When does a field recording of sound constitute a performance? Perhaps when the field — that is, perhaps when the environment in which the sound itself occurred — serves a role that might be likened to that of a traditional instrument. Phillip Wilkerson posted a recent recording of just such an instance, that of a train circling the base of Stone Mountain in Georgia (MP3). As he notes in his brief description of that train, “You can actually hear the train’s bell echoing off the mountain at about the 1:06 minute mark.”
Long before that echoing effect, the train comes into (aural) view. At 26 seconds into the recording, following a welter of level-setting ambient noise, a whistle announces the train’s arrival. In retrospect, perhaps we’ve been hearing the train all along, a more ambiguous sound of rail chatter that only comes into focus with the train’s whistle. Whatever comprised the earlier stage, from that point forward (“forward” being the operative term when talking railroads), the train is the recording: not just the occasional whistle, but the rail rumba itself, and the train’s bell that eventually sets to clanking like a metronome. The extended denouement, just downtempo bell pulse and field noise, is one of the track’s distinguishing features, such a slim sound signifying so much vehicular energy being expended.
The echo that Wilkerson points out is the track’s other most remarkable moment. The echo is a brief part of the overall recording, but the repeats quickly bring to mind Steve Reich’s pulse-based counterpoint in a manner that is deeply pleasing, perhaps all the more so due to the lack of authorial intention.
Original post at philwilkerson.wordpress.com. Wilkerson identifies the train as the EMD FP7 diesel locomotive (picture above from wikipedia.org). The below photo shows Stone Mountain, and was taken by Wilkerson — photography to complement his phonography.
To listen to Beacon Radio by Rykard is to wonder if your Internet browser has multiple tabs or windows emitting audio simultaneously. Not a single track goes by without some incongruous melange occurring — such as the remote megaphones and clangy percussion of “Sulphuric Arqived,” or the canine grunts and distended orchestrations of “Orchids,” not to mention that latter track’s girlish laughter, which gives way to a steady, loungey beat. After a rough landing, the album opens (on “Return to Hewn”) with what could me mistaken for (or purloined from) ’80s new wave. And then, he’s off. What’s astonishing about the collection is that it never seems random. This is no mere radio-dial-spinning tomfoolery, even if a melody straight out of The Nutcracker (in “Javo Is Ded”) sits close by harsh white noise (the start of “Forget Me Ginny”). Perhaps what ties the work together is a regular return to antiquated, melodramatic forms (The Nutcracker has more in common with new wave than just velor uniforms with over-sized epaulets), filtered through a noisy sensibility, which in turn only serves to amp up the drama quotient.
Little piece I did for the Colorado Springs Independent (
The Disquiet.com “MP3 Discussion Group”returns with its first full-length-recording consideration since pondering Autechre’s Move of Ten EP (see: 