fun void tuning ( time ) {
begin;
}
Friday, October 17, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Tuning is a function of time
It's a bit strange to see all your belongings that you've lived with for the last year in either one suitcase or a big garbage bag for secondhand clothing, which is to say, most of my clothes. Not to mention, they will definitely go over the weight limit, probably charging me an extra $300 that I don't have, as well as trying to carry on two laptops, a guitar, and a violin. I'm going to wear a suit, if that counts for anything. Mostly, because I don't want it to get too wrinkled and smelly in the suitcase, but secretly because I want people to take me seriously when I'm trying to check a half dozen bags, or rather carry on two instruments.
Anyway, travel is the least of my worries, primarily because it should be over by the end of tomorrow. I spent all day today having coffee or Guinness with friends, just saying goodbyes and trying to keep in touch. It's tough to tell, at this short time, who I will or won't see again. It's tough also, then, to avoid turning inward once I realize that there are, in fact, fairly important people that will become consistently less and less important as time goes by. But there's something to be said for sealing people in a particular place and time, and whether or not I see them again they will still be distinct entities apart from their 2007/2008 selves.
I remember some essay by John Cage, or Louis Andriessen, or La Monte Young or someone, saying that, in music, we can control pitch, rhythm, volume, timbre, or anything else except for time. The one constant element of music is time: linear, continuous, and inexorable (beware, this is a paraphrase of I don't know whom). Or the composer Morton Feldman, who wrote four-hour string quartets, and who said that he never repeats himself because, even if he did (which he does), it is now different, because it's happening at a different moment in time.
Well, let's cut the allegory short and get to bed, because it will be an early morning, and although I'm leaving some of you I'm going back to others of you. But this will be my last (substantial) post here; I may add something linking to a new site, probably something fancier, probably something with another black-and-white picture of me with a sheet of composition paper or an Apple laptop. For now, though, it's time to move on. Most bars in the U.S. don't serve anything on nitrogen.
Anyway, travel is the least of my worries, primarily because it should be over by the end of tomorrow. I spent all day today having coffee or Guinness with friends, just saying goodbyes and trying to keep in touch. It's tough to tell, at this short time, who I will or won't see again. It's tough also, then, to avoid turning inward once I realize that there are, in fact, fairly important people that will become consistently less and less important as time goes by. But there's something to be said for sealing people in a particular place and time, and whether or not I see them again they will still be distinct entities apart from their 2007/2008 selves.
I remember some essay by John Cage, or Louis Andriessen, or La Monte Young or someone, saying that, in music, we can control pitch, rhythm, volume, timbre, or anything else except for time. The one constant element of music is time: linear, continuous, and inexorable (beware, this is a paraphrase of I don't know whom). Or the composer Morton Feldman, who wrote four-hour string quartets, and who said that he never repeats himself because, even if he did (which he does), it is now different, because it's happening at a different moment in time.
Well, let's cut the allegory short and get to bed, because it will be an early morning, and although I'm leaving some of you I'm going back to others of you. But this will be my last (substantial) post here; I may add something linking to a new site, probably something fancier, probably something with another black-and-white picture of me with a sheet of composition paper or an Apple laptop. For now, though, it's time to move on. Most bars in the U.S. don't serve anything on nitrogen.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Irish Whiskey, English Mustard, American Pie
But not like that, sicko. I never noticed it before I was here, but it's tough when one of your three favorite foods is turned into a cultural sex toy. "Do you have pie?" when I rarely eat out, then even more rarely order dessert, in fact, I don't think this has ever happened "But not beef and Guinness pie, American pie, with fruit" which sounds like you're playing a joke, and no, tarts are not okay.
Anyway, the line between Richland and Dublin cooking is really very thin and full of Crisco, and by that I mean it consists of pie. I never even bothered trying to make my mom's pies (except once, when I really ruined the crust and she had to save it thereby also saving Christmas) even though I watched her make it several times a year (Dad's birthday, my birthday, Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas, potlucks) and am pretty good at cutting in the shortening, at least when I make scones, and can handle rolling dough fairly well, when I make pizza, but I still worked away in total fear, following the recipe (strawberry rhubarb) to the letter, which is something I haven't done to a recipe in years and years. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and although I managed to skip the pie-feasts of Dad's birthday, Thanksgiving, potlucks, and most recently the Fourth of July, I could not let my own birthday slip through the cracks. Needless to say, I botched the crust by not dusting the cutting board with flour, so I rolled that one back up and made it into a makeshift top, thank God it was a two-crust pie, while I went in for round two on the new bottom crust, taking six times as long as my mother, and forgoing a rolling pin for an empty bottle of Jameson whiskey, which put all these little backwards signatures of "John J. Jameson" on the crust, a sign of quality. So, I ended up patching the parts that needed patching, drawing an ocean scene with a fork on the top crust, and it still somehow managed to come out all right, even though I used Crisp n' Dry, which sounds like a deodorant, because I couldn't find Crisco.
And, really, from the first bite, it was worth it. The crust really did pay off, although it kind of fell apart since I didn't have a pie-scoop, but then it did that landslide thing and melted the ice cream (also the first time I've had ice cream at home here), and there was some left over, even. Which is to say, it was definitely a hit of nostalgia having the pie last night, but reheating the pie this morning with coffee? a full-on overdose.
