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I wanted to start a conversation about how we listen to ambient music,
so I offer this article as a starting point. Please respond with your
ideas!
Listening to Ambient Music
Musical Vocabularies and Purposes
Many years ago, I had a college friend who was an evangelizing devotee of
the abstract painter Marc Rothko. I remember her gushing over a
catalog of Rothko's work, while I was thinking that I must be
aesthetically challenged; I just didn't “get” it. After all, most
of the paintings were nothing but large rectangles of color, with
slight irregularities and a contrasting border or stripe. All
of the familiar reference points of line and shape, perspective and
shadow, were gone. I could appreciate them as “design,” but not
as “art.” While they were pleasing enough, I couldn't see why
anyone would rhapsodize over these abstractions...until I first saw
them for myself in person--a completely different experience! When I
encountered them at the Museum of Modern Art, they literally stopped
me in my tracks, subverting conscious thought and plunging me
immediately into an altered state. They were not just flat canvases
on a wall, but seemed more like living things, pulsing and throbbing
in resonance to a wavelength that had a fundamental connection to the
Source of things. I was stunned. They didn't "express" a
feeling--they were more like feelings themselves, and they seemed
like nothing personal to me, or Rothko, or anyone. When I later
looked at the reproductions Rothko's works in books, they reverted to
flat swatches of color. There was a recollection, but no recreation
of my experience. This was an experience that depended on the
presence of the original artifact (art: a fact).
A Tune is Not a Tone
I spent my early musical life working mostly with music that used—like
representational art--some set of familiar musical conventions to
create its effect. There are many vocabularies of melody,
counterpoint, rhythm, harmony, and structure that place music in a
context of form that makes it comprehensible to listeners.
"Comprehensible" is not precisely what I mean--it suggests
that music communicates only intellectual ideas, whereas in fact, it
conveys and expresses a whole range of ideas, feelings, sensations
and associations. But there is an element of "intelligibility"
to conventional forms of music that depends on a shared formal
vocabulary of expression. There are familiar elements that listeners
use to anchor their real-time experience of a composition, formal or
sonic elements that are borrowed from other pieces created and
listened to in the past. When I find myself humming a tune from a
Beethoven symphony, or invoking one of its characteristic rhythms
(dit-dit-dit-DAH), I reduce a complex sonic tapestry to an
abstraction, a shorthand that is easily recognizable to others
familiar with the music. I may be able to share a musical idea with
other musicians using the abstraction of notation. But a "tune"
is not a "tone," and a "note" is not a "sound."
It is an idea, even a powerful idea, but when I find myself humming
the tune, I know that I have in some way "consumed" the
music, reduced it to a subset of its conventions, deconstructed
and reconstructed it for my own purposes.
Ambient music, and in particular, the type of ambient music I will refer to
as "soundscape," abandons, or at least loosens, many of
these conventions. There is, in general, usually no hummable melody,
often no recurrent rhythmic pattern, and if there is a larger "form,"
it is more commonly nothing familiar or identifiable, even to astute
musicologists—it might be completely idiosyncratic to the composer.
Even the vocabulary of "instruments" is fluid and too
vast to hold in mind. With the profusion of sounds that are
electronically-generated or sourced and manipulated from field
recordings, it is rare that separable and recognizable instruments or
sounds can be identified—that is, “named.” Late
nineteenth and early twentieth century classical composers worked
hard to try to erase the familiar boundaries of individual
instruments, using unusual instrumental combinations and extended
instrumental techniques to blur sonic lines. Ambient music
takes this even farther. The sound palette of ambient composers is
more diverse and less subject to "naming" than that of
composers who use ensembles of traditional instruments to present
their compositions. While the savant may be able to identify a sound
source as belonging to a particular method of generation (analog, FM,
sample manipulation, etc.), diffuse mixing and morphing of
sounds can confound even experts.
