{"id":52,"date":"2010-07-26T23:26:09","date_gmt":"2010-07-27T06:26:09","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.thomblum.com\/?page_id=52"},"modified":"2024-05-23T21:58:51","modified_gmt":"2024-05-24T04:58:51","slug":"program-notes","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.thomblum.com\/?page_id=52","title":{"rendered":"Program notes"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>For the program notes to pieces composed after 2019, <a href=\"https:\/\/www.thomblum.com\/?page_id=43\">click here<\/a><\/p>\n<table width=\"100%\">\n<tbody>\n<tr>\n<td><a name=\"pn_epenthesis\"><\/a><strong><em>Epenthesis<\/em><\/strong> (2019, 12:25), with percussionist Ron Pelletier<\/p>\n<p>This piece follows the lives of two timbral \u201ccommunities\u201d. One community consists of a small set of digitally-synthesized, processed, and manually-edited sound sequences (timbral progressions), while the other consists of families of improvised analog sound sequences, produced mostly on a trap drum kit, as well as the electro-acoustically processed versions of those analog sequences.<\/p>\n<p>During the first couple of minutes the sequences in the synthesized world establish themselves. But over that course they also \u201cattract\u201c or call out for other voices. So in the next stage, the established order has increasing encounters with the (electro)acoustic percussion community. The latter are inserted into established sequences, either replacing, smearing, or overlapping parts.<\/p>\n<p>The languages of the two distinct communities have a few timbral similarities, so mimicry is the initial response to the \u201ccall\u201d. And as the piece progresses the relatively stiff, micro-edited sequences nearly all fall away, having completed their mission of supplying patterns of timbral progressions.<\/p>\n<p>In phonology, epenthesis occurs when a phoneme is added to an existing word. For example, in some dialects \u201cdrawing\u201d becomes \u201cdrawring\u201d. This often occurs naturally over time to ease pronunciation. In this case, epenthesis applies to the insertion of sounds (timbres and timbral progressions) into an already-established sound palette or community.<\/p>\n<p>Here, epenthesis is not about easing pronunciation, rather it\u2019s about increasing the listener\u2019s engagement through the push and pull of variation and commonality.<\/p>\n<p><a name=\"pn_reset_tabularasa\"><\/a><strong><em>Reset (tabula rasa)<\/em><\/strong> (2018, 9:50)<\/p>\n<p>Starting in 2016 an intense desire came over me to express in a musical way my shock and dismay with the political and societal skids we were experiencing. Although I tried to redirect my creativity towards less politically affected thinking (and worry), I couldn&#8217;t stop myself.<\/p>\n<p>The best I could do with my angst was to bend it towards an oneiric trance-like undoing of the mounting tumult generated by the tyrannic and mad tendencies of POTUS #45 (aka \u201c#3\u201d).<\/p>\n<p>I set my compositional endgame around a complete reset &#8211; tabula rasa &#8211; thinking that\u2019s really what\u2019s needed now. And to reach the knee, just before the reset occurs, the piece would project a time-lapsed metaphor for the angst-ridden period we&#8217;re in using revolving collisions at various densities and tempi.<\/p>\n<p><a name=\"pn_spanish_panoramas\"><\/a><strong><em>Spanish Panoramas<\/em><\/strong> (2016, 8:45)<\/p>\n<p>Spanish Panoramas is a fixed-media composition based on an earlier \u201cfixed + live\u201d version, Spanish\u00a0Panoramas &#8211; guided improvisations with SoundFisher, that was performed at the 2015 International Society for Music Information Retrieval Conference in M\u00e1laga, Spain. The composition consists of three sonic characters or storylines: (1) an anecdotal story told through the arrangement of unprocessed field recordings collected across Spain; (2) an abstract line consisting of overlapping sounds that were conjured up from a personal sound database supporting a retrieval method known as \u201cquery by sound\u201d; (3) a third character made up of processed recordings of flamenco guitarists. The weaving together of these three lines knits a unique and whimsical travelogue of Spain.