Musical Forks!

Whilst making my scrambled eggs today, I discovered that my fork made a very interesting sound when struck on the edge of a glass bowl. I listened a few times, I was able to pick out a triad of tones, almost diatonic. I tried this with a few forks of the same design, and on different surfaces, all made slightly different sounds. I discovered that the forks had their own individual harmonies, and that the most resonant ring could be achieved (in my kitchen) on the metal handle of the back door.

I also noted that the fork did not have the same harmonic properties when covered in egg.

Found Sound and Field Recording - Sound and Memory

The idea for this post came from a conversation with my other half about an event he is curating at The Hepworth Wakefield (more info here), the theme for which is nostalgia, and my existing interest in found sound and field recordings. Our conversation topic was; Are particular sounds, such as a song or particular environmental sound, inherently more likely to evoke memory or emotion than our other senses, such as sight or smell, and how much of an impact does this have on our listening experience? This also ties in nicely with the compositions by Daniel Kordik I discovered in HCMF week, which I'll talk more about below.

Firstly though, one of my favourite sounds or collections thereof; the London Underground. I recently took a little handheld recorder down to London to record a collection of environmental sounds. I was primarily interested in recording the crowd at a football game I was attending (which was pointless as the fans were rubbish!) but ended up recording some other sounds too, such as the underground and some general street noise. When I got back, I listened to the recording, and was immediately stuck by my underground recordings - not just because of the sheer breadth of frequency and volume, but by the fact that I felt almost immediately transported to a different time and place. It was as if I was automatically drawn or attracted to these sounds by a specific memory, but strangely much more strongly than I was when I was actually there on the tube.

I did use to spend a lot of time in London in and have not really visited since, which would explain the immediate connection. What it does not explain however, is why I did not have this reaction when I was actually there but instead, afterwards when I got home and listened to my recordings alone, separate from their environment. I immediately commenced a search for works using Underground sounds, and came across this work by Matt Rogers commissioned by the TFL. A video explaining the idea behind the works, and also his emotional attachment to these sounds, is below.

In my search I also came across this beautiful collection of bridge sounds recorded at the Millennium Bridge in London; the drone-like sounds are similar in harmony to the partials I heard at the La Monte Young concert at HCMF, probably due to the properties of the taught suspension wires that make up the bridge. From this I can see why and how Young's fascination with resonant partials and just intonation came about; the resulting harmonies are mesmerising.

The Millenium Bridge, London. Found here: http://www.parkgrandlondon.com/blog/millennium-bridge-london//

Whilst on the subject of field recording and environmental sounds, I should mention a particular work by Daniel Kordik which has struck me in quite a profound way, [Sy][ria]. The work is made up of field recordings taken from certain areas of Syria which have been sampled and mixed by the artist. Although I have never been to Syria, my memory of news articles, video clips and other such reference to the conflict taking place there is enough to alter my perception of these works. As such, the sounds of call to prayer juxtaposed with birdsong, engine noise, and simple street noises are haunting in a very ghostly way. There is something about listening to these sounds (particularly on headphones) that transports me to the place unlike any other media.

I may experiment with some of my tube recordings and the recordings above over the coming weeks in a similar way to Daniel Kordik's work, to see if I can create an emotionally engaging work of my own.

Listening Excercise No. 3

Not My Thing

Think of a piece of music or sound you do not like.
Listen to it again, and try to like it.
Stop listening when you have decided you either like it or definitely do not like it.
Write down why you do or do not like it.
(you could do the same in reverse: listen to something you like until you do not like it)

In memory of Pierre Boulez.

Pierre Boulez

Pierre Boulez, classical music's maverick, dies aged 90 - The Guardian

Yesterday I heard the sad news that Pierre Boulez had passed away, although to get to age 90 is not too bad for anyone I suppose! I don't think anyone could ever doubt his contribution to music as both a composer and conductor. However, I have to admit that his music has never really been my cup of tea so in honour of his passing, and also as a listening exercise, I have decided to find out why.

Firstly, I have never really enjoyed 12-tone music. It's not that I don't enjoy atonal music or work with abstract harmonic content - Luciano Berio and Gyorgy Ligeti as discussed below are two of my favourites and they rarely employ traditional harmonic techniques. I think the issue that I find with it is that it is too 'middle of the road' for me - it doesn't have the harmonic tension and release of Bach, Beethoven or Brahms, but it also doesn't have the out-and-out brazen lunacy of Berio's Sinfonia. I don't find it interesting, it doesn't lead anywhere and it's not texturally interesting. I find it, frankly, a little sterile.

