The Touring Life

During rehearsals they said, Carl, can you make us a sound of like, faces melting? … and I was like, “My God I’ve been waiting for somebody to ask me that my whole life, of course I can!”


The Eighth Nerve [EN] recently had a chance to speak with self-described “lover of humanity, sonic adventurer and psychedelic enthusiast,” Carl Golembeski [CG] about life on the road, the impact of the pandemic on touring musicians, Akroasis, creativity as service, and so much more…

Carl Golembeski at work during a Beyoncé tour

[EN]: If I had to describe you in three words, it would be “cheerful, professional, and upbeat.” It seems that you enjoy yourself, and are also totally professional and reliable. Is that a fair description? Do you agree with that description?

[CG]: Yeah, I guess I can say that’s a fair description. I try to enjoy existence as much as possible, and including myself in existence helps make it enjoyable [ laughs ].

As far as being professional and reliable… hmm… I like to say that I’m reliable. I like to show up in ways that people can count on, and I think it’s important and respectful to other people to be reliable.

Carl Golembeski on tour with An Albatross in 1999 (he played modular synth)

As far as being professional, you know the only difference between a professional and an amateur is that they get paid. Sometimes I think it’s a little game: I’ll act how you expect me to act so we can work. But there’s that little part of me that grew up in the punk scene and the raves, and it likes to disrupt the system… for the greater good of course! So sometimes, you know, I bite myself in the ass when my wide world view and passion for liberation and existence get in the way of professional things sometimes.

[EN]: What’s the longest continuous stretch of time that you’ve been on a tour?

[CG]: Usually it’s about three or four months at a time. I mean I’ve been on tours that are two and a half years long, three years long, but we go around the whole world, and we take breaks for a couple weeks. Go on for two, three, four months, four months max — and then you go home for a bit and then another couple months and then home and then another couple months and then home. That can be tough sometimes. That can get a little bit repetitive you know, especially the pop shows where you’re doing the same show. Every show is the same show, and you crave a bit of variety sometimes, you know? Your attention starts to go places and stuff. Part of the job is holding your attention, making sure we stay present when it gets repetitive. It becomes muscle memory; the stuff gets programmed into you.

[EN]: Describe the rhythm of life on tour. Do you alternate between travel days and performance days or are you often in a new venue every night? When do you typically wake up? Do you have daily rehearsals? When is sound check? When do you get to eat? And what do you typically eat?

[CG]: If we’re traveling in America or Europe, we’re usually on buses and if it’s longer distances maybe we’ll fly. So we have these buses, we have these little bunks with about 10 or 12 people in the bunks together, and you have some little lounges and we travel from gig to gig.

For the bigger shows, if they’re in stadiums, you can’t do so many in a row; also the artist needs to sing and rest their voice sometimes, so we don’t work every night. Usually you do three or four shows a week. Sometimes more, sometimes less but I’d say on average about three to four shows a week.

When we’re in places like Australia and Asia, you can’t really take buses so you’ve got to take all these other modes of transportation which is sometimes fun and sometimes really cumbersome if it’s not planned out well. I’ve been in all types of different scenarios, from well planned things, to not so well-planned ones where we’re taking a bunch of gear with us after the gig, hopping on an airplane, right to the airport, into another city, right to load in, taking naps on the risers after I set up my equipment.

Sometimes it’s been pretty rough getting from place to place, but when we have a bus and you can sleep and it’s planned well it’s awesome. We either wake up at the venue or — because I’m on the audio team or part of the engineering team or back line crew that usually has to go in later — we’re kind of the last ones in, and we’re out of the show quite early… first ones out basically.

So when I wake up I can get up anytime 9 to 11 am. If I’m at a hotel, I’ll have some tea and then I go into the venue, because the venue is kind of like our little home (we have everything there). I go and set up my gear and I have my little world. We make sure everything works with a line check to make sure everything functions, that nothing broke, and everything works as expected, and then the band usually comes in and then we work with the band a little bit. Sometimes the band and the artist come in at the same time but usually the band will come in first, and then the main artist will arrive, and we’ll do everything together. If there are any concerns, if something wasn’t right at the last show, this is when we’ll figure that stuff out and make sure everybody’s comfortable.

I can eat whenever I want. There are windows of time where lunch will be happening at catering and then there’ll be a dinner window… there’s always food around at most places I’m at, there’s always something. Sometimes we’ll get the weird one-offs or weddings or some shows and it’s hard to find something to eat. Sometimes we’re just in these weird little places, like backstage in the Spinal Tap movie — these weird little meals and plates, and I can’t possibly eat this mini cracker — those are silly things that really happen. People want to be cheap and save on items like the food. Others value it and make sure it’s taken care of.

[EN]: How would you describe your role(s) in the tour?

[CG]: When I first started out, I was a keyboard tech, programming synthesizers and doing local gigs in NYC. Then I started touring doing keyboard tech stuff. That eventually turned into me doing Pro Tools and Ableton ‘play back’ gigs around 2007. That involved synchronizing all the time code for the lighting and the video and the click tracks and the tracks that the band would play along to.

You’re kind of the centerpiece of the show really. You have a lot of responsibility. So if you fuck up, it’s a big fuck up. It happened a couple times where you press the wrong song, you forget to press stop or the rig fails. And you have to wait a minute and the whole show is kind of like waiting on you. It’s not a great moment, but it happens.

Since around 2015, I started doing vocal effects processing. I’ve put together a system that can do real-time processing in any way we want, using any plugins and any external gear mixed in. So that becomes the live version of what the artist does in the studio. The request was that Beyoncé wanted her live vocals to sound exactly like the recordings. So we came up with ways to copy what her engineer was doing in the studio. I worked with Stewart to see what his signal flow and timbre manipulations were. And then we would try to recreate that as closely as possible until everybody liked it for the live scenario. And then that turned into my job for a while.

[EN]: Have you ever used Kyma and your Pacamara in your live tour setup?

I used it for the Grammys when Beyoncé was pregnant; they had a scene where all these women appeared on a hologram behind her and then all the faces melted into each other. During rehearsals they said Carl can you make us a sound of like, faces melting? … and I was like, “My God I’ve been waiting for somebody to ask me that my whole life, of course I can!” That was a good opportunity to make a sound using her voice and morphing stuff into a gesture of melting womens’ faces.

[EN]: Typically, how much ahead of time do you get for rehearsal before a tour?

[CG]: We usually get a lot of rehearsal time, because so much goes into bringing all the departments of a show together: audio, video, dance, lighting. Part by part, it starts to come together, and then we rehearse the parts. The whole process could take anywhere from three to nine months to prepare the whole spectacle.

For example, for my last tour with Madonna 2023/24, it was 9 months of rehearsal for a world tour. That was followed by 6 months of rehearsal for a single show: Beyoncé at Coachella.

So yeah, I would say three to six months is quite average for the larger tours, but then you could do smaller ones. Like if it’s a band, they might have their stuff already rehearsed and well done. They just go out there put the lights up and boom! It’s kind of like a jam for everybody. That’s a different thing. They might not even need to rehearse. They might spend more time in sound checking and editing and rearranging ideas — rather than like a pop show where it’s so programmed.

[EN]: What tips do you have for staying healthy during a tour? Any jet lag secrets? Special foods? Other advice?

Honestly, my best advice is to negotiate a good rate, negotiate yourself good travel arrangements, so that you have the latitude to take care of whatever you need when you need to. Because honestly, it gets crazy sometimes. People start losing it, missing their families, getting agitated.

I’ve been able to hone in on my own being, to know my needs, and to simplify my needs so I’m able to take care of them myself most of the time. And then I’m fine. I don’t really have to depend on many things. Because that ends up being the hardest part. Having expectations that are not being met when you’re in another country or in some unfamiliar place. You’re expecting to have something done, and it’s not done, and the hotel’s wrong. The thing is like, “Okay, I’ll just go sort this out myself. I’ll take a taxi. I’ll get another hotel.” Whatever. Those things allow me to have peace.

But if I didn’t negotiate a good deal, I’ve also been in hell. Like when I was a keyboard tech and I also agreed to do the merch. Suddenly I’m trying to sell the merch in different countries, dealing with all these different currencies, and I can’t speak even the languages. I’m like, “Why did I say yes to this merch deal? It’s hot. I’m in a truck counting T-shirts and then I’ve got to go do the show and set up the keyboards.” I was like, “Oh man, I took one gig and now I’m doing two jobs.” So I think it’s important when negotiating, make sure to protect the things that you value and you need.

As far as jet lag secrets, I think business class is the secret for jet lag because you can sleep. Otherwise, you’re trying to sit upright, and it’s tough. Any flights that are over four hours, I try to negotiate business class now. That always helps. There’s honestly no way around that stuff for me. I just have to rest when I need to rest and chill out.

Special foods? For me it’s good ginger shots with some juice and a smoothie; those things are always good. And I have my tea; me drinking tea is like a ritual. I just do it all the time and wherever I go.

[EN]: Do you work on developing new material while on the road, or is there really no time for that?

[CG]: Yeah, I have tons of time to play with new things. Honestly, I’m doing that all the time. I’m always in these discovery processes. I always bring a rig to my hotel. I always have a little system in my backpack,

Hotel rig-in-a-backpack with velcro on the bottom of the Pacamara

carrying it with me so I can set it up at my gig, on my rig next to it, or I can set up at my hotel. So I actually do have a lot of time to do those things. Sometimes just finding inspiration.

Carl Golembeski’s Hotel Rig

Sometimes I’m running around so much that when I finally get a chance to sit down and be creative, I’m not feeling inspired. At those times, technical work is good — like, OK, I need to route all these things, or I need to learn this new thing. Then that’s kind of good because it’s quite dry, and I don’t have to be too inspired. Yeah, but I get a lot of time, honestly, to do both.

Carl Golembski Kyma jamming in a Miami hotel in a hotel robe

[EN]: Without naming names (!) describe the sound check from hell. What was the worst experience you’ve had from a technical point of view and how did you overcome the situation (or did you have to leave)?

[CG]: Oh, sound checks from hell… I mean… Artists can be insane. A lot of the artists, they’re nuts. And their demands are impossible or not realistic. And you know, sometimes we just had to get real with them and draw boundaries and they don’t like that sometimes.

But I don’t care, honestly, I’m not here to like push myself to unrealistic spaces because you don’t want to live in reality. So sometimes that could get a little difficult. But it’s a challenge and like a skill set to develop, to be able to be honest, to be truthful and to draw boundaries and to know what’s possible and what’s not. And sometimes we push those boundaries a lot. I mean, a lot of our job is based on pushing those boundaries. But yeah, I mean, usually the technical things, we have plenty of time to solve. So then you can do a good job and you can deliver it.

It’s the artists’ wants and desires and emotions that end up being the trickiest part of the technical process. If that makes any sense, you know, like that kind of thing gets in the way of the technical processes. If it was just technical processes, we would have no problems because they’re all fixable and we have plenty of time.

One time, there was an incident over me eating during a rehearsal; we hadn’t eaten all day, it’s 7 pm and we ordered food, and the artist got really upset with me. Then I got upset with them and we had a little fluff saying like okay, you know, I’m only eating so I can be here to serve you, so if you’re mad at me for eating then I don’t know what we’re gonna do about this. It ended up being the thing that made me leave the whole camp, because I realized if I’m here working for an artist who doesn’t even care if I’ve eaten or not, then what am I doing? Why am I here? So I left. It was a catalyst for me at the time cause I had been doing this work on my eating patterns with a therapist. So it was something I was focused on and working with personally. By the way, the artist and I have since resolved our differences and laugh about the incident now … and all is well.