\u00a0This\u00a0fixed-media rendition\u00a0is true to its more improvisational predecessor. The same vocabulary of sounds are utilized in both (see \u201cNote\u201d below). And both use the same \u201cguide track\u201d (storyline \u201c1\u201d above), however this fixed-media version better fed\u00a0my cruel obsession with precision editing, and that makes the two renditions distinctly different yet the same.<\/p>\n<p>Note: For some of the \u201canecdotal storyline\u201d of the piece, field recordings of Spain, contributed to freesound.org by the following users, were included: 20020, 3bagbrew, antigonia, ariat, bram, carybarney, dobroide, falconbeard, kontest1, sergeeo, susoooo, and xserra.<\/p>\n<p><a name=\"pn_cascade\"><\/a><strong><em>Cascade<\/em><\/strong> (2016, 8:30)<\/p>\n<p>The structure of this piece emerged from numerous improvisations on the materials. A natural cascade or linkage from section to section took hold, wherein some perceived property of the current section was held constant in the next section, but some other property was changed to its opposite extreme. In this way an\u00a0arc for the piece developed. It goes something like this: Continuous broadband noise evolves into continuous narrow bands of pitched (or pitch-clustered) sound, which is then followed by discontinuous definite (and indefinite) pitched sound, and concludes with discontinuous unpitched\/glitchy\/noisy sound.<\/p>\n<p><a name=\"pn_walkways\"><\/a><strong><em>Walkways of the Hopeful and the Hopeless<\/em><\/strong> (2015, 7:50)<\/p>\n<p>I began writing this piece in the last half of 2014 and finished it in January of 2015. The piece was provoked by my morning constitutional which occurred in the more urban settings of San Francisco, where I observed that the middle class had all but vanished. It is thus a play in which two characters of quite opposing natures collide directly into each other without any buffer whatsoever.The extremes result in a high-contrast soundscape.<\/p>\n<p><a name=\"pn_emancipation\"><\/a><strong><em>Emancipation<\/em><\/strong> (2012-13, 7:30, stereo)<br \/>\n(This piece is dedicated to George Steeley III)<\/p>\n<p>If I have done the job right then after you&#8217;ve listened to the piece the title should be self-explanatory. That said\u2026 here is your map (or cheat sheet).<\/p>\n<p>On a sound production level the composition is about additive, subtractive, and what I&#8217;ll loosely call &#8220;replacement&#8221; synthesis. On aesthetic, spiritual, and therapeutic levels Emancipation is about the limit of our capacities to ingest and process information, as well as about the forces that compete for our information-processing powers and ultimately threaten us with sensory overload.<\/p>\n<p>The structure of this piece has a distinct and steady evolution over its course, save for the minuscule foreshadowing at the onset. It begins with a uniform distribution of many sounds; their bandwidth and average register, for example, as well as the natures of the sounds that comprise the vocabulary of the piece, create a uniform, dense, and rich (white noise like) environment.<\/p>\n<p>The greatest originality, in the sense of Information Theory, is in the opening sections, where one must try the greatest number of tests &#8212; do the most processing &#8212; in order to divine a message from the environment. This is because the sounds are evenly distributed or equiprobable.<\/p>\n<p>As the piece evolves, some messages are clearly deciphered and poke their way through the dense fabric. Acoustically this is due only to subtle subtractions, or an overall narrowing of the distribution of sounds.<\/p>\n<p>But in the third section where they suddenly become apparent, the messages just as suddenly fade because the very vocabulary of sounds goes through a radical replacement process: pitched sinusoids replace some of the broader bands of &#8220;white noise.&#8221; As a result our orientation bobs and weaves; comes and goes.