Marc Weidenbaum's Blog, page 15

Down on the Corner

This was at the corner. I resisted the urge to snag it.

Scratch Pad: Algorithm, Apps, Mycology

At the end of each week, I usually collate a lightly edited collection of recent comments I’ve made on social media, which I think of as my public scratch pad. I find knowing I’ll revisit my posts to be a positive and mellowing influence on my social media activity. I mostly hang out on Mastodon (at post.lurk.org/@disquiet), and I’m also trying out a few others. And I generally take weekends off social media.

▰ I sometimes wonder if the Algorithm processes that much of the music I Shazam is stuff I can’t stand, so I can avoid it in the future. The Algorithm can’t regularly distinguish curiosity from affection from dislike.

▰ Listened to some old Power Station albums for the umpteenth time and remain astonished by Tony Thompson’s drum production

▰ I love when it’s clear a website has tweaked its backend because suddenly the RSS reader is full of a dozen or so old posts

▰ I’ll take a small pleasure at the end of the week. I use an phone app a lot, and I so send a note to its developer with a small suggestion, and less than a day and a half later my suggestion is part of the app, and now I’m using the app even more regularly. Doesn’t matter, really, what app, or what feature. Just a kind of interaction and response and sense of connectedness I marvel at, and hope not to stop marveling at.

▰ End of week:

▰ A lot of foghorns and a lot of wind, that’s what’s going on here. Have a good weekend.

▰ I didn’t finish reading any books this week, but I’m about halfway through the first Bosch novel (by Michael Connelly), The Black Echo, and about a quarter of the way through The Mushroom at the End of the World (by Anna Lowenhurst Tsing). I love how seemingly unrelated books that one might read at the same time end up having connections. For example, without giving too much away about the Bosch book, both it and the mushroom book center around skills gained by people in Vietnam and around Southeast Asia, and how those skills then get transferred to the United States: in one case, of military veterans committing crimes based on skills learned in tunnel combat; and in the other, of mushroom hunters foraging in the forest.

More Live/Stream Venues

The word “livestream” is for events that are streamed live. During the early pandemic, that was in lieu of an in-person audience, and these days it means simultaneous with the live performance. These latter events are something special, not “livestream” so much as “live/stream”: offering locals and the far-flung (and the infirm, or otherwise homebound) opportunities to attend. I made a list earlier this week of a bunch of venues that live/stream regularly, and here are two more, courtesy of folks on the very interesting izzzzi.net social network, where I hang out a bit:

▰ A member named brandon directed me to Boston-based Non-Event (nonevent.org), which is not livestreamed but has a heap of archived material from past events at various places, including a 45-minute Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe show at Boston City Hall, which as of this writing merely 214 people have streamed, Jessica Pavone at First Church a few months back, Raven Chacon, Neil Leonard performing Phill Niblock, and much more. These are egregiously under-viewed full-length concert recordings. I’m used to being one of 10 people seated on folding chairs at a concert, but a year and a half later, a Seth Cluett solo show should have more than 414 views. I’ve now subscribed to the Non-Event YouTube channel, and look forward to what’s next, and exploring its past. (And Non-Event is not a venue in the physical sense. It puts together shows at a wide range of places.)

▰ And courtesy of another izzzzi member, onewayness, I’ve been introduced to Wonderville in Brooklyn, which has a presence on Twitch and YouTube, a lot of live coding, modular, and other musical activities. I’ll be digging in.

I’ve added both these to my “Livestreams After Lockdown” post.

Disquiet Junto Project 0696: Chain of Layers

Each Thursday in the Disquiet Junto music community, a new compositional challenge is set before the group’s members, who then have five days to record and upload a track in response to the project instructions.

Membership in the Junto is open: just join and participate. (A SoundCloud account is helpful but not required.) There’s no pressure to do every project. The Junto is weekly so that you know it’s there, every Thursday through Monday, when your time and interest align.

Tracks are added to the SoundCloud playlist for the duration of the project. Additional (non-SoundCloud) tracks also generally appear in the lllllll.co discussion thread.

Disquiet Junto Project 0696: Chain of Layers
The Assignment: Make music change by altering its layers.

