Beauty, Chaos, Design and Musicology

 Lorenz attractor by Wikimol

From time to time I find myself returning to the same question: 'What is music?'

I keep returning to it because I remain fascinated how this one simple question begets so many different answers, and how each is supported by valid evidence and argument.

So, I'm increasingly inclined to think that the only way to define music in a way that includes all prospective definitions is to describe it as an applied theory of patterning, and one which is not even limited to sound, for as it happens, so is everything else, too! –Even in regards to those things and processes where patterns appear non-existent.

IMPROVISATION VS. PURPOSEFUL DESIGN

The results of improvisation, for instance, whether speaking of music or ideas, can sometimes feel random, even for the performers or actors themselves, who if they are fluent instrumentalists (or inspired thinkers), are attempting to follow a line of thought to its logical conclusion. And because they are feeling and not thinking, if we may draw such a distinction, they are not necessarily or always making purposeful decisions.

Can we say Improvisation is designed? I'm only certain that, again, we will produce a variety of answers regarding this question.

Design, in contrast to Art, suggests the necessity of specialized thinking by groups of specialists. It therefore requires Purpose, if we expect a group of people to work together as a team. A band of musicians playing improvised material is a team working in concert, but what is the Purpose? However welcome entertainment without necessity or utility, does the act of these creative works constitute Purpose?

At the same time, although the choices a given performer makes might seem random (to either the listener or the performer), the results are always based on an algorithm we call Theory (albeit, different musics, different theories).

And any theory however wide is also limited by its hypotheses, which we may think of in terms of music as an array of conventional choices. For instance, when a musician chooses a note, he or she doesn't conjure random frequencies from thin air. They limit themselves to a few specific and commonly accepted frequencies. At least in this respect, I think, we could argue that Improvisation is the product of Design.

FROM MAMA DADA TO BOOGIE WOOGIE

We can also draw another parallel to speech, whereby we make all sorts of spontaneous utterances when we engage in conversation. The results are never random gibberish, and they often serve a function, but neither are they Designed. You say one thing, and I reply with something not just intelligible, but connected. I don't return with ixpit kadunga rius pox fo loka, unless A) I speak another code/ language/ theory; B) I'm mentally challenged; C) Alternately, I might possess an enhanced set of cognitive abilities; D) I'm attempting to position myself as an Absurdist, and therefore being intentionally discordant, which given some circumstances, it might serve to produce a mutually agreeable, entertaining or even (in the case of some Zen koans) enlightening experience.

But much better if we are both fluent in a given language (the same language), and we agree on the same meanings for words (or tones or signs) that belong to our respective 'corpus', and further, that we employ this corpus according to mutually acceptable grammatical rules, and otherwise trade in a culturally accepted set of linguistic and codes or definitions. Then we remain intelligible, and our conversation, however it meanders, never disintegrates but for lack of interest, and otherwise remains capable of conveying whatever we desire to share with one another.

That's the way it is with Bach; that's the way it is with Ballet; that's the way it is with Burmese; that's the way it is with Boogie woogie.

Beasts and Beats: Does the Cosmos Sing?

We call the chirps and calls produced by birds 'song' but little of it resembles music to me. That said, I'm deeply fascinated by the communicative sounds of birds and other animals, nonetheless. We might say this so-called bird song collectively resembles musical sound, but only in so far as speech and syntax is musical, no?

I think it more fair to say that though we might perceive bird vocalization as song, whether or not it is intended as such is still a mystery (at least, to me) –that is, do birds distinguish between speech and music?

In my own observations of various birds, I've identified warning calls, feed-me chirps, mate-with-me cooing and sometimes even beautiful, melodic utterances that seemed voiced simply for the self satisfaction of the bird itself. But whether or not such vocalizations by birds or any other animal was conceived as entertainment for a given bird's own pleasure is beyond my capacity to identify it as such.

Is the cicada actually singing, or is it more likely the cicada is simply communicating his desire to attract a mate? Maybe we should classify all activities, produced with the intention of resulting in sex, whether by human, animal or insect, as music?

When a dog whines along with an aria, can we say he or she is actually accompanying the tune? Does our music hurt their ears, as it sometimes appears to do? And yet, sometimes they seem to enjoy it to. It's as if dogs enjoy expressing their pain. Would it be too far afield to suggest dogs have a natural inclination to sing the blues?

Are the hydro acoustic sounds produced by whales and dolphins songs? If so, might one also reasonably ask if SONAR is song, produced by a chorus of instruments which include in their ensemble a signal generator, a power amplifier, an electro-acoustic transducer and the echo response produced by the ocean floor.

As for the origin of rhythm, we might equally argue that the beating human heart or the Circadian Rhythm forms the basis for all music, but if rhythm is fundamentally defined by regular mechanical movements, then does that make solar system a musical instrument? What about a mechanical engine? A car, for instance? Certainly the locomotive inspired much music after its invention, but is the train itself a musical instrument? Can we write a sonata for violin, clarinet and Amtrak?

Some who study Zoomusicology do argue animal vocalizations do fall under the category of music. I think it depends on whether a specific animal is singing or speaking, just like humans? But certainly, animals respond to man made music in different ways.

And in the case of SONAR and synthesizers, we do recognize that machines are capable of making music, but in those cases, the machines are actually modern instruments, manipulated by human operators.