The Irrelevance of Virtuosity
To a great extent, the virtuosity of the musician—often an important
element in other music genres--is replaced, in the ambient music
world, by the skill of the composer in crafting and shaping the
sound. Slow tempos are common, and arpeggiators and
sequencers obviate, to a large degree, the need for ambient musicians
to develop sophisticated keyboard skills. Complex and rapid sequences
can be generated that defy the abilities of even great performers.
While it is true that many ambient musicians do perform in real time,
most do not. Even the notion of "performance" disappears to
a large extent. Most soundscapes are recorded works; they are not
commonly reproducible in real time by performers on stage. More
technical knowledge of sound-producing hardware and software is
necessary, but in the end, this becomes invisible to the listener,
subsumed by the sound artifact of the music itself.
The mixing of sound in the studio enables ambient composers to manipulate
and place sounds freely in the stereo field, unencumbered by any need
to spatially represent a virtual performing ensemble. These elements
become a part of the composition, whereas in other musical genres,
the mix--where it can be controlled--is more of an enhancement or
special effect than a compositional feature. Some ambient composers
don't even separate the mixing process from the composition. I, for
one, tend to mix as I go, since the dynamics, effects, and placement
in the stereo field are all integral features of my compositions.
Furniture Music
I mention these elements of ambient music because they have
implications for how we might approach the genre as listeners. I do
not want to suggest that there is only one narrow "way" to
hear ambient music. In fact, part of the richness of the genre is
that it is amenable to diverse listening approaches. In fact,
one popular way to listen to ambient music is to mostly ignore it.
This is what I might refer to as the environmental approach. Here,
the sound is treated--in the iconic words of Erik Satie--as
"furniture music." It is played, most likely at a
very low level, in the background, while the "listener"
goes about his business in the environment. Musak, or "elevator
music," was an early institutional—if insipid--form of
environmental music. In public settings, environmental music
generally has some agenda behind it; it may be designed to get people
to linger in a space, or even to leave (classical music in
malls as a sonic “weapon” to disperse groups of teens). It may be
intended to calm people, or to get them to spend more freely (the
research as to the effectiveness of these tactics is inconclusive).
The rave has its "chill room," where over-stimulated ravers
can psychically cool or calm themselves. Some hospitals are beginning
to use ambient music to create a soothing environment for recovering
patients.
In the home environment, environmental ambient music is self-selected
and regulated. In our home, we have a number of recordings that are
expressly used for environmental listening. My partner prefers a CD
with the sounds of rain, wind chimes and Tibetan bells. She often
uses this soundscape while she paints. The selection of music for
this purpose is important. Her favorite painting CD has no
progression--no beginning, middle, or end. There are no interesting
developments, themes, or dramatic sonic punctuations. It is devoid of
rhythm, melody and harmony. It effectively "freezes" (or
perhaps the word is "frees" ) time in a perpetual present
moment, and helps to create--for her--an environment that is
particularly congenial to her art practice. In my own case, I
use a variety of soundscapes as an environmental backdrop to my t'ai
chi practice. There is typically a bit more sense of rhythm and flow
to the sonic tapestries I will select for this purpose (this seems to
facilitate the flow of the movement), but I avoid anything with too
much musical interest for t'ai chi, as I wish to keep my focus on my
breath and movement.
Music for Meditation
Some people use ambient music for meditation, and this deserves its own
discussion. Many people who first begin to meditate are dismayed to
discover how much mental chatter or “noise” is generated by the
“monkey mind” that is the default waking state of human
consciousness. Attempts to quell the endless stream of thought prove
not only fruitless, but even counterproductive, since they add an
additional layer of mental activity. For some people, quiet, relaxing
music soothes an overactive mind, at the same time calming the body
and inviting spaciousness without requiring any special technique.
Admittedly, much of what is commercially sold as “relaxation”
music is vapid and saccharin; it certainly doesn't help me relax. For
a more discerning listener, artistic value needs to be a criterion
for “relaxation” music. I'm probably over-opinionated about this,
but to me, there is a distinct difference between “mindful” and
“mindless” music. While department store kiosks featuring harp
and seashore sounds may appeal to the masses, I rarely discover much
substance to these sonic bonbons; there are much better choices to
foster an atmosphere conducive to a relaxed and supple mind.
