stealth binaural recording – doesn’t work quite so well in the wide shot :/
‘Mummy, that man has no legs! or arms! or body!?!’
stealth binaural recording – doesn’t work quite so well in the wide shot :/
‘Mummy, that man has no legs! or arms! or body!?!’
I’d driven past this photo dozens of times & always planned to come shoot it… & when i finally got around to it, the bird below was waiting for me….
Heres a wider shot…
& the weirdest thing? I drove back the same way about 2 hours later & there were more jetty poles!
the outgoing tide was slowly revealing more!
It reminded me of the dry garden at Ryoanji in Kyoto, famous for its design in that it contains 15 rocks but no matter where you observe from, only 14 can be seen…
shot Friday 11th July, 2014 with Canon 5D and EF16-35L lens
As sound designers, sound editors & field recordists the ‘real’ sonic world is an endless source of both inspiration and raw material. But it is also the school in which we learn; every day, 24/7 our perceptions are active to varying degrees, providing sensory input and creating memories. And in many creative situations our personal realities are our reference. Our experiences inform how we interpret, recreate and manipulate sound as it relates to the medium we are working in: on our screens and in our individual & collective imaginations. You are the sum of your experiences, and while this may be an obvious statement it still bears repeating, as it is a reminder of how important it is to put yourself in the path of interesting experiences.
Training your perceptions & building memories are two crucial aspects of expressing yourself in sound and relative to last months theme on Designing Sound of silence I thought I would revisit two extreme experiences I have had in my life, both involving near-silence and both occurring in anechoic chambers, although the two experiences were more than 20,000 miles and quarter of a century apart.
Anechoic chamber 1: Engineering Deptartment, Canterbury University, NZ
Back before I went to Film School in 1990 I spent a number of years as a disgruntled electrical engineering student at Canterbury University in Christchurch, New Zealand. Disgruntled because despite progressing through the stages of a degree I was not finding myself any closer to career that I actually wanted. Other than hanging out with friends studying fine arts & film, I was always keen to find anything, anything at all, that was more interesting than sitting in tedious lectures and one day it happened.
We were taken into the Acoustics Laboratory where some slightly odd gentlemen in lab coats introduced us to their anechoic chamber. I don’t remember the details of their dry technical introduction but I will never forget the feeling of walking into that vacuous space, devoid of acoustic… And then the door was closed. Memory imprinted, permanently.
The room has a background noise level of 18dBA but reflecting on it now, it would not have been the level of quiet that impressed me. I grew up on a rural farm in a location remote enough to have a huge dynamic range of ambient sound: quiet was not hard to find. But the lack of acoustic made my spoken voice sound like it was actually thought, inside my head, not out in the real world. Effectively a perceptual disconnect occurred, between my mind and my body. Memory imprinted, permanently.
Decades later that experience still affects me, and throughout my film career silence (& manipulation of acoustics) have been techniques I have considered & invoked regularly. At the start of each film project one part of my modus operandi, after the initial spotting session with the director, is to first ask what they imagine as being the loudest moments in the film, and once those have been discussed, to ask what is the quietest moment. This question of quietness shifts analysis & discussion away from the endless to do list the director has carried all the way through the picture edit, and returns it to the evolution and shape of the script: the emotional beats so carefully carved out. This second conversation tends to be far more interesting than the first: overt exposition vs emotional arcs.
Over the years and course of many feature film projects I have noticed that emotionally these ‘quietest moments’ are also often the most profound, emotionally resonant points in the arc of the film. Moments of self realisation for the protagonist, turning points, the emotional eye of the storm. Not because we have made them silent but because that is the most powerful means of transferring that moment directly to the audience. The reductive transition from the fully realised sound world of the film to emptiness – an audience alone with their own experience. The films I am most proud to have contributed to contain these silent moments and I can instantly recall them: the man at the bottom of a hole, digging a grave for his wife. A woman in the middle of a thrashing storm at sea, realizing her lover has just died. A man for whom his next action will dictate the entire course of the remainder of his life.
