Author Archives: Rose-Ebony Vargas

A sensory ethnography of a sonic experience: Klein at the Barbican.

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Sewing together the boundaries between sound art and London’s urban soundscape is Klein; a multi-disciplinary artist from South London. Being influenced by a blend of R&B and experimental electronics, Klein’s performances take you on a sonic journey of sounds so beautiful, yet so distorted and individual to her as an artist. Being able to see Klein perform live at the Barbican opened me up to a different side of sound art that is more relatable to myself, and the music scene I’m a part of.

A concert space as prestigious as the Barbican would probably be any musician’s dream venue to play in, but probably not one you’d expect an entourage of creative youth from across London to open the night with a range of different UK rap styles. A concert hall, one I’ve played in as part of an orchestra, dotted with its members and patrons staring shocked at the stage as Jawnino, the opening act, lyricsises about youth culture, his friends on stage with him, the moment reminiscent of an underground rap concert where you’d expect to see mosh pits etc. The patrons and members, expressions of shock plastered across their faces, aren’t used to this sort of scene at all; if anything they feel cheated out of their ticket money- wasn’t this supposed to be an evening displaying the new Avant Garde? With Jawnino gracing the stage at that moment, the concert hall disappears, decorum is evaporated from the crowd as you can hear cheers mid performance, fans (including myself) shouting out the lyrics. Ending his set with It’s Cold Out, a far more experimentally influenced production than the rest of his set, the stage is mellowed out in time for the next performer, Lioness.

Taking a more conversational tone, Lioness maps out her feelings and intentions behind her songs to the audience. Strutting in a beautiful gown and heels, one of which breaks underneath her amass of energy, Lioness spits down the mic against more soulful backings in comparison to the former performer. But the mood shifts, suddenly the barbican hall feels like a rave space, DJ Marsta’s Hollow belting out, Lioness switching to a grimey flow. At this point the stage starts filling, girls clad in Cortiez take their places within the strange set up; there’s a desk, a metal detector, and a huge cube platform where a shadowed figure stands- that’s Klein. As Lioness finishes her set, the lighting shifts to darker, blue tones. The room becomes silent, and Klein begins her set.

My friend I’ve dragged along immediately turns to me; why are they all on their phones? The girls gathered around the desk seem to be communicating through their phones, something that seems to be a part of the performance, but something that myself and (by the looks on their faces) the rest of the audience don’t get. Klein’s musical set up is hidden from view, but she’s triggering distorted harmonic lines from what seems to be some sort of touch pad, and a laptop. A single microphone swings upside down nearby Klein’s head, she vocalises into it, adding to the dissonance that floats through the room. One of the girls stands up, alto saxophone in hand, at which point Klein pulls out an instrument that almost looks like a DIY trumpet. Together they improvise over the bed of noise, a sort of calm starting to be felt in the music. If this was solely an audio experience, one might not even come across the thought that the sound has been created by a Soulja Boy fan from South London, young in her 20s. The visual aspect of the performance is what gives it its “vernacular London” stamp. Projected onto the cube platform where Klein stands are extremely saturated photos, photos that represent urban London culture, particularly black culture, and memes- my favourite being one that reads “Life’s fun… Until I remember.” This “stamp” is further emphasised by Jawnino’s reappearance. Over a bed of distorted yet rhythmical glitches, the saxophonist carefully improvises alongside Jawnino’s heavily processed, punctuated words. Tension builds up within the music, the other girls on the stage seem to be performing a physical routine, but are relaxed in stride. When the performance comes to a close, there is a silence amongst the audience, some parts of the crowd with confused expressions on their face, some smiling, but most stunned in awe- this is a sonic experience most have never, and might never again, experienced before, particularly the younger, “trendier” parts of the crowd who might’ve been there to support Jawnino or Lioness. 

When I discovered Klein around a year ago, thanks to my good friend Khush, the saxophonist of Klein’s band, it shifted my perception of what music is and can be entirely. But seeing her live, seeing the sensory journey she curated throughout the evening, is something that will never leave me.

Radio Art and Approach: Impressionism vs Expressionism

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Impressionist art was created in the early 1860’s, this art approach was founded by Claude Monet. Impressionist artists paint nature in a realistic way, instead of using a studio and its lighting, impressionists found that they were able to capture capture natural landscapes by working in front of their subjects using natural lighting.

Impressionists rejected the “fine art” movement and rebelled against what would have been in their time the classic way of creating art and the standard subject matter. They wanted their work to reflect modernity and the world that they lived in, they specifically focused on lighting and how it could capture a moment and the use of varying colours to create a more natural definition instead of the traditional black lines. This form of art is still used by artists today and the inspiration for many of today’s works.

