What is the difference between noise and music? When I listen to a scratchy old 78 of a one of Beethoven's Rasamovsky Quartets what is it, noise or music? What if it is a really scratchy old 78? There is no clear line, of course. Instead, it is a question productive of thought, not answers.
In Zen, action is important. Action reflects a quality of mind, but not always. Intent is very important. Zen is arguably more like philosophy than religion in the sense that moral imperatives are unimportant, even discouraged. One can judge action, and judging is the closing of one's heart. One can never truly know another's intent; we can only know our own intent. Intent, then, is the quality of mind, and can only truly be known by oneself. This is a pretty fierce subjectivity, pretty cold eyed.
As a teenager, I lived and breathed the Rolling Stone Record Guide. I highlighted any five star record I dared call familiar. I avoided those one star and two star failures; I made knowing fun of Uriah Heap, as they rated as only "bullets" , a few sorry single stars, and their masterwork, whatever it was, which was granted two. Needless to say, as my opinions began to diverge, the book lost much of its authority. But it was a place to start, like Janson's History of Art, or Ezra Pound's "from Confucious to Cummings". Its breadth was its authority. And I aspired to some kind of breadth.
But what I lost, and what I struggled with throughout my years as a musician harassed by the fates and chased down by doubts, was the sense of my own style. It emerged anyways, a function of my severe limitations, but the chorus of critics, that long-ago internalized Record Guide, rarely gave approval.
But there were moments- while writing or performing- where I felt a unity of intent, ability, and action. The critics were silent, finally, if briefly.
So where is the music, the noise? Is there a meaningful difference when one is producing sound? The intent is important. A good ear- an experienced, open ear- can often tell if the intent is to communicate. But that does not matter, really. If the maker of sounds- music or noise- is experiencing a unity of intent and action, something good is happening. A fundamental experience. Coherence. And if others are playing as well, it is delicious. It may sound like an construction site- a deconstruction site- to some. Like heavy traffic, swinging cranes, and police radios. Be brave. Play on.
When Vic Rawlings comes to Tinicum he comes to play. In the Fall, he gives two full days of lessons, in the Spring, a day of lessons and full day of electric and electronic musicnoise/noisemusic. Picture a large circle, then 10 places on the circle. One place may have an old amplifier, a short wave radio, an old electronic camera flash. Here, the flash flashes its electromagnetic pulse to our eyes when a button is pushed, but a series of slowing, dropping frequencies are registered by us as sound via the shortwave shortly thereafter.
Another station: an enclosed, circular pan with two steel balls trapped, rolling within. The wire of a contact microphone dangles from it. This connects to an antiquated speaker.
Another: a table with several things that look like inside out guitar effects pedals, the kind people stamp on to get a wail or a crunch or a phasing effect- their guts are spilling out. On the circuit board inside are wire and bits of foil. Some steel wool. These cross up the circuits, and randomly produce all manner of noise. Here one experiments. Anybody I have ever seen at that station takes on a very systematic expression- a scientist at work, or a grocer at his scales. The attempt is to reproduce that funny sound. Rarely done, and most move on, but most return.
Another: a stand holds a rectangular, black, U-shaped piece of metal about a foot long and one fifth as high. Two cello bows can be drawn across it; this sound is routed through a wah-wah pedal and off to an amplifier.
Why? Noise. Music. Put the critics to rest, give them the morning off. It is, after all, playing music, right? This is the experience of "just doing it". Zen isn't all sitting in silence.
Vic's intent is not to provide an experience of challenging Zen practice. It is, inter alia, to produce an opening, an experience of freedom and conflict. Interestingly, it was the presence of a guitar and a bass guitar that caused difficulty. Young musicians can't seem to approach these icons without the rock script, playing familiar songs and producing familiar gestures. And once you are playing from a script, you are alone, listening to the critics, doing what you are supposed to do. The conflict comes with the new, the unknown, the trying to make some sound, some communication, however untutored. There is some freedom for you. Be brave and play.
In Zen, action is important. Action reflects a quality of mind, but not always. Intent is very important. Zen is arguably more like philosophy than religion in the sense that moral imperatives are unimportant, even discouraged. One can judge action, and judging is the closing of one's heart. One can never truly know another's intent; we can only know our own intent. Intent, then, is the quality of mind, and can only truly be known by oneself. This is a pretty fierce subjectivity, pretty cold eyed.
As a teenager, I lived and breathed the Rolling Stone Record Guide. I highlighted any five star record I dared call familiar. I avoided those one star and two star failures; I made knowing fun of Uriah Heap, as they rated as only "bullets" , a few sorry single stars, and their masterwork, whatever it was, which was granted two. Needless to say, as my opinions began to diverge, the book lost much of its authority. But it was a place to start, like Janson's History of Art, or Ezra Pound's "from Confucious to Cummings". Its breadth was its authority. And I aspired to some kind of breadth.
But what I lost, and what I struggled with throughout my years as a musician harassed by the fates and chased down by doubts, was the sense of my own style. It emerged anyways, a function of my severe limitations, but the chorus of critics, that long-ago internalized Record Guide, rarely gave approval.
But there were moments- while writing or performing- where I felt a unity of intent, ability, and action. The critics were silent, finally, if briefly.
So where is the music, the noise? Is there a meaningful difference when one is producing sound? The intent is important. A good ear- an experienced, open ear- can often tell if the intent is to communicate. But that does not matter, really. If the maker of sounds- music or noise- is experiencing a unity of intent and action, something good is happening. A fundamental experience. Coherence. And if others are playing as well, it is delicious. It may sound like an construction site- a deconstruction site- to some. Like heavy traffic, swinging cranes, and police radios. Be brave. Play on.
When Vic Rawlings comes to Tinicum he comes to play. In the Fall, he gives two full days of lessons, in the Spring, a day of lessons and full day of electric and electronic musicnoise/noisemusic. Picture a large circle, then 10 places on the circle. One place may have an old amplifier, a short wave radio, an old electronic camera flash. Here, the flash flashes its electromagnetic pulse to our eyes when a button is pushed, but a series of slowing, dropping frequencies are registered by us as sound via the shortwave shortly thereafter.
Another station: an enclosed, circular pan with two steel balls trapped, rolling within. The wire of a contact microphone dangles from it. This connects to an antiquated speaker.
Another: a table with several things that look like inside out guitar effects pedals, the kind people stamp on to get a wail or a crunch or a phasing effect- their guts are spilling out. On the circuit board inside are wire and bits of foil. Some steel wool. These cross up the circuits, and randomly produce all manner of noise. Here one experiments. Anybody I have ever seen at that station takes on a very systematic expression- a scientist at work, or a grocer at his scales. The attempt is to reproduce that funny sound. Rarely done, and most move on, but most return.
Another: a stand holds a rectangular, black, U-shaped piece of metal about a foot long and one fifth as high. Two cello bows can be drawn across it; this sound is routed through a wah-wah pedal and off to an amplifier.
Why? Noise. Music. Put the critics to rest, give them the morning off. It is, after all, playing music, right? This is the experience of "just doing it". Zen isn't all sitting in silence.
Vic's intent is not to provide an experience of challenging Zen practice. It is, inter alia, to produce an opening, an experience of freedom and conflict. Interestingly, it was the presence of a guitar and a bass guitar that caused difficulty. Young musicians can't seem to approach these icons without the rock script, playing familiar songs and producing familiar gestures. And once you are playing from a script, you are alone, listening to the critics, doing what you are supposed to do. The conflict comes with the new, the unknown, the trying to make some sound, some communication, however untutored. There is some freedom for you. Be brave and play.
1 comment:
Vic is Awesome!
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