I remember reading many years ago, an interview with a leading film sound designer explaining how you cannot use true silence in films. The primary reason given struck me as a straw man theory of epic proportions. Apparently ‘true silence’ would be interpreted as a technical error and would be rejected by inevitable QC checks. I cannot remember who it was who said it, or where I read it, but I can only presume the poor person had actually experienced a silent technical fault (e.g. a ‘drop out’ as might occur on a bad punch-in when recording to multitrack tape) and become permanently scarred by it. The truth is that the only way a silent moment could be considered a technical fault would be if it was incredibly badly implemented, i.e. it actually was a technical fault, intended or not. If the use of a silent moment pulls you ‘out of the picture’ then that should be very apparent during the mix and/or during mix screenings, the same way other all other dramatic moments are considered, reconsidered & evolved.
In my experience, moments where silence is an ideal expression for a film can reveal themselves in many different ways. Sometimes they are easily identified during sound editorial and the elements are created with this in mind. But sometimes they are only discovered on the dub stage, amonst the full context of the final mix. But just as with the interesting conceptual discussions they create with the director, such moments always lead to very interesting work for re-recording mixers. Transitioning to and from moments of silence can require a different philosophical approach than that of shaping music, ambiences & sound effects around dialogue and action. Making such transitions appear seamless can totally alter the way that production sound, ADR, breaths and foley are utilised. As anyone with any experience in minimalism will tell you, as you reduce the elements it can reveal the true nature of the remaining elements, a nature that was not apparent in a busier context.
Anechoic chamber 2: ICC Gallery, Tokyo, Japan
Prior to my first trip to Japan in 2007, I invested a lot of time researching aspects of contemporary Japanese culture. I already had a basic knowledge of contemporary Japanese film makers so I focused my research on contemporary art, artists, architects, graphic design, street art, galleries, museums & locations that might lead to interesting experiences. In some ways I needn’t have worried, in Japan every experience was deeply fascinating. But amongst my research I came across a group exhibition of digital art being held at the ICC Gallery, a gallery funded by telecommunications giant NTT, presumably as a form of public research and development. Included in the exhibition was a work that insatntly caught my eye: Anechoic Room – now this I had to visit!
Arriving in Japan for the first time is an almost overwhelming sonic adventure – there are so many contrasts to how sound exists and is considered in the West. One of the first clues I noticed was in the station & on the train from Narita airport into Tokyo: there were signs in the train carriage politely insisting that phones be switched off, or at least be silent, and answering a phone was clearly discouraged. Similarly in many temples and some parks, quiet was explicitly requested.
But don’t get me wrong, Tokyo is not a quiet city by any means. But the contrasts in ambient sound can be vast, for example moving from the reverential hush of a temple directly into a street scene straight out of Bladerunner can almost create perceptual whiplash. But just as quiet plays an important role in Japan, so does noise. Scattered throughout Japan you will see huge buildings lit up like a living advertisement for neon, and if you venture close enough to peer inside you will be greated with an unimaginable cacophony:
Pachinko is a legal form of gambling in Japan, and while the game involves firing small ball bearings into a machine, the combined soundtrack of the rows and rows of machines is akin to some combination of an 8bit heavy metal concert and an industrial factory. When I asked a Japanese friend why anyone would subject themselves to such a dense loud space, he hypothesised that maybe the people liked to lose themselves in the noise, in a way parallel to how a meditating monk might do the same with quiet.
Pachinko aside, finding the ICC Gallery for the first time involved passing through some intense sound spaces. The first was exiting from the Yamanote loop train line at Shinjuku Station, a station which sees over 3.5 million people transit every day (that is close to the entire population of New Zealand!) – it is an experience of beautifully ordered chaos.
As I was in no hurry & happy to get lost along the way, I walked to the ICC Gallery, eventually finding it deep within the massive Tokyo Opera City Tower. At last, up an escalator and my journey across 2 decades & thousands of miles had ended!
While the anechoic chamber was not as large as the University one of my youth, the effect was almost more profound due to the journey getting there. Taking my shoes off I entered the room, noticing the panic button on the wall & closed the door. Intense quiet filled the room, every subtle movement I made seemed amplified and the sense of dislocation from the ‘real’ world while at first was relaxing, slowly became oppressive. No need for the panic button, but my thoughts of spending an hour or more inside there soon evaporated and I craved to hear the surrounding reverbant gallery spaces, and mroe than anything: the sounds of life. Deprivation can take many forms, but it is always context based. And being deprived of sensory input in such a stimulating place as Tokyo, put me in a similar state of mind as I experienced when visiting dry gardens in Zen temples in Kyoto. My sense of self felt reduced, my mind remained quiet and more keenly observational of the ever changing minutae that surrounded me. These feelings stayed with me clearly for the rest of the day, and to varying degrees hate remained ever since.
