Archive for the 'Academic' Category

Tone Floating

Add a comment

Rudd executed

I will no longer be posting things called travel diaries, because I was never really travelling in the first place. Hell, it’s not even a working holiday – my salary here doesn’t translate too favourably into my home currency, as XE.com is alsways quick to remind me.

In a week where Australian democracy has taken a bit of a pummelling (there is too much good coverage of Kevin Rudd’s political execution at the hands of the NSW Right to select a single story to link) I have tried to distract myself from it all by, once again, surrounding myself with numerous, wondrous tools for digital media creation, in aid of ideas that will probably never come to fruition. Still, it’s fun to fantasize; and I still chase that lofty dream of having a career in the video games industry, and hold, in my ghostly heart, Shanghai as the place to achieve it.

One such idea that has so consumed me is, in fact, a game idea. The idea being that, if I stop daydreaming and pull my finger out, and actually do something game-related, I might stand a chance of getting into the industry. But the idea is the distillate of a certain chain of events (daydreams, mostly), which I shall document on this here blog!

A few weeks ago, I went to my first music gig in Shanghai, at Yuyintang. It was called Good Jive 3 (whose jiving was, presumably, the third in some sort of jive sequence), and it was fun. It was a lot of fun in fact, despite there being a pretty weak turn-out. As in, the audience were so few that we felt collectively intimidated at the thought of approaching the stage. Still, the bands rocked, and jived where appropriate. The Beat Bandits, a sunny, surf-rock quartet, opened the evening, singing about stuff I didn’t really understand, but nonetheless delighting. Ho-Tom the Conqueror (no Douban link!) came next with an acoustic quartet (guitar, banjo, mandolin and mouth organ). This guy has a really warm, good-humoured stage presence and, among his funny, catchy songs about life in Shanghai, he sung the best cover of Radiohead’s ‘Creep’ that I have ever heard. X is Y followed with some pretty solid semi-math rock, and Stegosaurus? brought the whole gig to a close with some energetic and kooky garage-rock.

Like I said, it was all a lot of fun.

The thing is – and it hits me every time I sit in front of Ableton Live or AudioMulch, or whatever – I find myself constantly having to justify what I’m doing to myself. Not just because it’s a total waste of damn time, but also in a Modernist sense. I mean, surely – surely, in the postdigital age of media creation – the traditional modalities of music composition are well and truly exhausted. Every timbre, every rhythm, every harmony is accounted for, either as data floating around cyberspace; or else as ideas that are well within a human listener’s capacity for wonder.

This isn’t to say that music can’t amaze and excite, provoke and reach into one’s heart; and that these aren’t noble goals in and of themselves. The bands at Yuyintang the other night demonstrated this with jiving exhuberance. And, shit, there’s more incredible music that ever being released today, most of it free, and wholly aware of the grand musical traditions that inspire the composers in the first place. And that’s the thing. If all this great music is being released, what’s the point of me sitting in front of Ableton Live and attempting to create something that falls into the same traditions?

Certainly, AudioMulch (and, of course, Max/MSP, SuperCollider, and a dozen other software environments) have much more potential to create entirely new musical traditions, and change the way we listen. Listen to everything, that is; to music, to the television, to the world. And, this is where I began (I think). At University, I was fortunate enough to be taught by a handful of people who genuinely changed the way I looked at the world. Maybe that says more about the wonder of  young adulthood, rather than my own experience, but the fact is I wouldn’t be in Shanghai now were it not for these people. I’d probably be working as a media buyer at some pissweak media company.

(Out of respect, I’ll name them all, although I’ll only be talking about one. First, Shannon O’Neill, who drew me into the world of music and audio, after which I subsequently took on all audio subjects where I’d originally planned to study film production. He also supervised my thesis, and basically introduced me to electronic music. Tom Ellard, of the Severed Heads, taught  my Creative Audio Techniques subject for the semester when, for one reason or another, Shannon couldn’t teach it. Again, it was totally mind-opening, and, above all else, he encouraged us to approach music and sound design with ideas. Finally, another one-semester teacher during my Honours year, Theo Van Leeuwen who, aside from being a nifty jazz pianist, introduced me to the form of structural analysis with which I approach art, social semiotics.)