Brainwave Entrainment
When seeking out music for meditation, consider tempos of 60 bpm or
slower, since one's heart rate tends to naturally entrain to the
fundamental tempo, and a low resting pulse is desirable to enter
meditative states. Also consider music which uses binaural beats.
These are usually created with difference tones in the left and right
channels, and can gradually and subtly guide the brain to relax
into the lower frequency brainwaves, from ordinary waking
consciousness (beta waves: 14-40 Hz), down to relaxed or even trance
states (alpha waves: 7.5 – 14 Hz). At brainwaves below 7 Hz, you
are just sleeping. Binaural beats are based on the idea of brain
entrainment, the tendency of the brain to sync up with a reference
frequency. Binaural programs can also induce sleep, and there is
ambient music designed for this very purpose.
Music heavy in the low frequency range can activate fearful or anxious
states for some people, so for such individuals, it may be best to
choose music for meditation that is richer on the mid- and high end,
or more evenly balanced across the frequency range. For a soothing
“sound bath,” some people like to somewhat roll off bass
frequencies with the tone control on the stereo system. And for sure,
if you are planning on using ambient music for meditation, it should
be played at a low volume; let it blend in with the soundscape of
everyday life—the whoosh of traffic, the occasional dog barking,
and so forth. Let it be an element in the soundscape rather than
taking it over. This can help with the practice of mindful attention
to the moment. For musicians, music for meditation may actually add
an element of distraction, as the mind becomes involved with musical
ideas. For this reason, I personally, do not use music for
meditation. I prefer simply sitting in a relatively quiet space and
allowing whatever environmental sounds that may be present to occur,
without (hopefully) naming or interpreting them.
Music for Massage and Acupuncture
Massage and acupuncture treatments can be enhanced with ambient music, and
here many of the same the guidelines apply. I recommend that you
bring your own music to these sessions, if possible. Practitioners
may or may not share your taste, and there's almost nothing worse
than having to listen to some godawful drivel when you're trying to
relax. I have compiled several mix CDs for massage, and mine
generally have a shape to them that helps me first settle and relax
with something calm and diffused, then something more rhythmic, as
the massage therapist works on problem areas, then, at the end, a
very spacious section, in which I can completely zone-out, and let my
body enjoy the after-effects of the massage. This is my personal
preference; if you want to make your own mix for massage, you should
find the combination that suits you.
Immersive Listening – Headphones or Speakers?
This leaves one final type of listening that I'd like to discuss: deep
listening, listening to ambient music as musical art form. Here, you
give immerse yourself in the sound and give it your full attention.
The first question is consider is: headphones or speakers? There are
pros and cons to both. Headphones are preferred by many ambient
listeners for a variety of reasons. First, they isolate the music
from environmental sounds, particularly if the headphones have a
noise-cancellation feature. Second, and probably more importantly,
they emphasize the width of the stereo field and allow one to clearly
hear panning effects (moving from left to right, or right to left)
that are sometimes very salient features of ambient music. Most
ambient composers are likely to mix primarily with quality near-field
studio monitors, but they almost universally check mixes very
carefully with headphones for stereo placement and movement of
sounds.
The most popular types of headphones are closed-cup, open cup and in-ear
(ear buds). Ear buds are cheap and easy to take on-the-go. They are
most commonly used with iPods or other mp3 listening devices. Since
they are inserted directly into the ear canal, they should be
used with extreme caution, and only at low volumes, to protect the
ears. Low frequency response is poor and subject to distortion.
Some people—myself included—find them uncomfortable and cannot
use them. For travel or use in waiting rooms, I prefer a light,
over-ear headphone.
