrases and urbanisms like "check the flow" and "flip the script." Sigh... Spooky tries to defend this garbage in the acknowledgements section by saying "try to make people think and they'll hate you." Spare me.”
I doubt this guys hated the book because it made him think. I really wonder why this person even picked up the book: it seems to me that anyone even slightly interested in the music would not trash this book quite so hard. I was almost surprised at myself, though: at no point did I consciously feel like Miller was boasting, although I can see where this reviewer is coming from. But: When you are a DJ who primarily works by sampling other people work, self-referential boasting is almost impossible. You are always, by default, referring to a multitude of other people who came before. Thinking about it in these terms, the work of a DJ seems pretty humble.
“I love his music, I love what he does with sound, I love how he is able to draw so many disparate elements to play to create sound-worlds that are immersive, instructive, and wildly engaging. Too bad he just won't shut up sometimes. (…) So, bottom line from a huge fan of the MUSIC: the book is beautifully designed, gorgeous to look at, and virtually unreadable. Skip it. Consider it a nice CD holder.”
Oh. So it is possible to love the music and hate the book. This fan tries to find the positives about the book, praising the design. I did like the design, although I at first feared it might end up being too distracting. But you do get into the flow, you start expecting the rhythm of the glossy pages that don’t contain any “main” text. There’s a lot of things that can be said about Rhythm Science, but I don’t think I’d call it unreadable. Even if some of the passages don’t seem to make (immediate) sense: you can’t always understand all the lyrics in a song, but it can still be a good song.
“This book is not academia, it is hip hop. By that I mean it is a manifesto encoded into rhythmic, visual passages that don't always make sense right away. Eventually, if the reader is open to it, his consciousness begins to adapt to Miller's, and ideas that once seemed like gibberish begin to make sense. I highly recommend this book. It is short but the knowledge is incredibly dense/intense. It has absolutely changed the way I look at identity and cultural evolution in the information age, and it accomplishes this subtly.”
There: this guy does think the book is a good song, but he claims that if you listen to it (closely) enough, it will start making sense. I’m still conflicted as to whether all of the book necessarily needs to make sense to the reader. Much like music, the general idea seems to be that you can take away from the read whatever you like. Any sound can be you.
“we are at a place and time in hiphop/electronic music/performance art/ avant garde practice that is rather sad...where to be involved in so many different practices one has to water oneself down to satisfy everyone...The text is vital and not long enough. i do not think Miller is a bad writer but perhaps a very select audience is ready to deal with this work.”
A limited target audience, whether this book is to be considered a textbook or poetry, is pretty much a given. In fact, I can hardly imagine a more accessible book on something as specific as “Rhythm Science.” And speaking of which, what exactly is this rhythm science? He does talk about it at great lengths, but seems to deliberately avoid giving a definition of it. And really? I’m fine with that. “Nothing is direct,” Miller says on the final pages of the book, and that might just as well be the title of his work. Nothing is direct. Not in Rhythm Science, not in DJ-ing, not in life, he seems to suggest. And that, I would say, is fair enough.
***********
On p. 57, Miller mentions that “average kids from the street” would most likely not be able to make the connection between Derrida’s deconstruction and “turntablism’s mixes.” He’s keeping it general, but I wonder what this means for DJ Spooky’s, specifically the CD that came with the book. If a listener is not familiar with the theory, does that diminish listening enjoyment? Or even the “value” of the music? It is music for English majors?
Also, how much does it add to the listening experience if you know who he’s sampling? Personally, I liked the whole CD, but I do have to admit that it was always fun to recognize samples…. Kurt Schwitters’ Ursonate comes to mind. I don’t think not knowing some of the sources diminished what I got out of the CD, but I wonder if the same can be said for not knowing the theory.
In addition, what does all this mean for other DJs’ music? Rhythm Science often sounds as if it was offering the key to DJ culture in general, but how generalizable is it, really?
Can we assume that there is as much of a thought process behind other musical artists who use sampling in their work? Take for example the Avalanches’ Frontier Psychiatrists:
Listening: Frontier Psychiatrists
It certainly brings up it’s own set of questions and assumptions. What it has in common with DJ Spooky’s work is that most of the samples immediately sound anachronistic in the setting of the electronically influenced track, only that the effect of this track is more humorously entertaining than DJ Spooky. Having read Rhythm Science, I want to ask: is there a chance that I might actually enjoy Frontier Psychiatrists even more if it came with a book about the band’s understanding of DJ-ing and sampling? I don’t think I’m quite 100% serious asking that question, but really: can we compare DJ Spooky and other DJs or sampling bands on these terms? Or is he a phenomenon completely detached from mainstream music. Again: is DJ Spooky Music for English majors?
**************
Listening: Erratum Errata
Erratum Errata, the installation Miller did for the Museum of Contemporary Art, is available online for anyone to go and listen to; but even more: you don’t just get to hear it, you can also play with it: by using the control panel and by dragging and dropping the visual objects on the screen, any visitor can change the sound and appearance of the piece. In the book, Miller says that DJ-ing always involves an amout of randomness and chance; this installation, in a way, makes the viewer/listener the DJ. The visuals and the words are Duchamp’s, the initial combination of them with musical elements is DJ Spooky’s, but everything else is up to the visitor of the webpage. We are remixing the remix. Is Miller bringing out the artist in all of us? Playing with the webpage quickly gave me the feel that there is no right or wrong. Some combinations sound better than others, but very, very many just sound equally… adequate, for lack of a better term. The question, then, is: given access to the right “found objects,” are we all artists? Does everyone who visits the website immediately start making art? Or is it only art when there is a certain intentionality to how we control the piece? Is there such a thing as random art? Accidental art even? Does an object turn into art simply by being “found?”
***************
Other questions and remarks about the text:
- Miller says in several places that there are no new sounds, only new ways of hearing. To what extend is that true? Now that we are surrounded by technology, is there no new place to go for us, sound-wise? Is that why sampling is something that is happening now as opposed to at a time when new instruments were still being invented? We don’t need to invent instruments anymore, because we can digitally recreate any sounds we want. It’s sad, thinking about it like that, but on the other hand it opened us up to hearing “old” sounds in a way we never have before. I personally very much enjoyed the incorporation of old recorded readings into his work.
- Somewhat related to the above: Miller claims that creativity means “recontextualizing the previous expressions of others” (p. 33). Does this indicate that creativity as we know it (creating something new, original) does not really exist? Is everything a copy of a copy, almost to a Beaudrillardian extent?
- On p. 61, Miller says, “Identity is about creating an environment where you can make the world act as your own reflection.” I’m not sure I understand what he is trying to say. I would have not even given this sentence a second thought if he had written “DJ-ing” or “rhythm science” instead of identity. But identity? To what extent is identity formed by creating an environment in which the world acts as your own reflection? Is he saying that identity can only exist within the context of other people validating it? And to what extent can you actually create that world? I suppose being an artist would help….
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)