Scratch Pad: Winston, Automobiles, Ocean

From the past week

At the end of each week, I usually collate a lightly edited collection of recent comments I’ve made on social media, which I think of as my public scratch pad. I find knowing I’ll revisit my posts to be a positive and mellowing influence on my social media activity. I mostly hang out on Mastodon (at post.lurk.org/@disquiet), and I’m also trying out a few others. And I generally take weekends off social media.

▰ There are days when I look at — and listen to — my inbox full of music press releases, and I find myself wondering if George Winston may be the most influential pianist of the second half of the 20th century.

▰ It’s quite sunny out but I can tell the temperature is still low because there have been no sirens from emergency vehicles rushing to handle incidents at the beach

▰ “Slow Children at Play”
“End”
“Quiet Zone”
“Duck Crossing”

— this is some of the signage that Disquiet Junto music community participants are willfully mis-interpreting as compositional prompts in this week’s project. Follow along, or maybe even join in.

▰ End of day. China Beach at dusk.

▰ Another slice of car voice-to-text weirdness: Once — just once, at least so far — I verbally responded “cool” to someone’s text message in the car, and the car replied, “No, you’re cool, Marc,” and there was a little pause between “cool” and “Marc” as the system stitched my name into the phrase.

▰ The car’s voice-to-text text messaging has funny quirks: like, if I reply “sounds good” to someone, the car mistakenly interprets that as me confirming its inquiry as to whether I want to respond, so I say “sounds good,” then it begins to record my outgoing message, and then I say “sounds good” all over again.

It’s March now and we’re due in the Disquiet Junto music community for the trio project, likely not this week, but soon. The trio project goes like this: the first week, people record a third of a trio; the second, different people fill in a second slot of these trios; and in the third, the trios are completed by another person.

Yeah, it’s been a minute, but a new free issue of my This Week in Sound email newsletter went this week

We’re willfully misinterpreting signs this time around. When I saw the sign pictured here — near Ocean Beach in San Francisco, where I live — I wondered why there were so many dangerous arrows in the water, and what we could do about them. Then I wondered what this same sign might mean if it were interpreted as a musical instruction. Choose your own sign and do just that. The project went live at disquiet.com/0688 on Thursday, March 6, at 12:10am Pacific Time. That’s Pacific like the ocean — the ocean full of dangerous dangerous arrows.

These are the first four novels I finished reading this year. I never completed the C.S. Lewis as a kid. I think I’m more of a Philip Pullman reader, let’s say (though I love Lewis’ The Great Divorce). Kerr is a friend and fellow workmate from many years back, just pre-parenthood; if you want a fast-paced mystery set among the worst of San Francisco tech bros, this is your schadenthriller.

The final two were both re-reads. Cryptonomicon felt fresher than ever, a fantastic and rewarding book. As for The Good Soldier, there was much to appreciate, but I mostly felt like if these people had to work for a living, they’d have a lot less time to be this insufferable and self-centered.

And I finished reading zero books this past week. George Eliot’s Middlemarch will be in the works for many more weeks to come, I’m making progress in Cory Doctorow’s Walkaway and Hao Jingfang’s Jumpnauts, and I’ve been dipping into a bunch of other things, including various graphic novels. But right now my life is a slew of bookmarks: both physical slips of paper as well as virtual placeholders and percentage trackers.

Disquiet Junto Project 0688: Sign Up

The Assignment: Interpret a routine public sign as a musical instruction.

Each Thursday in the Disquiet Junto music community, a new compositional challenge is set before the group’s members, who then have five days to record and upload a track in response to the project instructions.

Membership in the Junto is open: just join and participate. (A SoundCloud account is helpful but not required.) There’s no pressure to do every project. The Junto is weekly so that you know it’s there, every Thursday through Monday, when your time and interest align.

Tracks are added to the SoundCloud playlist for the duration of the project. Additional (non-SoundCloud) tracks also generally appear in the lllllll.co discussion thread.

Disquiet Junto Project 0688: Sign Up
The Assignment: Interpret a routine public sign as a musical instruction.

Step 1: Think about signs you see near where you live or work, the sort of routine public signage one generally takes for granted. Consider in particular signs that, unintentionally, are open to broader interpretation than might have been intended.

Step 2: Choose a sign from Step 1.

