http://surround.noquam.com/membrane-window-mirror/?fbclid=IwY2xjawNbv-NleHRuA2FlbQIxMABicmlkETFyemYySmVnZ0xabGMyNnF4AR40EhsPVFD95Uh9etCWlExzCXMoZEyCxUhIbuo0iXUAzwItaNulyvXQCZncaw_aem_1LEi9ZLnJQeONdDlSD_n0Q

http://media.experimentalmusicyearbook.com/emy_media/2010/michael_pisaro/pisaro_essay2010.pdf?fbclid=IwY2xjawNbv-JleHRuA2FlbQIxMABicmlkETFyemYySmVnZ0xabGMyNnF4AR7Ae2YpFmhFvCOuS8H7Q5cSNMYM1jDjCPhTtgX7bsjt3wyL8VZoW4IDTxX7aw_aem_0TmOGr-UMwBlLuVQHU7HGg

https://eartripmagazine.wordpress.com/articles/articles-issue-7/listening-to-sachiko-m/?fbclid=IwY2xjawNbv-BleHRuA2FlbQIxMABicmlkETFyemYySmVnZ0xabGMyNnF4AR4b1np_-pRBMyPzgz0JOqTAnTm-MQV6rI6hJDYQ0N-Lae2h8g_cKw-MEYwvlQ_aem_UJEZeyNLnj71pVIytNaOWA

‘“I think with these musicians, focuses are on hearing the sound, not physically playing musical instruments,” Sachiko concludes. “Sometimes the instrument is an obstruction. They just want to listen more to the sound.”

Clive Bell, ‘Sachiko M: Sampler Amnesia’ (The Wire, April 1999)

…

In his recently published ‘Sinister Resonance: The Mediumship of the Listener’, David Toop describes his fascination with the disembodied, uncanny nature of sounds: hearing is the first sense to develop, inside the womb; a state of aural innocence in which the developing foetus has no idea that the sounds it hears might ‘mean’ something, might signify something other than themselves, might have any other significance than mere presence. Once we emerge into the world of sight, however, a sense which allows one to get a clearer fix on things – I know that something is there because I can see it – hearing becomes less trustworthy, relegated to the domain of music – moments of aesthetic pleasure within certain defined, delimited boundaries (sometimes even tied to sight, as with the case of the music video) – or registered on the periphery of the audible threshold as annoying, briefly interesting, as background sound or ignorable environmental chatter.

Given that hearing is no longer connected to the struggle of survival –it might be useful to listen for the sound of approaching cars when crossing the road, or to notice the shrill of a fire alarm when the building is set ablaze, but we do not need to listen for approaching predators round every corner – it becomes easy to ignore, and, despite the fact that our lives are made up of a myriad of different sounds, hearing can become ambient in a way that sight less often does, or does to a lesser extent. Perhaps this tendency to ignore sound comes from a fear that it is easier to trick by means sound than by sight – sound, as something immaterial, instant, temporary, gives us no sense of permanence or stability, nothing certain to latch on to: even recurring sonic patterns (the sound of a rain shower or a thunderstorm, the roar of an accelerating car) are never quite the same in each repeated instance.

When we cannot tie what we hear to what we see, it becomes doubly difficult to evaluate the significance of a particular sonic event: to filter out peripheral noises and to concentrate on those that might offer us immediately relevant information. This is the basis, as Toop points out, of the classic trick purveyed in horror films (and in horror fiction before that): we hear something, maybe several things, but cannot tell its source or what it is ‘meant’ to signify. Removed from their usual contexts, sounds become uncanny: canned Light Music floating down the corridors in ‘The Shining’, the sound of a harp when none is physically present in ‘The Haunting’.

…

“When producing sound, even if one reduces as much as possible what is called “self-consciousness,” one can never completely eliminate it. This is because the “I” that produces, decides to produce, and thinks about producing sound and the “I” that listens to, decides to listen to, and thinks about listening to sound are always there. The minimal “I” performing minimal “listening” and “sound production,” possessing a minimal “will”…

Atsushi Sasaki, ‘The Oscillating “Will” and the Flickering “Self” ’

(Liner Notes to Filament, ‘20902000’)

…

In comparison with the wind, or with a saxophone, sine waves – most familiar to people as the ‘test tones’ heard during the interruption of a TV transmission – seem to have far less specific ‘purpose’, far less connection with any specific cultural, emotional, or otherwise meaning-centred experience. They simply are what they are – a near tabula-rasa. As Nakamura puts it, “I wouldn’t say I like my music, I would just say my music is very comfortable to me and very natural to me. It’s not really important if I like it or not, it’s just there.”

And again: “A couple of days ago, a guy came to me after a concert in Nantes, and told me; “I read you don’t want to express your emotion but I think your music is very emotional.” So I told him, “It’s you who find it’s emotional. It’s your emotion, not mine. I don’t try to spray my emotion to the audience.” “So, can I say it’s an emotional music?” “Please enjoy your own emotion.” […] Sorry to keep repeating it, but my music is just happening. Maybe listeners want to make some association with something else and then want to understand more deeply. “OK, he is from Japan so their must be some relationship with his tradition.” Maybe in the air and in some part of my body, yes, but it’s not my intention and I don’t know anything about it.”