Part 2

Tell me about some of the albums or artists that you love specifically for their sound, please. What makes their approach distinct and how have they influenced your perspective on and way of working with sound?

There are so many, it’s difficult to know where to start. You are also asking me to distinguish between sound and content if I'm correct in inferring that you are interested in production values.

I find it hard to dissociate all the elements that make a particular recording compelling. It's the whole that grabs you. Nonetheless, I'll just mention the first one that comes to mind, the trio of albums that Codona (Don Cherry, Nana Vasconcelos, Collin Walcott) did for ECM in between 1978 and 1982, are absolute classics.



I recently contributed a list for the 21 Tracks for the 21st century that Glean magazine runs. The process of compiling this list made me think of your question, among other things. I didn't find an answer.

Well, that's a bit facile. To expand, I think I have a predilection for sounds that both keep me on my toes and keep my toes tapping. In other words, approaches to sound that are unpredictable and have a propulsive force, a compelling rhythmic, a vertiginous drive.

Have you ever been in spaces with extreme sonic characteristics, such as anechoic chambers or caves? What was the experience like?

I have been in both, though I haven’t been in a cave since I was a child. One of my most cherished art experiences was going into Jean Dubuffet's Jardin d'hiver (1968-1970) at the Centre Pompidou in Paris at some point in the 1980s. As a novice art lover at the time, the concept of being able to enter a sculpture was a real turning point for me. I'm not entirely sure, but I think they don't allow people in the piece anymore.

The sensation of intimacy that a cocoon-type setting produces, especially when accompanied by either partial or complete darkness is something that I have a penchant for and I implicitly return to in a lot of the work I do (by 'implicitly' I mean that it does not necessarily need to manifest spatially, it can be sonically, or even just emotively).

A recent example where a chamber became a key player in a project is when Marla Hlady and I decided to use two swan's necks (the slender part of a copper still) to house the sounds we made in a whisky distillery.

The project, titled Swan Song (2019), also marks the first time I really focused on drones and that was partly as a response to the resonances we heard emerging out of these horn-like objects strongly reminiscent of gramophones. Both the installation and the publication versions of this piece feature the collective voice of the distillery (culled from human and non-human sources).

What are among your favourite spaces to record and play your music?

The recording part is really project-specific. Often the project dictates where the sound is.

Close miking is definitely my default, often using contact mics, but I like to try all microphones I have on hand. The playing part is also essentially anywhere and everywhere. Cave 12 in Geneva and the LUFF in Lausanne are two places where the live sound they can produce has been consistently excellent, even if at the threshold of pain in terms of loudness at times, but clearly both venues have teams (and equipment to match) that are attentive to the full range of frequencies and to a somatic listening.

My solo performance of Fingering in 2016-2017 at both venues remain reference points for me.

Do music and sound feel like “material” to you? Does working with sound feel like you're sculpting or shaping something?

Spatial analogies are fitting; in fact, they are not just analogies but a legitimate lens.

I began working with sound in the pre-digital era, so I've done thousands of edits on tape with a razor blade, splicing tape, editing block, grease pencil, reel-to-reel machine. That felt very concrete, very physical, very material.

Reminds of the title of Andrey Tarkovsky's book, Sculpting in Time; I think that aptly describes a lot of what I do ... too bad he got to the title first (I jest).

How important is sound for our overall well-being and in how far do you feel the "acoustic health" of a society or environment is reflective of its overall health?

One of my neighbors recently installed an ultrasonic raccoon repeller. It took my wife and I a while to realize that this was that device that was producing the recurring sound we were hearing. Mercifully, from our vantage point the volume is low, but certainly the descriptor of "ultrasonic" that's advertised is a misnomer, it's unquestionably audible. Sounds like a mini-higher pitched fog horn going off every 30 seconds 24/7. Can't imagine his tenants tolerating it as easily as we can.

I wouldn't fully agree with the position that acoustic health is symptomatic of overall health, that's a line of argument similar to the one Jacques Attali uses in his book Noise: The Political Economy of Music (1977). But certainly it's one of the factors, and thereby it's important. I'd hate to have to quantify it though because surely it pales in terms in comparison to other societal concerns that are in crisis mode.

But again, the parsing out and hierarchization of issues is not as ultimately useful as finding the points of intersection and listening to (and for) the interconnections.

Tinnitus and developing hyperacusis are very real risks for anyone working with sound. Do you take precautions in this regard and if you're suffering from these or similar issues – how do you cope with them?

As it so happens, I’ve recently developed tinnitus and just a short while before misophonia. I think hyperacusis and misophonia are synonyms, but I'm not entirely sure.

Thankfully the former (tinnitus) is quite low in volume; it’s unnerving but I almost enjoy the constant presence—it's as if my ears are constantly confirming that they are there, ready to serve. The latter is much more aggravating, like nails on a chalkboard. As far as I know neither are curable, but it's early days in terms of their presence in my life. I have a lot more research to do.

Seems likely that stress is a significant factor in both, so that's what I am more actively trying to manage in order to hopefully reduce these unpleasant psycho-acoustic symptoms.

We can surround us ourselves with sound every second of the day. The great pianist Glenn Gould even considered this the ultimate delight. How do you see that yourself and what importance does silence hold?

What Gould enjoyed in particular, if I recall correctly, is a multitude of simultaneous sounds. In rare circumstances I can relish in the absurdity of such cacophony, but usually I'm a one-sound-at-a-time kind of person.

I do enjoy playing music as I work, it gives me focus. Discovering new music in the process is a plus. Or sometimes I go on a nostalgic trip. It really varies. In the decade I did radio shows on a regular basis (1984-1994) I avidly listened to everything that was arriving at the radio station. I slowed down somewhat after that period, mostly because I no longer had ready access, but only marginally I'm still discovering new things every day, that for me is the ultimate delight.

That being said, I do have periods where I prefer to keep things quiet. Quietness is important. Silence is an impossibility ... that's a contentious notion perhaps ... that's a topic of discussion for another day I think.

Seth S. Horowitz called hearing the “universal sense” and emphasized that it was more precise and faster than any of our other senses, including vision. How would our world be different if we paid less attention to looks and listened more instead?

I don't think that a quantitative comparison of the senses stands up to scrutiny. How would you measure this greater precision and speed?

I think we should pay more attention full stop—no matter the sense, no matter the tool, no matter the method. To pit one sense against the other deflects from the real questions. Let's open our eyes more too. Listen closer. Taste more fully. And so on.

Recommendations on the topic of sound:

Oh, there's so much out there, it's impossible to know where to start. Plus, having reached this point in our exchange I'm no longer quite sure what the 'topic' actually is. Oh, it's 'The Magic of Sound(s)' I suppose given that it's the title.

The kind of education I would advocate for is one that would entail late night listening sessions and languid reading binges. Not to mention going to shows, exhibitions, concerts, films, festivals.

For the first (listening) you could start with some Young Marble Giants, Prince Far I, Robert Ashley, anything on Another Timbre. For the second (reading), you could sink yourself into Clarice Lispector, Fred Moten, Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, Daniella Cascella, Lisa Robertson, Kate Zambreno. These writers don't all address sound per se in all their writing ...  I'm choosing to focus on the "magic of ..." part.

Live radio: CKUT, WFMU, Resonance and Resonance Extra, Wave Farm. Just to name a few (this applies to all categories). Tip of the iceberg.