[EN]: Do audiences have different “personalities”? Have you noticed any differences in audience feedback based on geography? (for example, can you anticipate a different response from a Chicago audience vs from one in Berlin? Or between Rio de Janeiro and Tokyo?)

[CG]: Yeah, totally they have different personalities… absolutely. You go to South America, you go to Brazil, they dance and get into everything… they’re even dancing to the music in between the bands! Then you go somewhere like Tokyo or the Budokan, you stop playing and nobody’s clapping; it’s like they’re waiting and then finally after so many songs, they start clapping and applauding. I mean, there’s just different customs in the cultures and you notice that in a group setting. There’s something similar about all people, but I think you can definitely tell when you’re in South America or when we’re in Asia or when we’re in Europe.

Even in different places across America. When you go to California, your typical audience is a crowd of people who are really used to going to concerts. But in some places in middle America, people don’t get many opportunities to go to concerts, so it’s like a life-changing experience. Sometimes, at night, they’ll hang out outside your hotel room singing songs of the artists. It’s like a real thing, this fanaticism. I think fanaticism is like a mental disorder actually where you don’t understand the distance between you and this thing that you’re fanatic about, and it’s like a possession occurs and you want to Possess and be close to it. I don’t understand fanaticism to be honest… watching it. I think like well, what am I fanatic about? I’m not sure.

[EN]: When people have an opportunity to join a successful tour, one that puts you on the road for months (or even years?) at a time, it seems like it could be difficult or impossible to maintain a “permanent residence” or home base. Where do you go and how do you live in between tours?

[CG]: Honestly, I’ve been traveling for about 17 years. I think it’s been now let’s see 2006 until 2024. But I’ve made the most amazing relationships with the most beautiful types of beings all over the world and I have this sense of Home in a lot of places but honestly, I don’t have a place where I can say this is specifically my home and it’s something I think I had since I was a child. My family didn’t own a home and I moved around a lot. I don’t remember this kind of thing so I kind of turned that into being able to travel easily. I got really good at saying goodbye to people that I love and and the unfortunate thing about it is that it’s hard for relationships and it’s hard to make a place permanent because you just can’t make commitments because of the nature of how things get scheduled.

[EN]: On particularly long tours, what tips or tricks do you use to keep it fresh?

[CG]: I think, for long tours, just taking care of yourself, honestly — your mental health and your well-being — is probably some of the important things that we could do. What gets to people the most is being away from the people they love, being away from their patterns.

When I was married and away from my wife, and away from my dog, I was always missing them; that affected my attitude, and I started questioning what I was doing in my life, and it can turn it to a whole crazy spiral.

But now I have such a different life. I’ve kind of organized myself over the years, so like, I don’t have a permanent house right now, I haven’t had a permanent house in like ten years, and I travel around and stay with people I love all the time. So when I do travel, I meet my friends all the time, and I am visiting people. That stuff helps me so much, because if I get into this state of longing…

Actually one of my friends, Paul, he has this organization called the Roadie Clinic, and it’s actually just for that: it’s for helping roadies and their families maintain their mental health; it’s a place where people can talk with each other and connect.

Paul from Roadie Clinic with Carl under stage on the Madonna tour

He and his wife came up the idea during Covid, because when Covid happened, a lot of roadies lost their work for a long time, and people on tour just didn’t have the ability to do anything. We didn’t have support systems built for that, and there’s nobody paying you for not being on tour. A few artists would give people money, and thank them for their efforts. Some artists put their people on retainers, but overall the whole industry was a wrap. You couldn’t gather thousands of people for years in order to go to work, so he decided to make the Roadie Clinic in order to try to have a dialogue about this kind of space, and this kind of system.

[EN]: How did the pandemic impact you and other touring professionals? Does it continue to have an impact? Have things changed in your industry when you compare pre and post pandemic? Or have you seen more of gradual evolution (that was, perhaps, accelerated by the pandemic)?

[CG]: I think there’s a few ways that it impacted us… One, as a whole industry: everybody was out of work. Two, as an identity: people who were so identified with their jobs, they really went through a lot of hard struggles… You’re traveling the world, you’re living some kind of special lifestyle, thinking you’re special, and then all of a sudden all those things get taken away, and you realize you’re just a normal person who actually can’t even even get a regular job, because you just have this one skill set. People have to take you around the world with them and pay you good money, because they need that very specific skill set, but the moment they don’t need that skill set, then they don’t need to pay you for it, and then you don’t have a job. And if your job is attached to your identity, you don’t even know who you are. And that’s a bigger problem!!

So it was actually kind of nice to exercise some of the spacious part of my life I had been cultivating. I had been navigating two worlds for so long: I had one world that was an inner world, a creative devotional curiosity, and another world that was fully engulfed in pop culture — this machine of manufacturing desire and making that machine happen.

Suddenly all of those worlds simultaneously fell apart. It’s quite a long story, but there were things that happened in India that were essentially abusive sexually and mentally, and people were suffering and I had to speak up about it. My spiritual teacher, Ram Dass (RD), had just passed away, so I felt like a loss of a moral compass a little bit, and yet also quite well prepared. The whole world was going through this transition, and we got stuck in India; all the flights were shut down and we had to get out of there. We managed to get to New York City and then, eventually after some hiccups and some difficulties and small wins, one of my friends who I was exploring contemporary devotional music with and who had also been one of RD’s former caretakers decided we should incubate on our projects and maybe try to take it to a better level technically and get a little bit bit more serious since we have all this time; we should go somewhere and work on our projects.

One of my friends said, “They could probably use some help in Maui. We can ask to go there for two months to help out, do some Seva (selfless service) or raise some money for the house and then incubate on our projects and kind of just have a place to stay in exchange for doing some work. So we drove across the country in May 2020, hopped in a plane in California and flew over to Maui. In the middle of Covid, like “wearing surgical gloves at the gas station” times.

It was supposed to be for two months and it ended up being three years. I just ended up living in that backyard in a tiny house.

Carl Golembeski in his studio behind Ram Dass House

I decided to hone in on that inner life and take advantage of things like being able to have a routine, being able to make appointments with people for weeks away and do the same thing every week. I could never do that since I started touring 17 years ago. So I learned how to make sourdough bread, and I learned how to garden, and I started studying everything about plants and how to grow plants and how soil works, and I got some worms and I learned about compost and different types of compost.

And I realized that sourdough bread, audio engineering, and gardening are really the same activity: it’s all about harnessing energy at the appropriate time to get the desired results. That’s what we’re doing in Kyma all the time; we’re just thinking about how to harness the energy of our ideas into this system so that we can have the results we like to hear in the air moving around us; it’s the same thing with sourdough bread — it’s just different forms. It’s just different forms of energy and you have to harness it and you have to listen with different parts of your body and different parts of your being, but its still this act of listening and this act of observing and taking action and it’s all happening as a process that is also recombinant if you approach it in ways that are about design.

I think the whole world has shifted. Those that made it through well are better off now. Those that had it hard, are worse off. New jobs. Lots of people left their jobs, left their careers because there was no work and now they’ve had a new career for 3-4 years and then they get called to go on a tour, and they don’t take the tour. So new people come in and there’s a whole lot of shift in the industry, but I think there’s a whole lot of shift as a whole between people who are poor and people who are not, and the gap is wider and every city I’ve gone to; I can feel it. Every city I see is different than when I was touring five years ago.


What do you do with an instrument that does everything? You can literally do anything you want with his instrument, so what do you do?


[EN]: How does Kyma fit into your studio? How have you integrated it with other software and hardware that you use?

[CG]: Honestly, for the longest time, I didn’t know how to use Kyma and it took me a long time to integrate it into my studio, but now it’s integrated into everything I do. I mostly use it for processing — honestly I like to process things.

I have to give credit to Cristian Vogel and Gustav Scholda because without their NeverEngine Labs Spectral Tools, I don’t think I would’ve arrived at the direction I am at now. Part of why NeverEngine Labs and that whole approach was so good for me is that it gave me to courage to reach out to other people and realize how open people were and how much of a community this was. A lot of the places I work, they’re not like that. People hoard their information and they don’t share their knowledge and there’s not a lot of growth because everybody’s jobs are being protected. But I like to share and I think the more we all know the better we all are. When I realized the Kyma community was like that, I was like oh my God, I can just reach out to these people they’re more into discovery and learning together than they are keeping some secret.

[EN]: How have you been using Kyma most recently?

[CG]: Lately, I’ve been making some interesting tuning systems with the lambdoma matrix concepts from Hans Kayser’s Akroasis theories and then processing Harmonics with NEL smears and stuff. Spatializing the harmonics has been a new exploration with the 4d sound environment at Monom Studios in Berlin these past few months. We can make these sound holograms, and it literally adds another dimension to the composition process where the studio is this instrument that we are inside of, and we can put sounds into particles and map very complex matrixes… its like matrix jamming with all this IO and all this space — spatial delays, spatial granular engine for grains all around you.

Carl Golembeki’s spatial rig at Monom Studios in Berlin (Photo by Carl Golembeski)

Adding Kyma to this has been so fun. I had Alan Jackson come by for a weekend experiment where we pulled all-nighters making environments and lots of Kyma in 4d.

My favorite patch is one that Alan Jackson helped me make when I did my first lessons with him. I have this instrument in Maui called a Mohan veena; basically it’s a Hawaiian slide guitar that has been made into a sitar by taking the Hawaiian acoustic slide guitar and adding 11 sympathetic resonating strings. I had a way to amplify just the sympathetic strings and the other group of strings has its own pickup. I wanted to design a resonating box with 11 tunable string resonators that I can process anything with so I thought this would be a great thing to make in Kyma. I can take my harmonics and I can add that into it and I could do some of them blurry and it could be really fun, so I took some lessons with Alan and we did it as a learning exercise.

So what we did was, we made a harmonic resonator, and then I made it tunable, and we made all these different tuning abilities using ratios or just-intonation intervals or tempered tuning. And then I feed it delays and blurs and get these amazing harmonic washes where the overtones start creating audible hallucinations.

[EN]: What was the biggest challenge you encountered when you were first learning Kyma?

[CG]: My thing was weird. I feel like I would start in the manual, and I would read it, and I would go through the basics, and then I would go away on tour, and I would come back and I would’ve forgotten everything, so I’d have to start all over again.

So I decided to take some classes with Joel Chadabe in New York City, since he was the first person who showed me the Kyma system at the demo that you guys had around 2004. Joel told me, “I always ask my students, what do you do with an instrument that does everything? You can literally do anything you want with his instrument, so what do you do?” And I was like, “That’s my exact problem I don’t know what to do!” I could do everything so I would just freeze in the world of possibilities and I don’t even know where to start.

Joel helped me think about it differently. He said I should approach it more as trying to create things that I can’t do with anything else, because if I could already do something well, then I should just use that tool and get on with it. But if there are things that I can’t do, or things that I’d really like to try or some experiments I’d like to try, then that is what Kyma is for.

That’s when I started to realize, oh wow, I can just make anything, so I should think about what I wanna make and then try to approach something.

[EN]: But it sounds like now, with Akroasis and spatialized harmonics, you DO know exactly what you want to do!

[CG]: Yes, I’m really lit up by the idea that Harmonics are about finding alignment between things and how we can feel that through Sound! It’s one of my favorite things to do. It’s never-ending. I just get so blissed out. It’s straight to God for me. It’s like all the things that I studied about devotional music, I can realize them in these tones. It’s a trip but I really feel like it’s true!! Simple harmonics get to this space where it’s just home, home, home, home — you can just let go into it. I swear I’d like to make an instrument for people to die inside of. And rooms for deep psychedelic states, DMT experiences… Spaces to really let go into. Where the sound and the space of sound hold you like a hug.

