Month: November 2024

Over the course of the workshop, I learned the basics of VCV Rack and used the software to emulate modular synthesis similar to Rashad Becker’s work. Initially, I used an oscillator to familiarise myself with the routing structure in order to get a sound output. I set up a simple chain that routed an oscillator output to an amplifier input, and added different components, such as filters, envelopes, delay/reverbs, and LFOs as I progressed. I also experimented with using the device ‘CLKD’ to generate a signal in place of the oscillator. This allowed the sound output to be tempo-synced through a gate which played a pattern as opposed to the drone of the oscillator waveform. 

The end result was a sound that held a variety of interesting characteristics. Specifically, the left and right output were different sounds in the same key. The right output was a droning bass sound that was developed out of the device ‘Bleak’, an oscillator, running through a filter and a short reverb on the device ‘Plateau’. I also modulated the reverb time using an LFO to produce different reverbs in different harmonic frequencies with different lengths. The left output was more in the style of a lead and was tempo-synced on account of being generated by ‘CLKD’. The gate of the envelope on the signal was patched to an amplitude device, creating a tempo-synced output. Further, a second instance of ‘Bleak’ was sent to another amplifier centred in mono, upon which a delay was added and an LFO helped modulate the delay length, adding an interesting texture to the higher frequency range of the sound. 

I believe that the workshop was thoroughly engaging in terms of sound design. It helped re-contextualise what ‘sound’ really even means as we explored ways of creating sound that were outside of the grid-based workflow that DAWs seem to facilitate. The usage of modular synthesis or its emulation really puts a focus on creating intentional sound as opposed to creating a melody out of ‘passable’ sound. As a songwriter, this is not something I do often, but it would thoroughly help my production practice by placing an emphasis on writing ‘pieces’ as opposed to songs. Further, it broke down the key components of electronic synthesis in the context of Becker’s work, helping me create a personal framework within which I can judge different sounds as a listener and student.

Themes VII is a track from Rashad Becker’s Traditional Music of Notional Species Vol II. 

The track can best be described as a sonic collage, which is very rich in a variety of different tones, textures, and types of sounds – using Schaeferian sound analysis, almost none of the elements are the same. 

The way in which these sounds are used, i.e, in varying intensities and for varying purposes, ties in to the concept of signification. On one hand, listeners derive significance from familiar sounds and are able to contextualise Becker’s work in a wider frame of music. I would assert that the beginning of the track is an attempt to create a contextual landscape within which significance can be deconstructed:

1. The introductory quick-attack pluck is reminiscent of a faux-steel-string and contains a lot of harmonic tones (the ‘body’, in Schaeferian analysis, consists of more than one tone). Its repetition actually sets a semi-recognisable tempo and gives the impression of a groove.
2. A slower-attack metallic squeak conducts a call-and-response with the pluck. Over time the squeak is manipulated so the decay is longer, and so that the decay fluctuates between different notes, creating different moments of harmony with the pluck, developing a recognisable sonority. 

As these elements lose, in a sense, their ‘recognisability’ (the plucks become more off-kilter, and the decay of the squeak traverses through disharmonic frequencies), it seems like a commentary on the instability of signification. New elements like a low horn, discernibly a sine wave where an LFO is mapped to its amplitude, as well as a glitchy top line consisting of a triangular wave with unpredictable decay times, show the instability of signification. It seems to me almost as though their ‘weirdness’ happens as a natural result of the increasing ‘weirdness’ of the previously ‘traceable’ sounds a) and b). It appears as a commentary on non-linear signification. This is strengthened by the fact that there is an intentional sonic ambiguity throughout the track – sparing a few elements, there is a constant upheaval of different sounds and textures which interact with each other in different ways. All this while, pluck a) tries to maintain a discernible tempo. 

In Becker’s exploration of sonic signification, no element is really more significant than the other. There is a tangible circularity to sound selection; each sound has a moment of significance, but when this moment is over, it fades back into the textural complexity of the soundscape. This is a useful way to analyse the structure of the track – meaning is not centralised, through a hook or refrain, but rather distributed through the various interactions between elements at different points of the track. 

As the track concludes, the aforementioned horn also varies in frequency, seemingly an LFO is mapped to fine-tuning within a semitone of the original pitch. A square metallic sound with a quick-attack, multi-harmonic and dense body, and a short decay, sporadically interjects the drone. The intensity and variety of sonic elements increases over time. This leads me to believe that the point of the track is to assert that signification is inherently contextual and not inherent. There is no prominent sonic hero, but Becker still manages to craft a narrative through the manipulation of timing and texture. Pitchfork’s review also captures this hypothesis, “Whenever Becker conjures a familiar sound, he quickly husks history, meaning and expectations from it so that it might quiver in space all on its own, like a cell under a microscope. A mental picture that forms at the beginning of a piece will lose its meaning by the end.” (Beta, 2016). 

In conclusion, Themes VII appeared to me as an exploration of how sound creates meaning, and it seems that Rashad Becker derives meaning from context. By balancing elements of familiar and strange natures, and seeking deliberately to manipulate all parameters within these elements, Becker creates a circular sonic collage that asserts signification is non-linear in itself. 

