Sunday, October 21, 2018

On One of These Bends

In November On One of These Bends a new LP on Séance Centre (a label run by Brandon Hocura) will be released. The LP pulls together for the first time a number of recordings made during the 1980s mostly intended for the soundtracks of various short experimental film & video projects. 

By 1981 the first wave of DIY cassette culture was winding down; the weekly music papers Sounds and the NME stopped their columns listing tape releases and though cassettes continued to be put out it quickly became more of an underground movement focussing on noise music. It had been four years since Snatch Tapes had had its first cassette release and with the simple arrogance that comes with youth I felt that Storm Bugs had done the DIY noise thing. It was time for a change.

Arguably the first seeds of a different approach had been the Bright Waves track credited to the fictitious duo Claire Thomas & Susan Vezey and released on the 1980 Reprint cassette and then on the Cherry Red Perspectives and Distortion LP.  Reworking through a Revox tape delay system a few choral phrases sung by Nancy Slessenger at the Paddington Snatch Tapes HQ, Bright Waves is a floating wall of breathless vocal sound that threatens to fall apart at any moment. The track was part homage, part pastiche of sections of Eno’s Music for Airports; the title intended as an irreverent nod to how ambient can so easily become easy listening. 

This element of pastiche was to be developed in the music recorded from 1981 onwards. Fellow Storm Bug Steven Ball was studying Film Video and Sound at Maidstone College of Art and through him I met another student Michael Denton. Having heard that I had some facility with sound he asked for help recording music for his videos. Visually and sonically the frame of reference was less photocopied black and white grainy industrial, and more 1950s jazz LPs with their use of vibraphones and bright block colour sleeves.  

Both the Goldsmiths and the West Square electronic music studios I used had alongside their VCS3 synthesizers and tape machine set-ups vibraphones. Quite why they had vibes was unclear as nobody ever seemed to play them, but nonetheless once plugged in the motors started whirring and out came that classic tremolo tinkling, a sound like shimmering glass. In the summer of 1981 Michael and I recorded Viewfinder, which combines an analogue 32 step sequencer driven VCS3 pattern with a simple vibes part and clipped guitar rhythm, somewhere between Storm Bugs and cocktail music. The authenticity of the industrial mixed with a dollop of pastiche.

I began recording some new songs at West Square. The lyrics referenced a tongue in cheek celebration of 1950s jet set life style “mixing drinks and aeroplanes”, open top car drives in the Alps and “khaki trips to Egypt”, all somewhat at odds with a life of grime on the dole in South London.  By 1982 I had worked up about four songs in this vein but my own voice seemed ill suited to the new material. A frequent visitor to West Square was a young American woman called Naomi. One day I asked her if she could sing and indeed she could, and so she was quickly drafted in to record the tracks, lending them a quality somewhere between Streisand and the Shangri-Las. The studio was in an old school building outside of which was a playground, and in the quieter passages in Love in a Cold Climate you can hear the playtime primary school laughter.

I spent some time trying to promote these new numbers, even wangling an audience with the head of A & R at EMI. I had sold him the project over the phone on the basis that it was a cross between Kraftwerk and ABBA, which of course it wasn’t. The interview lasted a few minutes before he began fast forwarding the tape to the next track commenting nicely, if disapproving that it sounded like the more experimental end of Kate Bush’s output (Bush was on EMI at the time). Fifteen minutes later I was back on the street with my cassette. I tried with other labels including Rough Trade where Geoff Travis kindly listened to the whole tape on headphones in front of me, but politely said no.  My svengali impresario career seemingly not making much progress I put the reel to reel tapes in the cupboard and moved on to the next project. 

Michael Denton had received a small film development grant from the Arts Council and was working on a short 16MM film to be shot in around Dungeness, a bleak windswept part of the south coast occupied by small shacks, a lighthouse, narrow gauge railway and oh a nuclear power station. The area has subsequently become rather fashionable, a development triggered partly by the filmmaker Derek Jarman buying a cottage there in 1986, and then planting a garden and making a film shot in and around the cottage.  Watertight as Michael’s film was called preceded Jarman’s move by a year or so. He asked me to record some music for the film. By this point I was using a Yamaha DX7 and a Roland SH101 and put together a number of variations on a simple musical sequence. As with all the film music I recorded there was more than a nod to Laurie Johnson (who had composed the Avengers theme and incidental music), John Barry, and of course Ennio Morricone and François de Roubaix. There was over 30 minutes of ‘cues’ and this spawned the main theme Watertight to be found on the LP as well as Everything He is Not.

We are now in the mid 1980s and a former Maidstone student Andrew Fitzpatrick who was working on a project with funding from Eastern Arts commissioned some soundtrack music for his video Tale Chase loosely concerned with assignations in a Paris park and a French poodle.  I recorded the tracks at IPS studios in Shepherd’s Bush, one of the few studios in London where the engineer would not blink if you said you wanted to record a bowed hubcap and a bag of nails, indeed Organum and many other similar luminaries worked there. It was around £25 per hour which whilst cheap for studios at the time focussed the brain. Armed with an old acoustic guitar I recorded three or four pieces using the studio’s digital reverb and primitive sampling to the full. The result was E For Echo, and Echo Complex (both on the LP). The tracks were made without first seeing the moving images, and though Andrew declared himself very happy with the results they clearly didn’t fit the pacing of the video and so an outake from the Watertight sessions was reworked and found to match much better.