In the case of synthesizers, I don't for instance, recognize the emissions of a random tone generator as music, but I do recognize their possible use as an element in creating purposefully designed music.

Does that mean works created entirely by random means, such as by choosing pitches based on a roll of the dice, or by some algorithm, are not music? I think of such works as musical games. The question is whether or not the result of a game based on random choices can be considered purposeful.

Which is not to say we should deny ourselves fun. In fact, purposeless activity can be as restorative as it is playful. At the same time, I think it is useful for professionals to distinguish between purposeless play and purposeful performance. The actors in a theatrical performance are not really playing. Likewise, musicians might be said to play an instrument, but it might be more accurate to suggest they're actually working an instrument.

Granted, you see and hear something like this video, and you think, maybe these birds are indeed singing, and also, possibly engaged in some kind of dance, too? It is certainly a performance of some sort, but is it art?


Does the cosmos sing? Are animal vocalizations song? Such vocalizations don't fall on my ear as song. To me, they resemble language, and while language might be a component of song, and linguistic techniques have long been used to analyze musical works, I personally don't think the spoken word (or the bird call, dog bark, etc) is by itself musical in nature. And yet a modern composer or sound designer with a sampler can take any of these sounds and incorporate them into a musical work.

But by themselves, in their original context? Well, if we choose to ignore intention, then perception is everything. After all, many things which are not musical in origin might indeed be music to one's ears.

The Boom Box Effect

Earlier this year I posted a series of articles discussing the dynamic relationship between branded sound opportunities and silence.

In Silence Please, for the Soundtracks of Our Lives, I wrote:

"We're in such a rush to score the whole world that it's easy to forget that arranging opportunities for SIMPLE QUIET or shaping RELATIVE SILENCE may actually prove the most intelligible means for creating a platform to communicate with audiences, customers and users. One reason for that is that more and more of us are bring our own sonic branding with us, principally in the way of customized playlists.”

Media, omnipresent even a decade ago, still had not quite reached the interruptive tipping point as it has in recent years. Media is exponentially more pervasive and invasive than it was in the recently faded Twentieth Century.

We know from studies of physics that when sound waves collide, the result is interference.

Consider the following laws of acoustics (source):

* Sound waves that are exactly in phase add together. The result is a stronger wave.
* Sound waves that have varying phase relationships produce differing sound effects.
* Sound waves that are exactly inverted, or 180 degrees out of phase, cancel each other out. The result is silence.

[For a quick primer on sound, visit this link: Sound Primer]

Now consider the case of the Boom Box:

If in 1987 I walked down the street carrying my boom box playing one song, and you were walking in the other direction, coming towards me and carrying your boom box playing another song, the result was noise. That's because the music didn't sync, didn't share the same key, followed a different structure, played on a different beat. In fact both songs lost entertainment value because the sum of their sounds created cacophony. Would that Boom Boxes automatically beat matched when they were in proximity of each other, but they don't.

That's what I call The Boom Box Effect –the collision of sounds (that don't cancel each other out) in a given human habitat.

Today a lot of brands suffer another kind of Boom Box Effect.

At any given time we are bound to our electronic devices as if we were outfitted with law enforcement tracking devices (and we are). Between incoming calls, text messages and alerts to our PDAs and mobile phones –not to mention our proximity to other people's media platforms– there isn't a single urban environment where our ears and our brain do not wage a daily war against the bombardment of random information.

Because of the density of any urban environment there is no escape. You can't leave the room, because everywhere else is swimming with just as much distraction as the present environment.

This may in fact be one reason why the iPod or other digital music playback devices have become ubiquitous, their popularity being a side effect of necessity. Besides their obvious function of permitting us to carry entertainment assets with us on our respective journeys, these devices also provide a filter from unwelcome incoming sensory data.

In effect, they help combat stress and insanity caused by the boom box effect.

All of which is not to say that individual, multiple sounds layered atop one another can't work together. They most certainly can, and frequently do in any single harmonized chord, or series of chords. They also do in any cohesive and unified music composition. In fact, they work well together in any unified experience - be it a song, a film score, a retail environment or a theme park venue.

Casinos present wonderful case studies of environments where the combined sum of noise making machines do not contribute to chaos at all, but rather create positive, hopeful excitement.

Yet, this is still not the case in most urban environments where people are often expected to live, work and inhabit daily. One simply can't expect your client's competitors to tune their brands to your client's brand.

Or can we?

Does the loudest voice get the most attention? Near term, probably. It's hard to ignore a cry for 'help', for instance. But long term, if we hear enough of them, we become immune to such cries, especially if they don't deliver honest results (e.g. See: The Boy That Cried Wolf).

And yet given today's technologies, maybe it's now possible to create communications that are capable of being delivered regardless of competing distractions?

So that instead of our circa 1987 Boom Boxes fighting with each other for available audio space and attention, –making it impossible to hear either song–, we simply broadcast our message using 2017 'Boom Pods' that automatically eliminate defined noise; but also beat match, pitch correct and remix colliding transmissions, with the result being a perfectly blended Green Sound music mashup capable of allowing us to clearly and legibly hear both informational and utilitarian messages, musical melodies and overlapping sets of sonic memetics simultaneously, sans interference –PLUS whatever other audible elements happen to inhabit the environment– not to mention in perfect groovy harmony –and at a volume that won't wake the babies passing by in carriages pushed by their mothers or fathers.

Because, fortunately or unfortunately, silence is not an option.

