Name: Chuck Johnson
Occupation: Ccomposer, producer, musician
Nationality: American
Recent release: Chuck Johnson's Sun Glories is out via Western Vinyl.
Recommendations on the topic of sound: So many more, but off the top of my head:
Pauline Oliveros - Deep Listening
Salome Voegelin - Listening to Noise and Silence: Towards a Philosophy of Sound Art
Tony Conrad – Writings

[Read our Pauline Oliveros interview]

If you enjoyed this Chuck Johnson interview and would like to stay up to date with his music, visit his official homepage. He is also on Instagram, Facebook, and twitter.
 


When I listen to music, I see shapes, objects and colours. What happens in your body when you're listening? Do you listen with your eyes open or closed?

Sometimes a certain phrase or melody in my music always conjures the same image - a friend’s face, a place I’ve been - not really connected to the music otherwise, just a random, reoccurring sensory experience.

I usually listen with my eyes closed. As a mastering engineer I sometimes have to remind myself to close my eyes (or turn off the computer screen) so that I can remove myself from the visual aspect of the work.

How do listening with headphones and listening through a stereo system change your experience of sound and music?

Listening on headphones is entirely personal and intimate because the sound and spatial image remain constant even if you move your head (new spatial audio tech notwithstanding) whereas a home stereo system is inherently designed for shared experience.

I listen less critically on a stereo system, and my movement in the space is part of the co-creation.



Tell me about some of the albums or artists that you love specifically for their sound, please.

I think The Field’s From Here We Go Sublime is a masterpiece compositionally and production-wise. Somehow it sounds good on every sound system - even a bad car stereo.



It blew my mind when I learned many years after its release that it was recorded live!

Do you experience strong emotional responses towards certain sounds? If so, what kind of sounds are these and do you have an explanation about the reasons for these responses?

The just intonation minor 7th interval (7/4) played loudly as a drone makes my throat sink into my chest in the best way.



I think the response is due to its relationship to the harmonic series, and the way the human voice naturally produces overtones.

There can be sounds which feel highly irritating to us and then there are others we could gladly listen to for hours. Do you have examples for either one or both of these?

I abhor fireworks, and can’t understand why people willingly want to be in a sonic equivalent to a warzone.

I wish they were silent, or made psychedelic drone sounds, because the colors and lights are actually quite beautiful and the experience would be totally different.

Are there everyday places, spaces, or devices which intrigue you by the way they sound? Which are these?

When I was a child the drone of a vacuum cleaner was very soothing to me.

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

A few years ago I explored caves created by lava flows in the Lava Beds National Monument.



My friend and I got lost in one cave complex, which was very unsettling because the cave was supposed to basically be a loop. The sound deep in the cave was reflective but in a very close and claustrophobic sense. And the sensory experience was very enhanced by the colorful glowing microorganisms on the cave walls.

When we turned off the flashlights the walls would light up with and look like a star nebula.

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

I rarely record using microphones these days, but when I used to record acoustic instruments my favorite space was where I recorded my album Blood Moon Boulder. I recorded late at night in a large warehouse studio space that belongs to the composer Paul Dresher.



The building is mostly industrial, and I assumed it would be quiet at night. And although the acoustics of the room were fantastic, after I pressed record and started performing one of the songs I could hear very ghostly voices emanating from the ceiling. I stopped to listen, and although the voices were distorted I realized that I was hearing someone speak in Chinese.

I waited until it quieted down so that I could continue recording, and I later learned that someone was operating a Chinese language pirate radio station somewhere in the building. At night the wattage regulations on private radio aren’t as strict, so this broadcaster would crank the signal to the point to where the metal rafters in the ceiling were acting as transducers and vibrating with the signal. (embed Chuck Johnson - Corvid Tactics)

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

Very much so. My process usually either involves building/assembling, or whittling/carving layers of sound.

Melody and harmony are usually secondary to sound and texture. (embed Chuck Johnson - Hovering)



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?

I can only speak for myself by saying that my sonic environment definitely affects my state of mind and mood.

I am sure that is also true at the societal level to some extent, but I think people are also very good at adapting to sonic environments. It’s easy to become desensitized to the constant noise of a freeway or a train if you live next to one, for example.

Sound, song, and rhythm are all around us, from animal noises to the waves of the ocean. What, if any, are some of the most moving experiences you've had with these non-human-made sounds?

There is a very specific sonic quality to being inside a grove of old growth redwoods. The birds tend to stay so far up in the canopy that they can’t really be heard, and the ground is covered with redwood needles and ferns. It’s very quiet, and the echoes are soft. I think it can be very moving in the way that stillness can be moving.

So when musician friends come to the Bay Area from other countries who have never experienced this, I like to take them to the nearest redwoods, which are a fifteen minute drive from my house.

Many animals communicate through sound. Based either on experience or intuition, do you feel as though interspecies communication is possible and important? Is there a creative element to it, would you say?  

I live with dogs and can verify that a LOT of interspecies communication happens through sound - verbal and otherwise.

One of the dogs has a penchant for ambient music, and her favorite artist is Chihei Hatakeyama.

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?

I have a little tinnitus from when I was younger and played in loud bands. I wear good earplugs to loud shows, and have for years.

In my studio I have my monitors calibrated to a specific decibel level as a reference for mastering and mixing, and I try to take frequent breaks.

We can surround us 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?

Because I am working on music all day - either my own or other peoples’ - I appreciate “silence,” which is really just allowing the sonic environment to be what it is without adding to it. It’s an important palette cleanser and re-centering tactic.

Seth S. Horowitz called hearing the “universal sense” and emphasised 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?

This reminds me of something Pauline Oliveros said, which is that there is always a composition surrounding us. We just have to listen to it as such.