Meanwhile Steven and I had been discussing making a film together based on a story much heard in the Medway towns (where we had spent our teens) of repeated ghost sightings of a hitchhiker on Blue Bell Hill in Rochester. The legend went that following a car crash in 1965 that motorists travelling alone up the hill at night would see a woman hitching at the side of the road. The drivers would stop and offer her a lift. The woman would insist on sitting in the back of the car, but as they neared the bottom of the hill the drivers would turn round only to find that the woman had disappeared. The area around the hill is the location for Neolithic burial sites and is criss-crossed by ley lines. A somewhat complex scenario was worked up, a trilogy no less of short pieces which involved not only the ghost sightings, but also a journey across nearby Cliffe Marshes by the ‘ghost’ played by Angela Staples. The approach was to treat the landscape as a kind of shifting palimpsest on which the memory of events that had taken place were in some way recorded, and which could be subsequently activated or played back. 

With funding from South East Arts we embarked on part one of the trilogy Green on TheHorizon. I had a very simple melody picked out on an acoustic guitar, which can be heard about 9 minutes and 30 seconds in on the Storm Bugs LP Up The Middleand Down The Sides. We went into Creekside studios in Deptford and using whatever keyboards they had on offer recorded variations on the theme. Mixed with the voices of Tony Raven and Patricia Hosking plus a drone from an IPS session this forms the basis for the opening theme This is Not a Game. “This is not a game or a competition there are no prizes to be won times to be beaten or rules to follow, you are on your own”.

Following the completion of Green on The Horizon Steven slightly unexpectedly moved to Australia, no reflection on the film, which was well received, touring extensively as part of the Electric Eyes programme. I embarked on the second part of the trilogy Hangway Turning, again with funding from South East Arts. This time the film featured not only the ghost but a psychic investigator called Thomas Cubitt played by Alien Brain Nigel Jacklin. The West Square studio was now located next to Morley College and had acquired new digital equipment including a Yamaha soundbank synthesizer. In an afternoon session a few basic tracks were recorded using the soundbank fed through a VCS3 for added reverb and ring modulation treatments. Three of these pieces from the session, namely Scene of the Crash, Looking Back, and the title track On One of These Bends are included on the new LP.  

There was still part three of the trilogy to complete, though it had never really been established what exactly that might entail, and the project morphed into Shadowman. This coincided with a move to run down flat in New Eltham, a somewhat nothing place on the very fringes of London (you could literally walk down the dual carriageway past the sign that said you are now entering Kent). Feeling somewhat exiled from everything, Shadowman has the filmmaker’s shadow as the only character. The E for Echo vocal loop features as the main music in the film.

Shadowman completed in 1991 was to be the last single screen piece I was to make for ten years, spending the 1990s working on sound and light installations.  Listening back to the two sides of the LP without the moving images its nostalgic musical sequences and feeling of displacement and loss turns it into something of a memento mori for the films, and maybe the decade itself. 

Saturday, September 01, 2018

A Stroll Down Soho Streets

Over the summer The Storm Bugs played twice, firstly at the Hither Green Arts Cafe and then at Contrapop down in Ramsgate. This was an all new set with Steven Ball on guitar and vocals, and myself on laptop and vocals. On the laptop was an updated version of the home brew soft synth/VCS3 with integrated sequencer (built in Max). Having the synthi playing live allowed for some degree of improvisation (and mistakes) especially when combined with the guitar. Overall a much more satisfying experience. One old track from 1980 we remade remodelled was "Car Situations" with the synthi patch all but playing itself, just needing the occasional nudge to take it down another side street. Here then is an extended 17 minute version of just the synthi part from "Car Situations" teemed up with footage from The Small World of Sammy Lee (1963). 

Thursday, May 24, 2018

Typing Pool

Using an old OS9 application called Videodelic, Keyboard Skills reworks footage from a WW2 information film on the correct way to type and the importance of proper typing to the war effort. The soundtrack is a combination of asynchronous typing sounds and a riff (pun intended) on Scott Joplin.

Wednesday, March 21, 2018

Pebble Dot Dash

Pebble Dot Dash by Philip Sanderson combines flâneur footage with shortwave radio recordings. The camera takes a series of walks on and off the beaten track around the coastal town of Hastings. Time slips elliptically by as movements there and back are merged electronically; the train arriving whilst departing, the tide going in as it goes out, a man shadowing his own footsteps.
The moving images are married with shortwave transmissions from across the globe, captured during filming. These broadcasts from China, Pakistan, Russia, the USA, and elsewhere, reflect contemporary neo-liberal anxieties; deals and scams, the financing of the second coming, aspiration and desire. Sound and image mesh asynchronously, global audio relocating the here to there.

Saturday, March 10, 2018

Boule de Neige

For the first week in March 2018 the UK was thick with snow. The combination of white outside and sharp periodontal twangs inside, prompted the recording of a somewhat old school 16 minute electronic track called 'Boule de Neige'. The piece was made using a homebrew Max/MSP/Jitter Synthi, but rather than the usual Sanderson/Storm Bugs clattering sequences you get a free-form improvisation. The main patches uses a variation on the no-input circuit much beloved of David Tudor. Here a touch of white noise seeds a feedback loop that moves between modulated hi and lo pass filters, giving one the sharp dynamics of a sound on the edge of break-up, not far removed from a bowed hubcap or squeaky gate. The overall feeling of 'Boule de Neige' is very akin to a couple of the live sessions I played with Nigel Jacklin and the Rupenus Brothers back in the early 1980s, hence the subtitle (Alien Brains for Breakfast).

