membranes

air pushing through the vocal cords
they vibrate, producing the sound of a vowel

a voice is heard
through the drumskin

the transformation of sound from membrane to membrane

something must get lost on the way

can one be one with an instrument? 
is one plus one always two
or another one?

it is most certainly beyond human capacity to know
trying is my contribution
it is probably not the solution

Early on in my project, I was drawn to the idea of using my voice as musical material. I have been singing sporadically since my teens, and it has long been a neglected dream of mine to reintroduce my voice in my own music. Discovering the physicality of touching and maneuvering the vibrating skin made me want to dig further into this dream. One day, when I was fiddling around with the transducers in my studio, I began singing playfully along with the sine waves. It struck me that the voice could be a strategy for getting closer both physically and musically to the sounds I was producing on the drum, as both the drum and the vocal cords contain membranes that conducts vibration. With this in mind, I wanted to ignite a vibrational circuit between my voice and my drum, hoping to create a continuum between the two instruments. 

To do this, I planned to sing through a microphone connected to the vibrating speaker via a mixing desk. My hope was that I could embody the sound even further by manipulating the membrane with my hands, thus closing the circular connection between the instrument and myself.

I made several attempts with different types of microphones in my studio. Here is one: 

This example was successful in that it demonstrated what I did not want to create: uncontrollable feedback, as well as the wrong proportion of voice (or rather screams) to vibrating action on the skin. After this session, I abandoned the idea of using a condenser microphone and tried my luck with a dynamic microphone, the classic Shure SM57. Because the mic is unidirectional, I was able to avoid feedback and sing with more certain control at low volumes; I also felt that I had achieved my goal of having my voice melt together with the electronics, such that the sounds had become indistinguishable from one another. 

The concert was again held in Levinsalen. This time, I decided to work specifically with a 16-inch custom-made snare drum by Le Soprano. This is a heavy snare drum in maple wood with brass hoops, and has a deep and distinctive resonating timbre. I had prepared a lot of different materials to serve within different musical cells, but my decision to expose my voice, to actually sing in front of an audience, was the most substantial addition. In fact, the reason why I chose almost total darkness in the hall, with only a small lamp projecting light through the skin of the drum, was that I didn’t want to face the audience while singing. I wanted to draw the attention away from the voice and towards the sound of the drum. At the same time, the voice became the main attraction. The voice always does. At this point, darkness was the only way for me to go through with the singing. In the end I am a shy person. 

The concert

I am hiding in the back of Levinsalen, unaware that the audience is already waiting in the dark hall. I forgot to tell the student in charge of the event to let me know when everything was ready for me to enter. I open the door and am faced with almost total darkness. There is light from the snare drum in the center of the hall, so at least I know where to go. I have no idea how many people are here. I like the mystery of it, and it suits me perfect since I am going to sing. With the illuminated drum and the recognition of the role of the voice, even my shyness disappears. I feel sharp and concentrated.

In the beginning I set up some frequencies in the Droneo app, playing with the harmonics by moving the crotales around the surface of the skin. I’m laying the ground for the voice to enter and mix with these frequencies. For this concert I have prepared a sequence of four sections that I actually intend to follow. It is quite unusual for me to plan this much and to stick to it for the whole concert. Perhaps I thought I needed a safety net in case the vocal material fell apart. But I had rehearsed the transitions between the sections prior to the concert, so everything should go smoothly.

The material and sections for this concert are:

Part I – Sine waves with harmonic interplay with the Droneo app mixed with the voice and abrupt interruptions with brushes and a mallet pattern on the snare.

Part II – Slow transitions to singing bowls played with a bow and the same singing bowl sampled in the Patterning app. A slowed-down recording of bells layered in the background. Preparations with small singing bowls upside-down and triangle to create distortions. Slowly moving into a rhythmic pattern with the sampled singing bowls with a sine wave drone below. Adding the voice after some time and percussive fills.

Part III – A rhythmic element with the harmonics of a sine wave chord. Timbral changes with the left hand and the brush in the right hand touching the skin. The hand and the brush creating rhythmic patterns in the harmonic spectrum depending on the pressure and position of the contact points.

Part IV – Conclusion with the same sine wave chord, but this time with triangle preparations. Ending the piece with a spinner resonating on the drum.

This concert entails a new approach. The preparatory work, both formally and material-wise, was more elaborate than usual. In retrospect, I think the different materials have a lot of potential, but perhaps not in the combination and sequence that I ended up performing. 

It seems to me that the natural flow of the music suffers when I try to execute a sequence of events in a predetermined order. With this sort of structure, I feel I don't listen as well to the room. I am not there in the moment. I am thinking back, trying to reconstruct an idea of something, but at the same time I am thinking ahead with the goal of arriving somewhere. I am absent in the present.

I’m attracted to performances where the source of a sound is ambiguous. In this case, though, it was probably unrealistic to think that the voice could fully blend with the drum and its vibrations. Although one can perceive that I am singing, I am satisfied with the result. I’m particularly fascinated by how I can feel the vibrations of the voice with my hand on the drum. The experience creates an enveloping bond with the instrument—a circular connection through membranes, the vocal cord membrane, the microphone's membrane, the drum’s membrane, and the ear’s tympanic membrane. The ambiguity in the perception of sound and the recognition of sound sources is worth further research, perhaps on the kettledrum, where the flexibility in pitch is wider. I believe that understanding more about the circular connection between membranes can lead to new knowledge in my field and in my artistic practice.