Tag: Creative Sound Projects

Working with Ableton’s Simpler instrument, I manipulated my phone recording of the water dispenser outside the classroom. Processing the original with pitch shifting, overdrive, church reverb and certain drum enhancing plugin called ‘Low Rider Drums’. I worked mostly blindly, adding and removing effects and time stretching by ear after I had selected a rhythmic portion of the water dropping that I wanted to sample. I struggle to articulate and act upon intention within the maximalist DAW ecosystem, feeling dragged onward more than investigating.

Taking the processed samples home, I added them to Logic Pro’s Sampler and Quick Sampler instruments, further distressing and attempting to draw out what could be considered a pad. Ableton’s pitch and reverb manipulation had morphed the ambient, muffled crowd voices into a somewhat sinister tonality that I could apply musically and rhythmically with my own setup. The dark, synth-like pad and sloshing water drove me to imagine some captive wretch navigating the haunted undercroft of a chapel, flooded knee-high. Similar, I later thought, to Ged in Ursula K. Le Guin’s ‘The Tombs of Atuan’. My visual imagination plays a defining role in the works I create

The excitement has been largely in hindsight; seeing the naked, original recording in sharp relief against the total transformation of the final experiment. Resampling my own work is something that interests me, but I would be more engaged with the process if I was using a hardware-forward, more analog approach.

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“I heard a wind and thought oh, a moving painting” – David Lynch

I am drawn to wind as a suggestive tool in shaping the emotive character and earthy topography of a soundscape, it’s a conceptual device I return to frequently. Recently I have been experimenting with creating analog wind sounds entirely without field recording, specifically using the Laney BC120 bass amp onboard EQ and the Boss GE-7 Graphic Equalizer as a refining booster.

Capable of being very loud, without any input and the gain turned up, the beat-up amp produces a dense white noise that can be dialled and sculpted firstly with the onboard 6-band EQ to highlight wind’s singular tubular whistle and roar. Then I sent it through the Boss EQ and from the 120 watt output of the amp to my interface, to increase volume and further shape the sound. I recorded a continuous, ten minute take in an act of extreme, intuitive, meditative patience.

Something about hardcore, intent focus on one or two elements allows my imagination to slip into a deeper, circumferential immersion in the creative process. I start to see, and hear, many more layers existing ephemerally beyond the apparent surface. In some respects, I feel this is a trait of mine that should be controlled with more rationale and objectivism; in sinking too deep I can lose sight of the needs of the overall composition, and outside interest. What to me contains depth and meaning along a vector of imperceptible change may to others just be thin noise, stripped of context and plain-sounding. I think it’s important to indulge my interest in details while also ensuring the overall is represented and accounted for. As an initial impetus, this was an engaging experiment for me.

Informing my fascination with wind, apart from formative rural living. In some respects I could be endlessly replicating the same sensations I felt in a blizzard on the edge on the dark Icelandic Highlands, unable to even open my eyes against the battering wind and snow, illuminated only by gift shop signage.

Collected in an album, ‘Anthology Resource Vol. I: △△’, Dean Hurley’s sound design work with David Lynch on 2017’s ‘Twin Peaks: The Return’ has inspired me greatly. The opening cue, ‘Intro Cymbal Wind’ is a perfect kernel of the entrancing, mysterious mood I find so interesting. The associative, cinematic contribution that sound has the capability of conjuring and highlighting is a quality that I am eager to explore with my project, creating spaces for the imagination to roam within.

Listening to an interview with Hurley on The ION Pod where he detailed the secretive processes behind some of the acousmatic, elusive ringing drones and winds were constructed for Twin Peaks: The Return was illuminating. The use of comb filters in particular to manipulate room tones was an approach I had not previously encountered. My own experiment is considerably more naked, so processes such as these could aid in further deepening my exploration of an element such as wind. Lynch’s 2007 exhibition soundtrack album also recorded with Hurley, ‘The Air Is on Fire’, (which was also subsequently used in part in Twin Peaks: The Return) has a similar palette, and also inspires my view of sound’s potential crossover with the fine art world, soundtracking an exhibitive space and bringing the viewer into a world outside of the gallery and potentially inside themselves.