Expressionists art incorporates the artists image of reality with their feelings and ideas. Because of this their artwork tends to use strong brush strokes which tend to be highly textured. The use of colour can be quite intense, this is all dependent on the artists feelings and emotions at the time.

Thinking about radio art, I can imagine something such as a spoken word poem being impressionist whilst perhaps a drama piece using strong sound effects would be expressionist. I would like to experiment with both of these approaches before deciding what my stance is in regards to which I prefer.

Visiting Practitioner: Christina Wheeler

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Christina Wheeler, a vocalist and multi-instrumentalist amongst many other things, is someone who embodies the notion that genre doesn’t exist- a sentiment I very much believe in. Seeing that Wheeler’s works span from all kinds of dance music, to jazz, to ambient and improvisational forms, she is someone I can look to for inspiration in all my musical ventures. Aside from that, Wheeler’s use of non-traditional instruments intrigues me most- particularly the Theremin.

Christina Wheeler | Pi Recordings


The theremin, named after its inventor Leon Theremin in 1928, requires no physical touch to be played. Using two metal antennas, one hand hovers above to control the oscillators for frequency, and the other controlling the amplitude. For higher pitches, the instrumentalist should move their hands closer to the antennae, loudness being accessed by moving the hands further away. I hope that one day I get the opportunity to play a theremin, as it defies conventions of pitch, giving its user more creative control than most traditional instruments- but it would take a substantial amount of added practice and training of the ear to really even understand the theremin.

When watching Sister’s with Transistors, I was in awe of Clara Rockmore’s story; a classically trained virtuoso violinist, Rockmore used her ability of perfect pitch to not only adopt the theremin as her instrument of choice, but to work with Leon Theremin himself, developing the accuracy of the instrument. Rockmore able to bring an electronic instrument into a concert hall setting, pioneering the use of electronics within sound. Rockmore and Theremin’s development of the theremin has paved way for innovative intentions in the modern day, displayed beautifully by Cil’s invention, Juniper.

Personified as a female entity, Juniper is a blend of live electronics powered by MIDI. Brought into fruition during lockdown, Juniper’s likeness to the Theremin means sound is created through motion, allowing the user to be free of constraints of pitch, giving the instrument the same creative range as the Theremin. Cil described the combined use of Juniper and her voice as “freeing and a good exercise for communication”, freeing her from the stagnant role of a DJ. I am heavily inspired by the three women explored here, and would love to learn about electronics in hopes of creating my own instrument tailored towards my personal process of learning and creation.

Resonance FM

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Considering the work we create will be broadcasted on Resonance FM, I thought It’d be pretty helpful to gage an understanding of what kinds of works this radio station hosts. Self described as “the world’s first radio art station”, Resonance offers a vast range of shows unique to this station, including non-English programmes aimed at marginalised communities. Resonance strives, and proves, to be inclusive, and to me, is a gateway for knowledge on niche topics. Resonance not only entertains, but educates.

Founded in 1998 as a temporary project on the Southbank, Resonance FM gained popularity from its difference from other radio stations. Being brought back in 2002, then moved to its current location in Borough High Street in 2007, Resonance has gained its prominence through not only its “Programmer of the Year” award to Ed Baxter (programme controller) and its nomination, but also through its shows that no other station offers.

Overall, I am inspired by Resonance through its creativity and freedom of what you can broadcast. Taking this on board, I would like to take my research from my previous posts and accomodate that to Resonance’s standards for my piece.

Radio Art- What Is It?

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Though there are other forms of art that solely focus on one sense, radio art is unique in its ability to fully engage and expose the listener’s ear to a wide range of sound. We often think of the radio as something we tune into mindlessly when cooking Sunday brunch, or taking a quick drive in the car. But delving deeper into its world, I’ve come to recognise radio as an art form just as expressive as any other.

Similar to streaming music, radio is an entirely aural art form, meaning that any sounds heard are carefully curated to fit the composers’ intention. However, unlike streaming music, radio pieces are often left forgotten and undiscovered by the masses, which beautifully leaves space for it to be as experimental and narrative as possible. This promotes close, attentive listening, continuous listening.

One of the first notable radio art pieces, broadcasted on Radio Frankfurt in 1924, was Zauberei auf dem Sender: Versuch euner Rundfunkgroteske (Wizardry on the Air: Attempt at a Radio Grotesque). Hans Flesch created created this piece by fusing together elements of radio documentary, soundscape recordings, and electroacoustic music. Though this is a piece I have only read about, it interests me through it’s fusion of fiction and reality. In this piece, Flesch sets his scene in the broadcast studio, fictionalising it by using “sonic illusions” to create his story of a wizard interrupting the broadcast. This shows how radio art can go beyond boundaries, creating a listening experience like no other.