In my final year of university, Theo Van Leeuwen got me thinking about modalities – specific ways that data can be encoded to produce meaning. Obviously, as a discourse it isn’t without problems, but to me it’s the stuff of daydreams. I wonder about the beat divisions in Western music that have been so enduring; can a single beat be divided into five parts (rather than two, three or four), or seven, and still be meaningful, or even listenable? I listen to spoken Mandarin every day and think about tone. (This owes a lot to Tom Ellard, who originally got me thinking about this). That is, tone withour regard to scale, or harmony, or intervals. Just raw tone; it’s upper and lower limits, and how it changes with respect to time.

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

And then there’s interactive audio. Or game audio, as I’d prefer to call it, for I can’t imagine a construct outside of the artistic and commercial reaches of gaming in which audio might be ‘interactive’. I also don’t like the word interactive, and consider it a verbal resort for the inarticulate. Game audio is much more relevant and meaningful, and I just happen to like games very much. Which is the reason I’d like – really like, not just half-arsed like – to make a game in Unity 3 and FMOD. I believe it’s well-within my ability, given time and patience. I don’t even intend to design much of a visual element (I completely lack the ability, anyway) as, in this ill-formed, foetal stage, the idea is to explore the concept of ‘emergent gameplay‘ with regard to sound. Like I said, totally premature, and with naïve assumptions about my programing ability. Suffice to say, for now, that I dream of a future where game soundtracks develop and evolve over the entire course of a game; that reflect the choices, style and preferences of the player, in the way Deus Ex’s narrative did ten years ago.

Ah- of course! That’s the other thing that’s been the subject of my daydreaming of late – Happy 10th Birthday, Deus Ex. We love you more that can ever be exressed. RPS’s coverage is as good as anyone’s.

I Live in Fear

Add a comment
Sexy-smoldering Barnaby

Sexy-smoldering Barnaby

The title is a reference to a Kurosawa Akira film, and the post isn’t about Barnaby Joyce – it’s just such a wonderful picture. I was just reading Andrew Bolt’s blog (which I do fairly regularly, in spite of myself) and wondering, for the hundredth time in my life, how a person can become such a wretched, conservative ideologue – or any ideologue at all, for that matter. The right wing/left wing spectrum is so ludicrously artificial, yet it remains a compelling way to pigeonhole those whose views about the world are passionate. Someone like Bolt selects his political causes as though completing a checklist in a Political Spectrum for Dummies book – he is a climate sceptic, an apologist for Israel’s foreign policy (and for the Howard government, as for Keith Windschuttle), and seems to have an unhealthy infatuation with Sarah Palin (I can’t quite work that one out). He posits himself diametrically opposed to ‘the left’, and presumably ‘the lefties’ as well.

I’ve often wondered whether the whole thing is self-perpetuating; that a person, through parental influence or a prejudicial stance on a particular issue, comes to adopt indiscriminately the values imposed by history and society. Or, perhaps the whole edifice is maintained by self-perpetuating mutual dislike. Bolt’s writing style is embattled and self-righteous; he’s no journalist, and doesn’t pretend to be, as he wages his daily assaults on a real-or-imagined enemy.

It’s either one of those two, or else there is some essential, biochemical characteristic that motivates an ideologue. An irrepressible awareness of, and sympathy with, all worldly things (that’d be the ‘bleeding heart lefties’, I suppose), or a complete lack of it in the case of Bolt. That is, an obsessive love for one’s own immediate locality – the foregone memories that create geography and culture. A fear to step away from it. There’s nothing wrong with that sort of fear, which I suppose is wholly natural and sensible, but it is a little pitiable. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to live without an expansive mind.

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

The Fool’s War

Add a comment

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

So, we’re back to the ‘History Wars’, are we? I suppose it’s in keeping with the hyperbole in the phrase that the underlying debate is ongoing. And quite a few people are weighing in, though not yet its most famous veteran.

The term ‘History Wars’ falls strangely upon the ears. Perhaps because it makes a glorious farce out of a debate that is really quite mundane. The question over which paradigm we should use to build and tell Australian history – dispossession or colonization – is just another example of the chasm that exists between the so-called Left and Right.

There’s a couple of other terms that I have always found bizarre. Superimposing the views of an individual onto a two-dimensional plane is an inherently flawed endeavour. But it does simplify things, doesn’t it? Turning a rival debater into a polar opposite helps to justify one’s fervor. So, too, does it simplify the debate over Australia’s history to call it a war. To see history as a linear narrative, as something that should be built, rather than constantly uncovered. Re-evaluated again and again for every shred of evidence that emerges.

