Our system for Labyrinth was the first step toward treating the saxophone-computer combination as a unified, extended instrument. While the pedal system can be an effective way for the performer to gain control over aspects of the computer’s behavior, it can also be awkward to use on stage. For example, it necessitates that I sit down while playing, which I would not normally do when performing alone. Furthermore, the pedals do not always have an immediate impact on the saxophone sound, and the physical gestures required to interact are frequently disconnected from the music they generate. It was eventually clear that establishing a control-intimate connection with the computer is only one important aspect of the design. Our system would also need to account for the physicality of playing the saxophone without imposing undue restrictions on my movement. We would have to shift our focus from control to gesture.
The experience I have had working with this type of system differs significantly from the experience I have had working with other types of systems over the years. In certain configurations our aubiome can produce a state that I can only describe as the saxophone and computer ‘aligning’ or ‘melting together’. This kind of state might depend on a very specific system configuration as well as a particular mode of saxophone playing. We use the term ‘performer-centric’ to describe systems and working methodologies that target these types of relationships, because they would be impossible, or at the very least difficult, to achieve without the benefit of hands-on experimentation with the saxophone.
One of the first questions to consider when starting a new piece of electroacoustic music is the basic setup. The term ‘system’ in this context refers to the architecture of hardware and software elements: the framework that allows artistic work to occur. Its specific structure orients the creative process, while simultaneously imposing boundaries on what can be achieved. The creative process begins with the system's design, and the decisions that go into it will have downstream implications throughout the working process.
When designing a new system, we are confronted with a clear mismatch between the fundamental nature of the computer and of traditional musical instruments. Whereas instruments are predisposed to certain types of interactions, affording us a specific range of possible musical expression, the computer does not share this starting point. In fact, any ‘musical’ behaviors we want to elicit from the computer must be specifically designed, and to a certain extent, these design choices define the musical space that we will be able to explore in later stages.
Adrián and I can recall our first meetings in 2014, where we began to plan the project. We had access to the University of Graz’s equipment and planned to write our own software in the programming language Pure Data. That project, which took about a year to complete, was an example of a top-down design. We envisioned a piece that would make use the specific technology available to us at the university, and then began to program the software to make it a reality. That year was challenging, and when we presented our work at the end, the result could be best described as an 'etude for saxophone and motion tracking'. We were able to demonstrate some of our desired system behaviors, but it was more of a technological showcase than the exciting piece of music we were hoping to create. We had fallen into a trap described by Croft a decade before:
For our next project, Labyrinth (2015), we designed an entirely new system using foot pedals to establish a more direct line of control to the computer system. The goal was to create a self-contained system that would allow me to work alone and concentrate on integrating computer processing with my saxophone playing. This system design prioritized my ability to manipulate the computer behavior in real time. In other words, our work on Labyrinth was done in a control-oriented paradigm, with an emphasis on the performer-computer interface and my ability to interact meaningfully with the computer.
Performer-centric design
We spent several years experimenting with different approaches to system design, viewing the hardware-software configuration as an ‘extension’ of the saxophone and the combined system as a ‘hybrid instrument’. In this sense, system design could be thought of as a type of instrument building. We eventually shifted to a different approach aimed at creating a flexible environment in which to explore various saxophone-computer interactions. Rather than limiting ourselves to a single hybrid instrument, the idea was to design a system that could serve as a platform for experimentation, allowing us to switch between configurations with ease. I wanted to be able to set up a system configuration, test it directly with the saxophone, and then adjust it ‘on the fly’ without ever having to put the instrument down.
aubiome (2018) running in Max/MSP
For subtle musical control to be possible, an instrument must respond in consistent ways that are well matched to the psychophysiological capabilities of highly practiced performers. The performer must receive both aural and tactile feedback from a musical instrument in a consistent way - otherwise the instrumentalist has no hope of learning how to perform on it in a musical way.
If the mapping is too explicit, too transparently one-to-one, the result is not only tedious but may have the effect of shifting the procedural into the foreground, turning the piece into a lamentable ‘showcase’ of the technology. (‘Look – I do this, and the computer does that!’)
The computer is of course the most general of all human inventions, after only logic and mathematics itself. Its very existence is due to a society of consciousness and not the creation of individual genius. To approach it is to be attracted to the general. But the extension of this ideal of generality into the design of music languages and instruments is not wholly appropriate. ... Music itself draws us to the view that all form is reducible to another in ever ascending hierarchies. But in music there is equally a concern with the particular: in particular forms, in the phenomenal, in personal intuition. While there are always tools and forms that become universal, the search for the universal is not sufficient as a method for making music.