On a more modern note, we can take a look at Gregory Whitehead and his “screamscape”. Described by Whitehead himself as at times feeling like a “psycho-acoustic descent into primeval chaos”, preparation for his broadcast included weeks of receiving peoples’ screams through his “screamline” and “screamroom”, which was then monitored. What I love about Whitehead’s preparation for his broadcast is that it feels almost like a scientific investigation, which it kind of proved to be- upon monitoring the scream flow, Whitehead came to realise the sounds of the screams through the phone became distorted, with the technology not able to process such vocal power. This could be considered the first stage of creating the art, as it’s no longer the raw voices (screams) of the caller, the quality has been manipulated using technology, even if unintended.

All in all, radio art can be as imaginative as you make it, well as long as it follows radio regulations, and can have just as much as an artistic impact as a painting, song or installation. Birthed from the Futurist and Dadaist movements, there’s no wonder radio art strives to be abstract, using soundscapes, to be a part of sound art in a general sense.

i don’t like the city so i sleep instead

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This piece is made up of three stages: the city, the dreamstate, and the disorientation of waking up. 

The city growls, the city startles, the city is uncomfortable. I wanted to recreate these unpleasant sounds of the city, so I did. The “helicopter” sound at the beginning, created synthetically in Protools, was the basis for this piece, with everything being built around this unsettling yet delicate sound. To exemplify this unsettling sound, I added water sounds, which people often describe prompts them to need the toilet. Adding these water sounds is a slight experiment on my half, in my much longer research into how to force the listener into physical uncomfortability. The constant bell sound throughout this part of the piece, it’s a slight grounding, as it is distinctive amongst the other sounds, bringing the listener away from the darker uncomfortability. 

The second part of this piece is indicated by the introduction of the “white noise”, which is actually also a water sound. This is the dreamstate. When we dream, unfortunately it is not always possible to escape entirely, and oftentimes we take with us these city sounds, our current situations into our dreams. We don’t feel rested when we wake up.

Hence, when our alarms go off in the morning, we often feel disorientated. As I do not like the ending of my piece, it shows it has executed the intended effect. There is a nice rhythmic pattern creating a grounding, representing the consciousness of being awake. The bell sounds have turned away from being that grounding, and instead exemplify the disorientation, now almost replicating the iPhone alarm. The city sounds reenter, showing that even just waking up, the city always engulfs us; we cannot seek peace in the city, not even when we sleep. 

When playing this piece to my brother, he was mildly disturbed. He described it as “on beat but completely out of time”. Particularly at the ending of the piece, but even throughout, there is a sense of unsteadiness with the timing, which is representative of the disorientation I earlier explained, and also the internal imbalance of energies being in the city brings upon us. My brother also described parts of the piece as sounding like he was “being eaten”. The low growling “helicopter” sounds, and the rustling that enters at 42 seconds seemed to have a “synaesthesic” effect on him, where he physically felt like he was in danger, like he was literally being eaten. Perhaps this is indicative of the fact that the city does eat us; we become another pawn part of society, being drained by work and disharmony, only to receive nothing but a semi fulfilled life that we lose once we die.

I am hoping for the same or a similar effect on all listeners of this piece that it had on my brother. I am also hoping, however, that the listener is able to grasp onto the small grounding parts of the piece, and that somewhere in this amalgamation of uncomfortability, there is peace and happiness to be found. 

This is my reflective writing for my first sound piece I created. It was very hard to begin- thinking of a concept was very difficult, but reflecting on the sound walk, I wanted to at least imitate the un-comfortability I felt when listening to the sounds of the city.

Here is a private link to my sound piece 🙂

Creating Sonic Realities: Field Recordings and Concrete Sounds

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Ether microphones work by picking up vibrations from objects and surfaces, which are then converted to sound. This means that using an ether microphone, one is able to listen to sounds of electronic signals, radio, and even conversations. So it can be used to eavesdrop, or, on the beautiful flip side, create sound works and art in unconventional ways, ways that incorporate our everyday lives.

That’s exactly what Christina Kubisch did, with her sound work, Electrical Walks. Starting in 2003, Kubisch introduced her project to urban landscapes, presenting visitors with headphones that trace the electro-magnetic fields os the setting which they are used in. By moving and taking your personal journey, you become the director of what you perceive in this sound piece when taking part in an Electrical Walk. Here is a demonstration of what participating in an Electrical Walk would look like:

When watching this video, I question; are we subconciously intaking these unsettling frequencies and vibrations? Is that why we, particuarly those of us living within cities, feel so fatigued all the time, why our minds never stop racing?

