In class we encountered and investigated lingual music, verbivocovisual expression or extended technique. Though it carries many definitions and a wide range of stylistic applications and compositional techniques, the common focus is on the human voice. Very experimental, often meticulously structured vocal exercises; examining and breaking down the core of language. Vocalising in this way is something I feel very conflicted about. Taste is often, maybe necessarily, separated from learning when a new art practice is introduced. While I am undeniably interested in the concept of voice-as-instrument, (especially the extremity and range of vocals across various metal and experimental music sub-genres and how they came to be) instinctually I cringe at the execution of many lingual music or verbivocovisually expressed sound artworks. Taken superficially, the trilling, childlike, sound effect-adjacent performances of Lily Greenham or Maggie Nichols struck me as indulgent and mildly embarrassing. Perhaps its freeform alienness is so radical and confrontational and often delivered with such fervour, that it badly shocks my base, monkey-brained perceptions of quote-unquote ‘acceptable’ social behaviour. I’m partly ashamed of my reaction, but it’s important that both intellectual and emotional responses hold equal and honest status. These are challenging works, and they really test me.
Of all the artists I encountered, I find Meredith Monk to be the most interesting; her angular interplays with other singers and minimalist instrumentation are always engaging, evolving through shape and structures, playful with phasing. I was almost worried that my view of her was spoiled by a certain Red Letter Media skit dunking on the deeply weird ‘Turtle Dreams’ from 1983 I saw years ago, but upon further study I find her admirable and ambitious, almost maximalist among her peers.
I was raised a somewhat alienated Christian, and have unfortunately borne witness to the incontrovertible power many creepy pastors have when they speak. I’ve been stranded in crowds moved to speaking in tongues. So while my very initial reaction is to laugh when I was confronted by lingual music, I flashed back to the scary conviction with which suspect faith leaders bark and babble and flail as they talk. I shocked myself a little making this connection as we walked around in class, slowly repeating our mantras until they sounded like zombified glossolalia. I had been there before, and I met the same uneasy meld of amusement and fear in lingual music.