Having uploaded 'Boule de Neige' to Bandcamp, four more recent tracks were added to make up a full long player. 'Factory Settings' features the soft Synthi/VCS3 again, but with a sequencer and delay line for self-pollinating cross rhythms. 'Window Walk' is an instrumental version of the track included on the 2017 Linear Obsession Christmas compilation A View from a Hill. The track began life as a visual sequence of shifting squares, which were then translated into their audio equivilent by Artmatic. 'We Thought it Would be OK but the Wind Changed' was originally credited to Maids of the Marsh and included on the M - The Thirteenth Letter ‎CD Compilation assembled by Daniel Blumin for WFMU in 2013. The children's voices come from a 1970s public safety film highlighting the potential dangerous combination of high voltage power lines and kites. The music is a nod to children's TV programmes from the same decade such as, The Owl Service, and Children of the Stones. Lastly 'Broken Morning' is an inversion of the spirit if not the music of the popular Christian song 'Morning has Broken'. Instead of chiming guitars and angelic voices celebrating the new day, one gets more of a granular synthesis lament, with yodeling and a percussion loop. Oh and the drawing was made during a workshop on REF impact statements!
Available here

Saturday, January 27, 2018

The Mourning of Mark E Smith

Somewhat bemused by all the MES obituaries, partly as one suspects the man himself would have found it all too fawning, but also because I doubt many who claim to care so much can name any of last 10 Fall LPs. Not that I can, this isn’t a “I’m a real fan and own the grief” routine, but rather the social media outpourings suggests that MES represented far more than his music, which high points such as Elastic Man aside was intensely repetitive. Yes saint John Peel thought the Fall were the bees knees, and there are many amusing (as long as you were not on the receiving end) tales about him firing band members at service stations, or pouring beer over a coach driver’s head as they hurtled along at top speed. The appeal of all this is the notion that MES never sold out, he was the keeper of the post-punk flame, he just kept on, drinking, playing live, making an album a year, firing band members, getting hitched up with new ones (and wives), drinking, getting into fights, playing live, firing and hiring band members, and so on. This drum pattern of a life is it seems intensely appealing to many a middle class male soul. I was surprised when separately a couple of people I knew admitted to being not just Fall fans but having been for a while some British version of Dead Heads. They had in their early twenties after university (of course) not just attended the odd Fall gig, but followed the band round for whole tours, sleeping rough and hitching, begging and stealing, whatever it took to get to the next gig.  This went on for months at a time and then one day this post college right of passage over they progressed on to proper jobs. Whatever dues they then paid in the coming years selling out to the man and the mortgage company, compromising on their once held beliefs, they had at least in some way ‘lived the dream’ and could sleep sound at night in the knowledge that MES was keeping the flame alive, drinking, playing live, making an album a year, firing band members, getting hitched etc, etc.
What a nightmare. To imagine that not deviating from the same riffs and barroom taps for all those years is an achievement, something to be applauded is to misunderstand both the misery of the alcoholic and the mind numbing tedium and lack of imagination in repetition. After thousands of gigs any soul not steeped in drink would cry out to do something different. Even ABBA were insightful enough to sing All I do is eat and sleep and sing. Wishing every show was the last show”. Turning MES into an updated whisky priest feeds into the dubious concept of there being authenticity in grinding yourself into an early grave, of some goodfella blokey truth in getting plastered night after night. Believe if you like that MES lived the dream/nightmare so you didn’t have to, but I will mourn instead for all the things he could have done.         

Thursday, January 25, 2018

George Smiley at Snatch Tapes HQ

It is 1981 and George Smiley (AKA Alec Guinness in the BBC version of the Le Carré novel)visits the Snatch Tapes HQ which was at 25 Westbourne Terrace. Of course we had moved out the year before so he is unlucky in his attempt at securing a copy of Snatch 3. Looking like it was shot on 16mm what is interesting is that unlike a big budget film production in which the street would have been closed off and the passers by and cars would all be extras, this was filmed in the everyday hubbub of the street with 'real' people and cars.

Thursday, January 18, 2018

Quick Quick Quick

If by chance you should find yourself at the London Art Fair this week then wend your way through to the screening room at the back of the Art Projects space to see a programme entitled Quick, Quick, Quick curated by Pryle Behrman this contains both a fine selection from volumes 1-9 of Kerry Baldry's One Minute programme and a collection of half a dozen or so Lumiere et Son pieces. Here is one of them…

Wednesday, December 27, 2017

Friday, December 08, 2017

Resisting immersion in Visual Music, Greenwich Sound/Image Colloquium

Transcript of a presentation given at the 2017 Sound/Image Colloquium at Greenwich University.