This project is the first of three that are being done in by the Disquiet Junto in collaboration with the 2025 Musikfestival Bern, which will be held in Switzerland from September 3 through 7. The festival topic this year is « Kette » — which translates, as the organization explains, to “Chain”: “Chains connect but they also bind. They create relationships but also restrictions. As a gift they look nice, feared when used in vice, and yet they can span bridges across fire and ice.” All three Junto projects will engage with the work of Svetlana Maraš, who is the Composer-in-Residence for the 2025 festival.

We are working again at the invitation of Tobias Reber, an early Junto participant, who is in charge of the educational activities of the festival. This is the seventh year in a row that the Junto has collaborated with Musikfestival Bern.

Step 1: Record 10 to 15 layers of continuous sound.

Step 2: Create a piece of music in which you only change the relative presence of those individual layers from Step 1 over time. Some light effects and panning are certainly fine, but the majority of the impact should be how the prominence of the individual layers changes.

Tasks Upon Completion:

Label: Include “disquiet0696” (no spaces/quotes) in the name of your track.

Upload: Post your track to a public account (SoundCloud preferred but by no means required). It’s best to focus on one track, but if you post more than one, clarify which is the “main” rendition.

Share: Post your track and a description/explanation at https://llllllll.co/t/disquiet-junto-project-0696-chain-of-layers/

Discuss: Listen to and comment on the other tracks.

Additional Details:

Length: The length is up to you.

Deadline: Monday, May 5, 2025, 11:59pm (that is: just before midnight) wherever you are.

About: https://disquiet.com/junto/

Newsletter: https://juntoletter.disquiet.com/

License: It’s preferred (but not required) to set your track as downloadable and allowing for attributed remixing (i.e., an attribution Creative Commons license).

Please Include When Posting Your Track:

More on the 696th weekly Disquiet Junto project, Chain of Layers — The Assignment: Make music change by altering its layers — at https://disquiet.com/0696/

Listening to Mushrooms

Yes, I’m enjoying Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing’s 2015 book, The Mushroom at the End of the World, which I’ve owned for almost as long and started twice and am finally getting into. It’s interesting how much John Cage is in it. Even before I got to the Cage mention at the start of the “interlude” between section I and II of the book, I’d noticed, amid all the mycology (of which Cage was a major enthusiast), much attention paid to “indeterminacy” (“the unplanned nature of time,” in the author’s words) and “happening” (as opposed by Tsing to “gathering”), both key Cageian concepts.

Livestreams After Lockdown

Pandemic-era lockdown is, for most people, a somewhat distant memory, but the normalization of livestream concerts, which rose to prominence when most people were spending most of their days and nights at home, thankfully persists. At the height of the pandemic, I reviewed a livestream for The Wire, and I remember thinking at the time how intriguing it was that the laptop on which I “attended” the concert was the same laptop on which I wrote my article (for added frisson, all the music being performed at the show involved live coding, meaning it was being played on laptops as well).

Many music venues regularly post live performances, often in real time, sometimes archived in perpetuity. Among my favorite spots that do this are listed below. If you know of other such digitally progressive brick’n’mortar spots (for electronic music, experimental music, jazz, contemporary classical, etc.) to recommend, please lemme know. Thanks to folks on Bluesky and elsewhere who fleshed this list out after I posted some initial places.

I discuss the concept of “music discovery” with people on a regular basis, and I cite venues around the world as a valuable resource. In most cases, this just means keeping an eye on the upcoming events at places like Oude Kerk (Amsterdam), the Stone (now at the New School in Manhattan — I used to sit next to Irving Stone, after whom John Zorn named the place, at Knitting Club shows on Houston Street way back in the day), and Super Deluxe (Tokyo).

Venues that actually post their live music online provide an incredible opportunity to hear what’s going on out there. Most of the below are on YouTube. For the moment, I’m emphasizing places that don’t charge for viewing.