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Bibliography:

Boiler Room (2018) He Heard a Wind | Behind The Sound design In Twin peaks. 9 May. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CPeiUFybVUs&t=74s

ionOne, ionTwo (2021) The Ion Pod: Ep. 38: Night Electricity Theme with Dean Hurley *UNLOCKED* [Podcast]. 16 September. Available at: https://share.transistor.fm/s/2b2fdf54 (Accessed: 17 April 2024).

David Lynch (2007) The Air Is on Fire. [Digital] New York: Strange World Music.

Kitchen opening

We open in a transparently natural, ordinary domestic kitchen environment, detailed by a gently ticking clock, boiling kettle and the soft sounds of glassware and cutlery moving. Human activity. We move toward a radio, and it has a dated 1950’s quality, further alluding to the environment. Like traveling through a resonant tube, we enter the radio and are transported through an indeterminate, textural transitory realm with much motion. We emerge on the other side in the radio station studio, where two hosts are running a call-in show.

Ohio train derailment conspiracy theorist

The first, politically charged caller:

Host: We have a caller who wants to share his experiences in the aftermath of the recent Ohio train derailment and the subsequent residential evacuation. Hello, you’re on the air. What’s on your mind?

Caller: Hey this is Charlie, calling from East Palestine, Ohio. My girlfriend and I were evacuated from our apartment because of the train crash and chemical spill in our town. I’m- actually, we’re staying with my parents in Akron.

Host: Thank you for sharing, Charlie. How are things looking back in town now, a few days into this disaster? What have you heard from the community?

Caller: It’s been rough. The clean-up is, um, it’s ongoing, and there’s still a lot of concern about the environmental uh aspect and our safety moving forward.

Host: It’s understandable that there would be lingering worries. How do you feel that the emergency response to the situation has been?

Caller: Well, uh, it’s been a mixed bag. They have been trying to deal with the immediate aftermath, but I really feel like more could be done in terms of long-term support and ensuring our community’s well-being.

Host: That’s a valid point, Charlie. It’s important for communities to receive adequate assistance during times of crisis. Have you had any notable figures or officials visiting or offering support to East Palestine?

Caller: Actually, that’s where things get frustrating. While we’re dealing with this, Biden has been visiting Ukraine instead of focusing on what has happened right here in our town. We’re being overlooked and we’re fighting for more visibility and assistance, to see our leaders actively, uh addressing our needs and concerns.

Host: Of course, yeah. In an emergency, it’s crucial for communities to feel supported and heard by their leaders. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us today.

Caller: And you know what else worries me? I’ve been uh following the news closely, and the other things that have been going on these last few days. I saw what Aaron Rodgers was saying on Twitter, all we’ve been hearing is unidentified objects shot down, weather balloons shot down. And suddenly no one wants to hear from us anymore. They don’t want us to talk about railway industry lobbying or uh safety regulations, or uh Epstein’s client list coming out either.

Host: That’s a big claim, Charlie. There’s still a lot going on, and there’s confusion and uncertainty. But-

Jaxx (Host from the Future)*

Host: And welcome back listeners, we have a caller on the line, hello! How’s your afternoon going? You’re live on the air and what’s your name?

Caller: Hey, how’s it going, I’m- you know, err… It’s- feeling a bit rough, you know, got laud off from my job, err… it’s good day, I love listening to your show, and it really brightens my day, you know?

Host: Sorry to hear you got laid off there, they probably didn’t deserve you anyway! (laughter) But now you’ve got more free time, any exciting plans for the weekend?

Caller: For the weekend, no, keeping it pretty chill, um… seeing some lawyer-seeing some friends, just relaxing, watching some TV, watching some Gogglebox, doing some gardening as well with the missus, just keeping everything really chill, you know?

Host: Well, that sure does sound like the perfect weekend to me! What tunes can we play you to make it even better?

Caller: Ah, you know, something to get me really hyped up and in the mood, get me through the weekend and push me into next week, a bit of Imagine Dragons, you know, 1975, something with a bit of kick, you know?

