Listening....

In true listening I find a peace. A true hearing, unobstructed by the usual thought patterns of to and fro, their associations and getting lost in the confusion of mind. To truly listen, is difficult. A task I find challenging….to hear. Each sound alone and unchanged, unattached and unquestioned, is open. Often I try to hear the sounds of the world around me as they are…. my daily tasks, the sounds of the street and the buzz of a city….. to get to a point where all sounds exist to me like this, even for the briefest moment, feels as though I understand. But it is so hard sometimes to hear….so I keep listening.

awareness and careful listening - I hear

....familiar sounds as if never heard before
....the voices that we give to the mute objects that surround us
....how physical space affects resonance when shifting between two contrasting sound environments
....more whilst remaining auditorially motionless in a quiet space
....the voice given to two fingers rubbing against each other in quiet environment (listening to what is not usually heard, let alone listened to)
....the human voice as sound without significance (focusing on the white noise of consonants striking through in a room filled with the murmur of numerous conversations)

resonance in quiet spaces

Increasingly lately I have been noticing the beauty and richness of quiet spaces. Spending hours in a room intentionally making sounds happen I guess creates the need to stand back and experience the resonance of particular environments.

Whilst practicing my saxophone this week, I stopped making sound, and began to tune into the sounds that had been simultaneously being given voice to around me without me being aware of it.... it takes the ears a moment to adjust to the change in dynamic between this environment filled with sounds of my own creation (projecting in front of me, reverberating around me, resonating through me), and the same physical environment devoid of intentionally voiced sound.

By nature a practice studio is designed to be quiet, but as silence is always relative (there are always sounds to be perceived in this inevitably dry environment) we can never call it a silent place, even when the musician is not playing. What stuck me however is how long it took me to perceive the clock ticking on the wall, the dull drone of the traffic from three stories below and the faint impression of the clarinetist practicing drifting through the adjacent wall.

I wonder now whether the reason for this delay between a clear perception of this second sound environment (inhabiting the same physical space as the first) has as much to do with the abrupt shift in volume and in turn shift in auditory focus to the minute, as it does to do with the continuation of a physical resonance of the sound of my instrument through my body (sounds from the saxophone are of course first perceived by me through the body as a whole before reaching my ears), as well as the reverberation of the acoustic experience of these sounds within my short term memory.

The acoustic resonance of this room is short, but the resonance of my sounds through me (both mentally and physically) prevents my ears from immediately perceiving these minute sounds that resound in this environment constantly (more constantly than the saxophonist practicing). I must shift my focus to perceive the minute, therefore straining my ears beyond this resonance, and in turn forgetting the remnants of what has been and begin to focus on the now. Even the slightest movement of my body, or the creak of my chair can be enough to unintentionally shift this focus. But can this focus be trained like our visual focus to be able to hear? I believe it can be...

...... walking into an empty foyer, I notice the difference that the new linoleum floor changed from carpet has made to the sound environment. I now hear sounds of my footsteps reverberating, the sounds of the drink machines drifting through from the cafeteria, the faint sounds of people downstairs...... these resonances fill me with a sense of calm.

Quiet spaces are full....

....of potential for creating sound....
....of already existing sounds and resonances, if we care to listen to them....

thoughts and questions arising from listening to autechre..

Playing with a reference point: what is a common point of reference in this music for both the musician accustomed to discontinuous musical forms, and to the general listener unaccustomed to this type of music?

Harmonically static musical direction and rhythmic repetition (strictly metric or organically periodic) attracts the listener towards minute changes in texture and timbre. The traditional musical discourse of dialectic and tension and resolution, as with all repetitive music, becomes meaningless.

The sound material also, being entirely electronic, erodes any sense of cultural orientation, any sense of referential listening. E.g. the saxophonist listening to a work involving saxophone who makes subjective technical judgements as opposed to aesthetic musical judgements.

The anihilation of form: structure and external order are organically shaped by the internal micro-momentum of the material. The initial sound object or point of departure shapes the overall outcome. Just as in much improvisation, and in everyday life.

To me this is a much more organic musical 'discourse', echoeing the chaotic and discontinuous formation of naturally found phenomena: the slow development of a large city; the chaotic yet stragely beautiful discontinuity of land formations seen from above; the different personal trajectories of the lives of individual human beings.

It is only by keeping focused on the minute, the now, the street, the task, the one sound, the breath, that one can begin to understand the true beauty and complexity of life. Upon reflection it's the decisions and the minute changes that help to develop overall form. So why should musical form be any different? Made of sound and time, the listener is in a position to follow the musical and sound discourse in the moment, and is not auto-programmed to conceive of the entire whole at all times.

Reference points for navigating unfamiliar musical territory: much like learning a language, it's always much easier to follow something unknown and foreign by holding onto certain reference points (first sounds and individual words then phrases and sentences)...

just a few thoughts.

a need described

I want to sit in a large lamp lit space for hours, on a bean bag or a comfy armchair, listening to sounds that are so visceral that you feel like they’re part of your own nervous system; living sounds that give you the impression that you could at any moment reach out and touch them; sounds that mould and weave themselves together; sounds that carry you through time whilst constructing their own time; a time without any tangible reference points, an eternal present.