John Oswald: 'Pretender' (Dolly Parton)

First sounds are like a reel of tape slipping and falling into a very echoey cavern. A chipmunk sounding Dolly Parton breaks through the noise and after a few words is at the speed we can recognize her voice. She sings over organ sounds. She's lonely but no one can tell. I don't notice the tape gradually slowing down at first but it becomes apparent when Dolly's high pitched voice starts to sounds like it belongs to a man. It continues to grow slower and slower and the question of her real gender arrises? Then with a last attempt she speeds up and I find myself back in a concert hall somewhere in Nashville. I had no idea there were so many sides to Ms. Parton. How was this track originally recorded?

Malcom McLaren And The World Famous Supreme Team...Late :/

Sweaty lo-fi brooklyn pirate radio stations trying to drown out the summer afternoon with shade and hip hop come to mind. Brownsville, is that where DJ shadow is from? now i hear Big Boi samples, Marshal Mathers influence, all immediate realizations that this song is much bigger than it ever realized it would be. Gorgeous camelwalk stutter on the sample arrangement, and it cleans up the pace in a moments switchup, like seeing a funky robbery in progress to sober you out of your drunken August street wandering. Tight drum rhythms and ecstasy synth stabs to send it into the sky; sarcastic musings on american white person culture of the dance, a dance that we know to be the stiffest dancing of them all, the complete opposite of funky and hip hop, the complete opposite of soul and of breaking tradition, of chopping and screwing, taking a sample of this culture and throwing in an entirely different one on the same bar to make a third. Summer heat vibes or dry tundra evenings aside, how did i suddenly just get so sweaty?

Buffalo Gas

The song is introduced by a DJ, which is layered over racing paced harmonics. As we transition from the DJ to the song, the last word of the DJ, “brown Phil,” starts skipping and the words begin to twist and contort so “brown” becomes “round.” A quick ascending percussion sequence with a slight hiss hijacks the beat. Different pitches, notes, and tones coalesce to create an interchanging musical dialogue. Blunt beats sizzle against open syllables. A sped up, high pitched voice that can only be described as “expressing shock” intersects with the back beat. The interplay between notes and beats is fused together by the DJ’s scratches. Having different durations and speeds, these tonal sutures give the song a degree of cohesion. The DJ changes the tempo and a baritone voice slowed down acts as a foil to sharp harmonics. Ephemeral breaks and loops texture the beat, while choruses of different vocal harmonies frame it. They increase speed, building toward anticipation—a hanging climax. Then an audible voice becomes the figure, in a figure/ground like configuration. The grain of the voice is lucid. It is played over a synthesized, sharp sound that punctuates the words. The beat cites rhythms introduced in the beginning of the song and mixes them with a cornucopia of new clips and loops. Words are deconstructed, reduced to their parts. The DJ fixates at the oration of a sound—he makes the words stutter. The DJ lets the record go and the song slows down. The tempo and beat quickly changes, a new set of samples is introduced laid against a new voice, slow enough to hear his words. The DJ then transitions to the earlier constellation of loops, as the song slows down again. The song start to speed up, the audible voice is being supplemented by sharp horns. Buffalo Gals is a sonic collage, gesturing and citing a number of different listening experiences. I wonder how many different songs (and sounds) were listened too in order to produce this one song? That is, this composition is the sedimentation many layers of noise, what was the invention process?

Jukebox Capriccio

As the song starts out, I almost immediately feel irritated. The repeated high pitched scratches are grating on the ears to listen to, like someone pulled tape through the player too fast. Some of the noises are fairly regular for periods of time, almost like a clock ticking. The sound alternates between the left and right headphones sometimes, but is mostly played simultaneously. As it continues the song picks up with a more action-like feeling and it is clearer what instruments might be making the sounds. The noises are more of a "dah-dah, dah-dah, dahnana" as the action picks up, rather than scratching and little beeps. A solid beat develops for a moment, but then is just as quickly lost in another string of scratching noises. It becomes more frantic feeling at the end for a few seconds and then mellows out again into a fairly normal feeling beat, compare to the rest of the song. None of it felt particularly deep. I have to wonder, just what made the composer feel like these noises went well together?

Williams Mix - listened by Nicole Rende

At the beginning there is a beep beep sound to start of the changing of the frequencies. Frequencies change rapidly from high to low. Between high to low frequencies there is a different sound. Some are familiar and some are foreign. These sounds pop up out of no where and make the track louder or not as loud. These sounds range from songs to talking to sounds you hear in everyday. The frequency change is very repetitive. A beep interrupts the frequency a few times. Frequency tends to be lower in general. There is a low froglike noise that repeats very often. The end is of a group of people clapping and as the track comes to an end the clapping is gradually louder and louder then it slows down then repeats this process. Then the clapping subsides for good. Why would someone write a song that sounds like it is on the radio, isn’t the point of recording a song because you want it to sound clean?