Memory imprinted, permanently.
Apart from this being an acoustic & time travel journal for me, if there is one moral I encourage you to take away it is this: you must seek out & experience an Anechoic Chamber If you live in a large city there is a good chance there is one close at hand. Negotiating access may take some tact, but failing all else please know that there is one anechoic chamber that you can visit. And it is in one of the most amazing cities in the world. Just check the gallery schedule before you book your tickets!
ICC Gallery – Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan
Also worth a read: Acoustic Epiphanies in Japan
From todays session… its funny the things you forget eg WHY AM I GETTING NO SIGNAL ON THE NAGRA!?! (oh right, i switched to monitoring off tape & had stopped rolling to check levels – doh!) – I’m recording at 15ips and am going to transfer the Nagra recordings to ProTools at 192kHz at 15ips, 7.5ips, 3.75ips and also try scrubbing/varispeed sounds past the heads….
One thing I noticed about using tape & digital today: I think recording on Nagra/tape might be akin to shooting film vs digital – I was much more careful what I rolled tape on, whereas digital I kept rolling on everything….
Following on from my Soviet Tek post, I was tipped off to a local auction today, at a place which usually has deceased estates & general junk but item #4 in todays auction was a set of TAMA drum pads!! Is that a coincidence or what!?! So I raced over, registered to vote & bought the set for $100! And best of all, along with the 4 drum pads there was also a kick drum pad! Thanks heaps Tom, for the tip
So now I have too many drum pads, if thats actually possible – 12 in total, maybe I’ll tune them chromatically & practice my scales! I’ll need to invest in a few more brackets, so I can get the layout & angles of the pads more playable, but for now am making do borrowing stands from my acoustic drum kit, which is disassembled presently anyway, as I need my quiet/recording room for HISSandaROAR sessions.
Speaking of HISSandaROAR, my recording session this afternoon is both digital & analog: Recording to the Sound Devices 744 with MKH8040 ORTF, MKH8050 and MD421 and to my Nagra 4.2 with an MKH8040. Getting the Nagra ready I had forgotten what a mission it is to load up with batteries!
Thats 12 D size batteries! Next time you’re at the supermarket have a grimace at what those cost, especially when you buy two sets of them!
What I am recording is going to be a bit loud (hence the MD421) but I was also a bit worried about impact vibrations travelling up mic stands into the MKH80X0 mics, so I’ve tried a DIY approach to float the mic stands, using those pool floater things – Aquastix Foam Tubes Pool Noodle is the technical term… will soon see how well they function, I know Primacoustic make ‘proper’ ones although not sure how well they would stand up to outside use: TriPad Microphone Stand Isolator
A couple of months ago I became a little bit obsessed with drum synths – it started off after I randomly bought a TAMA Techstar TS602 drum synth and 2 drum pads off TradeMe, I posted this snapshot at the time:
I bought it on a whim but really love jamming with it, and I was also really surprised at the range of very useable sounds I could get from it – useable & interesting, boooom, sctk etc etc. But two drums does not a kit make, so I kept an eye on TradeMe for any other such elements and a while back another TS206 came up for sale, and separately a set of 3 hex shaped drum pads. Now I was starting to get somewhere! But seeing how the analog drum synth units were not really sought after (the first one didn’t sell at all & I bought it after it was relisted a couple of times) I started to wonder if there were any other analog drum synth units that might be equally as rewarding AND under appreciated… Plus I was really interested in another drum synth brain for more variety, so after spending a few hours on youtube I found what I was looking for! If the Tama TS206 units are interesting & a bit idiosyncratic, my discovery was totally anachronistic – I had never heard anything like it! Next stop eBay!!
So I found one in ‘as new’ condition bought it & waited… and waited… and waited. It was shipping from Ukraine and I started to wonder if it had been lost amongst the turmoil that country is going through, but just as I was starting to give up hope, my patience was rewarded:
Fantastic! Old school shipping, in a sack, with a lead seal no less!!
