In teoria è tutto aperto, free, non ci sono quasi pre-istruzioni, tranne la durata approssimativa della performance — come in qualunque contesto improvvisativo — che va inserita nel sistema. Ogni atto — suono, rumore — è del tutto autonomo o almeno sotto la supervisione di ciascun agente interattivo, uomo o macchina che sia. io 0.0.1 beta++ è stato costruito secondo le pratiche comuni dell’improvvisazione aperta: non ci sono interventi non-musicali, quindi nessun interruttore a pedale, niente tonalità o tempi prestabiliti — per certi versi una blackbox. In pratica traccia i confini attorno al possibile: vedi le discrepanze tra finzione scientifica e realtà pratica, ma sono più che compensate dai musicisti umani. Se c’è qualcosa che manca, qualcosa che è divenuto sempre più evidente in questo lavoro di anni a stretto contatto con Bruce [Coates] e Franziska [Schroeder] nel perfezionare e costruire il sistema è il senso di evoluzione individuale.

[In theory, entirely open—free—almost no prescription (except for the rough duration of each performance which can be set in the system) just like it would be in any other open improvisative context. Every gesture, every bloop and bleep, is entirely autonomous, or at least under the supervision of each interactive agent whether human or machine. io 0.0.1 beta++ was constructed according to the common practices of open improvisation: no non-musical cues (thus no ‘footswitch’), no prearranged tempo, key, etc (it is, to some extent, a blackbox). In practice, there’s some interesting… boundaries around the possible (where you see the discrepancy between science fiction and practical reality), but those are more than compensated for by the human performers. If there’s one thing the system lacks, something that became increasingly apparent working closely with Bruce [Coates] and Franziska [Schroeder] over the years debugging and constructing the system, it is a sense of individual evolution.]

You can read more in the current issue of jazzColo[u]rs. [More from this interview…]

HZ: ‘simple-pattern’ (click to hear…)

[Continued from part 0…]

Talking to Melanie L. Marshall after she read the previous post on musical time clarified some matters that were left unstated.

The issue is not so much that a musicality built up from a simple ‘beat detection’ is not possible (such notions of musicality surround us in our music schools, in our writing about music, and, unsurprisingly, in our art-science research). The issue is the implications of seeking and defining, in research, such a trait; valuing such a musicality; and, by extension, practicing such a music.

As argued by Suzanne Cusick, George E. Lewis, Christopher Small and others, musical practice constitutes a political schema—music performs society. The command-control model embedded in a musicality built upon ‘beat detection’ has profound consequences for constructing alternative politics.

As improvisers we desire to step off the simple line that posits anarchy at one end and control at the other—a line that is as familiar as the Cagian denial of agency and the heroic single author.

As creative musicians we struggle to perform freedom—not the ‘freedom’ of Ron Paul’s privileged idiots, but the freedom of Civil Rights, freedom of anti-colonialism, freedom of feminism, freedom of queer politics. The ‘free’ in (so-called) jazz.

We know rhythm is a site of interdependence, but we also know that it is shaped by the agency of all; it is compromise, yes, it is negotiation, yes, it is collective, yes, but it is also play, and it is mutation, and it also holds the potential for revolution.

[Continued in part 0.2…]

HZ: ‘wind-chimes’ (click to hear…)

Melanie L. Marshall, in asking questions about musicality, takes a Foucauldian track and asks about musicality’s opposite, and in doing so, discusses and critiques some modern attempts at drawing a boundary between the musical and the unmusical. Melanie pulls up research by Henkjan Honing as an interesting, if problematic, example of such an attempt at drawing the boundary. Honing sketches out some provocative research as part of his TEDxAmsterdam talk. Honing suggests that we have inbuilt, hard-wired musical abilities.

Leaving aside, for the moment, the issues of whether we (scientists, researchers) have access to these pre-cultural, intrinsic abilities (as Bruno Latour might point out, we, at best, have access only to mediation—graphs, charts, sensor data, etc.), and whether our cultural tools, technology and language might make us observe phenomena in specifically cultural ways (can Honing’s ‘beat’ be defined para-culturally?), I think there’s a secondary problem: is ‘beat detection,’ however defined, an intrinsically musical ability? or, put it another way, what kind of ‘beat detection’ might be musical, and does it resemble, or require, the infant ‘beat detection’ as studied by Honing?

A couple of (personal) experiences lead me to be skeptical of the proposition that such simple ‘beat detection’ might be foundational to practical musicality in general, and to latter-day improvised musics in particular.

• A big part of teaching real-time interactive performance or group improvisation, I found, was getting students not to lockstep; for them to ‘hold their ground,’ to ‘find their own rhythm,’ to express, embody and perform autonomy. (Once we can do that, lock-stepping becomes a choice, but that’s a story for another time…)
• In group improvisation, input parsing is not an unambiguous matter. There isn’t one correct answer to, say, where the beat is. Furthermore, creative (mis)understandings may be a significant component of the generative engine in improvisation. (I’ll return to the subject of ambiguity in stimulus-response in the context of machine improvisation in a future post.)
• I’ve been fascinated by creative improvising drummers’ ability to simultaneously generate multiple senses of time (e.g. Oxley, Sanders), to switch and morph between multiple pulses (e.g. Cyrille, Hayward), or blur the boundary between in and out of time (e.g. Black). Inspired, I found a way to do this on guitar by delegating timekeeping to my limbs, joints, digits—to my body and its interaction with the instrument. Charles Hayward talked about drumming as an interaction between physiology and physics. Might the cognitive dimension of Honing’s ‘beat’ be peripheral, perhaps irrelevant, to this cyborgian practice of musicking?

It seems to me that the assumed importance of beat detection as a marker of musicality is itself a form of, in the Foucauldian sense, regulation. Perhaps the assumption of a foundational importance to musicality of a simple ‘beat detection’ stems from subscribing to a command-control model of musicality. In this model the mind is the central hub of the musical. In this model, rhythm is constant, inherited, external and which must be followed. This model, in turn, arises from certain, widely held to be sure, cultural assumptions about desirable and ‘natural’ social and political interactions. What do these assumptions blind us from?

[Continued in part 0.1…]