<\/p>\n<p>And in the final section, waiting for us, there is an aural epiphany &#8212; an emancipation. Here the task of navigating the information environment becomes effortless and relaxed. It is easy to decipher. A sigh of relief comes from simplicity and understanding&#8230;. But nothing lasts forever and indeed so much is cyclical. Now, the foreshadowed beginning makes sense.<\/p>\n<p><a name=\"pn_postfromrajasthan\"><\/a><strong><em>Post from Rajasthan<\/em><\/strong> (2005, revised 2011) is a brief, abstract audio travelogue. It is a rendering of my wanderings around Rajasthan, India spanning a week before and after the year 2000 Millennium. It moves at a walking (sometimes brisk) pace through the territories and cultures it explores. This 2011 version adds another layer here and there onto the original, composed in 2005.<\/p>\n<p><a name=\"pn_couplings\"><\/a><strong><em>Couplings<\/em><\/strong> (2012,6:35) Independent and distinct threads of sound come into contact, or &#8220;couple,&#8221; at the exact instants at which they strongly exhibit either complementary or common sonic attributes. These are transient moments in which the different sounds might have been been one. Initially these couplings are expressed abruptly, as if a switch was encountered that forced a change in the sounds&#8217; established courses or behaviors. Approximately midway into the piece the coupling takes the form of a fusion of these sounds, creating a new and singular sound that is defined by the combination of the input sounds&#8217; dominant, or most perceptible, attributes. This marks a unifying moment in the piece and continues to define the work until the near-end, at which point some of the components detach and separate from the fused sound and reestablish their presence and independence.<\/p>\n<p><a name=\"pn_timepiece\"><\/a><strong><em>TimePiece (Berlin, September, 2010)<\/em><\/strong> (2010, ~15 minutes of a 14-hour installation, recorded at Gallery Ohrenhoch der Ger\u00e4uschladen in Berlin)<\/p>\n<p>The project takes the form of a site-specific and very compact sound installation, consisting of multiple sound playback devices (\u201cplayers\u201d), each of which responds to a hand-held remote control unit. Each player is associated with a particular physical zone within the small gallery space, and each player is programmed with a distinctive collection of sounds that will be most audible within that player&#8217;s physical zone.<\/p>\n<p>The \u201cremotes\u201d can be used by up to 8 people at a time to start, pause, skip, choose sounds, and control the volume of the individual players.\u00a0\u00a0The playfulness of the sounds and the remote controllability of the players will invite participation, particularly by children. But one goal of this piece to entertain anyone attending the gallery, even if no one chooses to take the controls.<\/p>\n<p>The piece is written for and inspired by my father, who will turn 101 this year. On a narrative level Timepiece (Berlin, September, 2010) is about the passage of time and, more specifically, lifetimes. Many of the sounds in the piece denote time. For example, clocks and clock-like sounds signify the counting and passage of time, while the chimes also mark time, but in slightly larger chunks, and the sounds of children, while playful, become strong reminders that \u201cyouth-time\u201d is fleeting. Clocks, chimes, children&#8230;, these are some of the sounds that make up the \u201cterrestrial\u201d plane \u2013 one of three spatial and symbolic planes on which the piece unfolds.<\/p>\n<p>The other two planes are the so-called \u201ccelestial\u201d and the \u201csubterranean.\u201d The celestial plane takes place above the listener, as much as is possible, using the gallery&#8217;s acoustically-optimized fixed loudspeaker installation, while the subterranean happens below, in a stairway leading down to the cellar. The terrestrial plane consists of sounds from this life and from this Earth. These are concrete sounds, as mentioned above, and many serve to mark time. The celestial world, which is projected from the ceiling, is painted with extremely high frequencies and barely audible materials \u2013 more audible to children, perhaps, than to adults &#8212; creating a sheen or a faint glistening that radiates over the entire space. Lastly, the subterranean sound world spews forth lower-register and guttural sounds.