“With some of the instruments I’ve used, people would be surprised about some of the results I’ve got out of them because they’re not designed to do certain things and yet, if you put your mind to it and really get to grips with how it’s built and not the manufacturer’s intentions, any machine will do a number of things above and beyond what the manufacturer intended. It’s just looking at it with an open mind, then those things become apparent.”
How do we know when the music we’re making is actually new?
What signs might indicate this newness?
Are the signs in the sounds or in our our changing attention to them?
It feels like nothing is happening
because musically speaking, nothing is happening.
I’m clicking through sounds, looking at the screen,
I search for a sound that I can relate to by playing it and getting into it.
But nothing is happening.
And then, a sound.
A sound that is interesting enough for me to stick with for a while.
I try it out by playing it and hearing what it can do.
I listen for interesting irregularities.
I play a simple phrase and keep returning to it.
Is there something here?
Is it a hook?
Soon I’m lost in the sound,
trying to build on the simple phase that hooked me in.
I find another phrase and repeat that for a while.
This one is more interesting that the first phrase
because I notice myself playing rubato
(even though the sound doesn’t respond to my rubato playing).
The sound feels expressive and so, I do too.
I’m even swaying in my chair a bit as I play.
I try linking the two phrases together.
They sort of fit, but only if the second phrase is played freely.
There’s some connecting chords needed to get into the second phrase
that I’m not sure about. Each time I play them the chords are a bit different.
I could figure them out…but I’d prefer to let my hands figure it out.
Do I refine the chords and interrupt the process or keep moving ahead?
I move ahead.
I hit record and play for a while,
keeping in mind the two phrases and connecting them.
I can always refine this later, but actually
this moment is my best chance to get it right.
I record a second time, hoping to improve it but the first take was better
because I didn’t completely know where I was going
or how it would end.
“A startlingly high proportion of my happiest memories of running involved getting lost.”
“Never mind the outcome. Run in the moment; if the moment is in nature, run in nature, too. Focus on what you are doing and where you are doing it. You will rarely return the same as when you started out.”
– Richard Askwith, Running Free (2015)
Advent of the Musical
“The challenge of any musical creation must be to invent the conditions of possibility for an appearing of the musical, but nothing else, because that is all that lies within its power. You don’t create music; you create environments condusive to the advent of music” (30).
“Books about music don’t really talk about it. All they do is evoke its emanations, describe its avatars. Music is like the dragons on ancient maps: it remains hidden. Writing on music therefore usually means writing on a sociocultural field specific to a style, a population, an era or a history (this is the terrain of sociology of music, and even music journalism), on the poetics of the musical and the technics of the appearance of the musical (the field of musicology) or a mixture of both, often in the hope of understanding humanity better through its practices, and by observing distinct groups (which forms part of the field of study of ethnomusicology). Some have tried to directly tackle the question of music itself, both philosophers and scientists. But they almost inevitably fall into an ‘onto-logic’ and then seek to essentialise the reality of music. Or else their analyses are based on a preconception of music, i.e. on music understood in its most classical sense, in terms of notes, scales, and instruments. Their conclusions can then only repeat the basic assumptions they started with. Thus, music, taken as an object of study and reflection, is almost always already an a priori representation of music, a predetermined, parceled-out space. Writing on music therefore usually comes down to moving within a space of belief. A whole liturgy has been developed for music but, like God, music itself remains absent” (19).
– Francois J. Bonnet, The Music To Come (2020)