Bird and Beckett (San Francisco)Cafe Oto (London) has its own dedicated page, not updated often, but a treat when it isCave (Akron), which streams on TwitchConstellation (Chicago)Coaxial (Los Angeles)DNA Lounge (San Francisco), and note that it has a dedicated streaming page on its websiteElastic Arts (Chicago)Emmet’s Place (Manhattan)Experimental Intermedia (Manhattan)Experimental Sound Studio (Chicago)Maple Leaf (New Orleans)Mezzrow (Manhattan)Roulette (Brooklyn)Smalls (Manhattan)

There’s lots of other resources, like the email newsletters dedicated to Toronto (Soundlist) and to Sydney (emus), and the Bay Improviser website in the San Francisco area (where I live), but for the purposes of this list of resources, I’m focused on free live streaming.

Stigmatic Ambient Music

I asked Google the following, which is to say I put the question into the search box:

What is stigmatic ambient music?

Google’s “AI overview” provided an immediate response, the opening of which read as follows:

Stigmatic ambient music is a subgenre of ambient music that incorporates elements of dark ambient and industrial music, often exploring themes of pain, suffering, and psychological distress. It’s characterized by the use of dissonance, harsh textures, and a focus on creating a sense of unease or dread through sound design rather than melody.

Following that information were five “key characteristics,” plus a statement of “How it Differs from Traditional Ambient” (unclear why the noun “It” is lowercase there in what is otherwise title case), and four examples of this (supposed) genre in action. Each little statement, in the form of a paragraph, had one or more links appended to it, though not one of those links went to anything that actually mentioned “stigmatic ambient music.” One of the links went to a piece of music software named Stigmata.

At the bottom of the Google AI overview results was a caveat, the most factual thing on the page thus far:

Generative AI is experimental

I then typed the core part of the phrase again into the Google search bar, this time with quote marks around it, as follows. (Google has explained: “Put quotes around any word or phrase… and we’ll only show pages that contain those exact words or phrases.)

”stigmatic ambient music”

And I received this response:

No results found for “stigmatic ambient music”.

It’s intriguing that the original response, all 300-plus words of encyclopedia-emulating inference, didn’t mention that seemingly pertinent fact.

Here, for reference, is the original AI overview in full, minus the appended links:

Stigmatic ambient music is a subgenre of ambient music that incorporates elements of dark ambient and industrial music, often exploring themes of pain, suffering, and psychological distress. It’s characterized by the use of dissonance, harsh textures, and a focus on creating a sense of unease or dread through sound design rather than melody.

Here’s a more detailed breakdown:

Key Characteristics:

Dissonance and Harsh Textures:
Stigmatic ambient often features sounds that are intentionally unpleasant or uncomfortable, such as distorted synth sounds, noise, and harsh rhythmic elements.

Focus on Atmosphere:
The primary goal is to create a specific mood or atmosphere, rather than to present traditional melodic structures or harmonies.

Psychological Distress:
Themes of pain, suffering, and psychological distress are often explored, using sound to evoke a sense of unease, dread, or even despair.

Industrial and Dark Ambient Influences:
Stigmatic ambient draws inspiration from both dark ambient and industrial music, incorporating elements of both genres.

Sound Design over Structure:
Unlike traditional ambient music, stigmatic ambient often prioritizes the creation of specific soundscapes and textures over formal structure or melody.

How it Differs from Traditional Ambient:
While both focus on atmosphere, stigmatic ambient deviates from traditional ambient’s emphasis on relaxation and tranquility by deliberately creating discomfort and tension.

Examples:
While specific examples can vary, some artists and works known for incorporating elements of stigmatic ambient include:

FluidShell Design’s Stigmata:
This instrument is described as allowing real-time sound modification and is designed for creating dark, atmospheric soundscapes, according to bestservice.com.

Brian Eno:
Although not explicitly stigmatic, Eno’s early ambient work laid the groundwork for the genre and his sound design principles are still influential.

Dark Ambient artists:
Many dark ambient artists explore similar themes and techniques, often using industrial sounds and dissonant textures.

Industrial music:
Some industrial bands explore similar thematic territory, using harsh sounds and textures to create a sense of unease and distress.

Of course, once I post this article, at 12:45pm PDT on April 28, 2025, there will be, for the time being, one search result for “stigmatic ambient music.”

On Repeat: Beats, Live, Score

On Sundays I try to at least quickly note some of my favorite listening from the week prior — things I would later regret having not written about in more depth, so better to share here briefly than not at all.