[EN]: I found this quote about you: “His passion lies in the discovery of sound itself which has led him on a universal sonic journey in pursuit of the intersection of harmony, love and truth.” How does Kyma fit into that journey?

[CG]: Kyma let me experiment and realize those things in Sound, because that’s where they all were first understood inside of my being; it was through Sound that I got to understand and have a spiritual life. It was through Sound that I got to see the world and to see perspective and would want to live better in it and see how everything’s interconnected because it was all through Sound and how Sound operates and how this is how everything functions. Everything basically functions on the same principles of simple waves from the energy exchange with somebody at the gas station to the food you eat to the entertainment we consume to the ideas we’re fed politically — all of these waves of energetic exchange that are being managed and harnessed and directed. There’s just different types of transducers.


I was traveling with these people that had the ears of the world and had nothing to say…


[EN]: What is “creativity as service”?

[CG]: Well, that came from my first visit with Ram Dass. I was in a space in my life when I was touring the world and I was married but I just wasn’t really fulfilled — I was like “I should be happy but I’m just not really connected.” And I realized I had put my spiritual life on pause for a long time while I was just trying to be a “husband” and live a normal life, whatever that meant and whatever that role was in my mind. I was trying to be this character and I just forgot about being myself. I cared about the mysteries of life and I thought about things deeply, but I was just worried about surviving all the time and how can I get money and I’m away from my dog and I miss my wife. I was just not happy, so I wrote a letter to Ram Dass in the middle of the night one time in China. I just woke up and wrote an email to him at his website.

The next morning, there was already a response waiting for me, saying “your email was so poignant and heartfelt that I read it to RD and he invites you to come to his house on your birthday when you turn 35.” I was on a Bruno Mars tour that ended in Hawaii, and Ram Dass lived in Maui, so I went there and we talked about my disconnect in my spiritual life and my life working in pop music. I was like traveling around these people that had the ears of the world and had nothing to say, and I didn’t know why I was spending my life and time being away from the things that I love to do. It was money.

He took that in, and then he shared with me some practices, particularly Loving Awareness — letting the awareness of that which is loving to completely take over us and see how far we can go into that space of loving. To where just it becomes our total awareness and there’s no separation between the love that we are and and everything happening around us that’s included in our awareness and it’s a space to practice being in. It’s a beautiful thing to practice loving everything, truly allowing yourself to love everything.

I know it sounds cheesy, or silly, believe me, I went through all the mind judgements … but it’s like the most profound thing anybody ever taught me how to do, to see people as souls, to identify AS loving awareness, not as Carl, not as like a personality, but I’m identifying AS loving awareness inwardly, while I’m doing my worldly activities … and that becomes such a trip!! It’s like anything you repeat over and over and over again, it just absorbs your mind and you become one pointed about it—like when you are focused on a Kyma sound, the same kind of thing happens… you’re just in this world, time passes… But the focus here is identifying with loving awareness… Identifying with the part of us that can access right to our heart-space.

Carl Golembeski visiting Ram Dass for the last time (2 weeks before his death)

So he showed me this practice of loving awareness and told me to practice that all the time and say it inwardly all the time. He gave me some instructions and then he was like staring behind me for a while and looked at me and said, “When you mix your spiritual life with your music… wow wow wow!” In this real old-man voice that has aphasia and can’t say words fast. There’s a profound sense of spaciousness and it feels like everything is so purpose built to come out… when the words come out of his mouth, sometimes it really freezes you in the moment and in that presence. He had this presence about him, just seeing the way he was looking beyond me.

So after a while, I thought: How am I gonna do this? How am I going to mix my spiritual life with my music? How am I gonna do this in my own way? And I thought: well I’ll just give away everything I have like all my abilities all my skills and I’ll just serve creativity. I’ll find people who need creativity served, and who need this creative force that’s moving inside of them to be cared for and be nurtured and flower.

So I experimented and found an artist who actually wanted some help and I thought here’s a great opportunity. I’m just gonna give her all my help. So my friend Raiza and I decided to work together. I ended up just going to Brazil and working on Music for like two weeks. We made a studio. She would just come over to the studio every day and we would put ideas out for a few hours and experiment and after a while we had like 13 compositions.

What I watched was a human being transformed and be expressed and be heard and get these things out of them that was so powerful, and now I see her like working a career in music and having the courage to just go out there and do her own thing and program her own stuff and explore her own talents and express them in a confident way and I realized — that’s what happens. That’s what happens when I do this. When I do this as an approach to, or with an attitude of Seva. Where I’m truly serving the creative force, I’m not doing it for my own benefit. I’m not doing it for some outcome, I’m doing it to serve this thing that’s happening inside of us… it’s just a different result. It’s a selfless intention. An offering.

[EN]: Is your attitude a choice or do you think you were just born with a basically optimistic personality?

[CG]: I think honestly the optimism that I have comes from participating in and witnessing varieties of suffering while simultaneously knowing this deep profound love then reconciling that into what is. Participating in and witnessing suffering gives you perspective that things are a spectrum of existence. I don’t like to look at things as ‘good or bad’ because that puts me in a ‘this or that’ state. And I think life is more of a gradient of experience.

Overall, like it’s safe to live and it’s safe to die. So I try to be with that and live with that. And that keeps me quite optimistic knowing that there’s not really anything good or bad. Like nothing bad ever really happened when I look back on my life. Everyone everything… it all mattered. Everything was a necessary step towards arriving here. And as long as I can keep arriving here and being with all that is, I remain quite optimistic.

We are learning to keep our heart open in hell as Ram Dass would put it. And by keeping our hearts open we soften around what is — and sometimes it’s unbearable — but you got into it… you choose to bear witness. I’ve been doing it for 300+ days right now, allowing my heart to break every day, choosing to bear witness and allow myself to know another’s pain and simultaneously living a privileged life around creativity, getting upset sometimes having to do things that were once dreams. But as we witness what is and our perspective gets wider, there’s a place in the center of it all that also stabilizes and that’s where we can live — that’s our heart — that’s the work of a lifetime or more.

[EN]: Is (or was) Ram Dass your guru? Or do you prefer to call him your teacher?

[CG]: Yeah, I think just out of respect for him not really liking to be called a GURU, I never did that, so I always just considered myself a student of Ram Dass, and the guru was the thing that was happening between all of us. It was this force that we were being guided by, through our collective inquiry, and the places that he taught us how to access inside ourselves, which was unconditional love.

[EN]: Do you remember a specific “tipping point” or moment when you recognized that he was the teacher you needed?

[CG]: I’d have to say I had been turned on to Ram Dass when I was quite young, when we were taking psychedelics and I was given Be Here Now, but it was just kind of like this mystical interesting spiritual book that was kind of out there with these ideas. But it wasn’t until my mom committed suicide when I was 28 that the stuff really came alive. I had this situation and had this whole skillset to manage myself and my reality and support my family, and this whole new world, where god as a mother, as a creative force that births existence itself was this force so grand — that I was cared for and the world was safe — and I wanted to participate in all this. Because in that I serve God, my mother and the creative force that’s moving it all into existence all of the time. I learned to connect with her through that, and it’s all realized through listening and sound; it’s all connected. That’s what harmony is to me. Alignment with the divine. So I’d say that the tipping point was the death: that’s how the teachings got in, and that’s what made me write to him 7 years later to say is it possible to come say thanks?

[EN]: Can you say more about the music you made during the pandemic?

[CG]: We actually made a Kirtan band because I was trying to study devotional music and understand the instruments and what made the feelings of those sounds — the drones, the tuning the way that the tanpura and a lot of instruments have that curved bridge that makes it phasey — sitars, etc., they all have it. It helps to create that drone. There’s a feeling in there that I was so curious about and that led me to some other people who were willing to hang out with me who were also exploring that space and who were RD’s caretakers. So we decided to make a band and go on a tour, but we never rehearsed or played together. We just kind of hung out and jammed on acid one night after a retreat in Ohio. And we thought we should do this more; let’s make a band. I was putting effects and stuff on them and processing them with Kyma and they would sing devotional songs and chant. And it just sounded so good and everything was so pleasing so then we decided to go and do some gigs in yoga studios and prisons.

We went to San Quentin and we went to Oregon State and we were singing devotional songs with the prisoners, and then we would go to yoga studios in between … older people who were fans of Ram Dass would show up and watch us do these chants — sometimes people would complain about the drones I had going — and it was it was definitely different environment for me.

We were all doing this as a really pure act out of our heart and trying to bring things to people who are in prison in an unfair incarceration system and take on some of Ram Dass’s earlier activism that he was doing in the prisons. We wanted to carry that on in his name and his legacy so we tried to do that through Music.

[EN]: Who would you like to acknowledge as someone who helped you on your path?

[CG]: There’s so many beings who have been involved in who I am, so many beings that I have encountered, all of them have this little part of me or these little nuggets that they shared that help shape my ways to see the world, Freddy Nyathala of South African, Roadies Academy, and Seth Mazibuko in South Africa, Carlinhos Brown in Brazil, Alan Thompson gave me my first gig on the road, the homeless community in Maui. My spiritual community, my musical community… you… my aunt for letting me be so wild as a kid. I mean, just literally every being I swear I come across. There’s something in me that’s of them — that’s the most poignant part of it all.

[EN]: What’s on the horizon for you right now? What would you most like to learn in the next year? (musically, and also extra-musically)

[CG]: I’m trying to develop a small foundation to steward a curriculum of Akroasis: The Theory of World Harmonics. I want to bring Akroasis philosophy to the world — how it touches upon us and how we listen and how we reevaluate value and measure as psychic principles and not just material principles which allow us to look at things like dialectic materialism, and how we interact with the world and how Sound plays its role in helping us realize those things and how Harmonics are about finding alignment between things and how we can feel that. Sharing these ideas with the world is something I’m really lit up by.

There’s also the Brave Earth community in Costa Rica that I want to be more directly involved with and spending more time there. It’s time for us to bring creative artistic support to that community.

[EN]: Do you think that you will have a chance to visit the moon or another planet some day?

[CG]: Probably not, but who knows? It’s not really something I think about often. I like Spacey sounds and the idea of space and the use of it, but I don’t get so far out there… like I’m not into sci-fi or movies at all really. Joseph Campbell used to have this concept: He’d talk about inner-outer space and I think that feels more accessible. I don’t know if we need to go way out there; for now, I feel really galactic right in here.

Rainbow Over Ram Dass House (Photo by Carl Golembski)

EN: Carl, thank you for sharing your experiences and discoveries with us! Where can people hear more of your music?

CG: Thanks so much Carla, this was a great exercise for me too. Here are a few links to some of my more experimental work with Kyma:


Water Prayer Catcher — inspired by sacred Shipibo songs and prayers


 

Thinking through sound — Ben Burtt and the voice of WALL-E

Ben Burtt was recently awarded the 2024 Vision Award Ticinomoda, which describes him as:

“Ben Burtt is a pioneer and visionary who has fundamentally changed the way we perceive sound in cinema.”

In this interview, Burtt shares some of his experiences as Sound Designer for several iconic films, including his discovery of “a kind of sophisticated music program called the Kyma” which he used in the creation of the voice of WALL-E.

The interviewer asked Ben about the incredible voices he created for WALL-E and EVA:

Well, Andrew Stanton who was the creator of the WALL-E character in the story; apparently he jokingly referred to his movie as the R2-D2 movie. He wanted to develop a very affable robot character that didn’t speak or had very limited speech that was mostly sound effects of its body moving and a few strange kind of vocals, and someone (his producer, I think — Jim Morris) said well why don’t you just talk to Ben Burtt, the guy who did R2-D2, so they got in touch with me.

