Why Do Whales and Children Sing?

This is my response after reading Why Do Whales and Children Sing? (written by David Dunn) and listening to the accompanying CD:

Wow! This was a very delightful book. I enjoyed how the recordings—contrary to what some may think of recording technology—were so “colorful” and full of life. I loved the fact that the book focuses a lot on communication. In many of the examples, we hear animals making a vast variety of noises in different ecosystems. Dunn also mentions that many animals (insects included) communicate with each other in distinct ways as he juxtaposes that with the sounds that humans make (i.e. the video arcade), showing the contrast between intelligible communication and a cacophony of noises that aren’t associated with each other at all (which is very ironic, considering that we think of ourselves as the epitome of intelligence).

I found the “zen moment” in track 8 to be awe-inspiring. I never experienced anything quite like it in real life (the only time I’ve heard something similar was in films where the sound designers create the acoustical environments from scratch; it’s a “fabricated phenomenon,” so to say). It’s amazing how the frogs are very well aware of the raven and how, in just a few seconds, the frogs became silent to avoid becoming a meal. So often we only think of animals as things that produce random noises in nature, and with that said, the absence of noise clearly shows that there’s actually a deeper understanding between animals.

I also really liked the recordings of the underwater sounds, and yes, I can totally understand the point that Dunn brought up regarding how humans aren’t able to directly experience the richness of sounds in these underwater environments: I’ve recently been trying to consistently swim at Northwestern’s SPAC (Sports Pavilion and Aquatics Center), and whenever I’m submerged in the water, I can barely hear anything (While underwater I can make out the faint sounds of water splashing and reverberating in the spacious indoor pool area, but everything is severely muffled). It’s awesome hearing real whales and walruses make noises that we would never even think of hearing on the surface! (Yes, they really do sound like alien noises!)

The idea of communication also got me thinking a lot about the works that we’ve experienced thus far (particularly Prairie and Florasonic): the sounds produced by these installations weren’t totally random like the video arcade, but instead, the way the sounds were programmed actually shows an awareness of communication. In a way, these works were successful at fabricating some sort of authenticity through that organic communication. Perhaps this element is also what makes the works more immersive and believable.

Cardiff vs. Philipsz - The Extra-Musical Layer Connected To the Site

            In class we had the chance to hear about Janet Cardiff’s The Forty Part Motet and Susan Philipsz’ Study for Strings. Both pieces are similar in the sense that they take a much larger work and break it up into smaller components that are then dispersed to multiple speakers. The Forty Part Motet uses Thomas Tallis’ Spen in alium—a motet for 8 five-part choirs—and splits each individual part into isolated speakers (that means there are forty individual speakers!). On the other hand, Study for Strings uses the viola and cello parts from a piece of Pavel Haas’ from which its name was derived from (Study for Strings) and outputs the individually articulated notes into a set of 24 speakers (i.e. the sounds seemingly “move” in the environment).

            In a piece like The Forty Part Motet, the location does not matter as much because the understanding of the piece is not contingent upon where the piece is displayed. In fact, my professor’s blog even talks about how the piece was reproduced multiple times in different locations—as a side note, my twin sister experienced the piece at the MOMA.

            However, in the case of Study for Strings, history plays a very large role in adding extra-musical content to the piece. The composer of the original Study for Strings was deported to a concentration camp during World War II; after the performance of this piece, “Haas and most of the orchestra were deported to Auschwitz where they were killed” (cited from the Documenta pamphlet). The piece was later recovered by the conductor/survivor. Philipsz’ piece is appropriately displayed at the Kassel Hauptbahnhof, one of the train stations where numerous Jews were shipped to the concentration camps. If the piece were moved to a museum, for instance, it would lose its effect and become merely a disjointedly insignificant stream of noise.

            Both of these pieces take advantage of the spatial element, which I believe adds another element of perspective, because individuals will all take in the piece differently depending on where one is situated at whatever moment of the piece. In this way, Study for Strings’s use of spatialization may help emphasize a greater sense of independence, as if these pitched articulations are voices from the past with their own unique histories and stories to tell.

            In a short documentary of Cardiff’s work, some interviewees mentioned how the spatial quality was cool because it allows the viewers to become immersed in the musical experience, as if they were part of the choir. The freedom to move around, again, gives different perspectives to the individual viewers. Of course, if the multiple tracks of both pieces were combined into a single track and played off of one speaker, they would be no different than listening to the pieces as they would normally be performed (i.e. the viola and cello parts become connected, or the chorus sings all at once in a concert setting).

            I think that the presence of extra sounds of the sites certainly adds an air of reality to the pieces, especially in Study for Strings. Since the piece focuses on conjuring up emotions and thoughts from another place and time, it would only make sense that other noises would authenticate that experience. Contrarily, if the piece was played in, say, a concert hall with 24 speakers, I would assume that it would be no different than hearing any other spatial piece in a hall—clearly, Study for Strings is a piece that demonstrates how the site could potentially add a crucial layer of meaning that cannot be separated from the piece.