Host: Well I think I’ve got the perfect thing for you coming just around the corner! But, while I’ve still got you here, have- have we met somewhere? Have I got a twin I didn’t know about because you sound really similar to me?

Caller: This is going to sound crazy Jaxx, but I’m you, I am you from the future, they can recall deleted images Jaxx! You need to destroy them, you need to destroy that hard drive, you need this job!

Alien caller

Having pivoted to a somewhat shady advice and problem-solving segment of the call-in show, the host’s tone of conversation is perceptibly lighter and less formal. They introduce a caller:

Host: Hello caller, you’re live and anonymous on DTF Radio Network, don’t say anything I wouldn’t say! What’s got you down on this beautiful evening, or afternoon, or morning. Wherever you are. Where are you caller, speak up! Is he-

Alien: Hey guys, hey. Can you hear me? I’m in my truck right now, so the signal’s not gonna be too, y’know, perfect or anything, but… Yeah, I just wanted to say I’m big fans of you guys, I listen to you on the road all the time.

Host: That’s appreciated caller-

Alien: What could be better than being on DTFRN? Sorry, I’m just excited about appearing on the show finally. I like to observe human nature.

Host: Ok, thanks, you’re sounding a little muffled, is your connection good?

Alien: Yeah, yeah. This is the first call I’m making using these Airpods, and I don’t really know how they work, so if it sounds, y’know, like I’m underwater or whatever, y’know- forgive me.

Host: What, are you sitting on them? Um, let’s move this along, we’ve got a lot to get to, what’s on your mind?

Alien: Yeah- I am seeking advisement.

Host: Advisement, ok… Do you need us to call someone?

Alien: I have a girlfriend and in recent times we have argued. Argued about what a state the house is in.

Host: Well, help out cleaning once in a while and everything will be good, okay?

Alien: Arguments increase in frequency as the house in turn gets smaller.

Host 1: Ok, let’s wrap this one up. Good talking to you, Mr. trucker.

Alien: What could be better than being on DTFRN? Sorry, I’m just excited about appearing on the show finally. I like to observe human nature. ‘K, bye.

We transition to the invisible bridge of electrons stretching out into space, reaching the alien. We exist for a while with him in an indeterminate realm, floating weightless as he scans the frequencies and learns about the human condition. Comprised of a collage of broadcast feedback culminating with:

Archival radio montage (fluid order, threaded throughout):

-Theo Von long-distance relationship (between conspiracy caller and alien)

-Howard Stern serial killer

-Rush Limbaugh veteran anti-torture

-Deer crossing sign removal

-101.5 tax cuts F you

Granular content overloading

This meld of sampled content and sound/noise/music builds to an overwhelming crescendo before abruptly ending.

*note: while improvised during recording, this sequence has been dictated here for continuity and reference

In making radiophonic works, a somewhat distinct creative and analytical approach must be taken. Sound must be used in an overtly communicative way, articulating happenings, and working in collaboration with the voice to accentuate, illustrate and imaginatively define the invisible world.

In some respects, I feel that the inherent directionality of sound, sound effects in particular, is something I have consistently undervalued, or not fully comprehended. A third, imagined image is created, beyond simply the music or words, when sound effects dimensionally bring words to life. Sometimes the most seemingly obvious, clearest, honest or minimalist path is the most effective, which is a lesson I want to reflect on as we work on our group radio piece.

Sharing our work with one another on Google Drive highlights our individual strengths, and allows us to refocus how we can contribute uniquely to the whole group. In comparing my work to Arad’s archival, sample-based compositional work, I know, and it’s apparent, that my weaknesses are his strengths; complex digital signal processes, how to thread disparate samples intuitively, how to source said samples. Arad is far more engaged with the non-linear, more programmable workflows of Max for Live and Max/MSP than my own, more linear, traditional tracking. I treat the computer as a tool far blunter than its capabilities; like a tape recorder ostensibly. The way my brain works, I am easily lost amid endless choice. So, in recognising abilities and delegating the use of them, sharing work has proved invaluable in effectively maximising the effects of, and learning about, each others’ strengths.