Pixar is in the Bay Area (San Francisco) so it was nearby, and I went over and looked at about 10 minutes that Andrew Stanton had already put together with just still pictures — storyboards of the beginning of the film where WALL-E’s out on his daily work activities boxing up trash and so on and singing and playing his favorite music, and of course I was inspired by it and I thought well here’s a great challenge and I took it on.

This was a few months before they had to actually greenlight the project. I didn’t find this out until later but there was some doubt at that time about whether you could make a movie in which the main characters don’t really talk in any kind of elaborate way; they don’t use a lot of words. Would it sustain the audience’s interest? The original intention in the film that I started working on was that there was no spoken language in the film that you would understand at all; that was a goal at one point…

So I took a little bit of the R2 idea to come up with a voice where human performance would be part of it but it had to have other elements to it that made it seem electronic and machine-like. But WALL-E wasn’t going to Beep and Boop and Buzz like R2; it had to be different, so I struggled along trying different things for a few months and trying different voices — a few different character actors. And I often ended up experimenting on myself because I’m always available. You know it’s like the scientist in his lab takes the potion because there’s no one else around to test it: Jekyll and Hyde, I think that’s what it is. So I took the potion and and turned into Mr Hyde…

Photo from Comicon by Miguel Discart Bruxelles, Belgique This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic license

The idea was to always give the impression of what WALL-E was thinking through sound…

But eventually it ended up that I had a program — it was a kind of sophisticated music program called the Kyma and it had one sound in it — a process where it it would synthesize a voice but it [intentionally] didn’t do very well; the voice had artifacts that had funny distortions in it and extra noises. It didn’t work perfectly as a pure voice but I took advantage of the fact that the artifacts and mistakes in it were useful and interesting and could be used and I worked out a process where you could record sounds, starting with my own voice, and then process them a second time and do a re-performance where, as it plays back, you can stretch or compress or repitch the sounds in real time.

So you can take the word “Wall-E” and then you could make it have a sort of envelope of electronic noise around it; it gave it a texture that made it so it wasn’t human and that’s where it really worked. And of course it was in combination with the little motors in his arms and his head and his treads — everything was part of his expression.

The idea was to always give the impression of what WALL-E was thinking through sound — just as if you were playing a musical instrument and you wanted to make little phrases of music which indicated the feeling for what kind of communication was taking place.

The Seeing is Good


Rick Stevenson is a technology entrepreneur with an impressive track record: he co-founded three successful tech startups and played an instrumental role in the growth of several others. In addition to maintaining a nearly five decade relationship with the University of Queensland’s School of Information Technology and Electrical Engineering as a student, mentor, and industry advisor, Stevenson is also an accomplished astrophotographer, and one of his images was selected as the NASA Astronomy Picture of the Day.

NASA's Astronomy Picture of the Day


Eighth Nerve [EN] Your “Rungler” patch recently made a big splash on the Kyma Discord Community. Could you give a high-level explanation for how it works?

Rick Stevenson [RS]: The Rungler is a hardware component of a couple of instruments, the Benjolin and the Blippoo box, designed by Rob Hordijk. It’s based on an 8-bit shift register driven by two square wave oscillators. One oscillator is the clock for the shift register and the other is sampled to provide the binary data input to the shift register. When the clock signal becomes positive, the data signal is sampled to provide a new binary value. That new bit is pushed into the shift register, the rest of the bits are shuffled along and the oldest bit is discarded.

Rungler circuit

The value of the Rungler is read out of the shift register by a digital to analog converter. In the simplest version of this (the original Benjolin design) the oldest three bits in the shift register are interpreted as a binary number with a value between 0 and 7.

That part is fairly straightforward. The interesting wrinkle is that the frequency of each oscillator is modulated by the other oscillator and also the value of the Rungler. The result of this clever feedback architecture is that the Rungler exhibits an interesting controlled chaotic behavior. It settles into complex repeating (or almost repeating) patterns. Nudge the parameters and it will head off in a new direction before settling into a different pattern. Despite the simplicity of the design it can generate very interesting and intricate “melodies” and rhythms.

NOTE: Rick shared his Rungler Sound in the Kyma Community Library!


Artist/animator Rio Roye helped Rick test the Rungler Sound and came up with a pretty astounding range of sonic results!

 


[EN]: What is your music background? Is it something you’ve been interested in since childhood? Or a more recent development?

[RS]: I didn’t learn an instrument as a child. I’m not sure why. We had a piano in the house and my mother played. At high school I taught myself to play guitar and bass and I kept that up for a couple of years at University but eventually gave up due to lack of time and motivation. Quite a few years later when work demands became manageable and our children were semi-independent, I took up guitar again and started tinkering with valve amp building. These days I’m learning Touch Guitar and tinkering with synths and computer music. I spent some time learning Max and Supercollider then decided to take the plunge into Kyma.

[EN]: What were the best parts of your “new user experience” with Kyma?

[RS]: I really liked the wide range of sounds in the library. It’s great to be able to find an interesting sound, play with it, and then dig inside and try to figure out how it works.

I also appreciated the power of individual sounds coupled with the expressiveness of Capytalk. I spent quite a bit of time learning Max and moving to Kyma was a bit like switching from assembler to a high level language.


[EN]: I think you might be the first astrophotographer I’ve ever met! Could you please introduce us (as total novices) to the equipment and software that you use to capture & process images like these

False color image of the Helix Nebula, resembling a human iris
Helix Nebula – Narrowband bi-color + RGB stars. Image provided by Rick Stevenson.

[RS]: You can do astrophotography with a digital camera and conventional lens. A tripod is sufficient for nightscapes but you need some sort of simple tracking mount to do longer exposures. At the other end of the spectrum (haha) are telescopes, cameras and mounts specifically designed for astrophotography. The telescopes range from small refractors (with lenses) to large catadioptric scopes combining a large mirror (500mm in diameter or even more) with specialized glass optics.

Cameras consist of a CCD or CMOS sensor in a chamber protected from moisture, thermally bonded to a multistage Peltier cooler. Noise is the enemy of faint signals so it is not uncommon to cool the sensor to 30C or more below ambient temperature. The cameras are usually monochromatic and attached to a wheel containing filters. Mounts for astrophotography are solid, high precision devices that can throw around a heavy load and also track the movement of the sky with great accuracy. Summary: there’s lots of fancy hardware used for amateur astrophotography, ranging from relatively affordable to the price of a nice house!

On the software side, the main components are capture software which runs the mount, filterwheel and the camera(s), and processing software which turns the raw data into an image. Normal procedure is to take many exposures of a deep sky object from seconds to many minutes long and “stack” them to increase the signal to noise ratio. We also take a few different types of calibration images that are used to remove artifacts and nonlinearities from the camera sensor and optical train. Processing the raw data can be an involved process and is something of an art in itself. There are quite a few software packages and religious wars between their proponents are not uncommon.

[EN]: Speaking of software packages, what is PixInsight?

[RS]: PixInsight is the image processing and analysis software that I use. It has been developed by a small team of astronomers and software engineers based in Spain. It has a somewhat unfair reputation for being complicated and difficult to use. This is partly down to a GUI which is the same on Windows, Mac and Linux (but not native to any of them) and partly because it includes a wide range of different tools and the philosophy of the developers is to expose all of the useful parameters. When I started doing astrophotography I tried a few different software packages and PixInsight was the one that produced the best results for me. Some of the other commonly used packages hide a lot of the ugly details and offer a more guided experience which suits some types of imagers better. A more recent development is the use of machine learning in astronomical processing to do things like noise reduction and sharpening. I haven’t quite decided how I feel about that yet.

I think there are some interesting parallels between PixInsight and Kyma. Apart from the cross platform problem, both have to maintain that careful balance that offers a complex, highly technical set of features in a way that can satisfy the gamut of users from casual to expert.

[EN]: Do you have your own telescope? Do you visit telescopes in other parts of the world?

I have a few telescopes. Unfortunately, I live in the city and the light pollution prevents me from doing much data collection from home. When I get the opportunity I have a few favorite locations not too far away where I can set up under dark skies. Apart from dark skies, a steady atmosphere is important for high resolution imaging. This is called the “seeing” and it’s usually not that great around here.

Rick Stevenson and his C300

For several years I have been a member of a few small teams with automated telescopes in remote locations. That solves a lot of problems apart from fixing things when they go wrong! My first experience was at Sierra Remote Observatory near Yosemite in California. I also shared a scope with some friends in New Mexico and now I’m using one in the Atacama Desert in Chile. The skies in the Atacama are very dark and the seeing is amazing! I haven’t ever visited any of the sites but I did catch up with some team mates on a couple of business trips.

[EN]: Does your camera give you access to data files? From some of the caption descriptions, it sounds like your camera has sensors for “non-visible” regions of the spectrum, is that true?

[RS]: The local and the remote scopes all deliver the raw image and calibration data in an image format called “FITS” which is basically a header followed by 2D arrays of data values. A single image will almost always be produced from very many individual sub-exposures. The normal process is to calibrate and stack the data for each filter before combining the stacks to produce a color image.

The camera sensors will usually detect some UV and near-infrared as well as visible light, but they aren’t commonly used in ground-based imaging. I use red, green and blue filters for true color imaging, or I image in narrowband. Narrowband uses filters that pass very narrow frequency ranges corresponding to the emissions from specific ionized elements, usually Hydrogen alpha (a reddish color), Oxygen III (greenish blue) and Sulphur II (a different reddish color). Narrowband has the advantage of working even in light-polluted skies (and to some extent rejecting moonlight) and can show details in the structure of astronomical objects not visible in RGB images. The downside is that you need very long exposure times and narrowband images are false color. Many of the Hubble images you’ve undoubtedly seen are false color images using the SHO palette (red is Sulphur II, green is Hydrogen alpha and blue is Oxygen III).

Tarantula region in SHO palette, where SHO is an Acronym that stands for Sulphur II (mapped to Red), Hydrogen Alpha (mapped to Green) & Oxygen III (mapped to Blue). Three images are captured sequentially using 3 narrowband filters and then combined to create a false color image.
Tarantula region in SHO palette. Image provided by Rick Stevenson

[EN]: What is your connection with the Astronomical Association of Queensland?

[RS]: I have been a member of the AAQ for well over a decade. From 2013 to 2023 I was the director of the Astrophotography section. I helped members learn how to do astrophotography, organized annual astrophotography competitions and curated images for the club calendar.


[EN]: Have you ever seen a platypus in real life?

[RS]: Several times at zoos. Only a handful of times in the wild. They are mostly nocturnal and also very shy!

[EN]: In New Mexico (where I grew up), we all learned a song in elementary school with the lyrics: “Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree, merry merry king of the bush is he, Laugh Kookaburra, laugh Kookaburra, gay your life must be”. Is it a pseudo-Australian song invented for American kids or did you learn it in Australia too?

[RS]: I don’t know the origin but we have the same song. I have a toddler grandson who sings it! We have Kookaburras in the bushland behind our house that start doing their group calls around 3 or 4am.

Speaking of the Kookaburra song there was a story about it in the news a few years ago when the people who own the rights to the song won a plagiarism lawsuit against the band, Men at Work.

Listen for the Kookaburra song in the flute riff!

[EN]: What was the best part about growing up in Australia that those of us growing up in other parts of the world missed out on?