<\/p>\n<p>The physical structure and layout of the sound zones, and their players, and the sounds that are audible in and from each zone will help to direct the walk of the listener through the space. Although a listener&#8217;s path of motion through the space will influence their experience of the piece, there is no \u201cone way\u201d to proceed. All paths through and around the small space will be equally valid and will permit a unique but hopefully fulfilling and thought-provoking experience. This, of course, is the overall goal of the installation, Timepiece (Berlin, September, 2010).<\/p>\n<p>[Voiceover talent: Cheyenne Buzzelli, Alex Keagle, Charlie Keagle, and Annika Steeley.]<\/p>\n<p><a name=\"pn_combustible\"><\/a><strong><em>Combustible<\/em><\/strong> (2008-09, 9:30)<br \/>\nIntricate combinations of combustible materials (fuels, oxygen and ignitions) are brought into close proximity, sparking processes in the early phases of the piece that sputter and die out, leaving trails of heat and exhaust. The combinations become more efficient and volatile and begin to propel semi-stable processes that strive to connect and evolve. But after a few false steps this theater self-destructs, blowing itself to smithereens. Then nothing; an interlude in a void. But the vacuum gets penetrated and smashed then refilled and pulverized, only to make way for new combustible combinations and processes to flourish.<\/p>\n<p><a name=\"pn_squelch\"><\/a><strong><em>Squelch<\/em><\/strong> (2005-06, 14:10)<br \/>\nThe title Squelch refers to two things. First, repression. It is about the tendency of forces, both internal and external, to repress or squelch self-expression. One battles and negotiates with these forces, striving to give priority to the creative endeavor but not always winning. The second reference is to the so-called &#8220;squelch filter&#8221; that was built into higher priced consumer radios during the 1970s and 1980s. Before the squelch filter, tuning into a station meant you had to continuously dial through and listen to all of the &#8220;out-of-range&#8221; noise and distortion; stuff in the nether-regions of terrestrial signal emission and reception. (It was great fun hearing it, if you were aurally warped.) The squelch filter helped, kind of. It detects when the coherent signal becomes too weak and it mutes (squelches) the radio\u00d5s output. Often the gate came down only after you got a very noticeable glitch of noise or a faint but apparent fuzzing out of the signal. You would hear silence until you dialed into a clearly receivable signal again. I found a metaphor in the two references to &#8220;squelching.&#8221; Inspiration and creation is a fragile state, like the small frequency bands and physical ranges to which a radio station transmits and receives. Concentration and steadiness is required to maintain that state, and it can be so easily interrupted, much like a radio\u00d5s reception is thwarted by the slightest turn of the dial. Inspiration evaporates until it can be dialed in again. In this composition, which is three interwoven pieces, there is some music, representing\u00c9 music. You may hear it. There is also a lot of everyday concrete sound &#8212; real life, interrupting yet fueling inspiration and self-expression. And, there is the noise, fuzzing-out, distortion and breakage, representing the pre-squelch moment &#8212; that point just before the squelch filter kicks, or you reach a new &#8220;station&#8221; in the composition. The squelch moment can be either the end or the beginning of creation and abstraction. It just depends on how the dial is moving and your reception.