I think my natural recourse is to add as little as possible, a minimalist approach. My mind finds it more immersive to sink into an atmosphere with few, but definitive elements guiding the way. If a composition is too busy with noise and activity, unless purposefully, I find I lose focus on the process. I try to avoid projects becoming a sinkhole of time, attempting to cut off and preempt any unnecessary additions that could bloat a project with too much second guessing put into it.

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I found the menagerie of radiophonic artworks presented in class to be largely highly entertaining. Since the beginning, the delineation of which group is which has been unclear. I am unsure which groups are Groups 1 to 4 or 5, so I’ll distinguish them by the works produced.

The work that I sincerely enjoyed the most was the propaganda allegory of the robotic factory worker uprising. I appreciate the bold swing for the fences that it was, an immersive and bizarre sci-fi parable, taking place in a detailed world of serial numbers and oppression.

If someone had told me they had ripped the audio from a cutscene in a late 90’s PC adventure game I would have completely believed them. I don’t profess to know their direct inspiration or reference points, but as a listener I was distinctly reminded of Ion Storm’s now-classic 2000 dystopian role-playing game, Deus Ex and its distinctive paranoid chintz. Similarly dealing with the repercussions of the artificial intelligence singularity in an authoritarian world, intentionally or otherwise, the group’s voice acting work and the sonic qualities of the music and sound effect assets really favourably captured that uncanny, charming character of early cyberpunk concerns in the digital realm.

The piece concerning the passing seasons was also very relaxing, and yet stimulating in it’s intricate sound design choices, without feeling the length of its fifteen minute runtime. Something I also really admired was the actual harnessing of the broadcast medium as a recording and compositional tool, acting as a binding varnish on the group’s individual contributions. Our work, and others, however detailed, acts as mimicry of the norms and stylistic functions of radio, instead of directly inserting itself onto the airways. Part of me wishes we had done something similar, re-wilding our work as a final process.

Our work was, in part, very successful. It became apparent that the first two thirds were the most entertaining and refined, while the limping final act became duller and less engaging by fellow students’ reactions and comments. A large responsibility as group leader is the delicate balance between fairly representing and platforming all members’ contributions while ensuring the best chance for success of the final product.

I try to maintain a ‘best idea wins’ model of collaboration, and remove ego as much as possible, yet still feel that my own comfort with the thought of cutting or downplaying a member’s material because it isn’t working to be discomfortingly detached. What is the group leader’s prerogative? Fair representation despite the potential for bum notes, or instead to prioritise the ‘wellbeing’ of the piece, regardless of the potential for hurt feelings? One member’s part singularly received the most direct criticism, however I choose to take that as a criticism of my own failing as an arranger of said work. The tutor, Ed, described that segment as “audible noodling”, which had been apparent to me since I had received that piece for editing. I will endeavour to work with the dynamics present in that section to find a more elegant placement for it. Few things feel more deflating that a boring, rote ending.

A positive comparison was that of the sound design work of David Lynch. A true beacon of inspiration throughout his career, Lynch’s Twin Peaks: The Return contained one sequence that directly informed my scripting, performance and processing choices during the alien call vignette:

A Woodsman, a sooty, alien figure of evil, invades an isolated desert radio station and begins broadcasting an eerie, looping poem that casts a dark spell over its listeners. Lynch reference is incredibly easy to get wrong and embarrass yourself attempting, however in our script there was more emphasis on the delicate thematic and tonal swivel from humour to fear, rather than the abject George Romero-esque horror that this scene demonstrates. The unearthly way the Woodsman’s voice is processed was also influential in deciding upon how the alien’s voice would sound; the helium-balloon, stereotypical results of previous experiments were unsuitably campy and silly to convey the sense of fear in the face of the truly, unknowably alien that the script called for. I was pleased to see laughter and incredulity among our classmates, and discuss the delicacy of that balance in our piece.

Radio as a medium encourages the live element of surprise, the unpredictability of occurrences and performance are thrilling. Particularly in radio drama, without necessarily being self-reflexive or self-referential as we were, special consideration and anticipation has to be given to the audience’s cogent understanding of your artistic goals. In radio, you often have to act as the guide bearing the torch, and a great deal of opportunity for unexpected events can be found along the journey. The role that improvisation and ad-lib can play in the radio field are exciting in their immediacy. The direct communication with an unseen listenership, bridging the gap and crossing the portal from the other into the domestic environment and back again.