Metcalf Meets the Sonic Material of Christian Marclay's, Jukebox Capriccio

Static ping pongs in sharp crackles from R -> L and back to center, giving way to a tonal slide that seems to fold in and back on itself. This with an underbelly of unrecognizable voices moving at high speed (and backwards?) introduce a loud but distant series of clangs that are interrupted by rough low tones. A single high frequency note sounds. A "ba-dum-doom" breaks in and sits at the bottom, repeating on a steady rhythm. Other beats rise up on top and float between my ears, punctuated by high pitch squeals that stretch and compress. Other notes glide through the frequency range in short bursts and gradually become more consistent until they reach a crescendo and then fall away. I can't help but think of 70's film grain and a slick black suit, skulking behind corners, partly concealed in thick puffs of cigar smoke. "Ba-dum-doom" becomes a "doot…-…doot-doot…-…dot"". The sloping and squealing high frequencies return with a renewed vigor, a cloud of fragments and shards swarming the upper register. The rhythm intensifies, speeding up with the cloud then drops off, spaces out, echoes across the left and gives a little air-- "ba-dop-da-dop-ba-dop-da-dop", the ba-dum-doom coming back, but now, "maudd-muuuud-mooooood", the familiar but in reverse, resting on a deep "waa-waa-waa-waa-waa-waa" awash in color and reverb. a descending melody plays as a rapid beat jumps on top for only a moment and leaves you mid phrase. The composition has an incredible gravity, each listen (out of 15 or so) revealing new complexity, despite the jagged and chaotic--at times even seemingly random--structure. Over repeat listens the disparate elements are united in my mind by an intangible familiarity, each calling up cinematic images from different genres, musical and visual, embodying an emotional and sometimes social essence of a time or place. Does the power of this piece (and perhaps many remixes) rely on familiarity with a cultural language of image and sound? By extension, is any chaotic system just a system that we lack the language to unravel?

Listening to John Oswald's "Pretender (Dally Proton)"

High pitched, fragmented sounds shift and change fancifully as they are sped up and slowed back down, dramatically lowering in pitch until Dolly Parton’s famous voice takes over the focus. Her voice is gradually altered, and the breaks make it seem as if she is stuttering on the ends of her words, slowly deepening her voice to a rich, soulful bass and eventually to masculine depths of pitch. As the frequency slows so does the speed of playback; the background music and singers lag operatically. About two and a half minutes in, the track reaches an pivotal point and begins to speed up again, rapidly, as the vocal layer returns at its original pitch and speed. Finally, three minutes in, Dolly’s voice is split, or doubled, in a schizoid alteration that allows her a concluding duet with her bass alter ego. Most of the final minute is a quiet and consistent vocal loop. What could be the intended meaning of this piece adapted from Dolly Parton’s already-distinct cover of the classic song from the 1950’s? Is there a self-referential play on words here between the content of the song and the changing vocal identity of the singer?

Imaginary Landscape No. 4 by John Cage- A Listen by Mali

A tuning of building up noise starts off then almost immediately turns into an instant chaotic switching and changing of noises. The variety goes into stations of a calming beat to a foreign language station to news of the weather and even economic conditions. Some voices appear and disappear for just a second combined with clear and vague sounds.  In between the chaos, there is a mix of incomprehensible noises, the sounds of the transitions being made. The volume changes from high to low and low to high after each station switching, just as fast as the stations are also changing. There is a a prolonged silence about two minutes in the recording, an uncomfortable feeling that tricks the mind to think the piece has ended, but in fact it has not.  My mind, at this moment, seems to be lost and floating along this landscape of in and out of fragmented sounds and wanting to find the next sound, since the sudden noiseless spots are uncomfortable and interrupt the flow of the chaos.  A prolonged period of white noise and static sounds and then a slight comprehensible stations of music and news reports appears. The stations start being changed faster and faster and stops abruptly to other stations, almost as if they were choreographed formulaically. There are instances where you hear only a note, a sound, a word, or just a noise.  Towards the end, there seems to be another foreign language station with sounds and noises that go in and out of the background and sometimes even overlap. Every station change becomes a mystery because you are curious to what each station is, since each noise, sound, beat, voice, announcement is incomplete. The combination of empty spaces and variety of all these sounds and noises does not allow you to just stay on one station for longer than a few seconds to actually make out what is happening, what is enjoyable, and what is being said from one or a combination of two separate and competing sources. How can a piece of such chaos work and make the listener play the piece over and over and every time a new experience seems to come about? And would you ever be able to figure out the pattern, if there is in fact an order to the chaos of intersecting radio waves and airwaves?