Closed-cup headphones reduce environmental noise—especially those with
noise-cancellation. Make sure, if you decide on noise-cancelling
headphones, to make sure that the feature actually works. Some claims
are exaggerated. Some closed-cup headphones may be uncomfortable for
longer listening sessions, to be sure any headphone you consider
buying fits you well, is not too heavy, and does not make your head
feel like it's in a vise. A disadvantage of the closed cup is that
bass frequency response may be limited—without a port to let some
compression (sound) escape, lower frequency sound production may not
be adequate. It is partly in the nature of headphones that low
frequencies will not be well-represented. It simply takes a larger
cone to create lower frequency sounds, and distance for them to
develop (the lowest audible frequencies are several feet long). One
alternative strategy is to use open-cup headphones in conjunction
with speakers in the room—especially if a subwoofer is available.
This way, the lows are picked up, both through the open ports in the
headphones, and through the body.
The most immersive listening environment I have experienced was on a
“sound table,” where sound vibration comes to the ears and
directly through the body by means of transducers built into the
cushioned surface. For sound healing, this may be the ultimate
technology. But most of us (including myself) do not have regular
access to this technology.
A cheaper alternative to the sound table is to lie comfortably on a
couch or on cushions with bookshelf-size speakers placed a foot
or two from each ear; it's like having a pair of huge,
open cup headphones! With this arrangement, you are immersed in the
sound without pressure on the head or ears from wearing headphones,
and the bass is less compromised. Experimenting with different
configurations of the speakers, I have found that placing the
speakers slightly above and behind the head offers a particularly
pleasing sound.
Recording Formats
Some listeners may prefer a “surround sound” scheme, although it is
difficult to find much music specifically encoded for this format.
Surround sound has not really taken hold commercially for serious
music listening. This is unfortunate, since besides the availability
of true 3D sound reproduction, the 24-bit DVD surround format
provides superior clarity and a greater practical dynamic range.
While commercial surround sound setups are popular in home
entertainment centers, they are primarily used for movie watching.
Some music has been specifically encoded for surround systems—most
of it, film scores, since they were already encoded for surround in
the first place.
But it appears that at least for the present and near future, most
listeners will be working with 16-bit stereo systems, and nearly all
of the output of contemporary ambient composers is formatted for this
playback. The low volume level of many ambient recordings means that
the top bits of 16 bit recordings are often unused—a compromise
that removes them from the odious “volume wars” of popular music,
but also limits bit-resolution. Compression through MP3 encoding
tends to “flatten” recordings and distort low frequencies.
Listening carefully, one can often also hear warbling or other
artifacts introduced by compression. While necessary for streaming, I
find most recordings are irreparably damaged when encoded at bit
rates below 320 bps. (I do hope and believe that more albums
will become available in the 24-bit FLAC format. While not yet
practical for streaming, this format promises to deliver recordings
of superior audio quality, albeit longer download times.) Just
because rock and pop listeners who download their recordings on
iTunes may have given up on audio fidelity doesn't mean we have to!
One can make the case that ambient music, in particular, deserves the
best sound possible.
Immersive Listening – Attention and Process
As far as where to place one's attention in immersive listening, good
ambient music offers many possible inroads. If the music is
drone-based, there won't likely be much harmonic movement, so the ear
will be more likely engaged with texture and atmosphere. Drones,
often consisting of either a primary tonic tone or a root and fifth
combined, anchor a piece and provide a backdrop for the tension and
release of other tones, as they alternately pull away from the drone
in dissonance, or draw back to it in consonance. Melodic and rhythmic
components are both optional elements in ambient music, and tend to
claim one's aural attention when present. They emphasize time over
space, since melodic phrases are like musical sentences, with a
beginning, middle and end—and rhythms divide time into periodic
units. A highly melodic piece requires more sustained attention,
whereas a purely atmospheric piece may allow the listener to fade in
and out. I love both types of ambient music, and while more of my own
pieces are melodic than not, I have created non-melodic compositions
as well.