Anyway, the line between Richland and Dublin cooking is really very thin and full of Crisco, and by that I mean it consists of pie. I never even bothered trying to make my mom's pies (except once, when I really ruined the crust and she had to save it thereby also saving Christmas) even though I watched her make it several times a year (Dad's birthday, my birthday, Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas, potlucks) and am pretty good at cutting in the shortening, at least when I make scones, and can handle rolling dough fairly well, when I make pizza, but I still worked away in total fear, following the recipe (strawberry rhubarb) to the letter, which is something I haven't done to a recipe in years and years. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and although I managed to skip the pie-feasts of Dad's birthday, Thanksgiving, potlucks, and most recently the Fourth of July, I could not let my own birthday slip through the cracks. Needless to say, I botched the crust by not dusting the cutting board with flour, so I rolled that one back up and made it into a makeshift top, thank God it was a two-crust pie, while I went in for round two on the new bottom crust, taking six times as long as my mother, and forgoing a rolling pin for an empty bottle of Jameson whiskey, which put all these little backwards signatures of "John J. Jameson" on the crust, a sign of quality. So, I ended up patching the parts that needed patching, drawing an ocean scene with a fork on the top crust, and it still somehow managed to come out all right, even though I used Crisp n' Dry, which sounds like a deodorant, because I couldn't find Crisco.
And, really, from the first bite, it was worth it. The crust really did pay off, although it kind of fell apart since I didn't have a pie-scoop, but then it did that landslide thing and melted the ice cream (also the first time I've had ice cream at home here), and there was some left over, even. Which is to say, it was definitely a hit of nostalgia having the pie last night, but reheating the pie this morning with coffee? a full-on overdose.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Drones (We Are) - Valediction
More drones, I know. I even gave it (the mp3) an album name, sort of a pun. My intonation isn't perfect on this recording, but I feel that I manage to hit enough 7ths, major 3rds, and that E-natural well enough to make it at least work. For those of you asking "what does Just Intonation sound like?" this is what it sounds like, but usually better assuming someone is playing it who can actually play the violin.
Valediction: For any number of strings, Indeterminate duration.
Tune violins a whole step lower; tune strings IV, III, and II of cello and viola a whole step lower (C-F-C-G-D). Tune to perfect fifths.
There are about a dozen patterns here, as well as a drone on the F. All the patterns are overtones of that F from a 9-note scale (Ionian plus Lydian plus Mixolydian, or the standard Western I-IV-V). Each player should move about these patterns at will, although not jumping more than a few patterns at a time, to preserve some continuity. Players may repeat the patterns as many times as needed, and skip patterns if they wish; however, it is highly advised that someone always be playing a held F (drone), and, if there are enough players, someone should be playing a held C as well, for tuning purposes. Optionally, the players may be spread around the performance space, behind, above, or underneath the audience. They may also be amplified, and spatialized, although not with artificial reverb or effects. Finally, it may go on as long as it needs to; there is no limit (either maximum or minimum) to the duration.
If anyone wants to perform this, let me know and I'll write up the score. Mostly, it's either in my head or on scraps of paper in a half-dozen notebooks scattered around my room.
Please suffer my four-violin recording.
http://www.willamette.edu/~acsmith/valediction.mp3
Valediction: For any number of strings, Indeterminate duration.
Tune violins a whole step lower; tune strings IV, III, and II of cello and viola a whole step lower (C-F-C-G-D). Tune to perfect fifths.
There are about a dozen patterns here, as well as a drone on the F. All the patterns are overtones of that F from a 9-note scale (Ionian plus Lydian plus Mixolydian, or the standard Western I-IV-V). Each player should move about these patterns at will, although not jumping more than a few patterns at a time, to preserve some continuity. Players may repeat the patterns as many times as needed, and skip patterns if they wish; however, it is highly advised that someone always be playing a held F (drone), and, if there are enough players, someone should be playing a held C as well, for tuning purposes. Optionally, the players may be spread around the performance space, behind, above, or underneath the audience. They may also be amplified, and spatialized, although not with artificial reverb or effects. Finally, it may go on as long as it needs to; there is no limit (either maximum or minimum) to the duration.
If anyone wants to perform this, let me know and I'll write up the score. Mostly, it's either in my head or on scraps of paper in a half-dozen notebooks scattered around my room.
Please suffer my four-violin recording.
http://www.willamette.edu/~acsmith/valediction.mp3
Monday, July 28, 2008
Genre
When pirating music, sometimes it appears in iTunes intact with artist names, sometimes album information, and if you're very lucky it comes with a genre. Rebuilding my music collection, since I somehow can't access the 60 GB of (mostly) my CD collection on my dying external hard drive, my favorite genre was "Unclassifiable," for a Larry Polansky (electronic, microtonal, acoustic, heavily distorted guitars, sometimes a choir, teaches at Dartmouth) album "C H A N G E," but that has now been eclipsed by a Keyboard Study from the album par le GERM split LP by minimalist founder Terry Riley, Genre: Unknowable. For some reference, he is also listed under folk, rock & roll, "instrumental," jazz, "misc," avant garde, and (where do we draw the line?) classical. To be fair, he probably belongs in electronic, world, and new age as well.