* * *

Photo Credit

Zoning Post Modern Habitats For Green Audio

Strip malls are arguably ugly.

At first, clashing branding appears to be the cause of it. Then one considers image density. The problem is not that too many voices want to sing in the chorus, but that they do not sing in harmony. Signifiers and logos simply express brand attributes like different notes in a scale. So if the urban cityscape looks cluttered, the blame lies with a less than comprehensive audio zoning policy, not with the individual aesthetics presented by various design directors.

However, marketers (producing remote media for use in a public space) are at fault if they concentrate all their efforts designing the brand and zero effort analyzing the spaces where brand assets are positioned, played or displayed. Of course, one can't spend all one's resources auditing every location, but a sampling will provide enough generalities to strengthen the possibility that one's message will get heard. If getting heard isn't important to you, than spend your money elsewhere, like on pretty stationary.

A central part of my professional activity is predicated on prescribing both sonic and image solutions to communicate brand messages. Far be it from me to advocate turning the volume down. But I do advocate intelligible communications on all platforms, and in consideration of the acoustic ecology –natural, urban or otherwise.

Beyond predicable noise assessments, is it too much to ask music designers (and their clients) to consider the environmental status of our post modern human habitats –inclusive of competing audio sources– when creating sound solutions for a given site?

In this era of 'Green' and environmentally friendly solutions, might there also be A Greening of Sound? –Perhaps a Green Sound Initiative, whereby sound producers consider the given acoustic ecology of a specific site or experience before adding their own voices to the fray?

The process and the professional who engages in this task would not be too different than a film mixer who already considers music, dialogue and sound design in the formation of a completely intelligible and entertaining composite. But instead of working against picture, our audio ecologist is working with –and one might even say 'mixing'– the environment.

Make no mistake, mixing with a Green Sound result in mind is different from our current idea of location mixing. 'Green Ears' nether seek to maximize a preferred source, nor diminish other sounds, but rather intends to form an immersive, balanced experience inclusive of all sounds (even those beyond the music designer's or engineer's technological control).

Unlike typical location mixing, Green sound sources move, and green playback environments are in constant flux. For one thing, man made habitats fade at the edges into natural ecological source sound. This creates (both problems and) opportunities to change the way source sounds interact with habitat and with each other.

We are not mixing nor positioning sound sources for a specific static venue, but treating every space human beings inhabit as a constantly moving, webbed venue (without borders), and every electronic device as an intelligent, responsive source. Therefore we require every electronic device to communicate with one another within a given range, and also to be able to listen to the environment for cues on how to behave, and then emit sound accordingly.

Most movie goers are probably familiar with THX. THX is the trade name of "a high-fidelity sound reproduction standard for movie theaters, screening rooms, home theaters, computer speakers, gaming consoles, and car audio systems".

Green Sound, as I imagine it with my inner ear, would be for environmental audio and non-entertainment locations (equipped with sound makers) –inside and outside–, what THX is to the movie experience –a high-fidelity, quality assurance protocol.

The result might yet produce a full chorus of commercial or even industrial voices; but instead of an unintelligible or annoying sonic mash, each man-made audio source conforms to a site-specific filter establishing volume, frequency and tonality relative to a given geography or ecology.

We might even investigate source placement using spatial simulation algorithms and models for particular acoustic spaces that demonstrably and capably host the broadcast of multiple overlapping sounds from varying –even moving– points of origin, and do so legibly, –such as forest or fauna regions, which can seem simultaneously active with sound and, also, relatively quiet.

And we must certainly use any other applicable technology available to us to achieve the desired Green Effect (perceptible as simultaneously active with legible sound and relatively quiet), such us Holosonics Audio Spotlight product, which focuses sound (for one example) to single position.

And just maybe the sum of it won’t sound too bad at all.

Desaturate the Web (It's Only Fair)

In the nineties I founded a music company called BLISTER, so christened because I wanted to convey to Interactive art directors, animators and casual game makers (among our principal clients) the impact the strategic use of branded sound might play on the senses. This in the days when audio was often deemed 'too big' or 'too slow' (not to mention, 'unessential') in the construction of an online experience.

But in the last decade sound has gone from being considered too unwieldy for the Internet to being unquestionably integral to just about any and every interactive experience one can think of. And interactive audio production has become an art form and recognized profession unto itself.

The funny thing is:

We've all visited sonified web sites that provide an option to MUTE sound. But is there just one website that offers us the option to DESATURATE the color spectrum, so that we can view the thing in a more palatable Black and White? No, ha, but I wish there were, because the presumption still is that if anything is going to be annoying; it's going to be the sonic elements, not the visual elements.

Of course, they didn’t say that about my blue hair in 1983.

–But here lies a powerful argument regarding the weakness of design (and subsequent necessity of sonic enhancement). In a previous article I wrote:

"If design is the rocket, sound is the fuel that lifts it into our imagination, serving to imprint the image (of the vehicle it accompanies) into our memories, and even if the sound itself is goes unremembered."

Or vice versa: Practically speaking, Sound and Vision compliment each other, thereby creating an integrated experience; and by extension a seamless memory of, and emotional reaction to, a given event.

But in fact, visual fashions fade faster from our interest than even Top Ten Pop songs. The eye becomes jaded far quicker than the ear. TV commercials from the eighties look ancient. But today's kids and adults alike still enjoy dancing to Brit Pop Robo-Candy such as Ian Craig Marsh and Martyn Ware's wonderfully askew Human League and Heaven 17.