[RS]: Vegemite, perhaps? 🙂

The area around Brisbane in South-East Queensland has a lot going for it. The climate is pleasant and mild (except for some hot and humid days in summer). There are great beaches within an hour or so as well as forested areas for hiking. The educational and health systems are good, even the public / “free” parts (true in most of the major centres in Australia). Brisbane is large enough to have some culture and work opportunities without being too busy and fast-paced. It’s pretty good, but not perfect.


[EN]: What was your favorite course to teach at the School of Information Technology and Electrical Engineering, University of Queensland St Lucia?

[RS]: I was an Adjunct Professor at UQ ITEE for 21 years but I didn’t teach any courses. I acted as an industry advisor, was involved in bids to set up research centers in embedded systems and security, and I hired a lot of their graduates!

[EN]: Do you have a “favorite” programming language or family of languages?

[RS]: I rather liked Simula 67 though I only used it for one (grad student) project. I think it was one of the first OO languages if not the first. Most of my work programming experience was in assembler on microprocessors and C on micro and minicomputers. I was very comfortable in C but wouldn’t say I loved it. These days I quite like the Lisp family of languages.

[EN]: Are you one of the founders of OpenGear? In that role, do you do a lot of international travel to the company’s other offices?

[RS]: I was one of the founders and worked in a few roles up until Opengear was acquired in late 2019. Having stayed on after acquisitions in a couple of previous lives I was pleased that the new owners didn’t want me to hang around and I exited just in time for COVID. While at Opengear and in previous startups I made regular business trips, mostly to North America but also the UK and Europe and occasional trips to South-East Asia.

[EN]: What do you identify as the top three “open problems” or “grand challenges” in technology right now?

[RS]: In no particular order and not claiming to have any deep insights…

  • Achieving AGI [artificial general intelligence] is still an open problem and one that, in my opinion, is not going to get solved as quickly as a lot of people think. Maybe that’s a good thing?
  • I spent about a decade working on computer security products starting in the early 2000s and despite a lot of money and effort spent on band-aid solutions, things have only become worse since then. Fixing our whack-a-mole computer security model is certainly a grand challenge, not helped by the incentives that security vendors have to protect their recurring revenues. The recent outage caused by the CrowdStrike security agent crashing Microsoft computers demonstrates the fragility of our current approach.
  • The ability to create practical quantum computers still seems a bit of a reach though I hear that Wassenaar Arrangement countries are all quietly introducing export controls on quantum computers. Perhaps they know something I don’t.

[EN]: What’s next on the horizon for you? What Kyma project(s) are you planning to tackle next?

[RS]: I have a long list of potential projects but I think the next two I’ll tackle are some baby steps into sonification of astronomical data (thanks for the encouragement) and a Blippoo Box – another of Rob Hordijk’s chaotic generative synths.

[EN]: What are you most looking forward to learning about Kyma over the next year?

[RS]: There are many areas of Kyma that I have only dabbled in and even more that I haven’t touched at all. I’d like to get a lot more fluent with Smalltalk and Capytalk, do some projects with the Spectral and Morphing sounds and also plumb the mysteries (to me) of the Timeline and Multigrid. That should keep me busy for a while!

[EN]: Outside of Kyma, what would you most like to learn more about in the coming year?

[RS]: I have a couple of relatively new synths, a Synclavier Regen and a Buchla Easel, that I would like to spend a lot more time learning my way around. I also want to keep progressing with my Touch Guitar studies.


[EN]: Rick, thank you for the thought-provoking discussion! Can people get in touch with you on the Kyma Discord if they have questions, feedback, or proposals for collaboration?

[RS]: Yes!

The seas that connect us

When Hasan Hujairi was a graduate student in South Korea, his friends took him to see a fortune teller. But instead of reading his future, the fortune teller said she felt compelled to tell him about one of his past lives. She told him that he had been a (Korean) monk who had spent his whole life in the monastery, only to eventually leave it behind to explore the world in search of truth.

Hasan Hujairi in his home studio in Sharjah, United Arab Emirates

Now, some 40 years into his current lifetime, Hujairi continues to explore the world seeking deeper understanding and connections between people. Born in Bahrain, he studied finance at Drake University in Des Moines Iowa, earned a master’s degree in economics with a focus on maritime historiography from Hitotsubashi University (Tokyo, Japan), completed a doctorate in music composition at Seoul National University in Seoul, South Korea and, since January 2023, he now leads the music department of the non-profit Sharjah Art Foundation in Sharjah, United Arab Emirates.

We asked Hasan some questions about his music, his multidisciplinary education, and his plans for the future of the Sharjah Art Foundation and for his own artistic work:

Eighth Nerve (EN): With the notable exception of Iowa, everywhere you’ve lived has been either an island, a peninsula, or coastal. Do you think that living on an island or in proximity to the sea has an effect on your way of thinking?

Hasan Hujairi (HH): An island brings with it a peculiar form of seeing the world. Geographically, it may sound like it’s isolated from larger lands, but in reality, the sea that surrounds it brings an infinite chance of someone from somewhere else passing through. The sea, as I have come to know it, is not something that separates people, but rather brings people and their cultures along with them.

Being from Bahrain, a small island that is almost invisible on world maps, allows me to think of where I come from as being a meeting point for others from all over, but also a very unique place with its own indigenous culture and history unlike anywhere else. It is both extraordinary and not at the same time. I think that combination of looking for the ‘extraordinary’ while also strongly believing in the interconnectivity with others carries over to my way of relating to the world, and can be heard within my music.

Photo by MODIS Land Rapid Response Team, NASA GSFC

EN: Your master’s thesis is on the economic history and regional economics of the Gulf region. How have your two fields of study “cross-fertilized” each other?

HH: From my studies in maritime history and economics, I have come to see that the world is far more interconnected than what may appear, and that seas and oceans bring people together rather than cause separation.

It also helped me look at how culture moves from one place to the other, and how the idea of tradition is open to debate and constant reification. Music and the study of its history has also been a way for me to look into understanding dynamics in the social, cultural, and even political realms.

These realizations have sometimes affected my approach to composing, by experimenting with the relation between the performers, audiences, and conductors (if present). It also informs how I make use of sound (as samples or as objects) within a piece of music based on certain sonic phenomena and social structures innate to the world I know.

EN: Several of your pieces are for Kyma and Qanun. Is your choice of Qanun culturally symbolic? Or did you select it for more pragmatic reasons (i.e., you have one and already know how to play it;)

HH: My main instrument for much of the last thirty years has been the oud, which is a fretless lute-like instrument. I only started learning to play qanun over the past year, at around the same time I started with Kyma. I’ve got both instruments available, but what I am trying to achieve with the qanun is to layer different fragments of a maqam (called ajnās, which is the plural form of jins – which are sometimes 3-note, 4-note, or 5-notes in succession that suggest the character of melodic line) across different octaves.

The reason I like this is because my own mistakes and unpolished technique appear in the first layer of bare-bone improvisation, and then when I process some of the audio through Kyma – blemishes and all – and record the resulting sound to use elsewhere, there are always small points of interest that surprise me as I try to figure how/when/where to use the Kyma-processed sounds. I also hope to use this process to dig deeper into the possibilities of Kyma while working in parallel with ideas in music that best reflect my personal interests. I’ve got a number of strange instruments lying around that I still haven’t had the chance to run through Kyma such as the daxophone, theremin, and jahla (percussive clay pots from Bahrain). All in good time.

 

EN: Wasn’t one of your compositions for Qanun and Kyma recently performed in Vienna?

HH: Yes, on 30 May 2024, my piece “A Home for All Underdogs: Songs of Hope, Failure, and Ambivalence” was played at an event in Vienna’s Echoraum called Sonic Agency – Listening Session XIII.

The program is a project hosted by a Vienna-based platform called Struma+Iodine under its artistic director, booker, and editor-in-chief Shilla Strelka. Shilla had approached me to ask if I would contribute a piece of music between 1:00 – 60:00 minutes in length for their Listening Session series and I very quickly and happily agreed to put something together.

I asked Shilla if the program’s name – Sonic Agency – had anything to do with Brandon LaBelle’s book of the same name. She said that it does – with a few caveats. In fact, Brandon himself had been involved in one of the earlier listening sessions and approved the use of Sonic Agency as a title. However, Shilla strongly felt that with the growing list of contributors, events, references, and projects around Sonic Agency, her curatorial statement has emerged as a manifesto.

EN: Part of that manifesto states that: “Sonic Agency is grounded in the sonic’s ability to introduce the feeling of connectivity, and the possibility of community – a community yet to come”. What is the role of music in introducing a sense of connection and a community yet to come?

HH: From my perspective, I think the collective experience of listening or sharing music/sounds – either at a single moment or over time – creates a bond between people. Perhaps those people also share a particular moral stance on certain global issues, and this act of listening to each other and/or sharing certain music/sonic experiences is a way to collectively empathize, grieve, or perhaps even celebrate. The event of people coming around a sonic act, in essence, could potentially connect people to create a community. This could be one such example of how sound gives agency to a community.

Not only do the circumstances around which we come together as people feel more and more extraordinary, but the sonic experience makes it all the more intense, visceral, personal, and possibly meaningful. It also comes down to a unique shared experience, bringing all those involved somehow together.

EN: Do you believe that music can effect change? In what way(s)?

HH: As music is often part of other phenomena such as rituals, ceremonies, events, protests, demonstrations, and cultural movements, it certainly has in many cases been a part of the bringing of change to different societies. With all that being said, societal change is – in my perhaps naively idealistic view of things – brought about through the collective will of people. I also think that on a more fundamental level, it can affect the space in which it is in, once people engage with it, listen to it, and acknowledge it. All in all, music can effect different forms of change, but it cannot do so without people, who give it meaning or give it agency.

EN: What is a “maverick composer”?

HH: The maverick composer is essentially a categorization of composers who work against convention. Such composers often exist within the intersection of what some may call outlier composers, outsider composers, experimental composers, and even eccentric composers. Moreover, such composers – despite being seen as outsiders to the “tradition” of composition (in the Classical Western Art Music sense) – end up having varying degrees of influence on music composition discourse.

[In 2018], I completed my doctoral thesis on the idea of reorienting maverickism, in which I call for a more inclusive view of “maverick” composers whose musical geneses do not necessarily begin with Classical Western music tradition. For this, I had interviewed Halim El-Dabh, Pauline Oliveros, and Korean gayaegeum master/composer Hwang Byungki.

All these years later, the notion of mavericks and outsiders still fascinates me. The reason behind this fascination in the maverick within a more global outlook would, to me, make the tradition of composition within the scope of Classical Western art music not ‘exceptional’ in the sense that it would exclude all other forms of music traditions from the possibility of innovation and individuality.

There is certainly room for someone from a small island, as in the case of myself, to try to contribute new ideas or concepts into music composition once a more global perspective of possible approaches to composing music is accepted. I find this encouraging and challenging at once, which makes it all the more interesting for me to tackle. Whether I ever succeed in making a contribution to the general discourse on music composition is a whole other debate.

EN: Do you consider yourself an “underdog” or an “outsider”?

HH: I sometimes wonder whether such a way of seeing things could inform my own practice given that I come from a particular part of the world with a very particular culture and history. Now that I think about it, I realize that I have deliberately put myself in situations in which I was an outsider. For instance, when I went to Seoul to study my doctoral degree in music composition, I was asked if I wanted to be part of the Western music department or the Korean music department. I chose to be in the Korean music department because I wanted to make the most of my time there, and to try to work within a music culture that I knew very little about. I thought that this would allow me to reflect on my own background in maqam music from the Middle East.

