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8 May 2012

Deep thoughts on recorded music, concert music & silence

John Cage. Carlos Castaneda. The effects of recorded music. These are things I think about. And apparently, these are things that author and professor Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi was thinking about in 1990 when he published his book Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience. i.e.

Some people argue that technological advances have greatly improved the quality of life by making music so easily available. Transistor radios, laser disks, tape decks blare the latest music twenty-four hours a day in crystal-clear recordings. This continuous access to good music is supposed to make our lives much richer. But this kind of argument suffers from the usual confusion between behavior and experience. Listening to recorded music for days on end may or may not be more enjoyable than hearing an hour-long live concert that one had been looking forward to for weeks. It is not the hearing that improves life, it is the listening. We hear Muzak, but we rarely listen to it, and few could have ever been in flow as a result of it.

As with anything else, to enjoy music one must pay attention to it. To the extent that recording technology makes music too accessible, and there fore taken for granted, it can reduce our ability to derive enjoyment from it. Before the advent of sound recording, a live musical performance retained some of the awe that music engendered when it was still entirely immersed in religious rituals. Even a village dance band, let alone a symphonic orchestra, was a visible reminder of the mysterious skill involved in producing harmonious sounds. One approached the event with heightened expectations, with the awareness that one had to pay close attention because the performance was unique and not to be repeated again.

The audiences at today’s live performances, such as rock concerts, continue to partake in some degree in these ritual elements; there are few other occasions at which large numbers of people witness the same event together, think and feel the same things, and process the same information. Such joint participation produces in an audience the condition Emilie Durkheim called “collective effervescence,” or the sense that one belongs to a group with a concrete, real existence. This feeling, Durkheim believed, was at the roots of religious experience. The very conditions of live performance help focus attention on the music, and therefore make it more likely that flow will result at a concert than when one is listening to reproduced sound.

But to argue that live music is innately more enjoyable than recorded music would be just as invalid as arguing the opposite. Any sound can be a source of enjoyment if attended to properly. In fact, as the Yaqui sorcerer taught the anthropologist, even the intervals of silence between sounds, if listened to closely, can be exhilarating.

Posted by Alec Hanley Bemis  

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16 April 2012

As a civilian

There are many risks to a life in the arts. The one that bothers me most is how entertainment can become work. It’s a very different experience to go to a concert hoping to take flight, and to merely attend a concert with an eye toward networking, and a sense that the machinery behind the live show (the soundman, the seller of merch, the collection of money) is your responsibility to troubleshoot. The latter requires a level of heightened attention that wards off states of ecstasy and grace. Last week returned me to first principles at least twice — I went to a Pulp show as a civilian and saw my cousin Max lead a mosh pit in Times Square. Yes, I was backstage for the latter show — but as a proud relative, not as a scheming puller of strings. It’s different. Since I often claim that my music businesses involvements are more about family than commerce, I hope I can cling to these feelings.

PS – The photo at top is not by me. The bottom photo is.

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21 January 2012

The unintentional gothic poetry of disgraced New York politician Carl Kruger

A brief but evocative tale of his rise from difficult circumstances; his pleasureless grasping at power; and his eventual fall from his perch can be read over here. I’ve just quoted the poetic manner in which he expresses his impressions of this experience:

    He choked back tears and boasted about his rise with pride. “If you were to take my life and bottle it, and drink what was inside that bottle, it would be like a cough medicine,” he told me. “It wouldn’t taste very good, but it’d be good for you.”

    The bottle was empty now. In late December, he pleaded guilty, as did Turano, to engineering yet another Albany corruption racket.

    “My world is over,” Kruger told me. “I’m frightened of the future. Just frightened. And that’s very hard for me to say, because I was always the guy that you came to to sort out your problems, then sweep up the floor and leave. Now my floor is swept up, and I’m part of the sweepings.”

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7 October 2011

City Life

Just as I was getting used to nature, it’s back to city life again.

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