<\/p>\n<p><a name=\"pn_cycle\"><\/a><strong><em>Cycle<\/em><\/strong> (2004, 7:22) After 30 years of composing and exploring diverse styles, Cycle is another of my little mutants. This deviant takes the form of so-called &#8220;Spectral Music&#8221;. The source sounds for Cycle are drawn almost exclusively from<br \/>\ntraditional orchestral instruments &#8212; thanks to <a href=\"http:\/\/theremin.music.uiowa.edu\" target=\"off\" rel=\"noopener\">The Electronic Music Studios of The University of Iowa <\/a>. These sounds are processed to varying degrees, from untouched to completely unrecognizable, depending on the function they serve within the piece at any moment.<\/p>\n<p>After Cycle&#8217;s initiation &#8211; the &#8220;breath of life&#8221; &#8211; the sound at any point in the piece could be classified in one of two states; either in-formation (fluid, evolving) or ossified (a solid block). Transients are introduced that either pulverize, absorb, or cause the current solid to diffuse rapidly. These transients also act as catalysts, influencing the evolution of the next formation.<\/p>\n<p><a name=\"pn_patz\"><\/a><strong><em>Note from Patzcuaro<\/em><\/strong> (2003, 4:17)<br \/>\nThe latest in a series of &#8220;audio postcards&#8221; (or abstract travelogues), which also includes portraits of Japan, Morocco, New York City, and Dalyan, Turkey. Patzcuaro is a relatively small town (population 45,000) nestled in the volcanic hillsides of the State of Michoacan, Mexico. The cultural center of this town is found in its 16th Century churches, outdoor markets, and Lake Patzcuaro. The piece is assembled from raw and processed field recordings that I made while visiting Patzcuaro in 1995.<\/p>\n<p>We open on a small church social; the church having a rather boisterous cricket within its congregation. The last half of the piece is drawn from recordings of a strolling mariachi group who, after several minutes of tuning up, rendered our request for <em>Una Vez Nada Mas<\/em> beautifully, as my wife and I sipped cervezas at a taco stand by the Lake. The middle section utilizes heavily processed versions of some of the original field recordings and is intended to paint some impressions of my 24 hour stay in this lovely town.<\/p>\n<p><a name=\"pn_plaid\"><\/a><strong><em>nomen plaid<\/em><\/strong> (2003, 8:00)<br \/>\n<em>nomen<\/em>, v.t. To take, to steal, to filch, to pilfer;<\/p>\n<p>n. Name.<\/p>\n<p>An artistically licensed (loose knit) plaid, woven from disparate sonic threads, broadly grouped by bandwidth and density &#8212; from pure sine tones to white noise, from continuous to particulate. Many switchbacks occur and the threads doubleback on themselves as the fabric materializes. But the end reveals the pattern\u00eas loop point, and the plaid is complete. This piece is dedicated to Debra.<\/p>\n<p><a name=\"pn_tfh\"><\/a><strong><em>Things Frankie Heard<\/em><\/strong> (2002, 12:23)<br \/>\nWhat if we heard the world the way cats do? To start with, our perceptible<br \/>\nfrequency range would increase five fold, topping out at 100kHz (versus<br \/>\nhuman&#8217;s measly 20kHz). Our ability to pinpoint the location of a sound<br \/>\nsource would also improve immensely. Cats can distinguish the locations<br \/>\nof two sounds emitted just 18 inches apart, at a distance of over 60 feet.<\/p>\n<p>Our first reaction to this proposition might<br \/>\nbe, &#8220;Sounds great! Where do I sign up?&#8221;\u00a0 But, imagine how severe<br \/>\nand frightening all of that sound might be, especially, if like cats, we<br \/>\nwere unable to grasp the meanings and relationships of those sounds.<br \/>\nWith our new hyper-acute sensitivity to sound, combined with our lack of<br \/>\nunderstanding about their sources, we would react fast and be perceived<br \/>\nas quite skittish.<\/p>\n<p>Sonic events that we too often take for granted,<br \/>\nsuch as the sounding of a car horn or siren, could be completely unnerving.<br \/>\nAnd simple changes in context of our sonic environment such as a phone<br \/>\nor doorbell ringing in a previously &#8220;bell-less&#8221; room, could send us through<br \/>\nthe roof, at least the first couple of times.<\/p>\n<p>The proposition &#8212; to hear like a cat &#8212; was<br \/>\none starting point for Things Frankie Heard.