▰ Very much enjoying the recent Barker album, Stochastic Drift (released by Smalltown Supersound on April 4), especially the heavy Selected Ambient Works Volume II vibe of the track “Positive Disintegration.” (Barker is British, and lives in Berlin.)

▰ Fantastic live set from jazz bassist Linda May Han Oh (Malaysia-born, Australia-raised), with Ambrose Akinmusire (trumpet — Oakland, California) and Pulitzer Prize winner Tyshawn Sorey (drums, New Jersey), recorded at the Keith Haring Theater, Performance Space, NY, back in January. Akinmusire is a somewhat recent favorite of mine, and I love hearing my instrumentalist favorites in supporting, or at least non-leading, roles.

▰ Dutch musician Rutger Hoedemaekers’ score for the science fiction TV series Moresnet is moody and dramatic — cinematic, for sure, but also pleasingly touched by the weird. Hoedemaekers previously worked on, among other projects, Trapped (with Jóhann Jóhannsson and Hildur Guðnadóttir) and The Last Berliner.

Scratch Pad: Covers, Gunshots, Jelinek

At the end of each week, I usually collate a lightly edited collection of recent comments I’ve made on social media, which I think of as my public scratch pad. I find knowing I’ll revisit my posts to be a positive and mellowing influence on my social media activity. I mostly hang out on Mastodon (at post.lurk.org/@disquiet), and I’m also trying out a few others. And I generally take weekends off social media.

▰ The house stereo in this cafe is playing one cover song after another, and it’s a bit like being transported to an alternate reality where different people wrote and performed all these songs. That said, I like our reality better. Or liked — perhaps I’m stuck here forever.

▰ Pro tip: something is likely wrong with either your headphones or software if the speech-to-text tool you’re using keeps transcribing everything you’re saying as “[gunshots] [gunshots] [gunshots]”

▰ “Your experience order number is …”

▰ A very good evening, April 23 (Andrew Pekler, Jan Jelinek), also featuring Chris Otchy as the opener:

▰ Dunno if this Apple case I got on eBay for my aging iPhone 13 is legit but it’s more legit than the previous iPhone case I got on eBay

▰ Hyper-local* post: the macapuno ice cream at Polly Ann in the Sunset District is extraordinary, entirely distracting me from the chocolate with which it shared a small cup

*San Francisco

▰ I’d like to play more video games, but I end up reading novels. I’d like to listen to more podcasts, but I end up listening to audiobooks.

Listening to Bosch

This segment is from early on in The Black Echo, the first in the Bosch series of detective novels by Michael Connelly. I’ve watched all of the TV adaptation, and figured I would give one of the books a read, prompted in large part by an article in the Los Angeles Times by Sue Horton about the centrality of that city (which I have a strong affection for, though I’ve never lived there) to Connelly’s books. There are 25 Bosch volumes to date. That’s a whole lot of Los Angeles, though then again, Los Angeles, nearly four million people spread out over nearly 500 square miles, is a whole lot of city.

The earliest Bosch novel is old enough that the technology here is noticeably pre-modern. In a subsequent scene in the same book, Bosch’s partner, Jerry Edgar, waits for a “machine” so he can take care of writing up the day’s reports. The “machine” is not a computer but a typewriter, of which there aren’t enough in the department to go around. When a computer does enter the picture, along with it comes a dedicated human operator, a signal to the reader of how unusual such an object was back in the late 1980s and early 1990s. The first Bosch book was published in 1992, by which time I’d had a computer — two or three, that is — for well over a decade. But the workplace, especially the city government workplace, was and remains a different setting from a home office.

What struck me about this particular section of The Black Echo is how carefully Connelly describes all the details of phone communication: the checking of the pager, the approach to the pay phones, the required coins, and perhaps most importantly, the way meaning can be construed from interactions, like here how quickly Bosch’s partner picks up the phone. This is the sort of writing that someone engaged in historical fiction might work hard at, getting all the micro-interactions, all the object names and uses, exactly right. What’s great is that Connelly did it at the time, writing about the sort of technological interfaces that can get lost as time proceeds — a lesson that those writing today, fiction and non-fiction, should keep in mind, as the technology of communication continues to change rapidly.