Step 3: Willfully interpret the sign you selected in Step 2 as a musical instruction of some sort.

Step 4: Record a track in which you follow the musical instruction you inferred in Step 3.

Note: When posting the track, please, if possible, include a photograph or other rendering of the sign you employed.

Tasks Upon Completion:

Label: Include “disquiet0688” (no spaces/quotes) in the name of your track.

Upload: Post your track to a public account (SoundCloud preferred but by no means required). It’s best to focus on one track, but if you post more than one, clarify which is the “main” rendition.

Share: Post your track and a description/explanation at https://llllllll.co/t/disquiet-junto-project-0688-sign-up/

Discuss: Listen to and comment on the other tracks.

Additional Details:

Length: The length is up to you.

Deadline: Monday, March 10, 2024, 11:59pm (that is: just before midnight) wherever you are.

About: https://disquiet.com/junto/

Newsletter: https://juntoletter.disquiet.com/

License: It’s preferred (but not required) to set your track as downloadable and allowing for attributed remixing (i.e., an attribution Creative Commons license).

Please Include When Posting Your Track:

More on the 688th weekly Disquiet Junto project, Sign Up — The Assignment: Interpret a routine public sign as a musical instruction — at https://disquiet.com/0688/

Sound Ledger: Ice Cream, Dementia, Deepfakes

Audio culture by the numbers

15: Number of minutes an ice cream truck is allowed to be in one place (unless there is a line) in Coral Gables, Florida, if rules currently under discussion are enacted

55: Years of age after which, in a recent study, individuals with hearing loss who didn’t employ hearing aids had a measurable decline in cognitive function

26: Percent of UK residents who have reported receiving deepfake phone calls in the past 12 months

Sources: ice cream (miamiherald.com), cognitive (nature.com), and deepfake (msn.com).

On the Line: Stephenson, Brand, Moore

Some favorite recent phrases

▰ Coach Class:

The train's whistle, which twenty-four hours ago had lulled her to sleep, took on a new, urgent keening: repeated triple blasts radiating across the infinite prairie like smoke signals in the dark. It was, she well knew, a way of summoning medical help to the next whistle-stop. ... Those who lived in such places were accustomed to rolling over and going back to sleep after being wakened by the long blasts of the Empire Builder's whistle, and some could even identify the engineer by his signature. The triple blast, however, would visit their sleep as a nightmare and draw them toward the station in an unsettled frame of mind.

That is from Polostan, the recent novel from Neal Stephenson (Snow CrashCryptonomicon), and the first in a trilogy, though it reads more like he turned a characteristically monolith-size book, and someone finally convinced him to break it into thirds. And just as a side note, if you read Stephenson’s 2019 novel, Fall; or, Dodge in Hell, then this moment serves as a conscious chronological premonition of the brutal futuristic road trip in that book: “This was the bad side of the high plains: communities so remote that people could get away with anything, and, lacking contact with settled places, could wander far down strange thoughtways from which there was no route back to sanity.”

. . .

▰ On Brand:

I wanted a day when the enemy would be so overwhelmed by the sound of my ancestors dragging their chains that they would be killed by the clamour.

That is Canadian poet and novelist Dionne Brand, as excerpted in an appreciation by Andrea Brady in the London Review of Books. The same issue has Anne Carson writing about, in part, a friend “who wanted to compose an entire symphony out of the sound of people sighing,” and Frances Morgan surveying the work of Yoko Ono (“The liberating conceptual shift proposed by the Fluxus movement, which made a flushing toilet or a struck match a performance, is not unrelated to the process that puts an audiotape in a vitrine or transforms a dead musician’s clothes into an auction lot”). It’s quite the issue.

. . .

▰ By the Numbers:

So, then, silence it is, Cage's 4'33" on infinite repeat, which, basically, has been this place's playlist for the last year and a half, a soundtrack ambient in its absence.

That is Alan Moore (WatchmenFrom Hell, V for Vendetta) on the penultimate page of his recent novel, The Great When, which like the Stephenson one mentioned above is the first in a new series — and also like the Stephenson, is uncharacteristically brief for this author. Thanks to my friend Darko Macan, who read the book before I could get around to it, pointed out this but to me, and says “this epilogue is mostly about the coming attractions.”