I've already alluded to the creative use of stereo space by ambient
composers, and once listening strategy I enjoy is to visualize
a spherical area extending around my ears and in front of me, in
which I track sounds as they originate and dissipate within this
field. The skillful use of dynamics, delay and reverb, and EQ
enable ambient composers to create vivid three-dimensional illusions,
and as a listener, I enjoy putting my attention on sound placement
and movement in the stereo field as an integral element of the
composition. Besides the lateral placement of sound between right and
left channels, one can listen to the “height” of sounds in the
stereo field, as the ear places higher frequencies “above” and
lower frequencies “below.” One can also notice the distances of
sounds, observing how some are present and close, while others recede
into the distance. It is also interesting to notice how sounds react
in an imaginary space. Ambient music is typically very heavily
reverbed, the perceived container for sound often cavernous. Letting
the ear follow a sound as it echoes in virtual space and then
gradually fades can create a vivid mental picture of the size of the
soundstage.
Ambient music is also rich with sounds that evolve in tone over time,
employing a variety of morphing and filter-controlled effects that
make an individual sound into its own journey. Listening for changing
harmonics in a sound, especially the upper partials that define a
sound's timbre, is a rewarding exercise in mindfulness of sound that
reveals interesting details in a piece.
Ambient composers may evoke any number of types of harmonic palettes in their
work. Some fine work is purely tonal or triadic, even completely
diatonic (using only seven tones of a scale), while works may employ
extended harmonies, including exotic scales, bitonality (simultaneous
sounding of harmonies in different keys), quartal harmony (based on
fourths instead of thirds), and even complete atonality (no “home
key,” but equal participation of all twelve tones. I have heard
some very fine music using alternate tunings and temperaments. This
is frequently a feature of tribal or world-music influenced ambient.
A tuning which takes listeners out of the familiar Western
equal-tempered scales can open up wonderful sonic vistas. Listening
for harmonic “spice” is a great way to enter into an ambient
piece that may involve creative use of tonality and tuning. It is not
necessary to “identify” exactly what these elements are
musicologically. Over-intellectualization can even get in the way of
fully appreciating an ambient composition. But being aware of these
possibilities, and listening for them, can open up the ear and
increase one's personal connection to a piece of music.
Much ambient music has a strong visual component, at least to me. It is
not surprising that so many ambient composers are also visual artists
or at least dabble in visual art forms—as I do. While few composers
or listeners may have true synesthesia (seeing music as color or
shape—or colors as musical tones), the practice of visualization
during the listening experience opens up many connections between the
senses and can enrich the experience. Some pieces have a strong sense
of “story,” and writing or telling a story that emerges from an
ambient music listening experience can be a wonderful way to
communicate your vision of a piece to others. It is also
interesting to experiment with listening with eyes open and closed.
For me, these are very different experiences. I find that by limiting
visual sensory input, my hearing becomes more acute, and I am able to
notice much more that I can with my eyes open. On the other hand,
there are some wonderful videos made to accompany ambient music,
well-worth exploring. Multi-media presentation may also represent one
of the more viable venues for ambient music in the concert hall.
Audiences may not accept purely recorded music as a “performance,”
but the addition of visuals creates a more complete “live”
experience.
There is a tremendous variety of style within the genre of ambient music,
ranging from New Age space music to very dark, industrial
noise-oriented music. I try to sample as much as I can, learning from
and appreciating the diversity of this growing genre. It is exciting
to be a part of this still-emerging format, both as a composer and a
listener.
so I offer this article as a starting point. Please respond with your
ideas!
Listening to Ambient Music
Musical Vocabularies and Purposes
Many years ago, I had a college friend who was an evangelizing devotee of
the abstract painter Marc Rothko. I remember her gushing over a
catalog of Rothko's work, while I was thinking that I must be
aesthetically challenged; I just didn't “get” it. After all, most
of the paintings were nothing but large rectangles of color, with
slight irregularities and a contrasting border or stripe. All
of the familiar reference points of line and shape, perspective and
shadow, were gone. I could appreciate them as “design,” but not
as “art.” While they were pleasing enough, I couldn't see why
anyone would rhapsodize over these abstractions...until I first saw
them for myself in person--a completely different experience! When I
encountered them at the Museum of Modern Art, they literally stopped
me in my tracks, subverting conscious thought and plunging me
immediately into an altered state. They were not just flat canvases
on a wall, but seemed more like living things, pulsing and throbbing
in resonance to a wavelength that had a fundamental connection to the
Source of things. I was stunned. They didn't "express" a
feeling--they were more like feelings themselves, and they seemed
like nothing personal to me, or Rothko, or anyone. When I later
looked at the reproductions Rothko's works in books, they reverted to
flat swatches of color. There was a recollection, but no recreation
of my experience. This was an experience that depended on the
presence of the original artifact (art: a fact).