John Cage - Williams Mix

I hear high and low pitches of frequent switching of frequencies and rhythms. There are very few recognizable sounds but every once in awhile I hear a recognizable melody, like the cartoon-like music or the quiet talking sounds in the background. Everything sounds very electronic because of the frequent movement between channels. I hear deep tones of classical music (possibly) combined with the high sounds of reverberating noises. The sounds are very brief so there are few distinct words. The reverberating noise repeats. Again, there is a lot of movement from high to low pitches. I hear the sound of low croaking in the background and the same feminine voice with the reverberating sounds (laughing?). The voices and sounds are now getting faster and more chaotic. A brief break immediately after with small pauses between sounds. I hear the sound of low croaking in the background more frequently now. There are scratchy noises and a lot of clicking and movement between frequencies. I think I hear a recognizable melodic sound. Now it is a large break and then sounds of clapping and cheering from an audience. The rhythmic and low muffled sounds are layered with high pitched and random loud sounds.This continues for awhile and continues to get louder and louder as the break from the frequent changes continues. These sounds intensify. The crowd quiets as the track ends. How does a track that seems to be a collage of random sounds and songs end up coming together with chorus-like parts that help the track maintain a constant rhythm and cohesion?

Christian Marclay - Jukebox Capriccio, as heard by Phil Bain

An amalgam of different noises and melodies, patched together and spliced apart. Ripped open and stuffed with off-beat rhythms and out of key notes. Tempo's shift on a dime, punctuated by high pitched wails, punch cuts, and wobbly repetitions. A slow, loping melody gives way to an anxious beat that echoes and reverberates from a seemingly far away place. In another moment, all is swept away by a sudden, but not quite abrasive cacophony of sound elements moving rapidly backwards and away from you. A low, thumping, and rich rhythm takes over and leads the way forward again. A familiar tone beeps itself into the foreground-- for a moment, the recognizable melody of "Tainted Love" can be heard. The sounds briefly coalesce, tricking the listener into thinking a cohesive song might emerge from this mess. Then as suddenly as it appeared, it is gone; whirled back in time and replaced by a sparse, paranoid selection. The noises continue to build and layer upon one another, soaring once again to a raging crescendo of patchwork sounds, culled from any number of indeterminate sources; they are as recognizable as they are foreign. As the crescendo reaches its peak the layers of sound are once again ripped away. A more calm melody brings us to the end of the track, giving an uplifting, yet strangely unwelcome finale. As if to say, "it was all a dream; you won't remember any of this when you wake up." How can a track with limited or no melodic or structural cohesion, such as this, be as intriguing as it is, and maintain my attention beyond the simple novelty of a noise collage? 

The first minute of Jukebox Capriccio by Christian Marclay : a Listening by Andrew Edwards

Sounds crackle, an object emerges. Flickering and popping. It collapses and wiggles, then explodes outwards again, forming a recognizable representational image in my mind, though shrouded in more twisting and contortions. Its almost impossible for the landscape not to take on recognizable forms here. Higher brighter sharpness shoot out of the main form. They coalesce into a denser form and then collapse. One cycle emerges, repeating and folding back into itself while a second tries to form recognizable images but is continually exploding out of it. The whole field forms a jumble and then Breaks into a static screech. A cascading rhythm falls away then trickles in itself lower. Wiggles and thumps. A twisting blast and then hoarse wheezing honks loop. Melody tracks slips beneath moving honks wheezing. Recognizable rhythms attempt to emerge, but on top of them a twisting melding stream spirals around and then falls away. Three trains of motion, One: rhythms chomping away until they form another cascade that falls from high to low, while TWO; The wiggle melody is trying to squirm its way though, while THIRD: A steady chordal harmonic song is rising. Then as the First falls into cascade the Second twists and spirals in on itself, and the drumming rhythms take over the field. A honk emerges and folds itself to the right. The THREE forms battle for the stage as the rightward honking blasts one, two, three. It is growing with higher blips. Rhythm and shards of melody loop and continue… This work is dense, with multiple lines twisting alongside each other. The stage is never still, with new lines pushing down others continually. It is always changing.