My dream is to perform his signature piece "In C" at Wulapalooza, or anywhere else with a semi-captive audience. It's a series of 40-something loops for any number of musicians with any instruments, where you move forward at will, with no conductor. It is, as I believe, a deconstruction of the Western tradition. There's really no acceptable YouTube video for this, but I have a recording from the Node Ensemble concert somewhere, on another computer.
My dream is to perform his signature piece "In C" at Wulapalooza, or anywhere else with a semi-captive audience. It's a series of 40-something loops for any number of musicians with any instruments, where you move forward at will, with no conductor. It is, as I believe, a deconstruction of the Western tradition. There's really no acceptable YouTube video for this, but I have a recording from the Node Ensemble concert somewhere, on another computer.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Oh no.
http://salem.craigslist.org/etc/766600084.html
I am addicted to craigslist. Don't even get me started on "missed connections."
I am addicted to craigslist. Don't even get me started on "missed connections."
Pancaking
As part of an ongoing quest to use all my remaining baking ingredients, I made pancakes for breakfast. Except, there's a problem in halving the recipe when the four-serving version calls for one egg. Normally, I might just leave the egg the same and reduce the others, making extra-eggy pancakes--but, no, that would be capitulating. Now it's a challenge, and you, about.com, are about to lose.
I remember in sixth grade someone (Alan, in case anyone is interested) invented a word, "pancaking," for my current state. It's the act of eating pancakes drawn as a larger allegory: beginning something whole-hearted and enthusiastic, a delicious first bite, soon settling into the rhythm of things, then even sooner overwhelmed by the mass and monstrosity of what's on the plate in front of you, but determined to go on. Obviously, in a literal sense, this applies quite well to my present state, yet I believe it ranks with the Odyssey and the Gospel of John as a legitimate classical myth-structure; indeed, it applies to watching a Meg Ryan movie (funny and heartwarming; expected that joke, sure; isn't this over? where's Tom Hanks?) to Samuel Beckett (any elaboration needed? Good.)
Pancaking is never really done with. The current plate is finished, yet there is still almost a whole bag of white flour left, not to mention all the multi-grain flour, yeast, baking powder, baking soda, etc. But now, at least, I'm satisfied with a job well done, and also there's syrup all over my computer.
And now for a picture that I'll probably end up regretting when I apply for a job where they're likely to Google my name (which job is that?):
I remember in sixth grade someone (Alan, in case anyone is interested) invented a word, "pancaking," for my current state. It's the act of eating pancakes drawn as a larger allegory: beginning something whole-hearted and enthusiastic, a delicious first bite, soon settling into the rhythm of things, then even sooner overwhelmed by the mass and monstrosity of what's on the plate in front of you, but determined to go on. Obviously, in a literal sense, this applies quite well to my present state, yet I believe it ranks with the Odyssey and the Gospel of John as a legitimate classical myth-structure; indeed, it applies to watching a Meg Ryan movie (funny and heartwarming; expected that joke, sure; isn't this over? where's Tom Hanks?) to Samuel Beckett (any elaboration needed? Good.)
Pancaking is never really done with. The current plate is finished, yet there is still almost a whole bag of white flour left, not to mention all the multi-grain flour, yeast, baking powder, baking soda, etc. But now, at least, I'm satisfied with a job well done, and also there's syrup all over my computer.
And now for a picture that I'll probably end up regretting when I apply for a job where they're likely to Google my name (which job is that?):
Friday, July 25, 2008
1-3-7-21-49-147
Just hit play.
Yes, friends, that is my new favorite guitar tuning. It is (if you're into this) an E (maybe), a third harmonic above that, a seventh harmonic of the E, a seventh harmonic of the third harmonic, a seventh harmonic of the seventh harmonic, a third harmonic of the seventh harmonic of the seventh harmonic (bringing us to 3x7x7 = 147).
In short, it's the greatest tuning ever created. I tried to pluck a tune normal guitar style, but it just wasn't doing the tuning justice, so I cradled the guitar between my legs like a cello, put my recorder in front of myself, picked up my violin bow, and started making noise. What you hear (as we speak, if you followed instructions) is an excerpt, after I got used to the mechanics of it, but before I started to run out of ideas. You'll notice it's mostly 5 minutes of drones; they aren't all drones, but when you vibrate the higher strings at 21 and 49 and 147 times the speed of the lower strings, their vibrations are so perfectly in tune with the natural vibrations of the lower strings that the whole thing starts to reverberate. All this really needs is to be even louder, and sustained for upwards of an hour.
Anyway, the last one (taeper, or repeat backwards) was also on guitar, but with a different tuning (1-4/3-7/4-9/4-11/4-4/1), and just the same thirteen (yes, prime numbers) notes, looped and played backward. There's a bandpass on the whole thing, so nothing changes except for the reinforced frequencies--the shift in melody that you hear is actually just a shift in filtration, like holding differently colored gels in front of a white light.
Yes, friends, that is my new favorite guitar tuning. It is (if you're into this) an E (maybe), a third harmonic above that, a seventh harmonic of the E, a seventh harmonic of the third harmonic, a seventh harmonic of the seventh harmonic, a third harmonic of the seventh harmonic of the seventh harmonic (bringing us to 3x7x7 = 147).
