Noise art

Wow, one post a year. What a lousy blog.

I've found some "interesting" "music" on archive.org called noise art. If you take a listen, you'll understand the quotes. It stretches the definition of music, and most people would find it assaulting/insulting to their aural environment. I know for sure many people who would turn to me after listening and say, "Come on Ted, be serious. You can't actually like this stuff."

I will be serious. So I smirked a little when I heard it first. Ha ha, create a sound that is as unappealing as possible and try to pass it off as music. But then I listened to it with an open mind and was amazed. It is trance-like, a real right brain experience. I felt the same euphoria that I've felt in the presence of a precisely manicured symphonic orchestra, or the unity of a well-trained choir. It was beautiful and intoxicating. And it was cleansing. It opened my mind like the Ives' exercise to sing and play a half step apart. Try it, play Yankee Doodle in C while singing it in D-flat.

So how could noise be beautiful? How is it possible that the polar opposite of historical definition of beauty and consonance can be also found beautiful? Consider the hair of a woman. It swings and falls in a united yet unorganized way. There is something noisy about it. Most people would agree that tying up the hair into a tight, controlled bun would be not so attractive as the free, complicated pattern that it would create if it were loose. A computer animation of hair, or water, or even dust would be insipid without randomness or apparent random elements included.

Random can be beautiful. Noise can be art.

child-like creativity

So it has been awhile, I know. One of the requirements of a class that I'm teaching is the students must create and post to their blogs often. I figured I might as well set a good example, or at least a better example than what I have so far.

I was hit with an epiphany last night. I was looking through my old college stuff and found a sound design project I had done. The remarks from the professor declared how unique and creative the sounds were, and I remember how much I liked them myself, but last night I wondered if I would create the same thing now, given who I am and where I am in my life today.

The thing that struck me the most is how naive and almost childish my thinking was. When I sit down to compose, I feel tense, as if I need to hammer out this monumental thing, whereas back then I didn't seem to care so much. Get the project done, have fun, do something cool. That's all, no real pressure.

We've been listening to They Might Be Giants in our household lately. Now that they've released some kid's CD's the whole family likes them (instead of just me). They inject an obvious character into their songs. Each song has an appealing amateurish feel to it, similar to the style of Strong Bad's email. It is as if each song was improvised, there is no delusions of grandeur, no pretentiousness, just fun, creative, goofing around. It is very child-like and refreshing.