Similarly, Leo Delibes 'Flower Duet' ('Viens Mallika' from the Opera 'Lakme') will likely outlast the famous Tony Scott Directed/ Howard Blake Arranged TV campaign for British Airways (that used the piece as a score).

Were the 'Flower Duet' actually commissioned by British Airways as its core audio branding asset, so much the better, but perhaps original commissions are no longer necessary to establish authentic branding. What I mean by that is, ideally, account executives at the airline, or attached to the airline's branding company, would have long beforehand distilled the BA mission, values and our corporate goals into an Identity Style Guide or Brand Manual that included parameters for execution of audio.

If initiated, the creative brief should have resulted in the commission of an original work that effectively conveyed the BA brand through music (Assuming, also, they secured a living composer whose talent was substantially equal to that of Delibes).

A few other pre-existing tracks have indeed managed to communicate a full breadth of a brand message. Chevrolet's use of Bob Seger's 'Like a Rock' comes immediately to mind. Yet, I think, overall, licensed (or otherwise non-commissioned, existing) pieces work best (in most cases) when they are part of a campaign, not when they are re-purposed as the fundamental branding asset. Although, as mentioned, sometimes such works can indeed be successfully retrofitted as a brand asset.

The argument does not apply to filmed or theatrical entertainment, for the simple reason that cinematic entertainment has longer legs than the advertising for it, or anything else for that matter.

Marketing, as with any campaign, is by its elemental nature, a temporary operation. In contrast, Fine Art, such as Music, is timeless, by default. Sure, any given recording will eventually sound dated, but rearrange the track using modern production tools –or simply play the thing yourself (if you're a musician)– and all of a sudden the music jumps back to life!

Pantone's 2007 Color of the Year was Chili Pepper. This year it was Blue Iris. Next year it will be something else. The eye continuously demands novel ways to distract it. And yet the western ear, give or take a few hundred years, will never tire of C Major.

Not to say some commercial art doesn't hold the same appeal as fine art. Some of it does, and I'd like to think that some of that which is held in such regard also included my participation. But note, a commercial cycle in the US might run for as little as 13 weeks –in the case of a Superbowl spot, ONE day– while every little ditty from a cheap pop song to a symphonic theme is routinely capable of surviving generations.

No doubt, shortly after the copyright runs out on many classic 20th century jingles, future composers will use them as fodder for more substantial works, much the same way Aaron Copeland borrowed the Shaker hymn 'Simple Gifts' as a theme for his ballet score, 'Appalachian Spring'.

Yet I would be surprised if any accompanying video (to those classic jingles) eeked out any further use beyond their value as vintage pop kitsch.

Buzz Versus Bang

Aristotle opens his philosophical treatise, METAPHYSICS, with the following introduction:

"All men by nature are actuated with desire of knowledge, and an indication of this is the love of the sense; for even, irrespective of their utility, are they loved for their own sakes; and preeminently above the rest, the sense of sight. For not only for practical purposes, but also when not intent on doing anything, we choose the power of vision in preference, so to say, to all the rest of the senses. And a cause of this is the following, –that this one of the senses particularly enables us to apprehend whatever knowledge it is in the inlet of, and that it makes many distinctive qualities manifest."

In other words, as far as senses go, the Eye/Brain partnership has been engineered with far more capable intelligence gathering capacity than the Ear/Brain.

Graphics (that interest us) appear to possess an innate capacity to cut through competing visual clutter. For this reason, design, good or bad, has an advantage over audio (so long as it rests within an available range of vision). The Eye/Brain partnership is quite adept at selecting isolated points of interest, like stars in a night sky. Meanwhile even a trained Ear/Brain pairing finds itself overwhelmed when attempting to discern unique single tones if emitted from multiple competing sound sources.

Every try to enjoy –much less actually hear– a street fiddler playing a quiet tune when a New York Subway train pulls into the station with a 100 decibel roar? It’s impossible, and yet no problem at all reading competing –even muted– signage on both moving train and stationary platform, or even this article if you happen to be on the go and have your face buried in a mobile device.

For more anecdotal evidence, just walk down your local Main Street, or stare across a strip mall. Even a three-year old child can easily discern McDonalds' red and yellow arches amidst an urban sea of other corporate logos. Alternately, consider words on a page, all are individually and entirely legible, even if not digested in the prescribed linear sequence. Similarly, few will report any obstacle identifying one or all of a hundred fast food joints on along a given strip –by design cues alone.

In contrast, substitute the neon signs indicative of any congested suburban landscape for equally loud sounds. The result isn’t just aural clutter. It’s noise: a morass of overlapping sounds whose component parts played in unison become indistinguishable from one another, and their points of origin also indiscernible.

Would there be any problem with a jackhammer at two in the morning if it sounded like a purring kitten instead of a machine gun on steroids? Compound an angry jackhammer with a middle-of-the-night traffic jam and it makes many a city dwelling musician wonder why every car horn can’t be factory tuned to A440, and coo instead of blare. Who uses car horns as danger alerts anyway? A few certainly, but equally true most people honk to voice impatience, not to warn an unwary pedestrian that they’re about to be flattened by a minivan.

