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tag: jazz

The Electronic Motive

Liza White talks about the manner in which computer music and hip-hop production inform her classical compositions.

The classical compositions of Liza White often employ standard repertory instrumentation in the exploration of motives, textures, and elements from such realms as jazz, hip-hop, and electronic music. She’s also known to invoke some of those elements directly, working LP static and electronic percussion in amid more immediately recognizable instrumentation. Her piece “Step!”absorbs hip-hop and the synchronized form from which it takes its name, her “Ballad of the Mean Angry Jazz Hater Monster!”likewise draws from the genere claimed by its title, and her elegant “Groove”series suggests a melodically incisive derivation of minimalism — all accomplished with an acquisitiveness that is refreshingly lacking in quotation marks.

White’s work has been performed by JACK Quartet, members of Fifth House Ensemble, and the Charlestown Symphony Orchestra Brass Quintet, just to name a few, and may be familiar to readers of this site thanks to a recommendation of her “Step!” (in a live performance by Alarm Will Sound) back in February (“When a Chamber Ensemble Sounds Like a Jazz Ensemble Sounds Like Breakbeat”).

White generously assented to the following interview, in which she talks about her compositional technique, her ongoing musical education, and her exploration in deriving classical compositions from digital sounds.

Examples of her work discussed below can be heard at her website,

Marc Weidenbaum: You don’t compose purely electronic music, but it plays a role in various of your works: the LP static in “Ballad of the Mean Angry Jazz Hater Monster!”and the electronic percussion in “Let It Begin With Me,”for example. What is your connection — educationally and personally, as a composer — to the equipment and techniques associated with electronic music?

Liza White: For me, using electronic sound is just one of the possible ways in which I can try to achieve whatever it is I’m trying to achieve with a piece. In “Ballad”, the LP static, played from an actual LP onstage, is used to distinguish the parts of the piece depicting “jazz”— in the form of fragments of fake standards, played on the piano — from the parts depicting the irate jazz-hating monster. Then at the end, we hear the monster’s voice on the LP, which the pianist accompanies. The use of the LP fits well with the theatrical nature of the piece, and the sound helps to create the contrast that is needed. In “Let It Begin With Me”the electronic percussion is supposed to evoke a harsh urban environment in which a person is trying to assert him/herself. The sounds are made from saxophone key clicks, broken glass, and acoustic and electronic percussion sounds and are triggered through a Max/MSP patch by a percussionist playing a MIDI drum kit. It was important to me to have synthesized percussion sounds in this piece, but I also wanted the audience to see a player striking drums forcefully and to witness the interplay between the percussion and saxophone parts as created by two people onstage.

I tend not to write purely electronic music because I really thrive on working with performers, but technology is a big influence on the way I treat material, regardless of the sound source. I like to loop, offset, and fragment motives. I’m also interested in emulating electronic sounds with acoustic instruments and seeing how accurately I can capture their character.

Weidenbaum: The idea of the electronic as an influence on your composition is particularly intriguing — that you might, through more traditional instrumentation and notation, emulate something that largely post-dates those tools. Could you give an example of such an effect, like looping, and how you went about accomplishing it.

White: Sure. One of the more interesting examples might be using acoustic instruments to make a sound that resembles an electronically synthesized one. In “Step!,”there’s a sound that happens several times that combines a muffled bass drum hit with a downward glissando played by the bass. A lot of hip-hop beats have this sort of characteristic in their bass drum hits — there’s often some pitch in there that slides down a little at the end. There are three or four variations of that sound in “Step!,”but every time it occurs, it’s an exact reiteration of one of them, as if it’s a sound being played from a sample.

Last year, I did a lot of work with Reason, the production software program, trying to emulate songs I know and to figure out what goes into that. I spent a lot of time comparing really similar sounds against each other and playing with different parameters to determine what gives each sound its character. That experience has helped me start to learn to detail acoustic sounds in an electronic-sounding way. It’s definitely a work in progress, but it can be done convincingly, and I’m getting better and better at it.

Weidenbaum: I hear a lot of things in “Step!”— I hear hip-hop, I hear Sousa, I hear exposed parallels between marching bands and chamber orchestras. What I don’t hear, which is interesting, is Ives, who was sort of synonymous with classical interpolation of marching bands. Was it difficult at all the shed that influence?