Huzzah! Behold my new/old FORMANTA UDS VINTAGE ANALOG SOVIET USSR 7-CHANNEL DRUM MACHINE SYNTHESIZER!
I haven’t fired it up yet but lucky for me it is 240V, all I need to do is swap the plug to the local variety & look out!
So what was it that made me take a punt on such an obscure device? Well, while everyone else seems to be pursuing new boxes from either Roland or Elektron, I watched this video & I was sold on it surpassing either of those options when focused primarily on the idiosyncratic quirk factor!
Now I know people who own Elektron boxes etc will say ‘oh of course my ABCDEF box could do all that’ but heres the thing: ‘could’ vs ‘would’ – lets face it, in this day & age, anything ‘could’ do anything. Any number of plugins ‘could’ do a version of what the Formata does, but there is a world of difference between the possibility of something & the reality. Listen to that video, it sounds completely bonkers at times! And its bonkers I can plug my drum pads into & ah… go even more bonkers!
See heres the setup – still in pieces, but pending some free time & finding a drum rack to mount it all on, look out!
So I have four channels of the Tama Techstar TS206 drum synths, seven channels of the Formanta drum synths, the HumDrum, a Boss Dr PAD DRPIII, an Amdeck PCK-100, 5 drum pads (+ 2 more on the way), some drum sticks & the motivation to combine it all into one fiendishly mutant franken kit!!
I didn’t make the connection at the time, but Formanta are the same Soviet analog synth company who made the Polivoks synth, which I own the r1982 VCF filter module cloned by Harvestman (he has also created eurorack versions of the Polivoks VCOs and the Modulation generators)
More info on Russian Synths at RussKeys site
> 38 Wonderful Moments In Closed Caption History #funny
> a great ad for effects processing?
> oh to have a few well placed contact mics on these machines!
> love these sushi plates
> inside the Paris home of Pierre Henry (thanks Miguel!)
winner of Golden Nica at Prix Ars Electronica 2014 by Universal Everything
see other winners here
> great overview of Foley via a PDF article by Benjamin Wright (thanks Peter!)
interesting sculpture (or youtube/facebook/soundcloud like generator?)
> love this beat shelf
> Ted Talk: DIY Orchestra of the Future? (thanks Carolyn)
> The long slow vanish of Britains illustrious recording clubs (thanks Grant!)
> some beautiful work via the Sonic Arts Award 2014
winner of the Sound Art category: David Hochgatterer, TIME TO X
TIME TO X is a 96 channel sound installation that transforms the fourth dimension (time) into a geometrical dimension (x). The listener can physically move in time and has the possibility to experience audio in a new way.
winner of the Digital Art category: Tim Murray-Browne – The Cave Of Sounds
The Cave of Sounds is an interactive sound installation exploring the power of music to bind individuals together and the visceral urge to use technology to broadcast our identity. Inspired by the prehistoric origins of music as unifying force, the work is formed of eight original musical instruments. Created during a ten month residency at London’s Music Hackspace, each instrument has been designed and created by a member of that community as an embodiment of their own artistic practice. But although each instrument is personal to its creator’s artistic practice, every few weeks we have met up to explore and understand each other’s ideas, and our place within the ensemble as a whole, in a process analogous to a ten month jam session. The final ensemble encapsulates the balance between individual and group expression that we practise when we create music together.
In the hands of its audience, the work is crafted to provoke participants to connect and resonate with each other through musical expression. Visitors are free to experiment with the instruments, and experience first-hand music as a means of actively connecting with those around them to construct a shared creative space. Arranged in a circle with the instruments facing inwards, music here is not created for an audience. Like the process behind the work’s inception, music is an activity we do together rather than something we consume from others. Software linking the instruments gently adjusts their sounds to converge musically as well as detecting musical connections between participants and visualising them onto a central projection.