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Bibliography:

Deus Ex. (2000) Microsoft Windows (Game). Ion Storm, Dallas: Eidos Interactive

‘Part 8’ (2017) Twin Peaks, season three, episode eight. Showtime. 25 June 2017.

With all transparency, radio is an artform I rarely encounter purposefully. I had a minor, youthful and wholly inherited relationship with radio comedy, Hancock’s Half Hour, confused by the BBC’s ripping audio from the television series and putting that on wax as a radio version. Is that radio? Despite the uniqueness in live broadcasting of the radio medium, like many art forms, delineating the boundaries between categories is not so easy.

As an adult, I first found out about Prince Philip and Queen Elizabeth’s deaths organically via workplace radios as the news broke. Vividly, I remember BBC radio on a particular early morning in February 2022 as Russia’s invasion of Ukraine commenced. I remember the desolate, history-making solemnity that cyclical transmission ushered into the kitchen. A sense that the staff’s job to make the unthinkable a digestible, formalist presentation. That uncanny, suspended tension when broadcasting without significant new information that’s a signature of live radio.

I listened to Democracy Now!, who are rebroadcasted in the UK by Resonance FM, in particular a programme from titled ‘”I Died That Day in Parkland”: Shotline Uses AI-Generated Voices of Gun Victims to Call Congress’. Host Amy Goodman conducts an interview with Manuel Oliver, father of Joaquin Oliver, a student shot dead at age 17 during the Parkland high school shooting on February 14 2018.

The spotlighting of the human voice, is a core quality of the radio medium, and the human voice is given a distressing context in this story. Using AI to resurrect the dead is a dystopian, deeply disturbing concept, yet an extremely effective lobbying tool for change. The ability radio has to spotlight unusual cultural nexus points, unique moments in history that may otherwise be overlooked make the application of radio to stress the need for political action and change a crucial means of broadcasting true varied opinion and observation on current events.

Our piece for radio concerns itself with the darker aspects of human life, memorably, Arad’s sample collage is an absurdist scraping of foaming-at-the-mouth Rush Limbaugh cursing at a caller, and Democracy Now! makes very worthwhile liberal radio programming, there is an undeniable fascination with the inanity and blatant grifting of highly suspect conservative, libertarian to far-right agitators like Limbaugh. Current affairs, and the kernels of dark, disturbing absurdity are a central throughline in our piece, from hinting and gesturing towards it, to transparently sampling and referencing specific events and individuals.

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After fielding feedback from Milo our tutor and our peers, it was clear to us that it was necessary to be more overt or arch in how we conveyed our narrative to the listener. However useful it was as a functional framework to help us create, it became immediately apparent that it was too opaquely drawn in that iteration of the draft.

A resolution we decided upon was narration, in keeping with the tone of the archival radio drama samples. In my writing and performance and processing of the narration passages, I drew particular inspiration from British Pathé news and documentary segments, as well as Leonard Nimoy’s “space, the final frontier…” opening monologue from Star Trek III: The Search for Spock.

The domestic, stolid, almost quaint narrative entry point of a kitchen proved extremely difficult to sonically render in a coherent fashion. I experimented with recording Foley of cabinets and dishes, a spoon stirring sugar into tea, and creaking doors and a gently ticking clock, in an attempt to capture the environment without words. To purely immerse the listener within the environment they may well already be listening within. However, despite these keynote sounds deriving from real kitchens, my own and the room tone from my girlfriend’s grandmother’s apartment in Korea, alone they were not enough to even suggest a kitchen environment. We had to lean further into transparency, even kitsch, to come close to successfully drawing the listener clearly into a kitchen in the radio medium. Sizzling bacon, could perhaps be another sound to include, or the toaster.

