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Category Archives: Global Sonic Cultures
Visiting Practitioner: Yan Jun
Beijing based musician and poet, Yan Jun, displays in a series of videos the development of his sonic practice. Part of his creative process involves self isolation in his studio space, a space where he hosts bi-monthly concerts, and he now likes to incorporate the use of the body within his performances.
Starting with a background of field recording and electronic music, Yan Jun displays his earlier performances. A table is set up with a range of electronic equipment, cables clearly in view. The audience is invited to take a look at the table; there are speakers facing upwards, their vibrations manipulated by Jun. Even from his earlier works, Jun can be clearly seen to have a likeness for incorporating the audience within his performance. Jun tells us the that the direct translation of “electronic music” in Chinese would be “table music”- appropriate, considering the set up displayed by Jun.
Although Jun’s development of his practice is highly interesting, his explanation of “dirty electronics” is what stuck with me most. The concept of “dirty electronics” encapsulates any artist’s nightmare- a poor sound / monitoring system. I have a recent unpleasant experience with this. At my most prolific DJ gig to date, I was playing the second room, designed to be a quieter atmosphere than the rest of the club. I didn’t want to sacrifice my artistic integrity by adapting to the crowd, especially as I had prepared a vinyl set, and only had what I had planned with me. Mixing vinyl, hearing is the most vital skill, as if I cannot hear properly, the mix will be muddy and out of sync, and unfortunately for me, the monitoring system was significantly poor. So how do we go about dealing with poor speakers and monitoring systems? Jun’s practice allows him to adapt to the given environment, adopting improvisation as a tool. Through improvisation, an artist can adjust their performance to any environment, which would eliminate fears of going against one’s artistic integrity as it is a part of it. Though my sonic practices are very different to Jun’s, I can learn from him to be able to become more comfortable in a performance setting.
Felisha Ledesma: Residencies and Community.
Berlin based sound artist Felisha Ledesma epitomises a true sense of community with and within her sound practice. Having co founded a 30,000 ft underground gallery space, S1, Felisha provided a platform for artists to showcase and experiment with their practices, offering residencies and one off opportunities. From the first installation she hosted in 2014, S1 has displayed a diverse range of audio and visual works, the installation by Birch Cooper speaking to me most. In the space at S1, strobe lights were being triggered by synthesisers he had built. I loved the joining of the visual with the audio, the video shown in the lecture almost hypnotising me. The idea of being given a space to experiment with an idea so bold, and Birch Cooper’s ability to build his own synthesisers, is something I’m highly interested in. I would love to hone in on my own sonic practices to the point of excellence, in order to be able to experience an opportunity like this. From Ledesma’s description of her experience, and from my personal research, it seems as though a residence is a place of community- somewhere where your personal sonic practice would benefit the space of residence just as much as that space would benefit you. It is almost like a complete dedication to your craft, which would allow you to polish skills and learn in an environment without distractions.
Ledesma exhibits this idea with her description of her time working at the Synth Library, which she co launched in 2016. True to its name, the Synth Library is a space where artists can freely use equipment (synthesisers) for recording and performance. True to the sense of community Ledesma expresses in her work and life, the Synth Library is an inclusive space to all regardless of experience with the equipment- volunteers donate their time to ensuring those using the facilities are able to have someone on hand to troubleshoot any issues, passing on knowledge. Ledesma noted that having spent a generous amount of time at the Synth Library, not only was she able to help those there, but her knowledge drastically increased, learning new patches and becoming familiar with new equipment that was donated. From what I gather from Ledesma’s overview of her time at S1 and the Synth Library, having a residency at an arts space builds an instilled memory of knowledge, the way any artist of any art wishes they could achieve, allowing space for creative freedom, making everyday grounds for new research and investigations about anything that (sonically in my case) interest the artist. However, I feel it is easy to get lost in the idealisation of having a residency, without first thinking about the steps one would have to take to obtain the opportunity.
In thought of this, I thought it would be useful to draw on ideas taken from Ledesma’s sonic practices, and how I could apply that to my own. The first thing that sparked interest in correlation to my own skill set was Ledesma’s project of creating a sound collage on CDJs and running it through modular synthesis. I didn’t know what a sound collage is, but after a brief internet search I realised an example of this would be the audio visual document provided at the start of the academic year in the Introduction to Sound Art module. Once the studio at work is in use again, I plan to use the set up there to create a sound collage- there are four CDJs and 2 turntables, which really gives the opportunity to layer as many sounds together as possible, bringing together the use of digital and analog sound.