I haven’t once heard a commentator of the Left invoke the term ‘History Wars’ – not when weighing into the debate, at least. Only when referring to it as a sociopolitical phenomenon. The term is used in earnest only by the warriors of the Right, out of what I assume is a desire for simplicity. Or, conversely, a fear of complexity.

Scoring the Game

Add a comment

So, I guess I got myself a Doepfer theremin module a week ago. The good news is that, as a purchase, it probably represents the height of my musical indulgence. It marks the beginning of my slow journey towards redemption. As far as I’m concerned, as a CV/gate output only device, it’s much less lame than playing an actual theremin.

In theory, anyway. So far, its actual presence in my patches had produced rather worrying results:

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

I discovered ScummVM a month ago. To be more exact, I’d heard about it quite a while ago, but never ventured to try it. Who the fuck hasn’t played a good number of Lucasarts adventure games by 2009, anyway?  It took a few months of uninspiring game releases and shitty Fallout 3 add-ons before I deigned to initiate the measly 3mb download.

I can now attest that ScummVM is an essential part of any modern pc gaming setup. As a product, it is conveniently small, easy to use, well-documented, sleek. As a platform, well… It makes wonderfully, harmoniously compatible a collection of some of the smartest, funniest, most enjoyable games that were ever made. Nostalgia isn’t even really the salient part of the experience. While a fully-fledged product in its time, The Secret of Monkey Island - when occupying a small window on one’s desktop, vying for attention amongst the throng of web browsers, windows and other applications – plays more like a surreal distraction from the quotidian. All the more so, for its short duration.

It feels a bit like Indy Desktop Adventures. Uh, but not crap, like Indy Desktop Adventures.

Anyhow, going through and playing Monkey Island 2: LeChuck’s Revenge (which, oddly enough, I had never actually done before) got me thinking; when did music in games lose its power to enthrall? What happened to catchy theme tunes, quaint melodies; that wondeful feeling that the music was, at some stage, shaped and touched by another human being.

Lost in the wankery? Let’s stop using words for a second. We’re talking about music, right?

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

This is a recording of the score for Monkey Island 2, composed by Michael Land and brought to life by iMUSE. This is just Guybrush Threepwood wandering around on Scabb Island at the very beginning of the game. Land composed a series of musical themes and timbres that weave seamlessly together and unravel as you travel between and peruse the different locations. Considering the small number of sound effects in the game (and the fact that there’s no recorded dialogue), the score jumps out at you as you try to solve the puzzles on Scabb Island. The melodies, all subtle variations of the memorable Monkey Island theme, grow on you – partially because they are so well crafted, but also because it is so wonderfully apparent that the music is a part of your experience of the game. It waits for you when you need it to wait, changes character when it should. Not a moment sooner, or later. It moves with the distict type of temporality that defines the medium. Sometimes time in games goes forwards, backwards, or doesn’t exist at all.

In other words, the music in Monkey Island 2 is a score. It has been designed, to the greatest extent possible (and still, perhaps, unmatched by games eighteen years later), to suit the flow and dynamics of the game, while still incorporating locale and mood-specific themes.

This is becoming less and less the case in mainstream gaming. I really struggle to remember exactly what the music sounded like in Call of Duty 4, for example. It was a fun game, but one characterised by incessant propulsion. The experience of COD4 could be described as something like being carried on a gargantuan wave from beginning to end (awesome!). The music just formed a part of the shapeless torrent, even if you were standing still. As advanced and fascinating as the sound engine might have been, the music… Well, I hesitate to call it music. I mean, when it’s so fucking difficult to remember, what is it? On the scale of salience within COD4, music falls below the enemy AI, the player’s weapon, the sound effects, the special effects. It hovers somewhere around the level of ground and wall textures. It’s just an engine asset, pulled from a data file on a computer hard drive and systematically inserted into the mix.

I haven’t talked about the form of the respective games, of course. Monkey Island 2 is very different to COD4. There’s a lot of time spent standing around, or circling the same locaitons, tyring to figure out just what to do with the fucking rat. The opportunities to listen – just to listen – are rife. But, then again, there are a few action (-tinged) fps games that have been characterised by a similar auditive experience: Deus Ex, Half-Life. Granted, they feature elements of puzzle solving and adventure too but, again, they use music in a way that flows with each player’s temporal experience. Deus Ex balances catchy melodic motifs and locale-specific themes against ‘combat’ variations. In Half-Life, the music is sparse; an occasional force against the weight of silence as you creep around Black Mesa Research Facility.

So, uh… I guess you should go and download ScummVM and buy a few old Lucasarts adventure games?