In short, it's the greatest tuning ever created. I tried to pluck a tune normal guitar style, but it just wasn't doing the tuning justice, so I cradled the guitar between my legs like a cello, put my recorder in front of myself, picked up my violin bow, and started making noise. What you hear (as we speak, if you followed instructions) is an excerpt, after I got used to the mechanics of it, but before I started to run out of ideas. You'll notice it's mostly 5 minutes of drones; they aren't all drones, but when you vibrate the higher strings at 21 and 49 and 147 times the speed of the lower strings, their vibrations are so perfectly in tune with the natural vibrations of the lower strings that the whole thing starts to reverberate. All this really needs is to be even louder, and sustained for upwards of an hour.
Anyway, the last one (taeper, or repeat backwards) was also on guitar, but with a different tuning (1-4/3-7/4-9/4-11/4-4/1), and just the same thirteen (yes, prime numbers) notes, looped and played backward. There's a bandpass on the whole thing, so nothing changes except for the reinforced frequencies--the shift in melody that you hear is actually just a shift in filtration, like holding differently colored gels in front of a white light.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Dodging cars, succeeding (so far)
Trying to make the most of this page before next week, when I have to retire it (or at least change the name) and realizing that I haven't said anything with real words for weeks. I've got this plan for next week, the day after my birthday, where I'll move out August 1 (really just take most of my stuff to a friend's house so as to not pay rent) and bicycle to Derry. If I stop halfway, in Armagh, it will split the trip into two days, about 82 miles Friday and 70 miles Saturday.
The problem I ran into, though, on my test run today was getting out of Dublin. It's nearly impossible to make it out of here without hitting those 100 km/h and over roads. It's not so bad staying on back roads, even though there's really no shoulder and my knuckles are permanently pale, but at least the cars are shooting by at 50-60 km/h instead of 100 (reference: like riding on the Richland bypass highway, which is also scary, but at least then I know where I'm going). I'm thinking that if I can make it far enough out of Dublin and not get lost one of these days, then I can do it again next Friday. So, tomorrow it looks like it'll be a 60 mile round trip to Drogheda, which is almost the entire way to Armagh, up in the (capital-N?) north.
The only downside is that (did I say this already?) most of the directions from the last two-hour test ride are lost, my only memories of those last two hours being trying not to die. Anyway, I'll be home (alive, we hope) on August 7, but then off to Salem/Portland probably for a day or two, so we'll figure something out.
The problem I ran into, though, on my test run today was getting out of Dublin. It's nearly impossible to make it out of here without hitting those 100 km/h and over roads. It's not so bad staying on back roads, even though there's really no shoulder and my knuckles are permanently pale, but at least the cars are shooting by at 50-60 km/h instead of 100 (reference: like riding on the Richland bypass highway, which is also scary, but at least then I know where I'm going). I'm thinking that if I can make it far enough out of Dublin and not get lost one of these days, then I can do it again next Friday. So, tomorrow it looks like it'll be a 60 mile round trip to Drogheda, which is almost the entire way to Armagh, up in the (capital-N?) north.
The only downside is that (did I say this already?) most of the directions from the last two-hour test ride are lost, my only memories of those last two hours being trying not to die. Anyway, I'll be home (alive, we hope) on August 7, but then off to Salem/Portland probably for a day or two, so we'll figure something out.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Friday, July 18, 2008
Budapest: In three parts
Budapest
In Three Parts
Copyright July 15, 2008
"It just gets destroyed, then rebuilt, destroyed, then rebuilt."
-Claire McQuerry
Pt. I: The Ottomans
All begin on pattern A, beginning at different times, in canon. Move to pattern B at will, again in canon, but with the tempos shifted so that each repeat takes the same duration. There is a simple formula for this, tX being the tempo of either pattern: tA/7 = tB/5. Play until all reach B and fade out individually.
Pt. II: The Hapsburgs
Split into two groups: one group plays notes from A, while the other plays notes from B. Repeat until it crumbles.
Pt. III: The Soviets
Pick any note from A. Change after 7 seconds. Repeat 7 times.
Pick any note from B. Change after 5 seconds. Repeat 5 times.
In Three Parts
Copyright July 15, 2008
"It just gets destroyed, then rebuilt, destroyed, then rebuilt."
-Claire McQuerry
Pt. I: The Ottomans
All begin on pattern A, beginning at different times, in canon. Move to pattern B at will, again in canon, but with the tempos shifted so that each repeat takes the same duration. There is a simple formula for this, tX being the tempo of either pattern: tA/7 = tB/5. Play until all reach B and fade out individually.
Pt. II: The Hapsburgs
Split into two groups: one group plays notes from A, while the other plays notes from B. Repeat until it crumbles.
Pt. III: The Soviets
Pick any note from A. Change after 7 seconds. Repeat 7 times.
Pick any note from B. Change after 5 seconds. Repeat 5 times.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Encroach
You know when you can hear the rain approaching? I mean, when it's really not raining very hard but the trees a few houses down are really just eating it up, making all kinds of noise, clearly the only ones in this town who want more rain, and it crescendos coming closer and closer until it's really a torrent next door and the light sprinkle in your garden probably won't be very light for very long. That's a good time to decide to stay in for the day.
