Images of the Week: Cellular Phonics

The following is a screenshot from Automaton, a new software-based sequencer from the company Audio Damage and an excellent mainstream example of generative music, in which sound is produced a series of mutating changes:

And this one is from the software’s user manual, which is available for free download (PDF):

The software, based on John Horton Conway‘s Game of Life, which dates back to 1970, allows user-programmed effects to alter sonic material according to the rules of cellular automata (by some small coincidence, also a concern of the Neal Stephenson novel, Anathem, mentioned here yesterday [disquiet.com]). The white-filled boxes shown above are the sequencer (that is, the pattern of the music visualized in realtime), while the other colors refer to four effects implemented on the music: blue is Stutter, red is Modulate, orange is Bitcrush, and green is Replicate.

“Yes, this effectively makes it ancient history as far as computers are concerned,” a footnote in the user manual for Automaton states, in reference to the 1970 article in Scientific American by Martin Gardener that introduced Life to the general public. “The article suggested using checkers and a checkerboard to iterate generations by hand. No, the author wasn’t kidding.” (The massive shift in presumptions regarding computational power in the past 40 years again brings to mind matters that are at the heart of Stephenson’s Anathem — and, for that matter, Charles Stross’s earlier science fiction novel of humanity’s adaptation to change, Accelerando.)

Below, borrowed from a wikipedia.org entry on Conway’s game, is an image (an animated GIF gile) depicting a looping example of how through a turn-based rule system, the cellular automata in Automaton might flow in two dimensions. The genius of this particular application of Life, the Glider Gun designed by mathemetician Bill Gosper, isn’t just that the little triangular doodles make their way off the screen in an orderly fashion (that is, without splintering, which is what so many Game of Life objects end up doing), but that the “gun” at the top of the screen keeps pumping out new gliders, as the triangular bits are refered to.

Automaton is just the latest in a series of software-based tools from Audio Damage, which has a tendency of making them look, online, for fun, like the physical effects boxes from which they are derived. The image accompanying Automaton appears to imagine an iPod-like (or iPhone-like) tool that runs Audio Damage, a tantalizing idea indeed:

More info on Automaton, including video, at audiodamage.com. The software programming is by Adam Schabtach (studionebula.com), user interface by Chris Randall (analogindustries.com).

Quote of the Week: Stephenson’s Anathem

What do Brian Eno’s 2003 album January 07003 and Neal Stephenson‘s new novel, Anathem, have in common? They’re both inspired by the Clock of the Long Now. The device, which is billed as “the world’s slowest computer,” was initially envisioned by Danny Hillis as the Millennium Clock, a device that takes us out of the instant and into the depths of time. For perspective, it is a clock that ticks once a year, and whose cuckoo, as Hillis put it, comes out once every 1,000 (more info at longnow.org/projects/clock). The album by Eno, who gave the clock its name and who is on the board of its foundation, was composed of bell tones synthesized from the device. In Anathem, Stephenson imagines a world vaguely like ours, but one in which the mythic clock, and others like it, have provided a sense of scientific-ecclesiastic routine amid the chaos of many millennia. The book is narrated by a young servant of the clock, named Erasmas, who early in the story (on page 22 of the hardcover edition) recounts part of the process of maintaining one of these massive yet prickly clock devices:

Our combined strength could not overcome the static friction of all the bearings and gears between us and the sprocket hundreds of feet above from which the chain and weigh depended. Once it became unstuck we would be strong enough to keep it going, but getting it unstuck required a mighty thrust (supposing we wanted to use brute force) or, if we chose to be clever, a tiny shake: a subtle vibration. Different praxics might solve this problem in different wqays. At Saunt Edhar, we did it with our voices.

Note the emphasis on voices. Like Eno, Stephenson hears music in the Clock of the Long Now, which is why the very title of the book turns out to be a song itself, one of “mourning and farewell,” as Stephenson puts it a little later in the novel (one page 100). An album of music inspired by the mathematic systems of Anathem, titled, Iolet: Music from the World of Anathem, is due for release by David Stutz (more info at Stutz’s website, synthesist.net). “Iolet” is appaently the word for music in Stephenson’s world.