For some reason, competing audio is perceived as a racket long before competing design becomes disordered hodgepodge. Even when design does cross the threshold into clutter, the brain is more willing to try and make sense of visual hodgepodge than it is of noisy racket. Walls covered in graffiti earn appreciation from a global group of aficionados that appreciates not just design, but densely compacted, competing design elements. And in fact, puzzles are fun.

Neither copious nor bright, contrasting nor clashing color use, random points nor competing lines, nor unsymmetrical shapes are necessarily annoying –much less painful to our senses (Art School grads included). But unharmonious rumblings, shrill emissions and discordant notes can be irritating. And sound blasting at an excessively loud volume can actually be dangerous and damaging.

But therein lies one key to the power of sound, and especially as an enhancement –or 'power boost'– in the promotion of a message conveyed by a visual element. If design is the rocket, sound is the fuel that lifts it into our imagination, serving to imprint the image (of the media vehicle it accompanies) into our memories, and even if the sound itself is goes unremembered.

Or vice versa, of course. To be fair, any gifted multimedia artist is capable of using one sensory trigger to 'push' forward and enhance the perception of an experience delivered by another. That's why film, theater, opera, propaganda and advertising work when they do. Somebody is pushing your buttons, and in the case of an action movie (or a sports car commercial) the result can be thrilling.

In fact, it might be inaccurate for me to liken noise to clutter, when a more appropriate visual metaphor for racket is probably that of a focused emission, such as a laser, aimed directly at your brain.

Of course, one needn't make a big noise to gain attention. The buzzing sound in your ear from a bug will certainly capture your attention just as much as any loud sound will. In some instances, that soft buzzing sound might even be considered a more effective medium than a loud bang. Because of its incessant, repetitive nature, the sound –indeed the entire experience taken as a dimensional 'snapshot'– has a very good chance of becoming indelibly imprinted into one's neural circuitry for future recollection.

And that might be why the sound of cicadas, or of even one mosquito buzzing in your ear –not to mention an old pop song– can trigger a cascade of archival memories from so long ago, that you thought you forgot them. And you did until one single SOUND took reign of your psychophysic reality and quite effortlessly transported you back in time.

Maybe not Quantum Physics, but I think it's AMAZING anyway, and it happens almost every day to each and everyone of us.

So, Buzz versus Bang? You decide.

Black Noise Branding

I'd like to introduce a new concept I've been thinking a lot about for some time now, which I call BLACK NOISE BRANDING.

As Invisible Branding is to Design strategy, Black Noise Branding is to Sonic Branding, –not polar opposites, but complimentary concepts capable of full integration.

FYI: "Invisible Branding refers to those stakeholder touchpoints that have little or no visual presence in the market". Such 'invisible' touchpoints include vision, relationships, training and strategy (Invisible Branding by Josh Levine, Steal this Idea).

At first, Active Noise Control and Black Noise Branding appear to be identical tasks, but they are actually quite different.

BLACK NOISE SHAPES ACOUSTIC ECOLOGY

Active Noise Control implies the exclusive elimination of nuisance sound. In contrast, Black Noise Branding implies a positive effort to shape a given acoustic ecology by creating deliberate (though possibly random in execution) intervals of Silence. The result does not produce a vacuum, but rather an opportunity for audiences, users and consumers to listen, contribute and arguably co-create –or at the very least, co-habitate the space.

If it's Silent, then why is it called Black Noise Branding?

Silence is sometimes referred to as Black Noise.

In our case, the Silence is not happenstance, but deliberately shaped within a given Acoustic Ecology, and therefore designed.

You don't need to possess synesthesia in order to know that sound comes in all sorts of colors. And anyone who owns a synthesizer probably knows the difference between White Noise and Pink Noise. In fact, noise comes in many (formally and informally) designated colors, including: Red, Blue, Brown, Violet and Gray.

That Silence might be designated Black Noise –or noise, at all– may make little sense at first until one realizes that Silence is generally relative, rarely absolute. A hushed street or garden, for instance, become all but that when you actually stop to listen. Suddenly, what might have initially seemed a dull Acoustic Ecology starts to hum and buzz with with all sorts of natural, ambient sound.

BLACK NOISE HEIGHTENS AWARENESS

John Cage made effective use of silence with his popular avant-garde work 4'33". By 'popular', I don't mean that a lot of people like it; I mean a lot of people have heard about the work, and once aware of it, have a strong opinion about it (regardless of whether or not they've personally experienced its effect).

However, if you're unfamiliar with the work, all you need to know is that in the manuscript, Cage directs the performers to make no sound at all. Instead the musician or musicians sit quietly for the entire prescribed term: four minutes and thirty-three seconds.

Most audience members describe the result as an uncomfortably long period of silence (and thank God when it's over).

The surface of the moon would actually provide a silent venue, but here on Earth, the result is Black Noise.

The interesting thing is, many audience members find themselves captivated by 4'33" –and no one forgets it easily, probably because Cage has made his audience co-creators of the final experience.

Black Noise isn't defined by absolute silence but rather by relative quiet interrupted with random spikes of ambient sound. In the case of the Cage piece, the shuffle of programs and feet, miscellaneous coughs, the leakage of outside traffic and weather, and all manner of sound for as far as the ear can hear –all become transitional audio components of the work, even if they only exist in the ever-changing and fast-fading present moment (if the 'performance' is not recorded).