White: Actually, it hadn’t occurred to me to think about Ives while composing the piece. And he is one of my favorite composers. I also hadn’t consciously thought about marching bands. The musical influences that I actively considered were step team routines and hip-hop. And then, of course, I was writing for a large ensemble of classical instruments, each with its own historic/stylistic associations. The resulting mix, I think, can evoke a lot of different musical ground. Jazz is another association that people bring up, for example, which I wasn’t thinking about when I wrote the piece, although I love jazz.

I do think there’s a lot of intersection between marching band and step, though, in that both involve synchronized motion, and both center around a team and are about rallying spirit. Marching band probably was a factor in the development of stepping. One piece of music that assimilates marching band music, and that in turn influenced this piece, is Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl.”If you listen to the song and watch the music video, it’s all about that intersection: there is clapping and stomping on bleachers that evoke stepping and high school sports culture, and people waving trumpets and sousaphones, and synth brass loops, and also this sort of “step off”mentality to the lyrics. That may be where some of the marching band material you’re hearing comes from.

Ives’ interpolation of marching bands into classical music is different than mine, I think, because for him it was about contrast: two bands in different keys, a band showing up in the middle of an orchestral tone poem, etc. And in his time, combination of classical music with other styles was much more provocative. For me, I was simply trying to write a piece that, although the influences were disparate, was a musically economical pursuit of a single idea.

Weidenbaum: Your reference to “Hollaback Girl”makes me envious. I have still-fresh memories of the early days of Bang on a Can, and of the rise of terms like “avant-pop”and “post-rock”and, more recently, “post-classical”to refer to efforts by composers to acknowledge, make use of, or otherwise absorb so-termed pop culture. I feel like those genre-politics concerns are increasingly a thing of the past, and you and your work benefit from having it behind you. Was this approach of yours well respected in your education, or are there still battles being waged?

White: Hmmm…. well, I’m currently finishing my ninth year of higher education in music, including time at Boston University, the New England Conservatory, UC Berkeley, and now Northwestern, where I’m working on my DM [Doctor of Music]. I think that if you spend that much time in school studying composition, no matter what your style is, you’ll encounter people who don’t like or understand what you’re trying to do, and my experience is no exception. But the best teachers figure out what your objectives are and how to help you serve them better. I’m lucky to have had a lot of really great teachers. It’s true that pop-culture influence can be a lightning rod. But if you approach your craft with dedication and skill, I think in most cases it earns respect, if not admiration, regardless of what anyone’s interests are.

Weidenbaum: Please talk a little about your “Groove”series. There’s something especially textural about its repetition, and exploration, of a downtempo motif.

White: The first “Groove”was the last movement of a piece called “Four Sketches for Piano”that I wrote when I was in college. Each of the sketches was about two minutes or less. My compositional style had been fairly traditional up until that point, but “Groove”helped me recognize my fascination with repetition and the evolution of small changes within a repetitive texture. I developed the courage to see how far I could stretch the motive, and I wrote “Groove Excursion.”Later, after this type of composition had become more usual for me, I followed with “Groove II”and “Groove III.”

I love music where you know generally what’s going to happen, and the emphasis is on how or when it will happen. With popular music or jazz, I tend to focus in on whatever patterns are looped, and follow the small alterations that happen within their structure. There’s also something really exhilarating about music challenging its own framework. Like when a beat-based song surprises you with silence on a downbeat. These are ideas that the “Groove”pieces helped me explore. Additionally, with them, I was using a musical motive as a found object and examining it in different ways, to show what’s really at work in the material. The pieces expose the changing color of those three piano chords as they reverberate and decay, and the resultant sound of a bass clarinet and a cello blending seamlessly, and the difference between F#4 on a cello and on a flute, and those kinds of sonic details.

Weidenbaum: You have mentioned jazz, and I wanted to ask about the role that improvisation plays in your musical worldview. I ask in part because there is a — largely mistaken — impression, I think, among general listeners, that if there’s anything electronic music and classical music have in common, it’s an antipathy toward improvised performance.

White: Wow, that’s interesting. I’ve always taken it for granted that improvisation is important in both electronic and classical music.