Regardless, Kubisch’s walks prove a beautiful point; you don’t need technical ability to be involved in creating sound art 🙂

Sound in Japan

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Ryo Ikeshiro and Atau Tanaka provide a helpful insight into the different movements that make up the sound art scene in Japan in their article. They describe sound in Japan to be “aural signatures closely bound to its history, nature and culture. Initially, this brings to mind to beauty of Japanese culture, like its nature scapes. Ikeshiro and Tanaka talk of sort of instrument, shishi odoshi, bell chimes in temples, and chanting of sutra by monks. A narrative is being painted about the “nice” parts of Japanese culture.

Moving forward in the article, Ikeshiro and Tanaka speak on the influence of the Meiji Reformation on Japanese sound. To me, beginning to read this passage, I was immediately brought back to my brief time of studying colonialism in a political context last year. Based on my knowledge about the Meiji Reformation, I was expecting to be reading how, for example, the countries that were colonised by Japan had an impact on Japanese sound. However, it was only touched on to show the Western influence on Japan’s sound, with the writers of the article describing this influence as being “embraced” but “held apart”.

Japan, although has had vast amounts of changes, has still kept true to its culture even from the Edo period- marked by its development of a rich cultural peace and its upholding of its class system, including the Samurai Class. However, would Japan have been able to hold onto these small amounts of its authentic culture if its hadn’t submitted to the West’s pressure to “Westernise”? In a bid to force Japan to begin trading with the West, the US sent Commodore Perry with a fleet of “black ships” in 1853 (after many attempts from other Western states), and a Treaty of Amity and Commerce, essentially subjecting Japan to participating in Colonialism; whether that be by subjecting to Western rule, or becoming a power themselves.

So it’s very easy to see how Japan’s sound was influenced by the West, if the West held that much power over them, which began the Meiji transformation. But Japan chose the latter option; become a power themselves. To avoid becoming colonised, Japan’s nation strengthened. A policy of Sonno Joi, meaning to ‘res†ore the Emperor, expel the Barbarian’ was introduced, the second part of this phrase an indication to Japan’s first policy in its move towards reformation- to expel foreign peoples, or in Japan’s words, “barbarians”. The beginning of the Meiji period was marked by the coup of 1867.

Considering Japan became a colonial power, it’s hard not to wonder how much of Japan’s culture and soundscape is made up of those countries it colonised.

It would be a shame, however, for me to dwell too much on this omission of history in the article, as its insights into the different sound movements in Japan will be very useful going forward in my understanding of sound art.

Key Terms and Takeaways:
Wabi-sabi: the beauty of imperfection 🙂

Sound Arts in the British Context 2

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When reading the Unfinished Business: A Conversation on Sound Art in the UK, a transcript of a conversation between Adam Parkinson and David Toop (the latter being the interviewee), I was able to understand better what separates the British understanding of what sound art is from other perspectives. David Toop, previously a Professor of Audio Culture and Improvisation here at LCC, is known for drawing connections between sound, listening, music, and physical art, and crossing the boundaries of how these themes interact with each other.

Sound art or, as Toop and other proponents of its scene in the 1970s would rather call it, “sound work”. The term “sound work” was preferred as it detached those involved in the practice from the art world and from music. This provokes the question; what is wrong with the art world? The most obvious answer is the exclusivity and eliteness associated with the art world. However, as time has progressed, in 2021 art is so much more understood and accessible that its become a lot more inclusive, and perhaps more comfortable to associate with the term “art”. However, exclusion and extortion still loom over the world of art. Though it could be debated that the prices of particular art pieces, exhibitions and experiences is only fair for the value of time and dedication that the artist(s) have put into their projects, there is zero doubt that this creates an immediate barrier, drawing a line of exclusivity.

Toop creates a very reasonable argument for detaching from the term “art”, but why then call it “work”? For me, the word “work” brings up thoughts of necessity rather than enjoyment, like being forced to do a job. Jobs, for the most part, require certain levels of skill, which, on the topic of exclusivity, could infer that skill is required to create sound art. This goes against my personal ethos, that art is one of our most innate functions, meaning that everyone has the ability to create it. On the flip side, the thoughts of “necessity” that were brought up could show that what differentiates sound art from music and the art world, is that sound art needs to have a purpose. Though Toop did not say this, its a nice thought to wonder on.

What Toop goes on to explain, is that in his practice of sound work compared to art, there is more value of the journey of the creation, rather than the outcome. This just goes to show, its up to you what sound art means to you, or whatever you call your practice, no matter what it may be branded as to others.