A Tune is Not a Tone
I spent my early musical life working mostly with music that used—like
representational art--some set of familiar musical conventions to
create its effect. There are many vocabularies of melody,
counterpoint, rhythm, harmony, and structure that place music in a
context of form that makes it comprehensible to listeners.
"Comprehensible" is not precisely what I mean--it suggests
that music communicates only intellectual ideas, whereas in fact, it
conveys and expresses a whole range of ideas, feelings, sensations
and associations. But there is an element of "intelligibility"
to conventional forms of music that depends on a shared formal
vocabulary of expression. There are familiar elements that listeners
use to anchor their real-time experience of a composition, formal or
sonic elements that are borrowed from other pieces created and
listened to in the past. When I find myself humming a tune from a
Beethoven symphony, or invoking one of its characteristic rhythms
(dit-dit-dit-DAH), I reduce a complex sonic tapestry to an
abstraction, a shorthand that is easily recognizable to others
familiar with the music. I may be able to share a musical idea with
other musicians using the abstraction of notation. But a "tune"
is not a "tone," and a "note" is not a "sound."
It is an idea, even a powerful idea, but when I find myself humming
the tune, I know that I have in some way "consumed" the
music, reduced it to a subset of its conventions, deconstructed
and reconstructed it for my own purposes.
Ambient music, and in particular, the type of ambient music I will refer to
as "soundscape," abandons, or at least loosens, many of
these conventions. There is, in general, usually no hummable melody,
often no recurrent rhythmic pattern, and if there is a larger "form,"
it is more commonly nothing familiar or identifiable, even to astute
musicologists—it might be completely idiosyncratic to the composer.
Even the vocabulary of "instruments" is fluid and too
vast to hold in mind. With the profusion of sounds that are
electronically-generated or sourced and manipulated from field
recordings, it is rare that separable and recognizable instruments or
sounds can be identified—that is, “named.” Late
nineteenth and early twentieth century classical composers worked
hard to try to erase the familiar boundaries of individual
instruments, using unusual instrumental combinations and extended
instrumental techniques to blur sonic lines. Ambient music
takes this even farther. The sound palette of ambient composers is
more diverse and less subject to "naming" than that of
composers who use ensembles of traditional instruments to present
their compositions. While the savant may be able to identify a sound
source as belonging to a particular method of generation (analog, FM,
sample manipulation, etc.), diffuse mixing and morphing of
sounds can confound even experts.
The Irrelevance of Virtuosity
To a great extent, the virtuosity of the musician—often an important
element in other music genres--is replaced, in the ambient music
world, by the skill of the composer in crafting and shaping the
sound. Slow tempos are common, and arpeggiators and
sequencers obviate, to a large degree, the need for ambient musicians
to develop sophisticated keyboard skills. Complex and rapid sequences
can be generated that defy the abilities of even great performers.
While it is true that many ambient musicians do perform in real time,
most do not. Even the notion of "performance" disappears to
a large extent. Most soundscapes are recorded works; they are not
commonly reproducible in real time by performers on stage. More
technical knowledge of sound-producing hardware and software is
necessary, but in the end, this becomes invisible to the listener,
subsumed by the sound artifact of the music itself.
The mixing of sound in the studio enables ambient composers to manipulate
and place sounds freely in the stereo field, unencumbered by any need
to spatially represent a virtual performing ensemble. These elements
become a part of the composition, whereas in other musical genres,
the mix--where it can be controlled--is more of an enhancement or
special effect than a compositional feature. Some ambient composers
don't even separate the mixing process from the composition. I, for
one, tend to mix as I go, since the dynamics, effects, and placement
in the stereo field are all integral features of my compositions.