I don’t normally create structures in which performers improvise. I do it sometimes, especially when a piece has theatrical qualities, like “Babylon”and “Ballad of the Mean Angry Jazz Hater Monster!,”but it’s not the way I usually work. It is definitely part of my “musical worldview,”though. The string quartet that I just finished, “Zin zin zin zin,”which was read and recorded by the JACK Quartet recently, is inspired by the vocal heterophony you get in hip-hop songs with more than one MC. There is improvisation inherent when rappers deliver the same lyric at the same time but not in the same way, and the piece deals with moments like these. It also deals with group rap’s frequent sense of moving in and out of improvisation, such as when a lyric is arrived at in unison at the end of semi-simultaneous individual flow. The preoccupation with repeating musical figures that I described earlier is similar; I love following repetitive material and listening to how it gets varied by a player — or a producer or DJ. That interest has influenced the “Groove”pieces, “Boston Night Prayer,”and others. So, improvisation is an important model for me.

Weidenbaum: Are there specific references or models for you in terms of how you notate things on the more unusual side, or how specific you get in terms of which electronic drums should be employed or the sound or quality of the vinyl surface noise.

White: I look at a wide variety of references for notation. I’m always studying scores to see approaches different composers have taken, as well as consulting with performers to find out what kind of explanation and visual representation will work best for them for the situation at hand. When I’m notating a sound that’s unique, I generally wouldn’t just use a pre-existing notation without modifying it to make it optimal for the desired result. But my current teacher, Hans Thomalla, has given me a lot of good notation ideas, and I’ve also recently taken ideas from scores by Derek Bermel, Helmut Lachenmann, Eric Whitacre, and Chris Fisher-Lochhead — a fellow Northwestern student — just to name a very diverse few.

“Let It Begin With Me”is my only piece that uses electronic percussion sounds, and I built those sounds carefully. None of them are purely canned sounds from drum machine software, although I did use some of those sounds in the synthesis, along with saxophone noises and recorded acoustic percussion instruments and broken glass. The sounds are organized into pools connected to each drum pad, so that hitting the pad plays a random sound from the pool, and controls are built in to further randomize pitch and other variables on a micro level. Each pad represents a different category — “bass drums”with broken glass, key clicks, metals, higher metals, etc. — but the randomization keeps the sounds new, to serve the narrative of the piece; the sounds resist familiarity and are continually oppressive in new ways. But I’m not really happy with the electronic sounds from that piece yet, honestly — I’ll probably revise them soon.

With the vinyl surface noise in “Ballad,”I was also quite specific. I wanted a smooth but characteristic sound in a higher register, so as not to get in the way of the singing and piano, and I went through a lot of samples before finding — and further modifying — the right one. I liked the idea of having it actually play from a record in concert, but I opted to have the sound file recorded onto the LP, rather than just dirtying and scratching a record. This let me blend the sound into the piece better and have more control over it.

I see this kind of specificity as simply how a good composer works: we make sure that everything we do is a conscious decision in support of a piece’s purpose. But I could cite a few models that have inspired me in applying this kind of thinking to electronics. Conversations I’ve had with Mason Bates about how he builds his sounds have been really influential. I also learned a lot from being around the UC Berkeley Center for New Music and Audio Technology while I was a student there.

Weidenbaum: This question is a little off the subject of electronics, but: As a composer building a portfolio of compositions, how do you balance the work and avenues you desire to pursue with the work and avenues that are determined by commissions and available musicians and ensembles?

White: Balancing creative desires with available players and forums is tough for a lot of composers, but I’m pretty lucky. I usually have a mixture of opportunities available, including works for festivals and commissions that I win through an application process, chances to write for musicians that visit or are affiliated with school, and collaborations with friends that either they or I might initiate. Within all this, there’s room to apply for things that seem to be a good fit for me and to choose projects that I most want to focus on at a given time. I also like to stretch myself in terms of what instruments I write for and what the strengths of the players are, which means that I’m willing to write in a lot of different situations. It’s a fun challenge to try and be myself successfully under different constraints, and to figure out how to explore whatever my interests are in the context of a project.