Mention/highly regarded Sound Art category: Kathy Hinde – Piano Migrations
The inside of an old upright piano, is recycled into a kinetic sound sculpture. Videos of birds are projected directly onto the piano to provide an ever-changing musical score. The movement of the birds trigger small machines to twitch and flutter on the piano strings. In this work, nature controls machines to create delicate music.
see other finalists/mentions here
A week or two ago, someone somewhere commented on a post I was reading, quoting Eno using plasticine as a metaphor for an element of his approach to music production. I appreciate this is pretty vague, but bear with me… Some time later I remembered the quote & went digging in google to see if I could find the source of the quote. I didn’t succeed but I did find this interesting quote via google books:
I totally agree with some of the comments by the Stereolab guy in that book quote, but I think it also has something to do with another form of ‘control’. In software everything is controllable & remembered, and while this is often sighted as a blessing I rarely read mention of it also being a curse. The most obvious example is with regards to the use of delays: one of the many reasons I love Space Echos is that there is no automatic tempo sync – they must be dialled in by hand & by ear. And a vital part of that process of dialling in delay & feedback settings is that it is a process of discovery & happy accidents.
For me that process is creatively the direct opposite of starting in a perfect state & attempting to dial in “out of time-d’ness” from a perfectly tempo matched delay. Now of course no one insists that you must always use tempo sync, but with a lot of software it seems such things are default. And as mentioned in this deeply fascinating thread on MW by one of the leading & earliest developers for Eventide, despite people having access to a machine of infinite possibilities (e.g. H3000) only a small percentage of people ever used anything other than the default programs. While that also says a lot about how great the presets were/are it is also a different reflection on the role presets (and default settings) play in the creative process, and the more default settings there are the more insidious that role becomes.
Also from that MW thread, I LOVE some of the incredible gems of wisdom he mentions in passing:
“Easy to get lost in the endless parade of ‘I can so I will’. Instead of ‘it needs it so I will do it’. Lets not polish every ‘scholars rock’ into a shiny round pebble.“
& re ilok:
“To pay for the privilege of having a company treat me as if I were already a thief does not sit well with me”
One of my constant searches/google alerts for years has been for an affordable binaural dummy head rig, not because I had an urgent need, more out of interest & a desire to experiment with the medium (without having to spend US$8k on a Neumann rig).
Then a month or so ago I received a random phone call from a young woman who is planning a project which in terms of audio will be totally binaural. As she outlined the project I became more & more interested in the concept behind it – I can’t go into details about the project yet, as it is still deep in development, but as my motivation for experimenting with binaural recording grew, the universe eventually responded & now I am the owner of this vintage Sennheiser dummy head:
(photo by previous owner, thanks Dan in Melbourne)
First released in 1974 the original Sennhesier model MKE2002 came with a pair of omni mics and required the wearer to have a mullet for proper use. But times have changed, mullets come and mullets go, and while I bought the dummy without its original mics, I already had a plan in mind to use my DPA4060s instead. The original mics had a 9V power supply… that chin attachment is quite strange, which might account for the strange look on the face of mr mullet. The manual for the Sennhesier MKE2002 is here
But as always the proof is in the results, so before I go making any great pronouncements I will do some tests & see how well it images binaural sound with the DPA4060s. Here are two demos from the original model, hopefully it goes without saying but these require headphone listening for full effect.
I posted some photos to FB and asked for comments on peoples experiences with playing back binaural sounds on normal speakers and a few helpful people provided valuable insights, so I hope they don’t mind me quoting them here… (Please feel free comment if you have experience with binaural recording, first post is moderated so there will be a delay before it appears)
Joseph Fraioli: I find that speaker playback imaging varies depending on which mic system you use. The Neumann imaging sounds great on speaker playback, though with the dpa 4060 setup on headphones it’s amazing, while there’s a bit of a whole in the center on speakers.
Sebastian-Thies Hinrichsen: The Neumann KU8i is built for being mono and speaker compatible. It also has more “mids” than the newer, more neutral sounding KU100 (I tested it in January for my online magazine FieldRecording.de)
Thanks Joseph & Sebastien!
One test I have in mind is to set it up in my garden & then slowly walk around it in 360 degrees, while making pretend insect sounds with a shaker. The dummy head has a mic stand mounting socket on the base (ewwww, where the spine would be?) so once I am confident with the mic placement & trust the mics are secure I am keen to try it on a boom too – literally putting my head & ears into places that are not necessarily safe or feasible for them to be.
Let the experimenting begin!