Furniture Music
I mention these elements of ambient music because they have
implications for how we might approach the genre as listeners. I do
not want to suggest that there is only one narrow "way" to
hear ambient music. In fact, part of the richness of the genre is
that it is amenable to diverse listening approaches. In fact,
one popular way to listen to ambient music is to mostly ignore it.
This is what I might refer to as the environmental approach. Here,
the sound is treated--in the iconic words of Erik Satie--as
"furniture music." It is played, most likely at a
very low level, in the background, while the "listener"
goes about his business in the environment. Musak, or "elevator
music," was an early institutional—if insipid--form of
environmental music. In public settings, environmental music
generally has some agenda behind it; it may be designed to get people
to linger in a space, or even to leave (classical music in
malls as a sonic “weapon” to disperse groups of teens). It may be
intended to calm people, or to get them to spend more freely (the
research as to the effectiveness of these tactics is inconclusive).
The rave has its "chill room," where over-stimulated ravers
can psychically cool or calm themselves. Some hospitals are beginning
to use ambient music to create a soothing environment for recovering
patients.
In the home environment, environmental ambient music is self-selected
and regulated. In our home, we have a number of recordings that are
expressly used for environmental listening. My partner prefers a CD
with the sounds of rain, wind chimes and Tibetan bells. She often
uses this soundscape while she paints. The selection of music for
this purpose is important. Her favorite painting CD has no
progression--no beginning, middle, or end. There are no interesting
developments, themes, or dramatic sonic punctuations. It is devoid of
rhythm, melody and harmony. It effectively "freezes" (or
perhaps the word is "frees" ) time in a perpetual present
moment, and helps to create--for her--an environment that is
particularly congenial to her art practice. In my own case, I
use a variety of soundscapes as an environmental backdrop to my t'ai
chi practice. There is typically a bit more sense of rhythm and flow
to the sonic tapestries I will select for this purpose (this seems to
facilitate the flow of the movement), but I avoid anything with too
much musical interest for t'ai chi, as I wish to keep my focus on my
breath and movement.
Music for Meditation
Some people use ambient music for meditation, and this deserves its own
discussion. Many people who first begin to meditate are dismayed to
discover how much mental chatter or “noise” is generated by the
“monkey mind” that is the default waking state of human
consciousness. Attempts to quell the endless stream of thought prove
not only fruitless, but even counterproductive, since they add an
additional layer of mental activity. For some people, quiet, relaxing
music soothes an overactive mind, at the same time calming the body
and inviting spaciousness without requiring any special technique.
Admittedly, much of what is commercially sold as “relaxation”
music is vapid and saccharin; it certainly doesn't help me relax. For
a more discerning listener, artistic value needs to be a criterion
for “relaxation” music. I'm probably over-opinionated about this,
but to me, there is a distinct difference between “mindful” and
“mindless” music. While department store kiosks featuring harp
and seashore sounds may appeal to the masses, I rarely discover much
substance to these sonic bonbons; there are much better choices to
foster an atmosphere conducive to a relaxed and supple mind.
Brainwave Entrainment
When seeking out music for meditation, consider tempos of 60 bpm or
slower, since one's heart rate tends to naturally entrain to the
fundamental tempo, and a low resting pulse is desirable to enter
meditative states. Also consider music which uses binaural beats.
These are usually created with difference tones in the left and right
channels, and can gradually and subtly guide the brain to relax
into the lower frequency brainwaves, from ordinary waking
consciousness (beta waves: 14-40 Hz), down to relaxed or even trance
states (alpha waves: 7.5 – 14 Hz). At brainwaves below 7 Hz, you
are just sleeping. Binaural beats are based on the idea of brain
entrainment, the tendency of the brain to sync up with a reference
frequency. Binaural programs can also induce sleep, and there is
ambient music designed for this very purpose.
