Another standalone audio-visual video piece constructed from found video recordings from the null/point archives. This one is more of a 'music video' in the traditional sense than the other videos I've made. The music track evolved from an old track that I started working on almost five years ago, but could never fit into the context of an album. The working title was "Fluorescent Streets," so it seemed like a natural fit once the video track started coming together.
In the liner notes of the first null/point album I discussed how, although the music of contemporary western civilization is filled with endless variations on rhythm, timbre, and instrumentation, the similar systems of recording and playback technology used to listen to that music form a certain strata of "sacred instruments" all of their own. The humming signal of an AM radio or the warm crackle of a turntable stylus unite generational swaths of our technological society much more closely than the actual music that may be intertwined with those sounds; almost any two turntables or any two radios sound exponentially more similar in their own sonic idiosyncrasies than the disparate musical styles also coming from their respective speakers.
I have always been interested in exploring, particularly in the context of the null/point project, the additional element of music which takes place between the performer and the listener. Even from several feet directly in front of a musician playing an acoustic instrument, differences in temperature and humidity and the nuances of the reverberant surroundings will have an effect on what sonically passes between the musician and the listener. And while these factors may be inconsequential, the deeper subtleties of the context of the performance, and even the thoughts and emotions of the listener, can almost completely alter what is heard. And this is simply the case for direct listening, with the listener and the musician (or source of sound in general) in the same physical space at the same time. With recorded music, however, the spectrum of possibilities becomes infinite. And this is where fidelity becomes an issue. At the dawn of recorded music (Edison's first phonograph cylinder was invented in 1877; thus a relatively recent milestone made incredibly ancient by the seeming compression of technological time in the 20th century and since), while the express purpose of recording was to capture sound in as lifelike a manner as possible, the limitations of the available technology made only a rough facsimile of the original acoustics possible. But as each advance in equipment for recording and playing back music as accurately as possible became available, it was quickly adopted as the new industry standard. Higher fidelity, it seemed, was always preferable, and the willingness of the listener to invest in higher-quality equipment would directly correlate to their listening enjoyment.
The advent of the digital age has corroded this paradigm. The sound quality of the first commercially available compact discs was a poor substitute for that of vinyl records, but nor were they meant to be a serious competitor in the eyes of an audiophile. Instead, they were designed to replace the cassette tape as a higher-fidelity means of portable storage, since vinyl is relatively heavy and fragile to wield anywhere except in the close proximity of a home stereo system. This was the first major step in the direction of a new paradigm: listeners, faced with a new choice between convenience and audio quality, preferred convenience. And musicians and listeners quickly adapted, making and mixing music to fit the new medium. Listen to a recording from the 60's or 70's on both vinyl and on an early CD re-release. It's not even that the digital recording sounds bad (although, chances are, it does); it just sounds wrong. On the other hand, listen to a pop or electronic album newly released the same year that the older album was re-released, and chances are it will sound much more listenable and almost comfortable. Obviously, CD technology has continued to progress since its introduction in the early 80's, and the possibilities and limitations of digital recording now and then are a much deeper topic for discussion on an acoustic level. But the cultural (or even, to some degree, pan-cultural) connotations we attach to these media themselves remain relatively constant between listeners. Music of the digital age sounds better in a digital format to almost any listener who can apply some historical context. Granted, while the sum of human history is ever-more-rapidly being digitized and consumed by the carrion-feeding digital zeitgeist, it is less and less jarring to hear recordings from the 30's and 40's (and, on occasion, even earlier) emanating from a car stereo or a pair of errant headphones. But imagine a pop album from last year being played through an Edison gramophone, and you'll have some gauge of how closely we associate a musical style with its contemporary medium.
In the modern age, the scope of the music-listening experience continues to extend, to purely digital files played back on devices which are simply too small to offer any semblance of audio quality (players built primarily as telephones and computers, playing through miniaturized speakers and ear buds; the ultimate in convenience over fidelity), and to a resurgence of appreciation for the highest possible fidelity (lubricated by the renewed interest in vinyl, something which can actually still be physically sold by a music industry still grasping for physical objects to sell). But above the absolute floor of simply not being able to hear anything (and even then, a more philosophical argument could be made for the fidelity of silence itself in an increasingly noisy world), audio quality is completely relative, and every method of storing and delivering music is to some degree imperfect. While a degree of cultural memory (or even nostalgia) like that which we place on, for instance, the sound of a cassette tape rewinding, or of the needle dropping on a 45 rpm record, may take some time to crystallize, we can still see the context of its own storage and playback media emerging around modern music. In some ways, its extremes mirror those of how music itself has increasingly become disparately omnipresent and meaningless, like a sonic fog to be ignored; and as an almost fetish-like symbol of individuality and tribal identity in an increasingly homogenized world. But while neither of these assumes the original sacred role music once held for humanity, there is still an emerging cultural sacred music. It sounds like the over-compression necessary to make music audible on ear buds with an extremely limited frequency response. It sounds like the distortion of a low sample rate coming through a cellular phone speaker. And it sounds like the chirp of a digital glitch, replacing the skip of a CD, replacing the screech of cassette tape being ingested by the playback head, replacing the repetitive pop of a needle stuck in a scratched vinyl groove, and becoming simply the latest in a long and proud lineage of things we've been listening to while trying to listen to music.