We agreed that guiding the audience’s focus and immersion through narration was a pragmatic way to centre the listener and prevent them from losing the narrative thread. I focussed my efforts on the final sequence set in space, because of its lack of keynote sounds and acousmatic nature, feeling that the kitchen scene as rendered was concrete enough for the listener to enter the space without

The way Nimoy’s voice has been treated is fascinating to me; it has a muffled, very close proximity effect, reflecting the suffocating acoustic dynamics within his makeshift naval coffin. Paired with this is a plate reverb or echo, adding a shimmering, cosmic colour. It’s as though he is talking through an interstellar cup and string telephone, an interesting contrast of muffled and expansive inspired my microphone and processing choices when recording the short section of narration leading into the final act of the piece.

I wrote the narration script in a florid, detailed style, drawing on Rod Sterling, H.P. Lovecraft and the mystery radio drama style:

‘Out in the expanse of space, someone, or something, listens at the crack in the door we breached. All of our minuscule, full-blooded voices teeming data on the solar winds. Like a great, celestial fly-fisherman, it, or they, attunes to the current, casting ringing electrons wide and reeling in our subatomic cacophonies. Learning about who these voices belong to.’

As stated by Crook (1999, pp. 162), ‘Radio’s fifth dimension of narrative communication, the listener’s imagination, is central to the cognitive, metaphysical and subconscious experience of the reader of written poetry and prose.’ In the purely sonic arena of radio, we have to be so much more gestural to convey the same density of information that the written word does. Enacting upon feedback and writing and performing this narration helps both imaginatively detail the world this story takes place within, while guiding the listener through a realm that was previously too obscure. In spite of that consideration, abstraction and experimentation also play a part in imaginatively shaping listener’s experiences. Balancing these concerns of clarity and abstraction will be a key challenge in successfully conveying our cosmic radiophonic narrative.

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Bibliography:

Crook, T. (1999) Radio Drama: Theory and Practice. London: Taylor & Francis Group. Available at: http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/ual/detail.action?docID=166120

By the end of the 1930’s, 28 million American households owned a radio, it became the new hearth, enjoying a rapt attention not seen today. Welles’ infamous 1938 radio adaptation of H.G. Wells’ novel ‘The War of the Worlds’ was a seminal moment in the history of radio drama. Intentionally breaking the traditional narrative structure and form of the original novel, the broadcast was framed as realistic, detailed news broadcasts taking place in the contemporary world, rather than the 1890’s Surrey of the original novel. So realistic, that it inspired widespread panic; the public believed the story.

The genius of the work lies in its playful and faithfully deceptive understanding of the form of radio in that era. Beginning with fabricated weather report and musical programs, designed to thread in and out so authentically and seamlessly with normal radio that the audience would find it nearly impossible to distinguish it from mundane broadcasting. The eerie unfolding of events that is intrinsic to The War of the Worlds suits the slow drip propagation of information that rolling news coverage provides.

I have a memory of listening to it on cassette when I was young, and having little to no impression of it. Reflecting on that apathy now, I think it’s deeper than child-me not being able to relate to old, tinny media; rather, listening with intention on cassette whenever you like is entirely antithetical to the surreptitious, near-hijacking conceit of the original broadcast. Even studying the artistry of its performers and musicians, is only experiencing half the point. One of the most thrilling aspects of radio is, if convincingly rendered, the potential to sow doubt in listener’s minds. That singularly hovering, dawning sense of discovery allows us to momentarily destabilise the bounds of our perceived reality. Welles’ drama is an early highlight of an exciting framing device more often found in found footage cinema, genre film and internet-based art: “Is this real?”

Comparison can be drawn between The War of the Worlds and Jean Shepherd’s I, Libertine hoax. In 1956, Shepherd, a radio host on New York’s WOR station, encouraged listeners to order the novel I, Libertine by Fredrick R. Ewing by the hundreds. The problem being, the book did not exist. Embittered by his 1 to 5:30 a.m. slot, Shepherd drew a delineation between the organised ‘Day People’ and the isolation of the ‘Night People’ and sought to prod the status quo, seeing the bestseller list-adhering bookstore clerk as the target for his hoax. Later in September, the book was written and published for a reader demand Shepherd had fostered as a prank.

