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musickness
in a listening room
perpetuation
shaping sustainable music in one way or another
playing slower
in the now
We are three performers, three percussionists: Jennifer Torrence, Ane Marthe Sørlien Holen, and myself. Three orchestral bass drums are positioned in a triangle. On each drum there is a bass shaker (a tactile transducer), placed on the drum skin. In this case, the bass shaker is the Dayton bass BST-1, with a frequency response from 10 to 80 Hz.
Having used the Dayton bass BST-1 in projects prior to the start of this fellowship, I knew that the device would serve me here as well, as I wanted to work with frequencies of around 40 Hz. The bass shaker functions as a vibrating speaker, transforming audio signals into vibrations when placed in contact with the drum skin. The bass shaker is lined with a soft material where it connects to the drum skin, which makes it easy to maneuver on the large surface of the horizontal bass drum. When the audio signals pass through the bass shaker, the skin vibrates, and the resonating body of the instrument amplifies the audio signals through the drum and the space. The drum thus becomes a loudspeaker.
Each of us manipulates sound through an iPad. On the iPad, each performer uses the app Droneo to generate sine waves. A sine wave of 40 Hz passes through a small amplifier by Nobsound, then enters the bass shaker. Each performer controls the volume of the sine wave in the app, as well as through the volume knob on the small amplifier. The performance aims to generate interplay through harmonics, beatings, and distortions through adding objects, preparations, and physical manipulations to the vibrating membrane.
My initial idea for a work that employed three orchestral bass drums with bass shakers was to explore the beatings that occur when two or more closely-spaced frequencies sound at the same time. The resulting rhythmical beatings can be altered through a Droneo feature that allows the performer to slowly change the pitch, creating a glissando effect.
The piece is not a fixed composition. We have not predetermined any musical form, nor have we fixed any decisions about which beatings to apply, or how quickly to apply them. All three performers are to explore their setup individually, adapting to the total sounding result. In addition to the beatings, each performer has a selection of objects and preparations that they have chosen individually, comprising metal chains, singing bowls, brushes, and other metal objects, which allow for shifts in texture and timbre.
The fixed parameters for the piece are:
- A base frequency of 40 Hz
- Adding frequencies that create various velocities of beatings/pulses.
- A visual signal to start introducing preparations on the vibrating membrane while each performer controls their own volume and velocity of the beatings
After one day of rehearsal at the Academy, we move our equipment to a church close by to perform the piece in front of an audience. During the sound check, we experience that the space gives a totally different acoustic response than at the Academy. I start to reconsider the decisions we made in the rehearsal space, as, with the audience present, the acoustics will for sure change again. I realize that the material is fragile, and small changes in the volume, positioning, and projection of the frequencies will have significant consequences for the sound. We decide to stick with what we discussed and to trust the material and our listening skills.
The concert
The audience comes in and sits close to us. The frequencies travel through the space, bouncing off the the walls, lamps, and various fixtures. We focus, trying to listen from the outside of the triangular configuration of the bass drums. We lean our bodies on the bass shakers, which changes the air pressure inside the drums. Air escapes through a small hole in the bass drum, producing a sound resembling that of heavy breathing. The continuous low frequency filling our bodies and the room makes me think of blood running through my veins. We look as though we were doing CPR on the drums—as if they were living creatures, which we must keep alive by pumping out sound from their bodies. My observation brings to mind what the philosopher Jane Bennett calls the “vitality of matter”(Bennett 2010), which she defines as the capacity for nonhuman things to exert palpable influence on our lives. Here, we experience such vitality via our instruments, which transmit the sonic material in collaboration with the room acoustics and the presence of an audience. There are sections in the performance where we only listen and observe the behavior of the frequencies traveling around the room. It is difficult to explain how I can perceive a change in the harmonic spectrum without intervening myself. But this is actually what is happening. The instruments and the space have agency in this collaboration between natural and human forces. The performance unfolds in an interactive entanglement where we can sense the vital power of the material contributing to the action and the sound produced, and we relate and interact with this vital force in a continuous discourse throughout the performance.
Later, listening back, I start to question whether the recording is the best way to document this performance—in fact, whether the performance can be adequately documented at all. For me, the physical sensation of 40 Hz vibrating through your body is integral to the experience of this work. Some even find it disturbing, to the extent that it triggers nausea. When this physical sensation is lost, as it would be with a recording of sound alone, the work is significantly altered. The work needs to be experienced live to convey its full meaning.