During the workshop, we produced a piece in the style of Moor Mother using digital production techniques. We used MIDI instruments to represent an electric piano, a trumpet, and a Reese bass, and layered over this an electronic drum beat. The focus of the task was vocal production, where we manipulated various clips from a speech to create something akin to a narrative over the course of the piece. We also used samples; a loop of protestors shouting at a rally was given binaural directional mixing to ensure it was in the background creating a subtle tension and atmosphere. This was complemented by found samples of crying/wailing which had the same effect. Further, we used the protest sample in more clarity in the ‘outro’ of the piece, layered over another sample of Crossroad by Robert Johnson. My group member and I would switch between roles; i.e, I initially layered the MIDI drums and electric piano, while they worked on the trumpet and vocal production. Working collaboratively ensured that each element was given focus at one point of time, contributing to the resulting quality of the overall piece. 

The final production is sombre and melancholic, as the introductory electric piano is supported by distant cries of protest and wailing. The piano itself plays diminished chords in a seemingly disharmonic fashion to create an atmosphere of unease. The vocals that persist on top of this section have distortion, a short delay, and a series of formants, which allows for them to become the focus of the piece. The MIDI trumpet that is a part of the instrumental is also, in places, disharmonic and feels like an improvisation. This was in an effort to replicate Moor Mother’s own production, where she tends to favour quick-attack and random brass lines. The trumpet creates a sensation of movement as it pulses through the repetitive piano and bassline, and, in my opinion, is able to replicate a sense of performance. This is important in the context of a Moor Mother production, which often uses elements of live performance to cement a tense atmosphere. Panning is also an important tool in the production, as the electronic drums pan between left and right each half-note. I think this lends to the atmosphere in two ways – firstly, the juxtaposition of the quantized and automated electronic drums with the improvisational trumpet is worth addressing. It is able to create an unpredictability which adds to the existing tension. Secondly, the panning also is able to simulate a live performance, in my mind, of a band on different parts of a stage. This is also supported by the fact that the trumpet is panned favourably to the left, and creates an angular field within which the piece can be heard. 

The differences between my usual style of production and this method of working can be surmised into:

1. Melodic Intention

Oftentimes in my own production I have a loop-based melodic intention – this is to say that I hero repetition in chord progressions, riffs, and vocals. This process allows for a detachment from the idea of looping melodically, and offers a producer a chance to create a piece that is ever-changing and thus arguably ever-engaging. 

2. Intertextual Intention

Generally speaking, I sample what sounds appealing to me, oftentimes regardless of the context of the piece within a cultural/historical lens. Moor Mother’s work, being political, is careful with sample selection – thus offering a producer the opportunity to create a meaningful library of samples within a track that are able to add to the message of the piece.

In conclusion, the experience helped me experiment with ridding myself of melodic intention while trying to develop intertextual intention, and was a great insight into Moor Mother’s process.

Liverpool Wins is the 7th track on Moor Mother’s 2024 album The Great Bailout. The album focuses on the abolition of slavery in England, and seeks to reframe the lens through which we approach the act. More specifically, it seeks to retell the story of emancipation in the British Empire, which has long been represented as a progressive government act that changed lives for emancipated slaves. Moor Mother challenges this perspective, outlining the social, material, and personal damage that resulted from, or was re-shaped by, the abolition of slavery. 

Sonically, the track is atmospheric and sporadic. It is introduced by a sharp, swelling bass note that persists through its length. The instrumental that is constructed around this is jarring; there are introductions of static feedback at different points, as well as what sounds like a detuned keyboard that increases tension. Tension is also built by making percussive elements out of what sounds like wind and metal, which travel across the panoramic field in differing intensities. Towards the mid-section of the track, these elements reach a climax where they are further complemented by metallic percussion and tape-stops, seemingly out of time. This continues until the end of the track. It is also worth mentioning Moor Mother’s non-spoken vocals as well as the supporting vocals from Kyle Kidd. Layers of harmonies add to the atmospheric quality of the track, especially since they are present throughout in different registers of voice. The falsetto vocals are almost ghost-like, inducing an eerie atmosphere that is thematically tied to the lyrical content of the song. 

Moor Mother’s poetry is non-direct in the sense that she alludes to what was ‘stolen’ by the British government in both the conceptual and material sense. “Rich during the crime / And rich after”. It is also extremely confrontational – “Who builds death like this?….Who can’t find any room for apologies?”. Additionally, there is a poignant reference to The Secret of England’s Greatness, a Victorian-era painting which depicts the Queen granting The Bible to a kneeling African chief. This reference helps to underscore the saviour complex which Moor Mother is criticising as still existing today, where the British Empire was able to claim superior moral ground on the basis of emancipation, oblivious to the fact that they themselves introduced slavery. It also serves to highlight the Euro-centrism of the dominant perspective on British emancipation; Queen Victoria is “granting” the African chief The Bible as he is kneeling, as if he must respect the opportunity to convert to Christianity, which is suggested to be the “superior” religion by virtue of this act. Moor Mother connects this attitude to the financial exploitation that was also grounded in the British belief of superiority, and, in essence, was responsible for creating the “infrastructure, the ports, the parks, the castles, the churches, the universities” that cement modern-day Britain’s identity as a developed nation. 

As a political commentator, Moor Mother is greatly fluent in employing direct and indirect writing styles to build a multi-faceted argument that challenges traditional perspectives on divisive topics. Liverpool Wins is written in such a way that it mentions examples, “August 28th, 1833 / August 1st, 1834”, which are expanded upon with opinion and logical reasoning, “A financial revolution / A stronger Christianity / A whiter God”, and conclusively confronts the wider cultural hegemony that exists as a result of history, “How long did it take to pay off the trauma?”. In this way, Moor Mother constructs a factual and emotional argument that is made more powerful by the irregular and atmospheric instrumentation.