EN: Could you tell us more about the Sharjah Art Foundation? What have you been doing so far, and what are your longer term goals for the future?

HH: Sharjah Art Foundation is non-profit art foundation based in Sharjah, United Arab Emirates. It hosts a broad range of cultural and art events, with some of its core initiatives being the Sharjah Biennial, the annual March Meeting, residencies, production grants, commissions, exhibitions, research, publications and its growing collection. Education and public programming are also a fundamental part of the Foundation’s activities, and one of the key ways of engaging the local communities.

I manage the Music Department, which was established in January 2023 [when I joined] the Foundation. So far, the Music Department has programmed a series of concerts; run educational workshops on field recording, improvisation, and coding; we’ve also collaborated with some music festivals.

For the immediate future, we are planning to expand our activities by setting up an online radio station, hosting music-related talks, publishing albums of performances recorded here, and publishing translations of important music/sound-related texts into Arabic. For example, I’m working on the first Arabic translation of John Cage’s Silence: Lectures and Writings. Although this is a small gesture, I hope that it would introduce a new source of conversation among musicians and composers who only have access to published material in Arabic.

We also have some other very exciting initiatives in the pipelines but it is a little too early for me to disclose them at this point. Ultimately, it is my dream to see Sharjah become one of the important points within the Middle East and North Africa region that makes critical contributions to music and sonic culture.

EN: Musically speaking, how much interchange goes on between artists in in the Gulf region? Are there ever, for example, shared concerts or conferences or exchanges with artists from Saudi Arabia, Qatar, UAE, Kuwait?

HH: Your question on musical interchange happening in the Gulf is a very important one, and it’s something that actually affects how I see things for myself. The notion of the “nation state” in my part of the world, as you can imagine, is a relatively new concept in the grand scheme of things. That being said, borders between what is now known as the Gulf region have always – more or less – been open.

The sea itself was never something that separated people, but rather was one of the key ways in which everyone came together. The same could be said about the desert hinterlands of the Arabian Peninsula – they are in a sense – liquid, in that it carries people and their cultures across.

Photo by John Nevard: NASA, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Music and other forms of culture have been shared and exchanged between the region for potentially thousands of years, and it doesn’t only stop there. There are very clear traces of influence from other parts of the Western region of the Indian Ocean within the music of Bahrain and the Gulf. The presence of music from the eastern coasts of Africa, from southern Iran, and parts of South Asia embedded into the music of Bahrain and the Gulf region is undeniable. This makes the music of the Gulf different from other parts of the Arabic-speaking world.

Today, more modern forms of music in the region may tour around the region, with a great example being the late Ali Bahar and the Al-Ekhwa Band of Bahrain going to Oman only to find a crowd of 50,000 Omanis there to attend the concert. There is also plenty of cultural exchange going between artists from the Gulf region and those from other parts. The influence of music from Egypt, Iraq, Syria and Lebanon – for instance – is undeniable, and we still look at those regions as major cultural hubs for our own understanding of the totality of Arabic music.

EN: What aspect of Kyma would you most like to master over the course of the next year?

HH: What I hope to achieve over the coming year is to slowly build my own set of tools based on a few ideas I’ve been wishing to pursue: those relating to using Kyma as a tool to compose, and those relating to using Kyma as an instrument. I am especially keen on making use of ideas from maqam music theory and making use of techniques to extend instruments such as the qanun or the oud, or ways to manipulate field recordings. My ultimate hope is to find ways to extend compositional/performative techniques related to the music from West Asia and North Africa, along with more vernacular musics from my native Bahrain.

In other words, I’m trying to find a mirror of myself as a composer within Kyma; a mirror that helps me get to know myself better as a composer and as a performing musician.

 


EN: Hasan, thank you for taking the time to share some of your music, your thoughts, experiences, and plans for the future! It sounds like the monk’s quest is ongoing and will continue  for the foreseeable future!

For more about Hasan Hujairi: hasanhujairi.comwww.instagram.com/hasan.hujairi

Science of Sound

Nate Butkus sending data from an iPad to control sound parameters in Kyma. Next step: substitute data from a scientific model for the iPad.

Nate and his team from the award-winning “The Show About Science” podcast had a question:

“Can sound help us understand the complex patterns in our universe?”

This question led Nate to Symbolic Sound in Champaign, Illinois on a journey where sound, music, and data intertwine in captivating and thought-provoking ways…

Listen to the podcast or read the transcript at the link below:

101: The Science of Sound with Kimberly Arcand, Martin Gruebele, Carla Scaletti, and Mark Temple

Martin Gruebele, Carla Scaletti, Nate Butkus, Eric Butkus (Photos by Jenny Butkus)

Emerging from the Shatter Zone

As part of an on-going series of interviews with artists adapting to and emerging from the disruptions of 2020-22, we had a chance to speak with independent sound artist and photographer Will Klingenmeier to ask him about how he continued his creative work in spite of (or because of?) the restrictions last year, what he is up to now, and some of his hopes and inspirations for the future.

Will is a self-described omnivore of sound and noise, living as a borderline hermit and wanderer in order to focus on developing his unique artistic voice.


Thanks for taking the time to speak with us, Will!

Thank you so much for having me. I’m honored and happy to have the opportunity to talk about my work.

The colors and arrangement of your studio photo seem to capture just how central your studio is in your life (you’ve said that you spend more time there than in in any other place, and I think a lot of us can identify with that). Can you give us a brief description of how you’ve set up your studio workflow and say a bit about how you feel when you’re in the studio and in the flow?

My studio is really sacred ground for me. It’s a special place that I have spent thousands of hours in, as well as making. All of the acoustic treatment, gear racks, speaker stands and shelves I made with my dad over the course of many years. When I’m in the flow it’s like I’m on a tiny planet in my own little world, and it’s immensely satisfying. It’s a source of constant joy and a never-ending project.

At the moment, a lot of what I do is based in Kyma so it is the heart of my studio. I try to perform everything in real-time without editing afterwards; even if it takes longer to get there, it’s more satisfying. I have a few different set-ups including laptops and an old Mac Pro. I have mostly the same content on multiple computers not only for back-ups, but also to make it easier for traveling with a mobile rig. When I can’t avoid using a DAW, I have an old version of Pro Tools on my Mac Pro. Outside of Kyma, I have a handful of microphones, instruments, synthesizers, outboard gear and tape machines that I use. There’s a ton of cabling to the closet turned machine room which looks confusing, but my set-up is actually quite straightforward. Also, I leave all the knick-knacks out so my studio looks like a bricolage, but that way I know where everything is when I need it, and it’s only an arm’s reach away.

During the lockdowns and travel restrictions of spring 2020, you were caught about 7000 miles away from your studio. How did that come about?

I don’t go looking for tough situations, but I always seem to find them. On February 1st, 2020, I left Colorado for Armenia where I was scheduled to volunteer teaching the next generation of noisemakers; two week intensives at four locations around the country, including Artsakh, for a total of two months. I booked a one-way flight so I would be able to travel Armenia and the region, and I had another flight afterward to visit a friend in India, but needless to say that’s not what happened.

When I left the states COVID-19 was around but every day things seemed to stay about the same. For the first month in Armenia things were normal, there wasn’t even a documented case of COVID until March. I made it through two schools and I was at the third when I got a call that the World Health Organization had increased the epidemic to a pandemic. That’s when things changed. A driver came for me and took me back to Yerevan where I was told things were going to change and ultimately go into lockdown. The school said I could stay in their apartment or do whatever I felt I needed to, including going home. I didn’t really know what to do; who did? Throughout my travels I’ve learned not to be reactionary and instead concentrate on options and to realize a working solution. As such, I figured if the virus was going to spread it would be mostly in Yerevan, the biggest city, so I left Yerevan on my own and went to the Little Switzerland of Armenia, Dilijan. It’s an incredibly beautiful place in the mountains and I thought “I’ll lay low here for a few days and plan my next move.”

After five days I decided to go back to Yerevan, and found out that I could have a three bedroom apartment all to myself indefinitely. I thought, “that sounds a lot better than scrambling and traveling 7,000 miles across the world right now”, so I talked with my family and I decided to stay put. I was in that apartment by myself for six months and it was an incredible opportunity to turn inwards. As it turned out, I stayed until one day before my passport stamp expired so I took the experience as far as I possibly could. In hindsight, I don’t think it was ever impossible for me to leave, but I never actually pursued it until I absolutely had to. And I wouldn’t change any of it.

Can you describe how your sound work was modified by your “quarantine” in Armenia? How is it different from the way you normally work in Colorado? Has it changed the way you work now, even after you’ve returned home?

It turns out that an ironing board makes an excellent, height-adjustable desk for a sound artist in exile.

Basically everything I’m doing now has come out of exceedingly difficult situations that I persevered through. Several things happened that I’m aware of and probably even more that I’m unaware of and still digesting. I definitely breached a new threshold of understanding how to use my gear. And I absolutely learned to make the most of what’s on hand—to repurpose things, up-cycle and reimagine. I remember taking inventory of everything I had, laying it all out in front of me and considering what it was capable of doing, the obvious things to start like the various connection ports and so on, then I moved to the more subtle. By doing this I was able to accomplish several things that I didn’t think I could previously based solely on my short-sighted view.

This same awareness and curiosity has stayed with me and I’m really grateful for it. Essentially, it was realizing there’s a lot to be gained in working through discomfort. Moreover, I’ve heard that creativity can really blossom when you’re alone, so maybe that is some of what happened. Not that I held back much before this time, but now I really swing for the fences—I love surreal, far-out, subjective, ambiguous sounds. Creatively speaking, I’m most interested and focussed on doing something that’s meaningful to me, and then I might share it.

Once I returned to Colorado a different level of comfort and convenience came back into my life. Some things were left in Armenia and some things were gained in Colorado. I’ve made it a point to make the most of wherever I am with whatever I have. That’s something I’ve lived by, and now it is a part of me. It is nice to be back in my studio though. I’ve spent more time in this room than any other so I know it intimately. To be sure, I’ve always enjoyed my space and I thrive in solitude so having the situation I did in Armenia really brought out the best in me. Back in the states there are definitely more distractions, so since returning I’ve become even more of a night owl to help mitigate them.

Do you have Armenian roots? Can you explain for your readers what’s going on there right now?

I don’t have Armenian roots, at least none that I know of. That said, I have been told by my Armenian friends that I am Armenian by choice, and I will agree with that. They are a wonderful people and it breaks my heart with what is happening there now. A lot is going on and I don’t claim to understand it all, but there is definitely a humanitarian crisis—thousands dead, thousands of refugees and displaced peoples, and many severely injured people from a 44 day war launched by Azerbaijan. As a result, there are both internal and external problems including on-going hate from the two enemy nations Armenia is sandwiched between. It is a tough time and when I ask my Armenian friends about it they don’t even know how to put it into words. I can see the sadness and worry in their eyes though.

Throughout the pandemic, you’ve maintained connections and collaborations with multiple artists. Please talk about some of those connections, how you established them, how you maintained them, how you continued collaborating (both in terms of technological and human connections).

The first of these collaborations began when I received a ping from one of my good friends and fellow Kyma user Dr. Simon Hutchinson. He said he would like to talk about YouTube. I’d recently started ramping-up my channel (under the name Spectral Evolver) and he was looking to do the same. We discussed the potential for collaboration and cross-promoting our channels. At the time, I was making walking videos around Armenia and we eventually decided to create a glitch art series which used these videos as source material for Simon’s datamoshing. Additionally, we decided to encode the audio for binaural and to use Kyma as a part of the process. We started with short videos up to a minute long with varying content to run some tests, and then started doing longer videos around ten minutes once we figured out the process. We used Google Drive to share the files. It was immensely satisfying and a totally new avenue for me; he is incredibly creative and talented and I was thrilled to be taken along for the datamoshed ride.