Leaving for Munich (then Salzburt, Halstatt, Vienna, Budapest) tomorrow. Should be fun.
Leaving for Munich (then Salzburt, Halstatt, Vienna, Budapest) tomorrow. Should be fun.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
lbs.
I'm somewhere between Kings Cross and York, and I just finished my vegetable pasty, and as Garrett Sholdice said, it doesn't take long out of London before that buzzing in your head quiets down. I haven't yet gotten used to the currency--so much prettier than the ecumenical euro--and probably won't get a chance to before I fly back to Dublin tomorrow.
Yesterday was boiling in London, easily 80 degrees. I could not think, stumbling around partly lost and partly just bored for the sake of nothing to do all day, and too much heat to do it in. It was vindicated, though, by the excellent concert by the Fidelio Trio, with old works by Donnacha Dennehy, Linda Buckley, and Kevin Volans, and new works by Benedict Schlepper-Connolly, and (sort of) Gerald Barry.
The reason I am even here in the first place was today's interview with Garrett and Ben, and London was the only place I could meet them both together. They've started this organization, Ergodos, putting on contemporary music concerts and commissioning new material as often as possible.
One thing (more than one, really) Ben said interested me, in terms of his critique of the European mindset: Ireland is now officially two weeks into a recession, and they are a brand-new organization applying for arts funding. In order to survive through public budget cuts, they realize, you have to put effort into opening revenue streams aside from the arts council. Their goal is more than just having the same fifteen people in the new music crowd show up for every gig; it's to actually get new audiences in the door. The concert that they held in conjunction with a school in New York and the Royal Irish Academy of Music exemplified this: the new music crowd was largely absent, but there were whole families there listening to this music written decades ago that is still off-the-charts abstract even now.
(When is music not abstract?)
I must resolve to take the train more often. Train stations are significantly more quaint that airports, the nature is pretty, and this train even has spotty WiFi. Luckily, on my trip next week (next week!) From Munich to Salzburg to Halstatt to Wien to Budapest I'll be taking trains the whole way. It's time to decompress, to sit in four-seat rows where airplane cabins would almost certainly have six seats. Plus they have outlets to plug in your computer.
And, finally, the best thing about England? Cask ale.
Yesterday was boiling in London, easily 80 degrees. I could not think, stumbling around partly lost and partly just bored for the sake of nothing to do all day, and too much heat to do it in. It was vindicated, though, by the excellent concert by the Fidelio Trio, with old works by Donnacha Dennehy, Linda Buckley, and Kevin Volans, and new works by Benedict Schlepper-Connolly, and (sort of) Gerald Barry.
The reason I am even here in the first place was today's interview with Garrett and Ben, and London was the only place I could meet them both together. They've started this organization, Ergodos, putting on contemporary music concerts and commissioning new material as often as possible.
One thing (more than one, really) Ben said interested me, in terms of his critique of the European mindset: Ireland is now officially two weeks into a recession, and they are a brand-new organization applying for arts funding. In order to survive through public budget cuts, they realize, you have to put effort into opening revenue streams aside from the arts council. Their goal is more than just having the same fifteen people in the new music crowd show up for every gig; it's to actually get new audiences in the door. The concert that they held in conjunction with a school in New York and the Royal Irish Academy of Music exemplified this: the new music crowd was largely absent, but there were whole families there listening to this music written decades ago that is still off-the-charts abstract even now.
(When is music not abstract?)
I must resolve to take the train more often. Train stations are significantly more quaint that airports, the nature is pretty, and this train even has spotty WiFi. Luckily, on my trip next week (next week!) From Munich to Salzburg to Halstatt to Wien to Budapest I'll be taking trains the whole way. It's time to decompress, to sit in four-seat rows where airplane cabins would almost certainly have six seats. Plus they have outlets to plug in your computer.
And, finally, the best thing about England? Cask ale.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Rude Octaves
Just hit play while you're reading this. It's good mood music.
I created this patch that isn't very performance-friendly, and needs some debugging (the random number generator provides the same number to all 16 patches) but still got a solid 8 1/2 minutes of waves from it. At its peak, there are 16 oscillators going at once, all at different frequencies. It works like this:
16 instances of this patch, 8 on the left and 8 on the right channel, all with independent volume controls. Each patch has a cosine wave at its own frequency: 12 Hz, in the picture. Then, there's a random-number function that picks a number from 0-15 (default) every 25 (default) milliseconds. You can hear, at the beginning, it's only a new number every 1000 milliseconds (one second), but that must be changed manually. Then, that number is x in the function 2^x.
So, you have a number (1, 2, 4, 8, 16, etc.) randomly generated to multiply your base frequency by. Your frequency (12, in this case) is then 12, 24, 48, 96, etc. Now--who knew?--those are all octaves. So, what you get is a randomly generated octave jump every 25 milliseconds, and instead of a particular melody you just get weird waves of harmony.