From an analytical perspective I suppose it is interesting to study these works and their employment of tone rows; there is something oddly satisfying about tracing the use of pitches, inversions etc in something like Schoenberg's piano pieces. Also, there can be no doubt of the impact that serialist and atonal music had on music for generations thereafter. Although it is safe to say not everyone agreed with their methods, see Cornelius Cardew's 'Stockhausen Serves Imperialism' and Cage's eventual communication breakdown with Boulez himself, neither Cardew nor Cage could deny the influence on their work even if it was a deliberate attempt to distance themselves from it (in Cardew's case).

In an attempt to persuade myself to find something positive from my listening experience, I decided to listen to some Boulez works again, just to check I definitely don't like them. And in the process, I aim to either decide that I do like them, or I come up with a very good reason for not liking them by finding a similar piece that I do like and comparing the two.  First up is Boulez's Domaines pour clarinette seule.

There are several pieces similar to this one written by Boulez, in which the performer is presented with a sheet of 'cells' of music and is asked to pick the order of cells to be performed at random whilst performing. This is my first issue; the score is clearly quite challenging and complicated, with use of extended techniques and frequent changes in dynamic and tempo. It would require a lot of preparation for the performer which decreases the chance of any randomisation - if the performer knows the piece well they are more likely to make informed choices in performance.

From a listening perspective, if I'm being honest, I just don't find it interesting. The use of extended technique and dynamic should make the piece varied, but as it is so varied and the phrases seem so disconnected (to me anyway) I can't find a common thread to follow and it looses my attention quite quickly. I don't find it very interesting rhythmically, I hear recurring uses of rhythmic motif and articulation but they don't seem to develop in any way. Perhaps this is due to the randomisation aspect of the piece, in which case maybe this was not the correct choice. A better way of constructing the piece might have been to have a running motif or thematic idea for each page? Some of the textures used are interesting, there are nice moments of extended technique and rhythmic idea. I particularly liked the beginning section of the piece with the large leaps in pitch and dynamic - I love the sound of the high range of the clarinet.

Berio's Sequenza for Clarinet makes an obvious comparison for this piece; although I hadn't actually heard it before today I love his other Sequenza pieces. I really enjoyed listening to the piece, and the reason is that it seems to succeed where the Boulez failed for me. There are obvious recurring ideas which are reworked throughout the piece - recurring pitch, rhythmic, melodic and articulation motifs which can be traced through the work. I find the use of melodic and pitch material within the work more interesting too; because I felt I had something to follow it did not get boring! Also I felt he had a better grasp of the use of the instrument, the ideas seemed to flow into each other better and appeared less disjointed. I found the Boulez rather flat emotionally, whereas the Berio has a playfulness that I really enjoyed. I tried to be as non-biased as I could but I found with this work I wanted to keep listening, whereas with the Boulez I just wanted it to stop!

As I'm a string player I thought I'd give Boulez's Livre pour Quatuor a go, here it is:

I couldn't listen to the whole thing, partly because it is 40 minutes long, although I did manage 5 hours of La Monte Young's The Well Tuned Piano so my attention span is clearly not that much of an issue. Again I just found it very disjointed - the individual gestures were interesting but were arranged in such away that they just sound like noise to me. I say 'noise' as opposed to 'sounds', as noise for me represents general, not necessarily unwanted but definitely uninteresting, cacophony. The sounds or gestures in this case appear to bear little relation to what has come before, they just continue, ignorant, and until finally I have to give in and switch them off - which happened after about 10 minutes. I don't find the harmony interesting at all, again it's non-progressive, almost stagnant. The texture changed so frequently that I didn't have ample chance to enjoy each gesture, which I found very frustrating.

Ligeti's String Quartet No.2 is one of my favourite works, which might make me biased in this case, but nonetheless again I think it serves as a good example of why I didn't enjoy the Boulez. Ligeti's use of texture and colour in this work is exemplary, the instruments work so well together to create moments of great sound (not noise!) and threads or cells of texture can be traced throughout each movement. There are sections of melodic, harmonic and rhythmic interest, I've used Ligeti quite a few times as inspiration for my own works. Of most interest to me is his use of the instruments to create such interesting textures, which he lets us enjoy for a whole movement in most cases. The textures evolve and change seamlessly, sometimes with sudden interjections, but the quartet seems to work better as a whole unit which, I think, makes each gesture more effective. Like the Berio it is far more emotionally engaging, exciting and sometimes frightening!

I realise I have only really listened to a couple of works and perhaps it might be more fair to study them further, but to me listening is really the key, and I have listened, or tried to. I think I have given Boulez a fair chance in my analysis, but, in summary, I can confirm that is definitely not 'my thing'. Sorry, Boulez!