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Tensile Free Improvisation (MP3)

Bass, drums, violin – and vapor

The trio of Mathieu Werchowski (violin), Fabien Duscombs (drums), and Heddy Boubaker (electric bass) don’t have a prominent digital presence between them, except perhaps for some unannotated processing, but the result of their music — a tensile free improvisation — will appeal to electronically informed ears. For the first half of this live performance recording, there is little in the way of a beat; instead there are three semi-distinct sounds moving slowly around each other in the voluminous haze of the instruments’ collective sonic vapor trail. In time, these contrasting rhythmic impulses coalesce, eventually building to something meaty and insistent. That drive, which rocks fairly hard, can be difficult to trace back to where it came from. The pleasure in the track is listening, again, and witnessing the fragile sounds accumulate and consolidate.

Track originally posted at Also available are the first and third parts of the performance. Audio recorded and mastered by Mathieu Werchowski.

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When a Chamber Ensemble Sounds Like a Jazz Ensemble Sounds Like Breakbeat (MP3)

The “sinfonietta” tag on doesn’t get a lot of love. At this moment, the tag brings up just one track, but it’s a doozy. “Sinfonietta” is one of a half dozen tags selected by Alarm Will Sound, the adventurous chamber ensemble, in association with a recording of their performance of the composition “Step!” The piece of music, by Liza White, was taped last summer at Mizzou New Music Summer Festival, and is heard here in a crisp five and a quarter minutes. It opens with suspended strings and arhythmic accents from horns and percussion, before the crux of it hits: a hard, almost robotic, ever surprising shuffle. (For the record, this is a website where “robotic” is a compliment.) The strings and horns are extensions of, compatriots of, the drums, the whole thing syncopated like Leonard Bernstein or Alex North at their most rhythmically vibrant and succinct.

According to composer White, who participated in a discussion about the festival at, the jazz feel is deserved from step routines:

The musical material in this piece is derived from step team routines, which use combinations of stomping, clapping, speech, and patting different parts of the body in a choreographed way to execute collective rhythm. Step is related to hip-hop, which I’ve always been interested in. The piece is also about race relations the way I’ve experienced them. So its use of step routine material is both a musical influence and an extramusical one.
The step routine, filtered through jazz tradition, then funneled through chamber instrumentation, arrives at the ear with an ecstatically herky jerky feel. The result suggests the way jazz has been sampled by turntablists and other breakbeat musicians, bits and riffs cut up and reassembled with an intense verve. The image up top, from coverage of the festival at, shows White rehearsing with the group.

Track originally posted at More on her at More on Alarm Will Sound at

Update (2012.03.21): The JACK Quartet is due to do a public reading of a new piece by White at Northwestern this spring. That is, it will be a live performance, just not a fully rehearsed one. White will post details at her site as the event comes approaches.

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Best of 2011: The 10 (or 12) Best Commercial Ambient/Electronic Albums

This is the first in a series of best-of lists to be published for 2011. There will also be lists of best free/netlabel music, best movie scores, and best iOS sound apps. And for the record, so to speak, the word “best” is used in the colloquial sense: It simply means my favorites of the year.

There has likely been less commercial music discussed on in 2011 than in any previous year since the site’s launch, almost exactly 15 years ago, in December 1996. This relative absence wasn’t intentional. It doesn’t even particularly reflect my daily listening habits. But it does, in retrospect, reflect my imagination. I listen to enormous amounts of commercially released music, much that is sent to me for promotional purposes, much that I hear online, and much that I myself purchase. My email inbox is overrun with inbound, unsolicited, but often welcome, invitations to listen to the commercial music for free (un-commercially, as it were, though in the end, the whole act of promotion is itself a commercial enterprise).

Yet still, there is something about a commercial record that felt inherently stolid in 2011 — not all commercial records, and not the music specifically. The music can be dynamic, adventurous, but the enterprise can still feel rote or calculated or misguided, or some combination thereof.

I spent a lot of time listening to, and thinking about, and interacting with, the music than emanates from generative sound apps (those based in Internet browsers, and those that come in the form of mobile-device apps). I spent a lot of time listening to, and thinking about, the music that emerges from various outposts of the “free music” movement/phenomenon (from netlabels in particular, and also general Creative Commons work, as well as work that is released for free with no apparent tie to or, perhaps, even knowledge of either of those philosophically informed communities). I spent a lot of time listening to commercially released music, but rarely this year did I think about it with the energy that I did my other listening.