Resisting immersion in Visual Music: the case for heightened listening and looking and against pseudo-synaesthesia

The quest for a synaesthetic melding of the senses, for the revelation of an underlying correlation between sound and image has underpinned the development of visual music, from Aristotle’s Music of The Spheres, through Castel’s Ocular Harpsichord, to twentieth century advocates such as Whitney (1980, pp 40-44) who sought  to discover their laws of harmonic relationships”. In contemporary visual music practice the term immersive is increasingly being used, denoting an all-enveloping synaesthetic experience, be it more populist examples such as Bjork’s foray into VR, or installations at Ars Electronica. The impetus for immersion comes from a number of directions, including developments in digital technology, and a renewed desire for a symbiotic relationship between science and the arts; Miller’s (2014) Colliding Worlds.

Whilst the case for an absolute correspondence between colour and harmony has been repeatedly debunked, not least by practitioners themselves – see Le Grice’s (2001, pp?) mathematical reasoning why such a correspondence is fanciful, the terms synaesthetic and especially immersive continue to be used, with little interrogation of whether a blurring of sensory boundaries or an enveloping of the audience is a positive step forward. This paper argues that instead of synaesthetic immersion, what should be encouraged is a heightened state of looking/listening brought about by a reflexive engagement between the work and the audience. Three methods for potentially achieving such a heightened sate are proposed each employing a form of arbitrary function.  In each case a short one-minute extract from my own practice will be used as a brief illustration.

To argue that there is no absolute sound/image or tone/colour correspondence is not to suggest that there is no propensity to make such correlations, but rather it is to locate the adhesion of sound and image in the minds of the audience as they engage with a piece. Adhesion was first identified by Eisenstein, Pudovkin and Alexandrov, in their Statement on Sound of 1928, when they noted that marrying sound with moving image could all too easily produce the “‘illusion’ of talking people, of audible objects, etc.”. The Russian filmmakers response to illusionist adhesion was asynchronism, a technique employed and nuanced by both Eisenstein and Pudovkin in subsequent writings and films. In neither case should asynchronism be viewed as meaning in some way out of sync. For Eisenstein the term became increasingly to mean a form of quasi-musical counterpointing, whilst for Pudovkin (1929) a looser connection is advocated in which occasional moments of adhesion form part of an asynchronous push-pull rhythm, with the audience drawn in and out of the frame, visually and sonically. Pudovkin then utilises the propensity for adhesion as part of a strategy that creates a productive tension and interplay between the senses.

Asynchronism was adopted by a number of filmmakers such as Cavalcanti in the first half of the twentieth century. In contrast in visual music adhesion was often actively sought. For example the prologue to Fischinger’s Optical Poem (1938), states:
To most of us, music suggests definite mental images of form and colour. The picture you are about to see is a novel scientific experiment. Its object is to convey these mental images in visual form. (Fischinger, 1938)

Here it is not just adhesion that is desired but something more, an equation between musical and visual forms, the synaesthetic and seeing sound, hearing colour equation. One might ask if there is a visual music equivalent of asynchronism that can be applied to offset this for of illusionism? An examination of various visual music pieces suggest a number of strategies, which broadly down into three methods.

The first method is close to Pudovkin’s asynchronism in that it uses momentary adhesion. Examples of this approach can be seen in the films of Lye and Le Grice in which the moving images are not synchronised note for note with the soundtrack music, but married to syncopated musical rhythms. In Lye’s Trade Tattoo (1937) it is Cuban dance music, whilst in Le Grice’s Berlin Horse (1970) the looping imagery is counterpointed by Eno's phasing piano loops.  In both cases sound and image work together, but retain their identity, there is no beat-by-beat or 4/4 dynamics, cementing the audio-visual relationship, but rather flashes of momentary adhesion, occur simultaneously, at different tempi and at different locations within the frame. This open-ended and shifting correspondence has a dynamic and yet arbitrary quality, arbitrary not as in random, but in the sense that adhesions are being actively made and broken by each member of the audience, independently and somewhat differently at the moment of audition. In my own piece Landfill (2008), an animated morphing topography is married with a soundtrack of treated yodelling a form of early sonar. There are no designated points of correspondence, but rather a series of arbitrary adhesions.

Landfill (2008) from Philip Sanderson on Vimeo.

To look at further possible implementations of the arbitrary let us examine optical sound films made at the London Filmmakers Co-operative in the 1970s by two filmmakers, Sherwin and Rhodes. Optical sound films rely on what Sherwin calls “an accident of technological synaesthesia”, namely that when the images on an optical film soundtrack are the same as those in the main projected frame, one in effect has a means of both transforming images into sound and of their simultaneous synchronised reproduction, (Sherwin & Hegarty 2007, pp 5).

Sherwin made a number of optical sound films in which the images were also printed on the optical track including Musical Stairs (1977), and Railings (1977). The sounds produced by this process are in sync with the images but are not those which would be made had the railings or stairs been recorded with a microphone.  In Musical Stairs it is the panning of the camera up and down a flight of metal stairs, which when those images pass over the optical head produces a musical scale, whilst in Railings, by filming the ironwork from different angles, a sequence of electronic pulses are generated (Hamlyn, 2005). Sherwin’s pieces counter the illusion of sound and image correspondence by in part employing the adhesive tendency against itself, sound and image stick, but in a way, which forces the audience to question causality rather than accept it. It is the movement of the filmic representation that generates the audio not the represented object.