<\/p>\n<p>I didn?t attempt to play with the outer bounds of our frequency range<br \/>\nor localization capabilities. Instead, I opted to experiment with the effects<br \/>\nof context changes on our perception and orientation (or disorientation).<br \/>\nThe hypothesis is simple: our reaction or degree of disorientation to a<br \/>\ncontext change is proportional to the discontinuity and abruptness of the<br \/>\ntransition. To evoke the wits of a cat, I magnified the temporal transitions<br \/>\non multiple time scales. from the sub-phrase level (sound events in the<br \/>\none-quarter to one-second time frame) to the contextual level (sound segments<br \/>\nin the thirty-second to one-minute range).<\/p>\n<p>The sounds I put under the microscope are<br \/>\na combination of very familiar everyday sonic events, as well as purely<br \/>\nabstract sounds. The interplay between known and the unknown sounds are<br \/>\nused to either orient or disorient us.\u00a0 (Curiously, it?s often the<br \/>\nentry of everyday and familiar sounds in this piece that disorient us the<br \/>\nmost. )<\/p>\n<p>Most of all this piece is about (and for)<br \/>\nFrankie, who died in April 2002 of natural causes.\u00a0 For 18 years she<br \/>\nwas my constant feline companion and Miews.\u00a0 She sat with me, attentively<br \/>\nor not, through all my tinkerings with sound, and she taught me many things<br \/>\nabout listening.<\/p>\n<p><a name=\"pn_jwake\"><\/a><strong><em>J-Wake<\/em><\/strong> (2001, 12:45)<br \/>\nJ-Wake was inspired by the gradual erosion of footprints in sand, caused<br \/>\nby forces such as wind and repeated waves lapping up and over the shoreline.<br \/>\nIt is a process of deconstruction; the disintegration of that which was<br \/>\ninitially whole and identifiable, into that which is indistinguishable<br \/>\nfrom its surroundings.<\/p>\n<p>This disintegration process is a continuum.<br \/>\nOnly if it is observed from beginning to end can one say exactly when the<br \/>\nimpression, which was initially distinct from its surroundings, became<br \/>\nso deformed that it was no longer identifiable as a distinct entity. At<br \/>\nwhat point does any object that is subject to disintegration, erosion,<br \/>\nand decay lose it?s identity and cease to be what it was? This is the process<br \/>\nI attempted to model &#8212; the question I attempted to answer &#8212; when I set<br \/>\nout to compose J-Wake.<\/p>\n<p>This piece is dedicated to the memory of a<br \/>\ndeparted friend, Steve &#8220;Jake&#8221; Jacobson.\u00a0 His proactive, exuberant,<br \/>\nand uncompromising personality made an indelible impression on\u00a0 all<br \/>\nwho were privileged to know him.<\/p>\n<p><a name=\"pn_haiku\"><\/a><strong><em>five haiku<\/em><\/strong> (2000, 20:38)<br \/>\nThe inspirations for this work came during sittings atop the Broadway steps,<br \/>\noverlooking San Francisco&#8217;s Financial District, North Beach, and Chinatown.<br \/>\nHere, numerous &#8220;haiku&#8221; blew into mind, effortlessly and as naturally as<br \/>\nbreathing.<\/p>\n<p>Written over a two-year period, each of the<br \/>\nfive pieces interprets a different poem. There are no clear divisions between<br \/>\nthe poem-pieces, instead the music illuminates each poem through the choices<br \/>\nand relationships of the sounds, moment by moment. Rather than literal<br \/>\nrenderings of the poems? rhythms or texts, the pieces are abstract translations<br \/>\nfrom the word-verbal to the abstract sonic realm. In the end, &#8220;the voice&#8221;<br \/>\nof the poems is preserved. (All of the following poems except the last<br \/>\nare by Thom Blum.)