In the radio field, the broadcaster has access to trusting ears; by the nature of the media’s constant presence, a passive, semi-attentive listening mode is formed. The audience perhaps subconsciously trusts the information broadcasted is vetted and programme formats sharply defined, despite the relative youth of the technology. The sneaky exploitation of the audience’s solid, pacified trust in the radio machine is a core thematic interest of our group project, especially within a science fiction context, and Orson Welles’ chimeric adaptation of The War of the Worlds provides much inspiration, straddling realism and heightened theatricality.

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Bibliography:

Schwartz, B. A. (2015) The Infamous “War of the Worlds” Radio Broadcast Was a Magnificent Fluke. Available at: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/infamous-war-worlds-radio-broadcast-was-magnificent-fluke-180955180/ (Accessed: 5 March 2024)

Wagoner, R. (2021) What really happened during Orson Welles’ ‘War of the Worlds’ radio broadcast. Available at: https://www.dailynews.com/2021/10/26/what-really-happened-during-orson-welles-war-of-the-worlds-radio-broadcast/ (Accessed: 5 March 2024)

http://web.archive.org/web/20020427051336/flicklives.com/Articles/Wall_Street_Journel/8-1-56/8-1-56.jpg (2002) (Accessed: 20 March 2024)

On Friday the 1st of March we gathered in M113 to record the central call-in radio show segments of our radiophonic piece.

There were a number of key technical challenges in effectively and productively recording together. Initially we intended to include a room mic, to metatextually bring the listener into the real-world space of the radio studio, however our available interfaces only had two inputs. We then ran both the vocal track microphones, a Shure SM58 and Neumann TLM 103, into a Mackie mixer. Our Sennheiser condenser was creating piercing feedback, so we reconsidered and removed the room microphone; something we can always re-create with Foley processes afterwards. There were also gain and level settings to make, and creative decisions such as performing in an affected voice, or accent. We selected the Neumann TLM 103 as the host’s microphone for its clarity and professional quality, and the Shure SM58 as the caller’s, to allow us to functionally work with a little more abrasion, lending itself well to be later processed and edited as the caller’s phone signal.

Performing as the host in the Ohio train derailment conspiracy theorist segment, and as the alien caller in the following sequence, I had to experiment with and access different characters’ voices. A crucial aspect to emulate the natural, casually-evolving conversation of talk radio was to follow the detailed script while allowing for deliberate sloppiness and mistakes. The benefit of working from a script ensured an intentional backbone of our work, while freeing us to experiment with the material without losing focus or time.

Playing into the performative conventions of radio hosts and callers was a fun subject to explore, and spoke to the ease and creative rewards this particular collaboration has been in comparison with the previous project. Our efficiency in reaching common ground has proved fruitful in generating immediacy in both our idea-generating process and our acting upon that impetus.

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With a small 5-watt FM transmitter, we performed and listened to an extract of Mike Cooter’s reinvigoration of the early 1940’s experimental detective drama ‘Dingus’ on our individual radios. Creating our own transmission and listening on different radios in varying settings informed the way I perceive the capabilities of radio as a medium for genuine, intimate and collaborative performance.

In contrast to clean, professional radio, what made the experience and performance so distinctive was the performers’ audible freshness and unfamiliarity with the material, form and technique. The small mistakes; being off-mic, misreading lines and cues for instance. This organic and wholesome transmission felt more approachable, warmer and more charming than traditional radio, something akin to watching movies made in childhood. Despite this, and perhaps the abstract nature of Dingus itself, I found it hard to focus on the events of the actual story.

While listening to our colleagues reading of Dingus was engaging and charming in appreciating its relatively homespun-sounding mistakes, participating in the performance itself was far more interesting, exciting and revealing. Our group of three, myself, Arad and Minsoo, were encouraged to forego the script, and improvise a transmission. Imaginatively, this made for an entertaining broadcast; Depression FM, having reached that by way of reading a news headline about a Mars habitation trial, the weather, pink and blue sunsets, describing the colours pink and blue for those who are visually impaired, blue being the colour of depression, and so on. We even encouraged, and received, calls from our colleagues in the corridor, acting as irate and depressed callers. What I learned was how electrifying being live can be, how it stimulates the imagination to improvise and create unpredictable, entertaining stories in collaboration; something I want to incorporate into our group project.

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