This second arbitrary function can be applied to either abstract or representational imagery, upsetting the expected dynamics of causal relationships. Whilst optical sound offers plentiful scope for experimentation digital technology allows one to expand and develop the arbitrary function. As an example lets look at Moth Flight (2016) made to celebrate the 75th anniversary of the death of Amy Johnson, the first female pilot to fly from Britain to Australia in her Puss Moth plane. Here the audience is encouraged to ask, is the ‘action’ producing the sound, or is the movement of the image in some way generating the sound or…

Moth Flight (2016) from Philip Sanderson on Vimeo.

The third arbitrary function is best illuminated by Rhodes optical sound film entitled Light Music (1975-77), in which she printed a series of horizontal black lines on both the optical track and film frame. By varying the thickness of the lines, the pitch of the sound rises and falls in sync with the projected light patterns. (Hamlyn, 2011, pp 215). In an interview at the time of the piece’s exhibition at Tate Modern in 2012, Rhodes stated “what you see is what you hear”, a sentence which invokes both the basic synaesthetic equation.

Curiously rather than demonstrating literal equation, Light Music suggests a further arbitrary function.  Two types of optical track were routinely employed, the bilateral variable-area method (consisting of wavy curvaceous lines) and the variable density method, the straight lines used in Light Music. Both methods produce the exact same sound, but if Light Music had employed the bilateral method the projected image would have had a very different appearance.  Nonetheless, we would have still perceived correspondence and made equation. One might go so far as to conjecture that if the optical track, and the projected image had not been identical, but been some other visual form that reciprocally changed as the sound did, a similar connection would still be made. The third arbitrary function requires a foregrounding of the arbitrary nature of the correspondence. Digital mapping offers the possibility to create just such self-declared reciprocal sound and image changes.

An early example of this reciprocal mapping is Le Grice’s computer piece Arbitrary Logic (1988), in which the same data is used the to produce both the on-screen colour fields, and via MIDI (Musical Instrument Digital Interface) the sound. When Le Grice was making Arbitrary Logic, digital technology was in its infancy, and in his writings he speculates about the future possibilities of mapping (2001, pp 284). Such opportunities would become available some ten years later in software such as Max/MSP/Jitter (Cycling 74) in which digital MIDI data can be used to control audio parameters such as pitch, velocity, volume, envelope, whilst simultaneously being mapped to visual manipulations such as: rotation, zoom, hue, video feedback, and so on.

Thus the tendency towards literalness can be offset by varying the parametric relationship; for example if in one section of a work as the frequency rises the hue changes, this can be offset elsewhere, by mapping pitch to changes in form, or another visual element. By such strategies, the arbitrary nature of the audio-visual correlation is foregrounded, as the audience is encouraged to make first one equation and then another. Here is Quadrangle, an early example made back in 2005  in which a patch was built in Max/MSP to generate quasi-random trills, and staccato bursts of data. This information was then mapped to control both the animation of a white square, and via MIDI, a synthesizer. As the music starts and stops, so the square performs a spatial choreography: changing colour, moving across the frame, advancing and retreating, etc. The arbitrary element is introduced by keeping the sound parameters constant throughout, whilst the visual mapping parameters are changed.

Quadrangle (2005) from Philip Sanderson on Vimeo.

Synaesthesia has both underpinned and arguably thwarted the development of visual music practice. This paper started from the position that recent tendencies towards immersion have exacerbated many of the negative aspects of the genre and that this can only be countered by a continual reflexive interrogation of the audio-visual relationship. Three arbitrary functions designed to introduce just such a reflexive tension at the moment of audition were outlined. Key to all three is the recognition of the propensity on the part of the audiences for making causal audio-visual equations, but rather than use this to encourage immersive synaesthesia this desire to adhere can be utilised as part of a range of strategies for denying equation, questioning causality and reflexive mapping that all contribute towards creating a heightened state of looking and listening.

--> ReferencesEisenstein, S. M., Pudovkin, V. I., and Aleksandrov, G. V., 1928. A Statement. In: E. Weis and J. Belton (eds). 1985.  Film Sound: Theory and Practice. New York: Columbia University Press.
Hamlyn, N., 2003. Film Art Phenomena. London: BFI.
Hamlyn, N., 2011. Mutable screens: the expanded films of Guy Sherwin, Lis Rhodes, Steve Farrer and Nicky Hamlyn. In: A.L. Rees, D.Curtis, S.Ball, D, White (eds) 2011. Expanded cinema: art, performance, film. Tate Publishing, London, pp 212-220.
Le Grice, M., 2001. Experimental cinema in the digital age. London: British Film Institute.
Miller, A.I., 2014. Colliding worlds: how cutting-edge science is redefining contemporary art. London: WW Norton & Company.
Pudovkin, V. I., 1929. Asynchronsim as a Principle of Sound Film. In: E. Weis and J. Belton (eds). 1985.  Film Sound: Theory and Practice. New York: Columbia University Press.
Sherwin, Guy K. and Hegarty, Sebastiane (2007), Optical Sound Films 1971 – 2007, DVD, London: Lux.
Whitney, J., 1980. Digital Harmony: On the Complementarity of Music and Visual Art.  Peterborough New Hampshire: Byte Books/McGraw-Hill.