It begins with 1 Hz (frequencies are inaudible under about 20 Hz, so you get sort of this weird clicking instead for some of the parts), then you hear the 3 Hz (perfect fifth up) enter. Later, the 5 Hz (major third up) enters, and you've got this pretty triad. Eventually, the 7 Hz (lowered 7th), 9 Hz (perfect fifth of perfect fifth, a.k.a. roughly a major second), and 13 Hz (sort of a major sixth, but way cooler than your mother's major sixth) all enter.
I save the 11 Hz for towards the end--know why? Because it's amazing. It's probably one of the wildest notes of creation. I think of it as the bastard child of the harmonic series. At least we tried to accommodate roughly the major third (5/1), sixth (1/5), the perfect fifth (3/1), the dominant seventh (7/1)--but we didn't even bother with 11/1. It's almost exactly halfway between two equal-tempered (piano-scale) notes. And one of those notes we called "diablo en musica," the tritone. Needless to say, I love the eleventh harmonic.
I'm going to London tomorrow.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonnerronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthurnuk!
So I'm plunging headlong into sine waves, stacking them on top of each other and finding octaves and harmonics and exponential amplitudes with formulas like:
x^[10 * (y/20)], given that y is amplitude in decibels and x is amplitude in a decimal from 0-1.
I don't really understand it either, except that it is interesting how we hear volume on a logarithmic scale at log10, while we hear pitch at log2. Though pitches in the lower register can change pitch with a change of 10 Hz (55 Hz = A, 65 Hz = C, almost), pitches in the higher ranges take longer to shift (the same A-to-C interval would be 80 Hz at a higher range). It makes you (me) wonder if we see on this same scale: imagine a car hurtling towards you on a back road, a half-mile off. Now imagine a car hurtling towards you about 10 feet away. Aside from the clear terror you're feeling, the car seems to be going much faster when it's about to hit you.
(Aside: remember that scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail when the knight, I forget which one, is charging the camera in a continuous loop, then all of a sudden he is there and stabs the poor man? Clearly, they share my theory.)
---
I just got my visa extended for the summer, so I'm a legitimate entity again. I'm starting my first interview Monday, going to London on Tuesday, interviewing again Wednesday, coming back Thursday, and interviewing again Friday, and probably Saturday as well. It seems like I'd be busy, but between sending out a few e-mails a day and going to at least one concert a week I still manage to spend most of my time learning to make noises on the keyboard.
The main purpose of the noises is for the Autopsy section of the opera, using the text of Jorie Graham's poem "San Sepolcro." The entire section will be voice and drones of spectral-tuned waves, very ambient. No need for an orchestra, just a laptop (maybe more than one, a laptop orchestra) and about a thousand speakers.
---
I didn't know where to put this, but I thought it was funny. Finnegan's Wake in Wiki-format, so that you can add your own references for every single word or phrase. I read about five or six pages of it last night (on actual paper, from the library) but then when I pulled up the site it just made it less fun. If you read it aloud and don't click on the links it makes much more sense, or at least it's pretty. There's something to be said for picking apart every note/word of a great work, but it certainly helps to play/read it through once or twice to hear it.
x^[10 * (y/20)], given that y is amplitude in decibels and x is amplitude in a decimal from 0-1.
I don't really understand it either, except that it is interesting how we hear volume on a logarithmic scale at log10, while we hear pitch at log2. Though pitches in the lower register can change pitch with a change of 10 Hz (55 Hz = A, 65 Hz = C, almost), pitches in the higher ranges take longer to shift (the same A-to-C interval would be 80 Hz at a higher range). It makes you (me) wonder if we see on this same scale: imagine a car hurtling towards you on a back road, a half-mile off. Now imagine a car hurtling towards you about 10 feet away. Aside from the clear terror you're feeling, the car seems to be going much faster when it's about to hit you.
(Aside: remember that scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail when the knight, I forget which one, is charging the camera in a continuous loop, then all of a sudden he is there and stabs the poor man? Clearly, they share my theory.)
---
I just got my visa extended for the summer, so I'm a legitimate entity again. I'm starting my first interview Monday, going to London on Tuesday, interviewing again Wednesday, coming back Thursday, and interviewing again Friday, and probably Saturday as well. It seems like I'd be busy, but between sending out a few e-mails a day and going to at least one concert a week I still manage to spend most of my time learning to make noises on the keyboard.
The main purpose of the noises is for the Autopsy section of the opera, using the text of Jorie Graham's poem "San Sepolcro." The entire section will be voice and drones of spectral-tuned waves, very ambient. No need for an orchestra, just a laptop (maybe more than one, a laptop orchestra) and about a thousand speakers.
---
I didn't know where to put this, but I thought it was funny. Finnegan's Wake in Wiki-format, so that you can add your own references for every single word or phrase. I read about five or six pages of it last night (on actual paper, from the library) but then when I pulled up the site it just made it less fun. If you read it aloud and don't click on the links it makes much more sense, or at least it's pretty. There's something to be said for picking apart every note/word of a great work, but it certainly helps to play/read it through once or twice to hear it.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
The sun never sets on Dublin
This time of year, in the days around the summer solstice, it's never quite night in Dublin. After the 9:58 sunset light still clings to the western horizon, and the dusk haze slowly circles around until the 4:58 dawn.