<\/p>\n<p>old day, caf\u00e9<\/p>\n<p>thoughts and smoke drift out the window<\/p>\n<p>onto the streets below<\/p>\n<p>&#8211;tb<\/p>\n<p>big city glowing<\/p>\n<p>fingers of light poke through<\/p>\n<p>billowing fog mist<\/p>\n<p>&#8211;tb<\/p>\n<p>bright day car<\/p>\n<p>taped-up door-window<\/p>\n<p>bakes in the sun<\/p>\n<p>&#8211;tb<\/p>\n<p>a pin dropping, sounds<\/p>\n<p>shattering the silence that<\/p>\n<p>cradles the sleeping drunk<\/p>\n<p>&#8211;tb<\/p>\n<p>old pond<\/p>\n<p>a frog leaps in<\/p>\n<p>water?s sound<\/p>\n<p>&#8211;basho<\/p>\n<p><em>five haiku<\/em> is electroacoustic music. The raw materials include<br \/>\nfield recordings made on walks in San Francisco that were processed and<br \/>\nmixed using a variety of computer software: U&amp;I Software&#8217;s MetaSynth,<br \/>\nDigidesign&#8217;s ProTools, Cloud Generator (Roads and Alexander), Alberto Ricci&#8217;s<br \/>\nSoundMaker, various signal-processing and effects software created by Muscle<br \/>\nFish, Steinberg and Digidesign.<\/p>\n<p><a name=\"pn_maroc\"><\/a><strong><em>Maroc<\/em><\/strong> (1998, 21:13) is an audio<br \/>\npostcard, or abstract travelogue, composed from over 500 found (live) and<br \/>\nimaginary (constructed) recordings, which were drawn from a trip I made<br \/>\nto Morocco in December 1997. The sounds include many street scenes made<br \/>\nin the medinas (old cities) of Fez, Tanjer, Marrekesh, and Chef-chaouen.<br \/>\nBoth secular and sacred life of the country is represented.<\/p>\n<p>The piece represents roughly one day in the<br \/>\nlife of Morocco, compressing 24 hours down to roughly 20 minutes. The piece<br \/>\ntraces my December 1997 trip to seven cities in Morocco in quasi-chronological<br \/>\norder, however Morocco is not the least bit &#8220;linear,&#8221; and therefore the<br \/>\nwork makes no attempts at one-to-one correspondences between the original<br \/>\nand compressed time scales. The resulting piece is much like the country<br \/>\nitself: Getting one&#8217;s bearings and staying on course are not easy tasks,<br \/>\nbut trying is a lot of fun.<\/p>\n<p>passages\/roadmap<\/p>\n<p>1. Night train from Casablanca<\/p>\n<p>2. A thousand welcomes\/Alf-marhabat<\/p>\n<p>3. Outdoor reception\/The Pond<\/p>\n<p>4. First call to prayer<\/p>\n<p>5. Door&#8217;s open: rocked innocent &amp; pure<\/p>\n<p>6. Inculture shock<\/p>\n<p>7. Second call<\/p>\n<p>8. a&#8217;maze&#8217;in&#8217; Medinas (Fez &amp; Chaouen)<\/p>\n<p>9. Third call<\/p>\n<p>10. A twist in the maze &#8212; mint tea &amp; kif<\/p>\n<p>11. Square ecstacy (Marrakesh)<\/p>\n<p>12. And so it goes, In&#8217;sha-Allah<\/p>\n<p>13. Last call<\/p>\n<p>14. And on it goes, Allah willing<\/p>\n<p>All of these raw recordings were digitized<br \/>\ninto an Apple Macintosh computer, and then mixed and processed by the composer<br \/>\nusing a variety of sound-processing software including Turbosynth and Sound<br \/>\nDesigner II (Digidesign), Cloud Generator (Roads &amp; Alexander), Hyperprism<br \/>\n(Arboretum), Deck II (OSC), and MF-DSP (Muscle Fish). The work was realized<br \/>\nover a four-month period, from December, 1997 through March, 1998.<\/p>\n<p><a name=\"pn_parker\"><\/a><strong><em>To My Son Parker, Asleep in the Next Room<\/em><\/strong><br \/>\n(1996, 9:34)<br \/>\nThe poem To My Son Parker, Asleep in the Next Room was written<br \/>\nby Bob Kaufman sometime around 1960 as an ode to his son, named after Charlie<br \/>\nParker. Although less famous than his cohorts in the Beat movement (Ginsberg,<br \/>\nFerlinghetti, Corso, McClure, etc.), Kaufman was nevertheless held in high<br \/>\nesteem by them and with good cause.<\/p>\n<p>Parker is an awesome and apocalyptic poem,<br \/>\nalmost biblical in temperament. It&#8217;s an epic work in scope, though not<br \/>\nin length. In the course of its brief duration, the poem offers a startlingly<br \/>\ncomprehensive history of Humankind. It focuses both on our seemingly innate<br \/>\ndesire to enslave and conquer each other, and on our need to succumb to<br \/>\nsome forces outside our self: some god, idol, totem, or monolith.<\/p>\n<p>But more than an epic, this poem is a prayer<br \/>\nfor an evolved humanity &#8212; what else would we expect from a Father to<br \/>\nhis son.\u00a0 In the final stanza, Bob Kaufman sketches a new faith based<br \/>\non freedom, self-determination, and mastery of self rather than of others.<\/p>\n<p>I would like to thank Vic Bedoian for graciously<br \/>\nagreeing to send me his cassette tape recordings of readings of Bob Kaufman&#8217;s<br \/>\npoetry.