Three Ambient-Guitar Aidan Baker MP3s

The Noisejihad netlabel is back in action, returning with uncharacteristic quietude. Its most recent release, a beautiful trio of live performances by soundscape guitarist Aidan Baker, is arguably the label’s most peaceful offering yet. Noisejihad’s stock in trade has long been, true to its name, destructive recordings along the lines of a sonic equivalent of Sherman’s March — pure scorched audio. Recorded on April 24 of this year, this live Baker concert, quite the contrary, ekes out a splendid haze, from slow-build dawn-break stateliness (MP3), to spacey trance effects with echoes of early sci-fi movie scores (MP3), to, at its best, a gently percussive sway of pizzicato latticework and deeply undulating motion (MP3). The latter is a prime example of a fine instrumentalist making music from elements (notably casually brushed strings) that other musicians might ignore or even consider mistakes. More details on Baker at his web page, aidanbaker.org. The netlabel’s base of operations is noisejihad.dk/netlabel.

Four Color Sound MP3 from Stephen Vitiello

The annual process of selecting a Disquiet Downstream entry for September 11, anniversary of the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, always brings to mind one thing — the eerily prescient sound recordings by Stephen Vitiello, who had an artist’s residence in the World Trade Center in 1999 for six months and who produced, as part of his time there, recordings of the buildings swaying in the wind. The motion of such enormous structures is imperceptible to the naked eye, but to Vitiello’s microphones and recording equipment, that give is all too real — and, due to the events of 9/11, those tapes serve as a ghostly memorial.

Up on Vitiello’s website, stephenvitiello.com, is audio of a National Public Radio show (MP3) that reported on his residency at what became “Ground Zero,” and the sound art he produced during his tenure there. The photo of that WTC work (below, from his website) was shot by Johnna MacArthur. The windows double as images of the towers’s parallel structure, and Vitiello’s delicately attached microphones are in view:

As unbelievable as it might seem at times of intense tragedy, life goes on, as does art. I’ve mentioned Vitiello’s WTC recordings in the past, and some of his other work, so for today check out the most recent audio on his website, “Green” (MP3), which was recorded as part of an exhibit, titled Four Color Sound, he had at DiverseWorks in Houston, Texas, with lighting design by Jeremy Choate. The exhibit ran from May 9 through June 14 of this year. The following image of the exhibit is borrowed from the DiverseWorks website, diverseworks.org:

The brief DiverseWorks write-up on Four Color Sound refers to Vitiello’s penchant for “installations that transform incidental atmospheric noises into mesmerizing soundscapes,” and likens his effort in the gallery to “a virtual meditation chamber.” The sound on the eight-minute  “Green” suggests a helicopter emerging over an insect-laden field, the microsonic crackle of buglife giving way to a much larger flying object. A full-length recording of audio from Four Color Sound is due out soon as a commercial release.

Houston radio KUHF 88.7 FM Houston interviewed Vitiello on June 9, audio of which is available for download (MP3) and streaming at the station’s website, kuhf.org. Vitiello explains that some of the source audio in Four Color Sound was recorded by him in Brazilian forests. In the interview with KUHF, he says, “In some cases I’ve made electronics sound like birds, but in some cases I’ve made birds sound like electronics.”

MP3s of Jessica Rylan’s Little Blue Boy

Musician Jessica Rylan‘s enterprise Flower Electronics makes small-brew noisemakers, including the Little Blue Boy, pictured below.

The Little Blue Boy contains a handcrafted assortment of electronics, including two voltage-controlled oscillators, which get a work out on several sample MP3s located at the company’s website, flowerelectronics.com. A “testdrive” (MP3) by Tara Rogers (aka Analog Tara, safety-valve.org) is all rapidly pinging waves, while “lbb1” (MP3) by Cody Ranaldo (myspace.com/codyranaldo, son of Sonic Youth guitarist Lee Ranaldo) is a thorough noisefest. And Dwight Anderson‘s “Small High” (MP3), which appears to be processing guitar noise, rambles through string scrapes, drowsy doppler shenanigans, and a wealth of colorful feedback. More on Rylan at her irfp.net website.