Another collaboration during this period was with my long-time friend from college Tim Dickson Jr. He is one of my favorite pianists. Everything he plays is very thoughtful and he has developed this wonderfully minimalist approach. He was going through tough times and wanted to share as much of his creations as possible so I asked him if he wouldn’t mind sending me some of his compositions for me to reimagine. He uploaded about 15 pieces and I used only them and Kyma in creating our album ‘abstractions from underground‘.

The Unpronounceables‘ as a trio was yet another collaboration that started during lockdown. Somehow I finagled my way into the group comprised of İlker Işıkyakar and Robert Efroymson, both friends of mine from the Kyma community. At that point, there was still hope for KISS 2020 in Illinois and for us performing as a trio, therefore we needed to start practicing. The only way that was possible at the time was online. As I remember we had a few chats to check-in and say “˜hi’ then we jumped in and started feeling our way forward. The only guideline we ever had was to split the sonic spectrum in thirds, one of us would take the lows, one of us the mids, one of us the highs—that was İlker’s idea I think. However, that quickly disappeared and we all just did what we could. I remember using a crinkled piece of paper as an instrument and opening my window to let the sound of birds and children playing in the courtyard come into the jam. I didn’t have my ganjo yet so I used whatever I could to be expressive, it was really beneficial to work through that. To jam, we used a free application called ‘Jamulus’. Robert made a dedicated server and the three of us would join in once a week and play for 30 minutes or so. Surprisingly the latency wasn’t unbearable. We were doing mostly atonal, nonrhythmic sounds though and I suspect if we needed tight sync it would have been painful.

Finally, despite the lockdown, I was able to continue volunteering with the school once they made the transition to online. While brainstorming with the school on how it would be possible to offer workshops for kids in lockdown at home with seemingly limited resources, I realized I could immediately share what I had just learned: to use whatever you have where you are! The results were spectacular: they created a wonderful variety of sound collages created, recorded and edited mostly through cell phones. I assigned daily exercises to record objects of a certain material, for example, metal, glass, wood etc. I asked them to consider the way the object was brought into vibration by another object. Don’t just bang on it! We also discussed the opportunity to use sound to tell a story even if it’s a highly bizarre, surreal, subjective story. In the end, I learned far more from them than they did from me. I was asking them how they made sounds and I was taking notes. For these classes, we met through Google Hangouts and shared everything on Google Drive.

Your recent release, “the front lines of the war,” is the result of another collaboration, this time with Pacific rim poet/multi-disciplinary artist Scott Ezell. Visually, tactilely, sonically and verbally, you and Scott employ multiple senses to express the disintegration and despair of the “shatter zone”. What exactly is a shatter zone?

Shatter Zone has at least a double meaning. It started off in geology to describe randomly cracked and fissured rocks then came to also be used to describe borderlands usually with displaced peoples, so for me, it carries both of those resonances.

The sounds you created for this project are also intentionally distressed and distorted through techniques like bit-crushing, digital encoding artifacts and vocal modulations. Particularly striking is the section that begins “In the shatter zone too long…” whose cracking dripping conveys a miasma of putrescence and disease carried along on a dry wind. Can you describe how you did the vocal processing in this section (and any other techniques you employed in this section that you’d like to share)?

True, there’s a lot of different audio processes happening to make the album sound the way it does including all of the things you’ve mentioned. The piece you’re talking about is called “Shatter Zones” and it came to sound the way it does through Kyma granulation. Scott’s reading of the poem is one take of about 8 minutes and I used a SampleCloud to read through the recording in a few seconds longer than that and used a short grain duration of less than 1 second. What results is a very slightly slower reading, but the pitch of his voice stays the same. It’s just slow enough and granulated enough that we can feel uneasy but not so much that the words aren’t intelligible. It’s super important that we understand what he’s saying so I had to find the line between making an evocative sound and leaving his voice intelligible. I thought there was an obvious correlation to Shatter Zones and granulation which is why I decided to use that technique. The sound around his voice is granular synthesis as well but with long grains of 5 or more seconds. I had this field recording I did on my cell phone of a dwindling campfire, down to the embers, and it always sounded really interesting to me. I brought it into Kyma, replicated it, added some frequency and pan jitter so each iteration wouldn’t sound the same, and used the long grain technique.

What other techniques did you use to “degrade” and “distort” the sound? Did you intentionally choose to distribute the sound component on cassette tape for that reason?

We arrived at putting the sound on a cassette for several reasons. I think a physical element is a really meaningful necessity for music and with the chapbook there was already going to be a physical element so we knew we wanted physical music. These days there’s basically three options: CD, vinyl, cassette — all of which will have a noticeably different sound. We thought about this from the beginning instead of it being an afterthought. Initially, we were thinking vinyl but because of the cost and the length of the sides we realized it probably wasn’t the best solution, if it was even possible. Between a CD and a cassette, this content lends itself to the cassette format more than a CD, not that CD would have been a bad choice. We welcome what the cassette tape might do to the sound—a further opportunity for the medium to influence the art. Besides, over the last year or so I’ve been buying music on cassette—they are really coming back—and they don’t sound nearly as undesireably bad as you might think. In fact, some music sounds best on cassette. I think it’s really cool if an artist considers all the different formats and decides which one is best for the art—like a painter choosing what they will paint on, it matters, it changes the look. When listening to this project on cassette there is a noticeably different experience than listening digitally, and with the exception of one track I think it is all more desirable on the cassette version. As for other techniques for degradation and distortion, I used a lot of cell phone field recordings, there’s a few databent audio files and I recorded out of Kyma into another recorder and during that process a bunch of noise came along. I also have a 1960’s style tone-bender pedal I made a long time ago that’s super special to me, and all of the guitar tones went through that. Then, of course, there’s the stuff inside Kyma which you’ve already hinted at: Bitwise operators, granulation, cross-synthesis and frequency domain haze.

Do you think it’s ironic to use Kyma, a system designed for generating high-quality sound, to intentionally degrade and distort the audio?

Kyma is definitely known for high quality, meticulous sound, but that’s not actually why I got into it, or why I continue to use it. Over the years, I’ve developed and found a way of working that’s meaningful to me and it’s centered around Kyma: real-time creation, no editing, and performing the sound. Kyma thrives in that situation and is extremely stable in both the studio and live use, therefore it’s where I feel really creative and capable of expressing the sound in my head.

One way I think about Kyma is like a musical instrument, say a guitar. What does a guitar sound like? What could it sound like? When does it stop being a guitar sound? Seems to me there’s no end to that and definitely no right or wrong. Kyma is the same way for me. In fact, it never occurred to me that I was making lo-fi sounds in a hi-fi system. I think there’s a sadness when data compression is used for convenience and to miniaturize art, but when it’s used from the onset for a unique sound or look, like we’ve done here, that’s different.

Is this piece about Myanmar? Or is it about “every war” in any place?

Both. The spoken words are specifically based on Scott’s first-person experience of a Myanmar Army offensive against the Shan State Army-North and ethnic minority civilians in Shan State, Myanmar in 2015. Scott was smuggled into Shan State under a tarp in the back of an SUV. The Shan State Suite (side one of the cassette) tells this story. At the same time, the project is expressing a bigger realization as it explores the ways that global systems implicate us all in vectors of destruction and conflict in which “everyone is on the front lines of the war.” (This last sentence is Scott’s words, he said it perfectly for our liner notes, so I’ve just repeated it here.)

Can you offer your listeners any suggestions for remediating action?

It is incredibly difficult not to be lost in despair and discouraged by the things that we, especially Scott, have seen and experienced, but I think the work of art itself is actually meant to be a positive thing. It’s once we fully ignore and disregard things that hope is lost, or rather that we are taking an impossible chance hoping that it “works out for the best.”

I believe we have to make an effort and that effort can come in many forms. This project cracks open the door and offers a start to a conversation, a very difficult, long conversation, but a necessary one, I think. Scott and I have had success bringing this kind of content into different University environments including an ethics of engineering course at the University of Virginia. We shared a piece of art we made and shared our personal experiences and relationships to contested landscapes and marginalized peoples. The response we got from the professors and students suggested there would be on-going consideration for the topic.

Finally, there are lots of good people in the world and lots of human rights organizations seeking to stop violence both before and after it has started, so that’s something encouraging. There is hope and we can start to do better immediately even if only on a very small, personal level. In fact, that’s actually where it all needs to start, I think.

In an ideal world, what would you love to work on for your next project?

An installation of some kind. I really want to do something on a bigger, more immersive, more tactile scale using Kyma and sound as a medium of expression along with some of the visual forms I’ve been getting into. In the meantime I’ll continue to do what I’m doing!

What do you see as the future direction(s) for digital media art and artists? For example, you’ve gone all-in on developing your youtube channel for both educational and artistic purposes, video, and live streaming. How does youtube (and more) figure into your own future plans?

I think we are going to continue to see extremes and new forms of art. Artists, as a whole, always challenge and question which leads to new horizons. Digital media has certainly created many incredible and wonderful on-going opportunities for artists. I see VR/AR getting more and more capable as well as popular. Also, with the advent of everything becoming “˜smart’, new needs have arisen for artists. Like Kyma being used in the design of the Jaguar I-PACE, that kind of stuff. As for my YouTube channel, I have every intention of continuing it. I don’t know exactly what all the content is going to be, but that’s why I put ‘Evolver’ in the name.


As a coda, we strongly recommend that everyone check out the detailed description of ‘the front lines of the war’ on Will Klingenmeier’s website, where you can also place an order for a copy of this beautifully produced, limited-edition chapbook and cassette for yourself or as a gift for a friend.

It’s not an easy work to categorize. It’s an album, it is a video, it’s a chapbook of poetry, yet it’s so much more than that: it is a meticulously crafted artifact which, in its every detail, conveys the degradation, despoilment and degeneration of a “shatter zone”. It arrives at your mailbox in a muddied, distressed envelope with multiple mismatched stamps and a torn, grease-marked address label, like a precious letter somehow secreted out of a war zone, typed on torn and blood/flower stained stationary and reeking of unrelenting grief, wretchedness, and inescapable loss. It deals with many topics that are not easy or comfortable to confront, so be sure to prepare yourself before you start listening.

 

 

Interview with Madison Heying

Madison Heying shows us the view from the Music Center at UC Santa Cruz

Madison Heying is a PhD candidate in cultural musicology at the University of California Santa Cruz where she focuses on experimental, electronic, and computer music. On any given day, you’re as likely to find Madison on a stage performing DYI analog electronic circuits with her partner David Kant as you are to find her holed up in the experimental music archives at the UCSC library. In between publishing scholarly articles and presenting papers at international musicology conferences, she also hosts a podcast and curates experimental music events around the Monterey Bay area as a member of Indexical, a composer-run artist collective that focuses on new chamber and experimental music, and especially music that lies outside of the aesthetic boundaries of major musical institutions.

Somehow Madison has also found time in her schedule to co-organize the Kyma International Sound Symposium this year in Santa Cruz on the themes: Altered States and Ecosystems. She sat down with us recently to talk a little about Santa Cruz, experimental music, and banana slugs…

Experimental, electronic, and computer music

Hi Madison. Could you please tell us what a cultural musicologist is (as distinct from historical musicology, etc)? What do you study and how?