4'33" works precisely because what Cage has done is framed these few minutes upon the premise that a formal work is, in fact, in progress. And audience members don't actually experience silence. Instead they are sort of tricked into a heightened sense of awareness, which leads to an almost compulsive act of sustained listening to (and for) any and all sounds that manage to leak into the room and which suddenly serve to fill an increasingly less and less silent space.

Half the controversy surrounding the work is not that silence is presented as music, but that when audiences finally open their ears to LISTEN, they come away amazed to learn that most of the time they're not really focused –that sighs and honks and and hums and buzzes whirl about them all the time, if only they would tune in from time to time, they might notice it. For a little while, for 4'33" to be precise, they suddenly do.

4'33" provides additional interest for us in the knowledge that like sound, (relative) silence' can also captivate an entire room of individuals, perhaps even as readily as a graphic. Attention is gained not by a flashy image or well designed logo –but, really, the opposite of all that: Deliberately framed Black Noise.

BLACK NOISE CREATES ANTICIPATION

Supporting this concept is the premise that absence of external sensory stimuli invites internal stimuli, such as anticipation or an awareness of self.

In the Benita Raphan documentary on Polaroid inventor Edwin Land, the film maker makes a strong point that indeed, Absence is Stronger Than Presence (1996), as easily demonstrated throughout the Twentieth Century by the sheer excitement garnered by even one undeveloped negative. Interestingly, excitement is experienced not after the film has developed, but before it's developed, or while it's developing.

BLACK NOISE INVITES CONTRIBUTION

If I look for another current, successful example of Black Noise Branding in action, the first thing I think of is the GOOGLE home page.

Note, Black Noise is metaphorical for our purposes, and can imply absence of Audio, Image or any other sensory data.

In contrast to Invisible Branding, which implies, not the absence of design elements, but rather intangible assets, Black Noise is indeed defined by absence. However, like Cage's work, Black Noised produced by absence of an aural focal point becomes a branding tool when framed by an idea, motivation or communication strategy.

As it happens, the Google home page essentially presents those who interface with it with visual silence, and in doing so invites interaction and contribution.

Sure, today, in 2008, the Google logo is perhaps the most recognizable brand in the world. But in 1998, when the company launched, most people looked at Google and saw a simple, unbranded website. That is, they saw nothing, but Google's interface designers somehow coaxed them into engagement.

Fast forward to the present, a decade on, and it's impossible not to notice that graphic artists worldwide continue to draw inspiration from the concept of visual silence, due in no small part to Google's success, and in the process access similarly powerful image statements.

At the beginning of this series I wrote:

"...from corporate messaging to personal ringtones, sometimes it's good to remember that the relative absence of sound, what we think of as SILENCE, can still be quite effective..."

But what's so special about the absence of sound?

Like many things, there is nothing particularly special about it. –At least not until you frame the perceived vacuum within a defined (and therefore branded) context, or by demonstrating contrast.

BLACK NOISE DEFINES CONTRAST

'Silence', 'Relative Quiet', 'Nothingness' -it all sounds pretty negative and nihilistic, but in fact a kind of anti-nihilism and negative branding is driving much of our present culture, if only because designers have rediscovered absence not only creates anticipation, but defines contrast.

For instance, consider that not only do Great Color TVs Depend on Black and White (New York Times, May 2008), manufacturers such as Pioneer, have gotten hip to the notion that the pursuit of absolute black –the absence of color– may just be the most effective way to brand their new electronic products.

It follows that the strategic use of Black Noise can also serve as an effective utility in the Music Designer's sonic branding tool kit.

After all, every composer knows what a REST is.

FYI: The Wikipedia definition of REST is: "A Rest is an interval of silence".

Rests (of varying degrees) usually appear between phrases. It is a place where a singer, for instance, can catch his or her breath. For listeners, a rest increases anticipation for what follows, but also simultaneously delivers a brief moment when the ear can wander elsewhere (but not too far). Composers can actually use rests in order to invite both increased focus or distraction (in audiences), depending on the requirements of the score. The result is that any musical statement that follows is consumed with rapt attention.

Within the context of sonic and audio branding, Rests (intervals of silence) hold the potential to present listeners with an invitation to listen to the ambient sound around them, and connect with it. Or to elicit a desired attention level before introducing a formally constructed Sound Mark.

SOUND AESTHETICS

Likewise, a Sound Masking consultant might consider re-positioning a noise suppression service as an audio design solution, especially if the assignments can generally be described as shaping quiet space from a busy existing Acoustic Ecology.

I should clarify: I'm not simply suggesting repackaging Isolation Foam and Mass Loaded Vinyl in a new Black Noise wrapper.

Simply consider that the hypothetical pairing of a Noise Reduction professional with a Brand analyst possessing sound aesthetic judgment on any given project might in fact maximize user or customer experience by virtue of their collaboration, rather than continuing to follow the old model where the foam went up on one day and the orchestra came in on another.

THE BOTTOM LINE:

Strategically Composed Intervals of Silence:

• Defines Contrast (as Pioneer demonstrates)
• Creates Anticipation (as Polaroid demonstrates)
• Heightens Awareness (as Cage demonstrates)
• Invites Contributors (as Google demonstrates)

If your brand is private and built-to-last, then of course the best solution is using traditional noise control to carve out a space (physical or virtual) to feature your solid state sonic branding.

But if you're creating a public and fluid environment or user experience, and thereby inviting co-creation, and if you're open to other voices enhancing and enriching your brand story, then perhaps the solution (also) includes the tasteful and expert application of branded Black Noise.