Monday, October 09, 2017

Clapped Out

In New York in 1972 Steve Reich was composing Clapping Music whilst in Maidstone (UK) David Hall and Tony Sinden were making This Surface. Clapped Out combines the images from one, and the sound from the other in an asynchronous mesh, Credits: David Hall & Tony Sinden - This Surface (1972/)3, Steve Reich Clapping Music (1972), here performed in 2006 by VSU New Music Ensemble.
Clapped Out from Philip Sanderson on Vimeo.

Sunday, October 08, 2017

Sunday, August 20, 2017

Shadowman (1991)

Having completed part two of the Apostrophe S trilogy with Hangway Turning in 1900, it was time to turn to part three. Except there wasn't really a third installment, with most of the what one might now call hauntological elements about ghost sightings, ley lines and shifting landscapes having been suitably explored in the first two parts. Nonetheless an application was made to South East Arts (who had generously supported the previous two projects) with an outline detailing the further research of Thomas Cubitt. Things had moved on at SEA however with TV people now on the grant selection panel and a more commercial remit being adopted, part of that idea that took hold in the late 1980s and early 90s that experimental film was really only a stepping stone to feature production. So the application was declined, I did however later that year pick up a small development grant of a few hundred pounds from Greater London Arts which paid for about twenty rolls of super 8. A small crew was assembled from members of Paul Bush's film workshop, of which I had become a member, and we spent a few nights down in Greenwich in the what was then still industrial dockside. There was a vague espionage narrative, which was really a cover for another shifting landscape scenario with a figure appearing and disappearing in a maze of half-lit alleyways. Using only available street lighting, even the fast black and white Tri-X film stock was really not fast enough to capture more than occasional highlights.
A few grainy reels was all that emerged and the project was sensibly put on the shelf. On the fridge shelf however were six or so reels of unexposed colour Super 8 stock left over, and these were used to shoot the footage that would then become Shadowman. Up to this point most of my moving image work had involved solitary figures in some way interacting in a quasi-choreographed way with the landscape. The landscape setting and the symbiotic relationship with the person filming it (occasionally glimpsed in shadow) now became the sole focus. In many ways the material explores quite painterly concerns of light and shadow both in the undergrowth and on of empty train compartments. Many of the shots are repeatedly looped and there is a touch of structuralism when these are married asynchronously with the predominantly tape looped train sounds. This structural element is offset by the hints at biographical narrative involving a character forced to live on the outskirts of town, who spends his days wandering the abandoned and overgrown gardens of once grand mansions. All a thinly veiled reference to my own relocation at the time to New Eltham, a godforsaken suburb on the border between London and Kent.         
A completion grant of about £1,000 from GLA paid for a telecine to Umatic video and enough editing time to finish the work. Shadowman was given its first outing along with other work supported by GLA at a preview theatre in Dean Street. A small number of other screenings followed including at the London Film Festival and the European Media Art Festival. Around this time I also shot  three reels of Standard 8 film using multiple exposures and in camera overlays. These single screen pieces were to the last ones I made during the 90s as I then began to explore a more installation based practice. Shadowman hasn't been seen since even on line so here is a reasonable copy made from a DV transfer from the Umatic.

Sunday, July 23, 2017

Have the record companies lost the origianl LP artwork?

I was absent-mindedly browsing in a record store yesterday, somewhat bemused by so many of the racks being full of re-issues of 70s LPs, all around £20, boasting in many cases heavy weight vinyl, but nearly all with terrible reproductions of the original artwork. One wonders if during the CD phase record companies lost or threw out the original LP artwork? Perhaps they scanned it all to save space, and used some low resolution, or maybe it is contemporary printing techniques? Whatever the cause, many LP re-issues have a bootleg quality as if the sleeve was copied not from the original artwork but an old LP sleeve. The colours are forced (a little like colour photocopies - remember those) and the images ever so slightly out of focus. For something that is meant to be all about the tangible, many are poor. Why should I care? After all I'm not in the market for vinyl re-issues of old Floyd LPs. Well it feeds into a sense that vinyl and the resurgent stores they support are a kind of simulacra. Standing at the racks and flicking through, I feel like I'm re-enacting a ritual from the back in the 1970s when records were the medium. The LPs all shrink wrapped (which the originals never were) and with their dodgy artwork make the original mass produced items seem like originals, itself a pleasing twist on Benjamin and Baudrillard.

Saturday, July 15, 2017

Snatch Tapes - Cassette Roulette

Originally published on the (now defunct) Snatch Tapes website in the early 2000s.

Punk unleashed in its wake a wave of Do It Yourself (DIY) creativity. Recording and releasing records was no longer under the sole control of the record industry. Now anyone could (to paraphrase Sniffin' Glue) learn three chords, form a band, and if they could grub together a few hundred quid put out a single. Thousands did just that, and with John Peel willing to play many of the records on his late night Radio 1 show, and Rough Trade in Notting Hill happy to distribute them a whole new DIY scene began to flourish.

Punk though was about brevity; the kind of soloing associated with progressive bands like Yes was anathema, and short and sharp was the preferred cut. Quirky and playful as many of the bands played on John Peel were, they stuck pretty tightly to the orthodoxies of the traditional verse/chorus song structure, and the classic line up of guitar, bass and drums. Punk was a breath of fresh air after the years of self-indulgent excess, but in its way it was also quietly conventional.