The other project of Ledesma’s that spoke to my own sonic practice was her collaborative work with Keyon Gaskin in 2018. Gaskin, though a dancer with no previous experience in sound, wanted to be involved in the creation of sound with this project. Ledesma used her knowledge, stepped back from the leading role, and instead guided Gaskin to have sole control of the sound. This reminded me of a project I conducted last summer, where a friend of mine who had never made music before asked if we could collaborate on some music. I allowed his full creative vision to be painted, only providing the resources (instruments, DAW, knowledge); I thought of it as he was the mind and I was the hands. Hearing about Ledesma’s experience, it has encouraged me to attempt to finish this project, as it has been left untouched.
Musicking- In A Real Life Context: Ayiesha at Rhythm Section
Rhythm Section is an events and music label founded by Bradley Zero. The events started back in 2009, with music being released from 2014. Based in Camberwell but made in Peckham, Rhythm Section has always had a strong association with South London, a lot of the artists with releases on the label being from South London, and paying homage to the area with track title and record names. However, the label is not restricted to this and is in fact very international- with artists from Ecuador to Berlin to New York, just to name a few.
Ayiesha, label assistant at Rhythm Section International, has a range of jobs she’s responsible for: finding PR companies to market music, helping with the social media pages, promoting events, and scouting artists doing A&R. In Ayiesha’s words, and all round helper. With a flexible working schedule and a boss who’s always abroad gigging, Ayiesha and I kick back in the office and discuss what each of her roles entails.
PR, standing for ‘Public Relations’, is responsible for how an artist is marketed. The PR companies are approached, in this case by Ayiesha, in order to get the artists name out there and known. “Some PR companies might have links to a radio show that can get the artist in for an interview, or on a basic level, making sure the artist is know on our social media pages which could boost their following” Ayiesha tells me.
I ask Ayiesha what her favourite part of her job is: “I’m always communicating with people- I hate feeling isolated so that’s a big thing for me. I enjoy music in general, so being put on to new artists and going to the events that we hold, you know those industry perks.” Guest-list entry to events is Ayiesha’s favourite perk- “I’m torn between the first party back after the pandemic at E1, and the Corsica event with Neue Graffik back in November,” she tells me in response to my question on what her favourite rhythm section event has been.
I ask Ayiesha what her least favourite aspects of her role are. She tells me, “A lot of the things I do, most of the things, are done via online communication either on my laptop or phone, so it can feel quite tedious coming into the office to do tasks that I’m so capable of doing from home- but I do understand the teamwork aspect of everyone coming in, asking questions in person.” Bradley Zero, Rhythm Section founder, is very big on everyone being in the office, even he himself will come in the very next day after landing back in London from being at whichever foreign destination he was last at.
This brings us on to discuss the reasons of having this feeling about coming into the office and the way the pandemic has shaped the working environment for all jobs. “It could be pandemic laziness- pre pandemic I only did small jobs here and there that were very short term, like helping to set up events, then post pandemic I did an online internship, and when working at Universal that was all online too.” We settle on the fact that creative jobs are the future. “You can’t do stocks from home because you can just cheat,” I observe. With a growing awareness around the difficulties for those with disabilities, those with families to look after, creative jobs, just like Ayiesha’s job can be way more accessible to them than most.
I ask Ayiesha who her favourite Rhythm Section artist is. “Pinty,” she tells me, without missing a beat, “also Chaos in the CBD- I listened to both these artists before I even took the time to get to know what Rhythm Section was. When listening to music, I try not to find out to much about an artist and what they’re about because I’ll always find something that will put me off.” I ask how working at Rhythm Section has changed that perspective. “Honestly, it’s made it even worse, as I can see even more now, how bad of people some artists are, so it really reinforced me not wanting to know. However, I will admit that I’m now intrigued to know who’s signed to who.”
A sensory ethnography of a sonic experience: Klein at the Barbican.
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.
Visiting Practitioner: Christina Wheeler
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.
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.