donderdag 30 december 2010

Comment: Kennicott on active listening

In the February 2010 issue of Gramophone magazine there was an unusually perspicacious column by Philipp Kennicott, culture critic for the Washington Post, in which he captured very well what 'active listening' would ideally be about:
I'm interested in a listening device that actually helps one listen. We've had a century of remarkable progress in machines that reproduce music but most of those machines explicitly aimed to mimic the concert experience. I'm interested in machines that would enhance or develop the concert experience into something entirely different. First order of business: I want a device that can scroll the musical score as the music is playing but not require that I sit at a computer screen. I want to see the music passing by no matter where I'm listening — lying down, sitting on a train, jogging. This may mean projecting it onto a screen, or some kind of invisible screen, or maybe even using holographic technology. Now, if I'm feeling lazy, or lend my new device to someone who isn't proficient at score reading, I want the option for the score to standardise.

We're not through yet. Given the advances in video game technology, perhaps we should have another option that represents music in sculptural form. The listener will pick the basic shapes — Euclidean solids, cloud forms, fractal patterns, Henry Moore statues — and the computer will use them to represent the basic elements of music. This should be sophisticated enough that I can turn it on, project it onto a table top and leave it playing alongside the music, like kinetic sculpture.
And while we're at it, I may desire to hear certain inner lines more clearly than the musicians are projecting them. It would be nice if, when I reached out and touched them (either in the score or in their sculptural analogue) they would become more prominent. Thus I could listen to the performance much more interactively, more like a conductor than a mere audience-member.

It should also be wired into a huge musical encyclopedia and database, complete with a catalogue of thematic material that allows the listener to stop the music and say, hey, isn't that like a theme I know from Mahler? I want the answer to that question, and I want it now. Of course, we're going to want some default switches on this device, so that it's absolutely clear when the listener is interfering with the "truth" of the recording. And as with all new gizmos, the more options the better, so if I want to use the machine like an ordinary DVD player, I can turn off the "extras" and simply watch the musicians perform.

I'm not holding my breath. The technology is probably the least of the problems. The main issue is that this fantasy listening device fills a need that not many people recognise: to listen more actively. Listening generally falls into the category of entertainment, and technology often assumes that what people want (in addition to listening) is distraction. Most of the half-hearted attempts to create classical music video tend towards this direction — visual fantasies that seem almost apologetic about the music they supposedly serve.

My device would be completely different, using the emergent gaming technology and video wizardry entirely in service of the score, the performance and the listener's curiosity about the construction of the music itself. Which is why I'm not expecting to see it on the market any time soon. But if it arrives, and prices come down to reasonable levels, I'll put it straight on my wish-list.

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