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Click any link below to read all the articles in the six-part July 2008 UNBRANDED series detailing the relationship between Effective Sonic Branding and Black Noise (Silence):

TO BRAND OR NOT TO BRAND?

That is the Question.

Part 1: Non Branding For The Best Branders
Part 2: Sonic Branding or Silent Branding?
Part 3: Websites and Sonic Branding
Part 4: The Sonification of Everything
Part 5: Silence Please, for the Soundtracks of Our Lives
Part 6: Black Noise Branding

Sound Solutions for Commuter Spaces

Manhattan's vast system of subway tunnels and platforms provides many great opportunities for sound, but not always or particularly in the area of information delivery.

But while the notorious reverb that is inherent in those cavernous, underground commuter spaces muddles official communications, it conversely provides us with often inspiring performance space acoustics (if one can otherwise ignore all the other distractions that define such an environment, i.e. platform shaking, 80-decibel trains thundering by us).

This circumstance strikes me as somewhat ironic, too, because in no other equivalent modern space have architects quite so flagrantly rejected any and all methods to tame the arguable problem of interior echoes.

Even concert halls known for reverberant spaces are outfitted with acoustic tiles.

Which is to say: Nothing man-made escapes his control, so why should a subway platform be any different?

Cathedrals and temples take another approach: Their inhabitants communicate whether by speech or music in terms that over the years all agree work with the space. The best church music, for instance, is composed with such reverberations in mind. The most inspiring sermons use a call and response that posit soloist with chorus, a model perhaps learned from the Greeks who employed it in their theatre.

Would call and response work for a transit alert? No, of course not. But one thing we can certainly take away from Medieval chant is the fact they were slow moving, allowing for complete comprehension of lyrical data before returning echoes collided with new incoming information.

Indeed, the many cathedral-like spaces within the subway network offer actively reverberant spaces for the many artists who do perform there, both officially and unofficially.

For those readers who are not New Yorkers, the Manhattan Transit Authority (MTA) has since 1985 hosted an ongoing Artist series called MUSIC UNDER NEW YORK (MUNY). According to the MUNY website, more than 100 soloists and groups are participating in the 2008 program, "providing over 150 weekly performances at 25 locations throughout the transit system."

And it was via the MUNY series that I first stumbled on Daphne Hellman and her group Hellman's Angels, playing the main concourse at Grand Central Terminal. Daphne played jazz and blues on an eighty-five pound gilded classical harp. Not only was it some of the most amazing blues I've heard, it re-framed my perception of the harp, and Daphne and her band felt born of the space.

But does anyone know if the MTA simply gives performers space and time, or have the powers that be ever commissioned music inspired directly by transit? When and if they do, the main concourse at Grand Central Terminal would make a fantastic hall for the work's debut.

However, perfect performance spaces don't always make perfect communication spaces. Reverberations essentially render transit alert announcements unintelligible. The result is often frustrating for commuters.

In one sense then, the Manhattan Transit Authority does indeed already possess a Sonic Brand:

For some, the sound of the the MTA is conveyed differently by each artist sponsored by the MUNY project. It is not then any one song that conveys the MTA brand, but the mere fact of song (in what are otherwise caves), which does so.

But I think most strap hangers would say any message is more often than not rudely squelched every time the PA system delivers a burst of incomprehensible noise. And that in fact, it is the squelch itself that is closer to signifying the MTA brand with sound (that and the squeal of a braking train, the two often overlaying one another in something that resembles caterwauling unison).

What if we can get beyond that problem, though?

At that point, –if the MTA were to actually commission a Sonic Brand asset– the resulting sound would no doubt have to deliver a message of safety, timeliness and confidence or authority. Funnily enough, I actually think a variation of the squealing brakes would work, but it would have to be re-sculpted from ear drum piercing to something that conjures up, say, a shooting star or a comet.

However, Commuter Transit and Information Delivery go hand in hand. We live in an age of small networks. We are inspired not just in how to get from point A to point B, but how to do so efficiently, not to mention economically and ecologically.

Obviously at this juncture, it would be premature to commission an aural image campaign, because any such message would land on the city's collective commuter ears with a dull, inauthentic thud.

Who believes the subway travel is safe? Timely? Comfortable? Efficient?

On the other hand, trains do provide a more or less economical and ecological method of transport relative to individuals in cars or trucks. So, one might very well commission a campaign that ignores the common complaints and announces our client's strength's and positives:

Commuter transit by rail: It's cheap and it's green.

I think we all agree, though, it behooves the MTA to first find a way to address the aforementioned issues, the problem of noise inclusive.

We don't just want to get there on time, or on the cheap. We want our trains to be clean and quiet. And we want important announcements regarding travel conditions to arrive on our ears in full comprehensible clarity.

Anything short of that lacks modernity and feels ancient. Time moves forward. Trains move forward. Our expectations move forward.

So, addressing issues related to sound only:

In the near field, the MTA needs to find a way to quash reverberations –albeit only in designated places– so that commuters can always be certain they can receive clear communication regarding the status of their commute.

Far field, the next commission of trains ought to be designed so that they provide a quieter experience for both passengers en transit and for those waiting on the platforms, whose ears are on the other end of an approaching train.