During the 10-day visit from my parents we criss-crossed over Ireland, visiting historic sites ranging from c. 3000 BC to 1916 and later, bicycled Inis Oírr a few times in two hours, ran out of gas in villages with stations closing at 10 p.m., and figured a skeleton for an epic opera.
Today, though, after they left, was one of the first sunny days in Dublin for a while. I made it up to Howth Head, 20 miles total, on my bicycle and hiked partway up and around the head, just enough to where I lost sight of the civilized world, and only until the wind started to pick up. About a three hour trip in all, but considering that I have no schedule and can only bother the same people for interviews so many times it wasn't too much trouble.
I would have gotten some great photos, but I don't really take pictures and also don't bring my camera with me anywhere. So you'll have to do with just first imagining nothing, then the sound of seagulls, then a green ocean with a canoe carrying four people in orange life vests, then exhaustion coupled with near vertigo from the sheer cliffs separating you from the water.
During the 10-day visit from my parents we criss-crossed over Ireland, visiting historic sites ranging from c. 3000 BC to 1916 and later, bicycled Inis Oírr a few times in two hours, ran out of gas in villages with stations closing at 10 p.m., and figured a skeleton for an epic opera.
Today, though, after they left, was one of the first sunny days in Dublin for a while. I made it up to Howth Head, 20 miles total, on my bicycle and hiked partway up and around the head, just enough to where I lost sight of the civilized world, and only until the wind started to pick up. About a three hour trip in all, but considering that I have no schedule and can only bother the same people for interviews so many times it wasn't too much trouble.
I would have gotten some great photos, but I don't really take pictures and also don't bring my camera with me anywhere. So you'll have to do with just first imagining nothing, then the sound of seagulls, then a green ocean with a canoe carrying four people in orange life vests, then exhaustion coupled with near vertigo from the sheer cliffs separating you from the water.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
CRASH (again)
Just can't help it: even though I've written about the Crash Ensemble a few hundred times already, I saw them again the other night and it was at least as good. A greatest hits concert, I suppose, with all commissions written specifically for the ensemble--three for roughly the full ensemble (no vocals, though), one string quartet, and one string quintet with two pianos. The second one, "Forced March," was by David Lang, one of the founding members of the Bang on a Can ensemble and the Pulitzer Prize winner for composition in 2008. I shook his hand.
Anyway, the other items on the docket were Terry Riley's Loops for Ancient Giant Nude Hairy Warriors Racing Down the Slopes of Battle, Gerald Barry's First Sorrow ("If someone could figure out how to make a poignancy grid, to attain the greatest level of poignancy..."), Kevin Volans's Connecting the Dots, and Donnacha Dennehy's Gra agus Bas ("Well, folks, looks like poignancy is the name of the game tonight.") I had only heard First Sorrow, the string quartet, before, but I had heard recordings of many of the others from their premieres last year. The string quartet is still my favorite, although Loops for Ancient Giant Nude... is probably the most fun, with a full-distortion electric guitar solo.
In other news: Beckett's "Not I" as a contemporary of bebop jazz, and as a precursor of slam poetry. Discuss.
That's a 151 MB .avi version, but you can find it at YouTube as well. It's free and public domain (I guess? The www.ubu.com site is legal, I think) so I'd recommend just downloading it and watching it when you have 10 minutes of time to block out. It's too good to chop up into bits, and, although it gets exhausting, you must go on.
Anyway, the other items on the docket were Terry Riley's Loops for Ancient Giant Nude Hairy Warriors Racing Down the Slopes of Battle, Gerald Barry's First Sorrow ("If someone could figure out how to make a poignancy grid, to attain the greatest level of poignancy..."), Kevin Volans's Connecting the Dots, and Donnacha Dennehy's Gra agus Bas ("Well, folks, looks like poignancy is the name of the game tonight.") I had only heard First Sorrow, the string quartet, before, but I had heard recordings of many of the others from their premieres last year. The string quartet is still my favorite, although Loops for Ancient Giant Nude... is probably the most fun, with a full-distortion electric guitar solo.
In other news: Beckett's "Not I" as a contemporary of bebop jazz, and as a precursor of slam poetry. Discuss.
That's a 151 MB .avi version, but you can find it at YouTube as well. It's free and public domain (I guess? The www.ubu.com site is legal, I think) so I'd recommend just downloading it and watching it when you have 10 minutes of time to block out. It's too good to chop up into bits, and, although it gets exhausting, you must go on.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Is this preferable to silence? (We are winning the war on terror)
For anyone familiar with This American Life (all of you), you might remember the segment that they excerpted from the WNYC show Radio Lab about a year ago. Radio Lab doesn't have new episodes quite as much as This American Life does, but it's consistently incredible. But that's not the point.
The point is, Jad Abumrad, the host of Radio Lab, has come out with a 4-part series on WNYC called "Wordless Music," after the Wordless Music festival which features indie rock performers on the same ticket as classical musicians: Beruit will play in the same night as someone performing Osvaldo Golijov, or Jonny Greenwood (guitarist from Radiohead) will just play. Check out Episode Two of this especially--I'm not crazy about the middle piece, but all of you need to hear Arvo Pärt's (pear-t) "Fratres," especially you, Mom. The Crash Ensemble did a whole half concert (part of a Dublin-wide festival) on Pärt, an Estonian-born expatriated composer with strong mystic Eastern (Russian Orthodox) influences.