All of which is in no way intended to diminish the 10 (or 12) commercial recordings listed below. Nor is it my sense that following list could easily be swapped out with two or even four more lists of fascinating sets of 10 albums from the past year. These were selected because any other such lists would still have some sense of absence. The music here touches on a variety of approaches, which is part of what makes it feel whole. There is voice-infused music, and sound art, and something not too distantly related to dance music, and noise, and elegant ambience, and contemporary classical, and remixes — and more. There are small-scale recordings, and recordings for which institutional financial support was necessary. In two cases two albums are listed, because they are by the same artists and were released this year and feel of a piece with each other. (And it at least one of the two cases, they were subsequently packaged together by the releasing record label.)

All of which is to say, in a year when I didn’t write about much commercial music, when it came time to list my 10 favorites, the list expanded to 12. They are listed here in alphabetical order by musician. Yes, “musician,” singular. One thing that struck me when I completed this list is that all these albums are, with the exception of the ECM remix collection, solo records.

Julianna Barwick‘s The Magic Place (Asthmatic Kitty): Julianna Barwick is a choir of one. She makes music in which layer upon layer of her singing, vaguely druid in its tonal quality, form slow cascades of seemingly wordless invention. The effect is both meditative and cathartic. Other elements make themselves heard, including a minimalist piano that sounds like Harold Budd at work on one of Tom Waits’ detuned barroom favorites. This is music that could all to easily lapse into treacle, but it shows restraint, not in its ambition, but in its affect. … More on Barwick at Listen to the album in full at More on the record at There’s also a collection of remixes, Matrimony Remixes, which I cannot recommend; the beats just make all the songs sound like the closing music to a Disney animated film.   Jefferson Friedman‘s Quartets (New Amsterdam): The collection contains two complete string quartets and a pair of remixes. The quartets (which date from 1999 and 2005) are alternately fierce and pastoral, and they distinguish themselves with the extent to which the instrumentalists are treated as equal partners, and the extent to which the arrangement is the music: theme and melody rarely stand out above the musical interplay. They are performed here by the Chiara String Quartet, for whom they were composed. The Matmos remixes are some of the duo’s strongest recent work, especially the closing track, “Floor Plan Mix,” which achieves a spectral quality in its distillation of the source material. … More on the musicians at,, and Listen to the album in full at More on the album at   Grouper‘s A I A : Dream Loss and A I A : Alien Observer (Yellow Electric): Between their titles and approach, these are at least companion collections and more like parts of a whole (think how with the final two thirds of the Star Wars or the Lisbeth Salander trilogies, neither half is particularly satisfying without the other). Grouper is Liz Harris, and her two 2011 full-length releases, though available separately, deserve consideration as a whole, not simply because their titles and covers suggest them as halves of a pair, or entries in a series, but because they similarly eke songs, or song-like formations, from quiet accumulations of vocals and supporting sounds. There is a lot of freak folk, or “drone folk,” out there in drone world. These recordings are closer to “drone singer-songwriter.” … Both albums are sample-able at the music retailer, among other places: Alien, Dream.

Tim Hecker‘s Ravedeath, 1972 (Kranky): Hecker took source recordings he made of a pipe organ in Iceland and then went to work on them. Each glitch is a synapse-firing crisis of faith. Each echo maps the architecture of the place. Each mass of synthesized material fills the empty church in your mind. The cover shows a piano being pushed off the edge of the building, which makes for a colorful (or, in this case, black-and-white) polemic. There is tension in this music for certain, but it’s more likely to instill in experimental musicians the desire to explore pipe organs than to dispose of them. … More on Hecker at The music is sample-able at, among other retailers.   Jacaszek‘s Glimmer (Ghostly): In traditional terms, this is the prettiest album on this list. It is built from harpsichords and string sections and other classical instruments, which in combination lend it a storybook quality. It’s less fragile than it is dainty, but the daintiness is undergirded with filmic tension, like something out of the Quay Brothers at their most romantic yet mischievous. And the “traditional” instrumentation is just part of the sound design, mixed in with all manner of knocking and general acoustic haze. … More on the album at, where it is also available for streaming. More on the composer at the somewhat out of date