If and when the MTA can accomplish these two things, then the subsequent marketing campaign heralding the acoustic accomplishment might do well to include a Tonal ID or some other scalable construction born from the study of both sound and semiotics that delivers this message, in order that the client might reinforce –and commuters might acknowledge– the old model has faded out, and a new one has taken its place, one that is efficient, economical and ecological and evolved.

The Tonal ID would also prove a valuable asset for any broadcast advertising strategy, and possibly be conceived so as to be integral experiential asset to the information delivery itself.

One beautifully conceived sound to replace many random, often annoying sounds.

In the meantime, the MTA might consider delivering transit update announcements using communication means that are known to work in reverberant spaces.

Maybe it's time to bring on the yodelers!

It's All the Silent Rave

I'm intrigued by the idea of Silent Raves. In some instances, everyone listens to the same music broadcast to wireless headphones. But at other seemingly similar parties, each participant instead shows up with their own iPods and personal playlists in tow.

This former rave is both a party and a public service (for the neighbors), but the latter speaks volumes to the power of individually selected music: The members of this tribe may share the same dance space, but they certainly aren't dancing together, at least not to the same unified beat.

I wonder if raves of this sort can reach the same ecstatic highs as the former often do, if its participants aren't experiencing the same musically induced emotional ride at precisely the same time, the way a deft DJ can coax simultaneous and shared joy from a crowd thousands.

Individuality and personal branding are important elements in today's modern media centric society, but we also miss something if the singular intention to bask in the reverberations of our own message makes communication with others impossible, or even irrelevant.

Sound of the Year: 2005 – Mother Nature's Howl

No doubt, international politics proved as turbulent as ever this year; the war in Iraq rages on; and stories of horror and tragedy continue to emerge from all corners of the globe.

For many American sports fans, the big story of the year was the the Chicago White Sox winning the World Series for first time since 1917. But although the crack of a wooden baseball bat might make for a fine snare sample in an Eco Disco Music (EDM) track, the 2005 Critical Noise Sound of the Year belongs to:

MOTHER NATURE'S HOWL

First, the year began with the aftermath of the Indian Ocean Tsunami, which rolled onto South Asian Shores in late December 2004. The tsunami  took over seventy thousand lives and left tens of thousands injured.

Later, at the close of Summer in the northern hemisphere, Hurricane Katrina capped off a record season of 27 named storms, surpassing the record of 21 set in 1933, and killed more than a thousand in 4 US. states,

But though Katrina blew in with violent vigor, it was more than a mere storm, it became a metaphor for everything gone wrong with US government. And as Washington D.C. goes, so goes the world, which also means that any fauz pas by an American administration makes for a grand statement, indeed. Depending on one's politics, the statement was either 'We don't care' or 'We're not prepared'.

Either way, a big story, a global embarrassment and a shock to the system.

Finally, although much of the disaster posed by Katrina on New Orleans can be directly attributable to an inadequate levy system, the event will nevertheless live on as an indicator to the increasing background hum presented by climate change and global warming.  

So, perhaps 2005 presented a record year for Hurricanes, but it may very well be that very soon in the future, 2005 will also be framed as the year when freaky weather became normal.

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HOW THE SOUND OF THE YEAR IS SELECTED:

The Critical Noise Sound of the Year goes to that sound source, event, entity, happening or concept which so effectively produces wide response and reaction, whether intentional or not, such that it stirs collective emotion, inspires discussion, incites action, or otherwise lends itself to cultural analysis and resonates across the globe.

Sound Byte: Car Alarms

Car Alarms: Need I say more?

Brian C. Anderson of the Daily News suggests Car Alarms Are Useless, So Ban Them. Reminding us these annoying devices are designed to aggravate he informs us:

“More than 80% of the calls to New York's quality-of-life hotline concern noise, and many are car-alarm complaints, police say.”

Why am I not surprised?

“Top models like Viper and Hellfire boast sirens that hit a painful 125 decibels — as loud as a disco, and it's sounding right outside your window.”

Not to mention that sometimes all it takes is another passing vehicle to trigger that disco, and usually does so at five in the morning

A mockingbird once took up residence outside my window, and I could swear the thing had learned how to sound out the baneful electronic wale of a Toyota Rav4 being violated.

These pulsing devices are not without their hidden merits, though. Catch me bright eyed during a blue sky afternoon and if I hear an alarm go off I’m likely to break out into 3 or 4 eights of a jubilantly fragmented post modern dance. So there you go, it is like a disco.

Thoughts On Audio @ Point of Purchase

Have by now produced audio for several installations and in-store experiences, including Kiosks for Chrysler, Discovery Store, Epcot, Levi's and the Nasdaq MarketSite. And something like this has been bubbling around my head lately on the topic of interactive audio triggered at Point of Purchase locations and special venues:

The overt pitch has been abandoned in favor of something that resembles entertainment. The eyeballs surfing the web are not just eyeballs, but eyeballs with brains. The consumers are not just shoppers, but audience members. And unlike Television advertising, point-of-purchase venues don't have the luxury of seducing the viewer with a cinematic short story.

This new consumer/fan is not at home pondering the warm and fuzzy feeling of your brand. They are on site or in the mall staring at the display or monitor, hopeully engaging in the experience. And perhaps now, they are ready to make a choice. At this stage they want immediate and honest information. You have a few seconds –and certainly not more than a couple of minutes– to make an introduction and deliver a message that inspires them to make a purchase.

How will you fare?

One thing is certain: You will need more than a loop to create an emotional bond between brands and fans.