Here and there in the cracks and on the margins another tendency was taking form, that of DIY electronic and experimental music. Influenced by a range of sources including Kraftwerk, Eno, the Radiophonic Workshop and Throbbing Gristle, young men (and some young women) up and down the UK began fiddling with old tape machines, oscillators, and radios; plugging the output into the input of any piece of circuitry they could lay their hand on just to see what might happen.

The blips, bloops and cacophonous sonorities produced by such antics didn't sit well with most of the new independent labels, and the few hundred quid needed to put out a record oneself was often a few hundred quid more than most DIY experimenters had (not surprising as many were still at school or college), and so people began looking for another medium on which to release their musical excursions. The answer turned out to be the humble cassette tape.

Cassettes had been around since the1960s and had with vinyl been a form of mainstream music distribution since the 1970s. The cassette though was always considered sonically and aesthetically inferior to vinyl. Despite all studio recordings being made on tape (albeit it 1/4 inch or multi-track tape running at much higher speeds) a cassette tape was considered by many to be a cheap copy of the 'real thing'. That you could record tapes at home yourself somehow distanced them from the authority of a recording made in a studio and then cut and pressed in a factory. However by the mid 1970s the quality of cassette machines had improved enormously, and though they would never rival the frequency range of vinyl they offered a good quality sound recording and playback medium.

Prior to punk, bands had used cassette to make 'demo' tapes that they would then hawk round the major record labels in a bid to get a recording deal. Few though considered their tapes to be the finished item; they were rough drafts waiting for the major studio magic to be performed on them so they could be turned into shiny records.

For those on the musical margins the perceived disadvantages of the cassette arguably made it a natural medium. Using cassettes meant there were minimal mastering or printing costs (the tape cover being often as not a photocopied or hand made collage). One could duplicate a handful of cassettes at home or if there was more demand nip round to somewhere like Better Badges, which had a high, speed machine and make 50 copies. Tapes could be easily sent in jiffy bags through the post. A tape could be recorded at the weekend and then be winging its way around the country by Wednesday of the following week.

Word of mouth was all-important and a small network of people swapping or selling tapes soon emerged. With the exception of Rough Trade, most record shops refused to stock DIY cassettes, and so distribution was almost exclusively by post. Picking up on the burgeoning scene the main music papers, NME and Sounds began to run cassette friendly features, namely Garageland and DIY Corner, which added a further spur to activity. A number of cassette labels appeared including Deleted Records, Fuck Off Records, and of course my own Snatch Tapes. Most 'labels' though were run from a bedroom or squat and so somewhat lampooned the very idea of the corporate branded company. Radio silence however was maintained, as DIY tapes were never considered 'proper' releases and as such denied airplay even, on the John Peel show.

So would the cassette fundamentally alter the mechanics of the music industry? For a short wishful thinking utopian period in 1980 it looked like a possibility that the tape might just tilt the balance of power in favour of both the musician and the listener. Cassettes though would be a victim of their own success. Soon there were so many releases each week that Garageland and DIY Corner could have been expanded to fill several pages in each music paper. Given the reliance on major label advertising this was never going to happen. Cassettes were an alternative economy that didn't ultimately suit labels, record shops or the music press.

In the UK the DIY cassette peaked sometime in 1982 and slowly slipped (or should that be seeped) back into the margins from whence it had come. During the next decade the tape though became an established format for industrial music. Just as industrial pioneers Throbbing Gristle were going their separate ways in 1981, a number of young artists began putting out their own industrial music cassettes.

By the late 1990s it was to be another DIY revolution that would rekindle interest in the cassette. Forgotten except by the keenest of aficionados most DIY tapes were by now lost or sitting unloved in old shoeboxes in attics. The Internet though allowed people to set up discussion forums, blogs and websites in which information could be easily shared across the globe about these obscure recordings. Gradually a number of recordings began to be re-issued on both vinyl and CD. The label, which has undertaken the most comprehensive re-issue programme, is Vinyl on Demand (VOD). VOD also has an online gallery with a large selection of cassette covers and artwork from the period. A number of blogs such as Mutant Sounds, No Longer Forgotten Music and Thing on the Doorstep continue to unearth and digitise old tapes indeed not since the early 1980s has so much tape music been readily available.

Addendum 2017.
The above piece originally written in the early 2000s seems from a time almost as far away as the original DIY cassette scene itself. Since writing it almost everything of merit from the original Snatch Tapes and indeed every other tape label has been re-issued, firstly on CD and then perhaps ironically on the resurgent vinyl format. Vinyl on Demand in particular have through a series of box sets and single LPs released works by many of the people who appeared on Snatch Tapes such as Alien Brains, Sea of Wires, Storm Bugs. The cassette itself has even had a resurgence both as a tangible alternative to the ubiquitous MP3 and once again as a financially affordable alternative to the increasingly expensive vinyl format. Mutant Sounds has long since stopped after a period of public aural education by means of posting on a daily basis untold gems from the musical margins. An association with the guys behind the label even led to not a re-issue but the release of new material in the form of the Hollow Gravity LP in 2012.         

Friday, June 02, 2017

Upsetting the Synaesthetic - The Arbitrary Function in Visual Music

Proposition: to counter the synaesthetic, and thus create dialectic in visual music an arbitrary function must be introduced.

