“Space is an integral part of sound. One cannot exist without the other…”

Pauline Oliveros

After recording Musica liquida in June 2021 in the Emanuel Vigeland Mausoleum, I spent a good deal of time listening to the material to find the right dramaturgy and musical narrative for the album. At the same time, I was preparing for the second performance of The Vibrating Drum. My initial idea was to elaborate upon the layered musical forms that came out of my Mausoleum recording, but this turned out to be a difficult task. Recording and concert preparation are parallel processes, and while dealing with both simultaneously, I found myself in limbo, obsessed with the impossible task of recreating my experience at the Mausoleum in my small studio space at the Academy. The problem was neither the material nor the instrumentation, but rather the room’s response to the material, and, as a consequence, my relationship to what I was doing. The vibrations in this room did not linger in my body as they had in the Mausoleum. The layers now appeared to me as detached components, not as an integrated whole. I noticed that I too often neglect how sounds change when one moves from one location to another. I was too in love with capturing the material to accept that it was nontransferable, unique to the space where it was made.

Since embarking upon my research project, I have become more aware of space and place when sculpting sound and orchestrating timbre. I've realized that I now make more specific decisions regarding placement, durations, dynamics, textures, and relationships to different layers. Music is usually an invisible phenomenon, but sometimes I think I can see the sound being unveiled as the objects vibrate on the membrane. The sound has presence, then, almost as if it were a tangible physical object. This phenomenon creates a sense of belonging, a non-human bond. Where a sound comes from and the space that a sound inhabits can be construed as equal actors in that sound’s manifestation. The sound doesn’t belong to you. It is part of something bigger.

The concert

I am in Levinsalen again. I am starting to develop an ambiguous relationship with this hall. I would have preferred an unfamiliar acoustic environment this time. Sometimes I find the acoustics here to be too perfect. Everything seems to flow effortlessly in this space, without any friction. For this concert, I think the music would benefit from an unknown acoustic to enhance my attention to the performance situation. I’ll just have to find another way to create fruitful tension in the performance. I decide to experiment with using more or less the same setup and material as in the mausoleum recording, though I am fully aware that the music will have another character and form despite the similar parameters. I start having doubts. Moments before the concert, I start thinking that the music isn't going to happen today.

The haptic setup is taking shape, but it is not ideal. The position of the iPad on a music stand and the presence of the computer for the electronic material on the Gran Cassa are disturbing the flow of the movements and the gestures. The initial sonic terrain is somewhat boring, I feel, and the development feels uneasy. I stop trusting the possibilities of this initial phase. Looking at the video, I can see that I am tired, and I detect a kind of sloppiness in how I have organized the opening of the work. Perhaps the concert came a bit too early for me in the project schedule in order to have sufficiently notable material to present. It is a tad too drone-like for my taste, and I cannot seem to escape or dare to change the course of things, or even to just stop. My habit of sticking with the material plays out in an unfavorable fashion this time. What worries me now is that I realize that I am not able to make radical decisions when things don’t work, and that I do not seem to have a way out, but default to comfortably playing along to save the pieces of an uninteresting endeavor.

uncertainty and decisiveness 
            humility and wonder
                         wandering aimlessly in circles
the music is swimming around and around and around