Eli Keszler‘s Cold Pin (Pan): Based on a massive sound-art installation by Keszler, the album comes in two parts: a recording of his invention (“14 strings ranging in length from 25 to 3 feet are strung across a 15 x 40 curved wall, with motors attacking the strings, connected by micro-controllers, pick-ups and rca cables”) and a recording of Keszler performing freely improvised jazz alongside the sculpture with Geoff Mullen, Ashley Paul, Greg Kelley, Reuben Son, and Benjamin Nelson. The artwork is impressive, and the album is a model for documenting site-specific installations. … More on the album (including sound and video) at More on Keszler at   Israel Martinez‘s El Hombre Que Se Sofoca (Sub Rosa): Six tracks of resplendent noise. The pieces range from deep washes of grey haze to jittery and anxious scattered samples. Melodic and cinematic washes give way to harsh deadspace. The impact is true to the title’s depiction of suffocation. A major album by the Mexican sound artist and musician, who is also a co-founder of the adventurous record label Abolipop. … More on the album, including two sound samples, at the record label’s website. More on Martinez at and   Andy Stott‘s We Stay Together and Passed Me By (Modern Love). Two albums of closely related yet disparate takes on club music. At its essence, this is the most minimal of minimal techno, but it seems more interested in exploring aridity than dankness, a rare and particularly welcome variation in this arena. … Listen to Together and Passed at their respective Soundcloud set pages.
  Amon Tobin‘s ISAM (Ninja Tune). It was almost as tempting to list this album under “best scores of 2011” as it was to list Kid Koala’s own recent Ninja Tune release (a soundtrack for a graphic novel he wrote and drew) simply as a commercial album. ISAM, in essence, is a recording of the music to Tobin’s audio-visual concert performance of the same name. It is brash and moving and, more than anything he has done previously, free of riffs intended and required to signal affiliation with a particular techno genre. … More on Tobin and the release, including streaming music and video and a free download, at   Ricardo Villalobos & Max Loderbauer‘s Re: ECM (ECM): The repeated use of the “re” prefix on this album — every one of the 17 tracks on its two halves — suggests that someone at the company still thinks of remixing as a purely post-production undertaking, rather than part of the artistic process. But still, it is a good thing that the estimable ECM label let DJs Ricardo Villalobos and Max Loderbauer wander through its back catalog, unearth samples, and render from them sonic tapestries. The music, with its constant presence of dust formations, has the texture of affectionate archival research. (It’s very close in spirit to Bill Laswell’s Panthalassa stroll through Miles Davis’ work.) … Discussion and music at More on the record at

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Drone Improv: Less Than the Sum of Its Part (MP3s)

Languor is their business, and business is good. They are d’incise and Marcel Chagrin, who collectively go by the typographically enhanced name heu{s-k}ach, which is likely a pun whose meaning is lost on me. Their recent album on the netlabel bears a title that speaks to its deeply improvisational orientation: I Know Not What Tomorrow Will Bring. The sense of anticipation is especially strong, because the recording, four tracks in all, teams the duo with a third player, Pedro Sousa. The duo has an established sense of musical camaraderie, but Sousa is a new element. A new element can be a chaotic thing, and in music as willfully staid as that by heu{s-k}ach, the unexpected is all the more difficult to subsume. Chagrin plays guitar and drum, d’incise various electronics and sonified objects, and Sousa a tenor saxophone. The result of their collaboration is exemplary drone-influenced European free improvisation — which is to say, it sounds like less than the sum of its parts. Especially recommended is its fourth and final track, “Bruno’s Dream,” which opens with moments of intense delay between notes on Chagrin’s guitar, and when d’incise and Sousa enter to fill the gap, they manage to slow the proceedings even further (MP3). It’s masterful.

[audio:|titles=”Live on Rare Frequency February 2011″|artists=d’incise and Marcel Chagrin and Pedro Sousa]

On his site, d’incise refers to it as “weird-blues-drone-improv,” which seems like as good a description as any. The music, as d’incise’s summary suggests, has the feel of a score to a lost Jim Jarmusch film.

Get the full release at It’s available for free download, and for sale as a limited edition CD-R.

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