In other news, I found a sample of George Bush saying, "We are winning the war on terror," and I mapped it to my keyboard, with multiple filters and distortion effects controlled by knobs, looped in layers. Also, if you hold the button down it loops "on terror." It's more of an improvised setup than a real composition, and really the kind of thing that needs to be heard live over giant speakers. So reserve the date of August 16, my backyard, private concert by Andrew Smith feat. George Bush.
The point is, Jad Abumrad, the host of Radio Lab, has come out with a 4-part series on WNYC called "Wordless Music," after the Wordless Music festival which features indie rock performers on the same ticket as classical musicians: Beruit will play in the same night as someone performing Osvaldo Golijov, or Jonny Greenwood (guitarist from Radiohead) will just play. Check out Episode Two of this especially--I'm not crazy about the middle piece, but all of you need to hear Arvo Pärt's (pear-t) "Fratres," especially you, Mom. The Crash Ensemble did a whole half concert (part of a Dublin-wide festival) on Pärt, an Estonian-born expatriated composer with strong mystic Eastern (Russian Orthodox) influences.
In other news, I found a sample of George Bush saying, "We are winning the war on terror," and I mapped it to my keyboard, with multiple filters and distortion effects controlled by knobs, looped in layers. Also, if you hold the button down it loops "on terror." It's more of an improvised setup than a real composition, and really the kind of thing that needs to be heard live over giant speakers. So reserve the date of August 16, my backyard, private concert by Andrew Smith feat. George Bush.
Friday, June 6, 2008
The Harmonic of the Fundamental
If you take a particular signal (13 Hz, for example) and you multiply it by 2, you get an octave. If you multiply that by 3, you get a perfect fifth. If you multiply that by 5, you get a major third. If you multiply that by 72, you get the six octaves and a perfect fifth up from your original 13 Hz. If you plot a bunch of these on graph paper in colored pencils (to designate different wave forms), you get my day. Each horizontal square is one second; each vertical square is one harmonic (the first square is 13 Hz, second is 26 Hz, third is 39 Hz, etc.) Blue is a sine wave (obviously), orange is sawtooth, red is triangle, green is parabola, yellow is pulse, and brown is noise with an added sine wave for color. Brown only comes in the 64th harmonic, by the way.
And if you keep wondering to yourself, Why do I keep reading this blog, when it's usually unintelligible rambling about waves and ultimately irritating noises?, then I'll tell you why: Cousin photos.
It's only a minute long; it's not like you haven't listened to more irritating things for 60 seconds.
http://www.willamette.edu/~acsmith/struktur.mp3
And if you keep wondering to yourself, Why do I keep reading this blog, when it's usually unintelligible rambling about waves and ultimately irritating noises?, then I'll tell you why: Cousin photos.
It's only a minute long; it's not like you haven't listened to more irritating things for 60 seconds.
http://www.willamette.edu/~acsmith/struktur.mp3
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Gas Tax Holiday
I figured, call them in the afternoon my time, because how many people are making credit card fraud claims at four in the morning? Apparently enough to keep me on hold for a while. Not that I have anything else to do, while Mozart or something equally vile is playing in the background, and I am adding my own special layer on it with my multi-oscillator software synthesizer and two-octave keyboard. It's something in E major, and it's been going on for ages. I think it's a rondo, either that or it's just on a continuous loop.
7:56
Someone has been using my debit card to buy gas in Beaumont, which I thought meant the Beaumont Shell Station just up the street (near Beaumont Hospital) but which apparently means Beaumont, California, seeing as how whoever it is drove to Pomona, and unless it's an amphibious craft (which would explain why they guy spends $450 on gas in a week) it doesn't look like he lives in Dublin.
12:52
Pretty sure this is Chopin, probably early Chopin, because it still has the minor-key arpeggiated bass with some rocking tuplets in the right hand.
15:28
Turns out it's my OTHER debit card, which I had never cancelled, so I get to keep this one. Good news, although now we're up to about $540 in charges. I'm starting to support Hilary's gas tax holiday.
22:00 or so
Well, getting that credited back to my account temporarily. Plus I get to sign an affidavit and mail it back to them, and keep my current debit card. So, back to programming synthesizers to make weird noises. I found a sweet vocoder effect, but more on that later.
7:56
Someone has been using my debit card to buy gas in Beaumont, which I thought meant the Beaumont Shell Station just up the street (near Beaumont Hospital) but which apparently means Beaumont, California, seeing as how whoever it is drove to Pomona, and unless it's an amphibious craft (which would explain why they guy spends $450 on gas in a week) it doesn't look like he lives in Dublin.
12:52
Pretty sure this is Chopin, probably early Chopin, because it still has the minor-key arpeggiated bass with some rocking tuplets in the right hand.
15:28
Turns out it's my OTHER debit card, which I had never cancelled, so I get to keep this one. Good news, although now we're up to about $540 in charges. I'm starting to support Hilary's gas tax holiday.
22:00 or so
Well, getting that credited back to my account temporarily. Plus I get to sign an affidavit and mail it back to them, and keep my current debit card. So, back to programming synthesizers to make weird noises. I found a sweet vocoder effect, but more on that later.
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