\u00a0 Roscoe Lee Brown provides the reading of the poem used in<br \/>\nthis piece. Two books of Bob Kaufman&#8217;s poetry, both published by New Directions,<br \/>\nprovided the inspiration.These are Solitudes Crowded with Loneliness and<br \/>\nThe Ancient Rain: Poems 1956-1978.<\/p>\n<p>Source sounds for this piece consist of natural<br \/>\nfield recordings and voice. All sounds were processed on an Apple Macintosh<br \/>\ncomputer using a variety of software, including Turbosynth and Sound Design<br \/>\nII (Digidesign), Hyperprism (Arboretum), Alchemy (Passport), assorted DSP<br \/>\nalgorithms (Muscle Fish),Cloud Generator (Roads &amp; Alexander), and Deck<br \/>\nII (OSC).<\/p>\n<p><a name=\"pn_jpost\"><\/a><strong><em>Japanese Postcard<\/em><\/strong> (1995, 14:18)<br \/>\nis the first in a series of &#8220;audio postcards&#8221;. It is mixed from on-location<br \/>\nrecordings I made in Japan in the late 1980s and early &#8217;90s. Japanese Postcard<br \/>\nis somewhat narrative in that it attempts to document the impressions,<br \/>\nbefore and after the visits. The source recordings were made in Tokyo,<br \/>\nHamamatsu, and Kyoto.\u00a0 The sounds are intentionally left in a somewhat<br \/>\nraw, unprocessed state so as to capture the actual Japanese soundscape.<br \/>\nIn general, my &#8220;postcard&#8221; pieces are more documentary than musical but,<br \/>\nof course, that opinion may vary from listener to listener depending on<br \/>\nthe ear of the beholder.<\/p>\n<p><a name=\"pn_pedal\"><\/a><strong><em>Three Studies for Pedal Steel <\/em><\/strong>(1995,<br \/>\n9:07) &#8220;Pedal Stolen&#8221;, &#8220;Stedal Peel&#8221;, &#8220;Sample Bash Rag&#8221;. These brief pieces,<br \/>\neach approximately 3\u00a0 minutes in duration, are a culmination of the<br \/>\ncomposer&#8217;s life-long love for the pedal steel guitar, and the\u00a0 genres<br \/>\nin which it is typically heard.\u00a0 The original content for these pieces<br \/>\nconsists entirely of recordings of pedal steel which were digitally processed<br \/>\nusing Turbosynth and Sound Design II (Digidesign), Hyperprism (Arboretum),<br \/>\nAlchemy (Passport), and Max (Opcode).<\/p>\n<p>The forms for the pieces are quite simple<br \/>\nand are derived from typical Country &amp; Western songs. Only as the three<br \/>\nstudies unfold do the more traditional sounds of the pedal steel guitar<br \/>\nreveal themselves.<\/p>\n<p>The composer acknowledges Peter Siegel<br \/>\nand Buddy Emmonds, whose pedal steel playing served as both the source<br \/>\nand inspiration for these pieces.<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>For the program notes to pieces composed after 2019, click here Epenthesis (2019, 12:25), with percussionist Ron Pelletier This piece follows the lives of two timbral \u201ccommunities\u201d. One community consists of a small set of digitally-synthesized, processed, and manually-edited sound &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/www.thomblum.com\/?page_id=52\">Continue reading <span class=\"meta-nav\">&rarr;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":43,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thomblum.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/52"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thomblum.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thomblum.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thomblum.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thomblum.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=52"}],"version-history":[{"count":20,"href":"https:\/\/www.thomblum.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/52\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":717,"href":"https:\/\/www.thomblum.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/52\/revisions\/717"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thomblum.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/43"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thomblum.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=52"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}