While the human ear can detect a range of audible wavelengths between roughly 20 and 20,000 Hz, there are several ways we can also perceive signals outside of this range, through means other than actual auditory sound. One of these techniques is the use of binaural beats, tones or audio artifacts which are perceived by the brain within the difference between two separate audible signals. For instance, if one ear hears a steady tone of 440 Hz, while the other ear hears a steady tone of 424 Hz, the brain can perceive the difference in vibration of 16 Hz, and will “hear” that tone, despite it being below the range of human hearing. Note that the key factor in this effect is the separation between the two signals being heard by the individual ears; the use of headphones is absolutely essential in the perception of binaural beats, since even in a stereo recording played back on speakers, both ears hear essentially all of both stereo signals. Find a pair of headphones of reasonable quality and listen to the following sound:
The right channel plays a steady tone of 220 Hz, while the left channel plays a steady tone of 212.17 Hz. The brain will also perceive the difference of 7.83 Hz. This frequency, incidentally, is the root note of what are known as the Schumann resonances, the frequency at which the Earth’s electromagnetic field vibrates. Obviously, it cannot be heard with the naked ear, but using binaural beat frequencies, it can be approximated and perceived.
Using binaural beat frequencies in this way is interesting, but has little value beyond its simple novelty. The phenomenon was discovered in 1839 by the Prussian physicist and meteorologist Heinrich Wilhelm Dove, but it was not until the work of Gerald Oster in the 1970s that binaural beats were revisited and their potential fully explored. Oster himself made several advances in the treatment of multiple neurological ailments, using binaural beats as both a therapeutic and diagnostic tool (for instance, an inability to perceive binaural beats can be indicative of Parkinson’s disease), and began applying his research to biological studies as well, including noting a correlation between an ability to perceive certain low frequencies and the menstrual cycle in women. In the last forty years, the study of binaural beats has been seized upon by the fringe and pseudo-sciences, to varying degrees of credibility. The basic theories involving the use of binaural beats to mentally and physically influence the listener, however, are scientifically sound and intriguing. The phenomenon called the ‘frequency following response’ causes the human brain to synchronize its brainwave activity (to varying degrees) with any other frequency close to its own. Human brainwaves travel on very low frequencies, ranging from the 40 Hz or slightly higher of the Gamma wave (the brain at its maximum functionality), to the 7 to 13 Hz of the Alpha wave (the usual range of the brain while awake and alert), to the below 4 Hz of Delta waves (the brain in the deepest, dreamless sleep). Since we are not generally aware of these frequencies, and cannot replicate them easily using traditional musical instruments and sound equipment, the frequency following response rarely becomes a factor in our daily lives. Using binaural beats, however, these frequencies can be easily attained, and using the frequency following response we can increase or decrease the activity of various frequencies within the brain of the listener, guiding the activity of the brain from one state to another.
I may later discuss the further possibilities of binaural beat frequencies, but for now you have a basic understanding of the science behind Obdormiscere (found here). Underlying the ambient elements is a tone containing binaural beats which, over the course of 30 minutes, decrease from 15 Hz (A normal, waking Beta state) to 3 Hz (The threshold between Theta and Delta waves, comparable to sleep or deep meditation). Obviously, many factors will influence the degree to which this may or may not cause a specific listener's brain to follow the same pattern, but give it a try if you have an extra half hour, and let me know how it goes.
Having recently completed and offered here the first manifesto of Void Sigil material, I thought I would take this opportunity to upload some of my older null/point work as well, to provide some insight into the evolution of what became the Void Sigil philosophy. One of the later null/point experiments, this track, as I said at the time, "...is an experimental ambient track designed to gradually reduce the listener's brainwaves from an Beta state of wakefulness to the Delta state approximating deep sleep. I have incorporated elements of white noise and carrier tones employing the principles of binaural beat frequencies, which I will explain more fully in a subsequent post. To take advantage of these elements, however, you will need to listen using stereo headphones with a full frequency response, not ear buds or speakers. It is intended to be heard in darkness with closed eyes, in a comfortable seated or reclined position. It can also be listened to in any other circumstances as a piece of ambient sound design, if you would prefer."
Welcome to Void Sigil Records. Void Sigil as an audio and audio-visual project is the evolution of my former project, null/point, and Void Sigil Records is the label under which I publish music and other audio. This space exists as a place to share the ongoing Void Sigil project, and, on occasion, to collect other work including the older work of null/point and various other projects. I openly admit that my aim is to create interesting and original material that is not necessarily accessible or enjoyable, but to whatever degree you enjoy it, I hope you find it worth your while, and thank you for your interest. I will also be adding written posts from time to time, and while I would like to see Void Sigil and null/point as extensions of a certain facet of myself, your opinion of anything I write regarding any subject other than my own material will not necessarily be connected to or synchronous with your appreciation of the Void Sigil project itself. At least to begin with, I will be posting tracks and works from the significant backlog of null/point material which laid the foundations of the Void Sigil project, interspersed with whatever I've been working on lately, so bear with me, and stay tuned for different developments to come. Again, thank you, and welcome.