Of all the senses, it is sight and sound that work most in tandem, so it is perhaps not surprising that moving images and audio are inherently attracted to one another. At the slightest hint of simultaneity the two adhere, a tendency noted with some anxiety by Eisenstein, Pudovkin and Alexandrov in their 1928 ‘Statement’ on sound, written just as a reliable method for reproducing sync was being introduced in cinema. The Russian filmmakers were concerned about the sight of synchronised lips, and the sound of dialogue producing a theatrical self-contained cinema, something they sought to counter by the use of asynchronous combinations of sound and image. Asynchronism is often misunderstood as audio and vision being in some way out of sync, but what was being proposed is a form of juxtaposition, rather than of sound merely reinforcing image.  

The problem of adhesion is if anything more acute in visual music, for synchronising abstract imagery and music doesn’t create a hermetically sealed story world, but rather potentially the suggestion of a literal equation of the two media. Reflecting this, numerous papers on visual music have titles such as 'seeing sound, hearing colour'.

The tendency to equate sound and image, and specifically pitch and colour is as old as visual music itself: from Louis Bertrand Castel’s “ocular harpsichord for the eyes” built in the 1700s (a keyboard above which were 60 small windows, each with different coloured-glass and a small curtain, which as the player depressed the relevant key would open), through to Rimington, Scriabin and Whitney. Such synasethetic combinations claim not just equation but an underpinning ‘natural’ harmonic relationship between visual and musical forms. Arguably the history of visual music has been dogged by a search for such quasi-spiritual correlation.

So why is this problematic?  Firstly an absolute or natural correlation would require consensus on the precise nature of the relationships, and even Castel changed his mind several times during his many of years of working on his ocular harpsichord as to what hue should match with what pitch. From a mathematical perspective, the principles of western musical notation and harmony do no lend themselves to a systematic translation into a colour wheel, and in any case western musical harmony is only one method for organising sound.

Technicalities aside, the core issue is that the quest for absolute synaesthetic correlation is at odds with achieving dialectic tension in the audio-visual relationship. In synaesthesia, it is not so much sensory interplay that is encouraged, as a form of submersion and sublimation, an immersive running together of the senses, thereby reducing the audience’s potential participation in making meaning. Such synaesthetic inclinations have recently been given impetus within contemporary visual music practice, where digital technologies have opened up myriad new ways of combining sound and image. 

If Eisenstein (et al) sought to upset audio-visual adhesion in narrative film by the use of asynchronism, then what is proposed is that in visual music to offset literalness and a tendency towards immersive synaesthesia, another technique,must be deployed, the arbitrary.

The arbitrary does not denote simple randomness, but rather a changing and reciprocal choreography between the audio and the visual, which recognises, and even embraces the potential for adhesion and equation, but that either then foregrounds these relationships as arbitrary rather than essential, or uses arbitrary elements to problematise the correlations and hence offset the synaesthetic.

The Three Methods
There are three principle ways of introducing the arbitrary. Firstly one can allow adhesion to take place but then willfully multiply the number of audio-visual equations. This process is facilitated by digital mapping, so at its simplest, if say an equation of pitch and colour is created in one part of a work, such that as the frequency rises the hue changes, this can be offset elsewhere, by mapping pitch to changes in form, or some other visual parameter. By shifting and changing the mapping, the arbitrary nature of the audio-visual correlation is foregrounded, and revealed, as the audience find themselves making first one equation and then another.

The second arbitrary function involves questioning causality and can be applied to either abstract or representational imagery, but arguably works best with the latter. In narrative cinema on-screen action or activity is typically perceived as having a causal relationship with the sound one hears. A car pulls up, the engine stops, the door opens and closes, footsteps on the gravel, etc. Indeed sound without an accompanying visual source is often used as a way of creating dramatic tension, building to the moment when the two become united. We hear the sound of footsteps approaching a door before it opens to reveal who is coming through.  In visual music one can question or upset this causal relationship, such that the audience asks, is the image or action producing the sound, or is the soundtrack in some way generating or producing the image? Again digital technology allows us to do this in various ways, for example by either using the same data stream or algorithms to manipulate both image and audio, or by scanning the moving image to produce the soundtrack (in a manner not dissimilar to optical sound in film). So it is the action of the frame, rather than the action in the frame that is the causal link.

The third arbitrary approach is looser and closer to asynchronism, as in this model, moving images are not synchronised note for note with music or sounds, but married with syncopated musical rhythms. Each retains its own channel and identity and the arbitrary element comes in the open-ended nature of this correspondence, there is no beat-by-beat or 4/4 dynamics, locking the audio-visual relationship, but rather flashes of momentary adhesion, possibly taking place at different tempi and at different points within the frame. As such there may be many possible moments of adhesion or of equation. 

This third approach requires no special digital technology and can be seen in the films of Len Lye and his use of Cuban dance band rhythms, and Malcolm Le Grice’s Berlin Horse (1970) with its looping imagery counterpointed by by Brian Eno's piano loops.  The choice of image and music is quite particular however, as though some adhesion and equation will happen if one combines just about any music and moving imagery, without careful selection and counterpointing, the effect can be to diminish rather than enhance both audio-visual elements. Whilst digital technology is not required in this third method, it nonetheless can facilitate the making of syncopated moving images and audio. 

The three methods are not exclusive and elements from the three approaches may be combined.

To follow - practice based examples