A cultural musicologist is a music historian that pays particular attention to the people groups behind a given musical phenomenon. I think the attention given to cultural context has been a trend in musicology for a while now, but my PhD program makes it a priority. Many of us study living or recent composers and music-making communities and borrow a lot of our methodology and theory from ethnomusicology. My work broadly focuses on experimental, electronic, and computer music.

At UC Santa Cruz, it appears that experimental music is still very much ongoing and supported. Can you talk a little bit about what “Experimental Music” is and why UC Santa Cruz was and continues to be a strong center for this aesthetic or this mindset?

There is a really strong history of musical experimentation in the Bay Area in general, dating back to composers like Henry Cowell and Lou Harrison to the San Francisco Tape Music Center in the 1960s, and later programs at Mills College, CCRMA, and UCSC. James Tenney taught at UCSC for a year in the 70s. Gordon Mumma started the Electronic Music studio here, David Cope ran the Algorithmic Composition program for years. Along with the Cabrillo Music Festival (which used to be VERY experimental), Santa Cruz was something of a hub for weird music in the 70s and 80s. There’s a really strong tradition here of incorporating elements of non-Western music into a more experimental compositional practice, of developing hand-made electronics, and also big developments in DSP and computer music.

At UCSC there are currently some really exciting people on the faculty including composers Larry Polansky, David Dunn, and musicologist Amy C. Beal in the Music Department, sound artist Anna Friz and Yolande Harris in the Arts Division, and Kristin Erickson Galvin, who is also co-organising KISS2018, on the staff of the Digital Arts and New Media Program.

You’ve been learning Kyma and building analog circuits as part of your research. Does having hands-on experience with the tools change the way you view, understand, and report on the cultural implications and impact of technology?

Absolutely! Taking a hands on approach has given me significant insight not only into how a given technology works, but how it might have been used historically, and some of the reasons why a composer or musician employed the technology in a particular way.

The thing with Kyma in particular is that it’s such a rich, deep language, so I think even if I spent 20 years using it, I’d still learn new things. Having the hands-on experience has been a total necessity to just scratching the surface of understanding of how Kyma works and why it’s so unique. It’s also made a big difference to collaborate or work with people that know a lot more about electronics or programming; I’m able to learn so much by seeing how they tackle/think through problems and find solutions.

Kyma International Sound Symposium (KISS)

Kristin Erickson Galvin and Madison Heying at UCSC talking about their implementation of cellular automata in Kyma

What motivated you to co-host KISS2018 in Santa Cruz? What would you like to show people about Santa Cruz, your university, your home state? What are you hoping people will come away with after participating in this conference?

My first impulse was that co-hosting KISS2018 would be a very tangible way to give back to the Kyma community, who have given me so much! I also thought UCSC would be the perfect place to host KISS and I knew that this would be my last year here, so I figured, why not do it now?!

I think the first KISS you attended was KISS2015 in Bozeman Montana. What struck you about KISS that made it different from other conferences that you regularly attend?

I was particularly struck by how nice everyone is. At academic conferences people can be really cruel during the Q & A after a presentation or in down time. A good number of people are jockeying to make a good impression on senior scholars or prove their intelligence by making someone else look bad, there is definitely more of a hostile competitive atmosphere. It just takes time to find your people and to be comfortable being yourself in that kind of environment.

But at KISS, it’s different. Everyone is there to learn and share their work, so there is a much greater sense of camaraderie. If there is competition, it seems like it’s mostly self-imposed, that people just want to get better at using Kyma or their compositional or performative practice.

Madison in front of the Music Center Recital Hall at UCSC

Was KISS2016 in Leicester UK different from the experience you had in Montana? How was it different and how was it similar in terms of the people, the atmosphere, the content, the music? Has your picture of the Kyma community evolved over time and with more experience?

Yes, I think each KISS has its own flavor based on the host institution and the people that end up coming. On a personal level they were also different because in Bozeman I didn’t really know anyone except the people I came with. So I felt a bit more like a newbie outsider. But in Leicester, I felt like I was already part of the group and it was great to see so many familiar faces and reconnect with people I met in Bozeman (and of course to meet new people as well).

Are there some things that you’re particularly looking forward to for KISS2018?

For me it’s been really fascinating to see how people interpret the theme. I love the variety of approaches Kyma users take to composition and performance, it makes for really dynamic concerts. Each time I attend KISS there’s usually a few pieces that totally shock me and blow me away and leave me wondering how they did it or just in awe of someone’s prowess as a performer/composer. I’m looking forward to seeing the thing that’s just under everyone’s radar, but that’s going to be the really memorable piece.

Santa Cruz and the spirit of place

Do you believe there is such a thing as “spirit of place”? If so, then how does the natural, cultural, political environment of Santa Cruz affect you and your colleagues?

Yes, I do. I think the biggest thing I notice is that life moves at a slower pace in Santa Cruz than other places, people are rarely in a rush to do things. As an impatient person this is probably the best and most frustrating aspect of living here, it’s difficult to get other people to feel the same sense of urgency about something, but at the same time it also helps me slow down and “stop and smell the roses” as they say.

Madison at Seabright Beach

How is the atmosphere influenced by, yet distinct from, the culture of “The Valley”? Since it’s so close by, does Silicon Valley ever act as a magnet, draining people and activities away from Santa Cruz? Do people ever “escape” from the Valley and seek refuge in Santa Cruz?

Yes, it’s becoming more and more common for techies from “over the hill” to live in Santa Cruz and commute into Silicon Valley. They realized that the commute is the same as it is from San Francisco, with slightly cheaper rents and better beach access! In general I love being so close to Silicon Valley. Many of my close friends work for tech companies like Google, Facebook, or Uber. Some of the excitement and energy of their fast-paced lifestyles oozes into Santa Cruz and sends a jolt of fresh possibilities into this sleepy beach town. I also love to think about the history of the place, how since the 60s there’s a real convergence of counter-cultural values with the most cutting-edge, high-tech and commercial innovations. It makes for some interesting paradoxes, like the wealthy aging-hippy beach bum software developer 🙂

For those of us who are planning to come to KISS2018, what’s the one thing that every visitor to Santa Cruz absolutely, unequivocally, cannot miss seeing or experiencing on their first visit there?

Well, the best thing about Santa Cruz is that it has the beach and redwood forests, so I’d say they have to visit both things. To go for a hike in the redwoods, maybe on Pogonip trail near campus, or Nisene Marks, about 5 miles south. And then visit the beach. Seabright beach, near where I live, is great, because the tourists don’t know about it, so it’s not usually too crowded. If you don’t want to go in the water, a walk along West Cliff Drive will also blow you away, I think it’s probably one of the most beautiful beach walks in California! And of course you should probably take a ride on the Giant Dipper at the boardwalk!

Madison enjoys a Penny ice cream at the beach

Guilty pleasures?

Penny ice cream at the beach! (Sadly it does cost more than a penny but is worth it — some of the best ice cream I’ve ever had!) Also my favorite bakery/coffee shop is Companion Bakers. Both Companion and Penny have vegan/gf options, and REALLY good regular stuff too!

Should people bring their Zoom recorders to Santa Cruz? What is the must-record sound they have to capture while they are there?

Yes! The seals of the wharf are really fun to record. If you have a hydrophone there are also a lot of interesting sounds under the water, including snapping shrimp!

 
 

 

Banana slugs. Why or why not?

I am very pro-banana slugs! You really have to see one in person to appreciate them and what a ridiculous creature they are. I can’t imagine a better mascot to capture the spirit of this place.

How hearing can change the world

Thanks for taking time out to talk with us, Madison! To conclude, if there were one thing you could change that you think would be of most help to other people or to society as a whole, what would it be?

To be able to listen to someone that is different than you and have understanding and compassion, and to let that act of hearing change how you operate in the world. For everyone to have more empathy, to really understand that everyone has a singular view of the world, based on so many factors like where and how they were raised, race, gender, etc. and that everyone else’s experience is valid.

Thank you so much for taking the time to talk with us, Madison! We’re looking forward to having more discussions with you about life, empathy, experimental music, Kyma, and banana slugs at KISS2018: Altered States (6-9 September 2018 in Santa Cruz, California).

Kyma gives voice to Tarantino’s “Hateful Eight” Blizzard


Audio engineer Jennifer Walden provides a fascinating analysis of the sound design in Quentin Tarantino’s Hateful Eight in a recent issue of Randi Altman’s postPerspective.

Tarantino is “truly an aural enthusiast and very much a sculptor of his cinema through the use of sound and music,” according to his longtime supervising sound editor, Wylie Stateman, who continues,

Sound is a major contributor to Quentin’s films and often the secret sauce that makes the meal just gel and come together as a coherent recognizable work…

Wylie Stateman, Supervising Sound Editor on Hateful Eight

 

Audio is very different from the other filmmaking aspects… Audio is very mysterious — a force that is just truly present in the moment. It’s just a vibration in the room. It’s something that the audience experiences but can’t see and can’t touch. It’s a different kind of art form, and as an audio artist I love working for Quentin because he is so particular and he values the contribution that sound makes to the experience of watching his film.

Sylvain Lasseur created & performed the voice of the blizzard

Tarantino is fascinated with the sounds of the actors’ voices and he wanted the ninth adversary in the film, the blizzard, to have its own character and its own unique ‘voice’. For that challenge, Stateman and co-supervising sound editor Harry Cohen called in sound designer Sylvain Lasseur. Sylvain brought in his Continuum fingerboard and Kyma / Pacarana system and set to work creating the voice of the blizzard.

Using Kyma and the Continuum, Lasseur was able to perform multiple layers of wind sounds to picture. They built the blizzard literally one gust, one whistle and one whisp at a time, designing the wind to complement the dialog and the picture editing in a unique way. According to Stateman, using Kyma, Lasseur was able to create an “instrument” on which he could perform the voice of the blizzard.

The first step was to create a guide track based around the dialog; then they modeled other sounds around that guide track. Stateman describes how they composed the sound design in an almost musical way:

So let’s say we have a base sound of a blizzard, we could then, very selectively, model wind wisps or rumbles or anything else against it. The Kyma would shape the other samples in time relative to the control track. Once we have them all modeled against each other we can start to pull them apart a little bit so that each element can have its own dynamic moment. It becomes more like a parade and you hear the low, the mid and the high — not on top of each other but offset from each other. The artistry comes in turning samples into instruments.

The importance of sound to Tarantino is evident in the fact that Lasseur ended up spending four months creating the instruments in Kyma and another four months performing and shaping the voice of the blizzard around the dialog and visuals.

For more insights on the sound for Hateful Eight, check out Jennifer Walden’s full article: Wyle Stateman Talks Sound Editing on ‘The Hateful Eight’

Anne La Berge, sound hero

Screen Shot 2015-06-25 at 11.37.58 AMFlutist/composer Anne La Berge is featured on the cover of the July 2015 issue of freiStil magazine. Inside, an in-depth interview delves into Anne’s history, music, and politics.

When asked about her electronic beginnings, she recounts, “My first electronic instrument was the microphone. To this I owe some of the most magical aspects of my sound: whistling, harmonies, echoes of vowels and consonants, to name just a few.” She soon started to expand on those effects with hardware like the Clavia Micro Modular, then the Clavia Nord Modular G2, and now “currently I am a passionate Kyma system user… I do most of my pieces in conjunction with a Kyma. I am fascinated by the expansion of the flute sounds by electronics. I really appreciate auxiliary means for obtaining an incredible dynamic range. Sometimes in an ensemble situation, the flute can’t be heard. So I’ve developed sound patches that allow me to be heard in almost any musical situation.”

Anne can be heard performing her live Kyma-processed flute compositions at the Berlin Heroines of Sound festival in 10-12 July.