Music heavy in the low frequency range can activate fearful or anxious
states for some people, so for such individuals, it may be best to
choose music for meditation that is richer on the mid- and high end,
or more evenly balanced across the frequency range. For a soothing
“sound bath,” some people like to somewhat roll off bass
frequencies with the tone control on the stereo system. And for sure,
if you are planning on using ambient music for meditation, it should
be played at a low volume; let it blend in with the soundscape of
everyday life—the whoosh of traffic, the occasional dog barking,
and so forth. Let it be an element in the soundscape rather than
taking it over. This can help with the practice of mindful attention
to the moment. For musicians, music for meditation may actually add
an element of distraction, as the mind becomes involved with musical
ideas. For this reason, I personally, do not use music for
meditation. I prefer simply sitting in a relatively quiet space and
allowing whatever environmental sounds that may be present to occur,
without (hopefully) naming or interpreting them.
Music for Massage and Acupuncture
Massage and acupuncture treatments can be enhanced with ambient music, and
here many of the same the guidelines apply. I recommend that you
bring your own music to these sessions, if possible. Practitioners
may or may not share your taste, and there's almost nothing worse
than having to listen to some godawful drivel when you're trying to
relax. I have compiled several mix CDs for massage, and mine
generally have a shape to them that helps me first settle and relax
with something calm and diffused, then something more rhythmic, as
the massage therapist works on problem areas, then, at the end, a
very spacious section, in which I can completely zone-out, and let my
body enjoy the after-effects of the massage. This is my personal
preference; if you want to make your own mix for massage, you should
find the combination that suits you.
Immersive Listening – Headphones or Speakers?
This leaves one final type of listening that I'd like to discuss: deep
listening, listening to ambient music as musical art form. Here, you
give immerse yourself in the sound and give it your full attention.
The first question is consider is: headphones or speakers? There are
pros and cons to both. Headphones are preferred by many ambient
listeners for a variety of reasons. First, they isolate the music
from environmental sounds, particularly if the headphones have a
noise-cancellation feature. Second, and probably more importantly,
they emphasize the width of the stereo field and allow one to clearly
hear panning effects (moving from left to right, or right to left)
that are sometimes very salient features of ambient music. Most
ambient composers are likely to mix primarily with quality near-field
studio monitors, but they almost universally check mixes very
carefully with headphones for stereo placement and movement of
sounds.
The most popular types of headphones are closed-cup, open cup and in-ear
(ear buds). Ear buds are cheap and easy to take on-the-go. They are
most commonly used with iPods or other mp3 listening devices. Since
they are inserted directly into the ear canal, they should be
used with extreme caution, and only at low volumes, to protect the
ears. Low frequency response is poor and subject to distortion.
Some people—myself included—find them uncomfortable and cannot
use them. For travel or use in waiting rooms, I prefer a light,
over-ear headphone.
Closed-cup headphones reduce environmental noise—especially those with
noise-cancellation. Make sure, if you decide on noise-cancelling
headphones, to make sure that the feature actually works. Some claims
are exaggerated. Some closed-cup headphones may be uncomfortable for
longer listening sessions, to be sure any headphone you consider
buying fits you well, is not too heavy, and does not make your head
feel like it's in a vise. A disadvantage of the closed cup is that
bass frequency response may be limited—without a port to let some
compression (sound) escape, lower frequency sound production may not
be adequate. It is partly in the nature of headphones that low
frequencies will not be well-represented. It simply takes a larger
cone to create lower frequency sounds, and distance for them to
develop (the lowest audible frequencies are several feet long). One
alternative strategy is to use open-cup headphones in conjunction
with speakers in the room—especially if a subwoofer is available.
This way, the lows are picked up, both through the open ports in the
headphones, and through the body.
The most immersive listening environment I have experienced was on a
“sound table,” where sound vibration comes to the ears and
directly through the body by means of transducers built into the
cushioned surface. For sound healing, this may be the ultimate
technology. But most of us (including myself) do not have regular
access to this technology.
A cheaper alternative to the sound table is to lie comfortably on a
couch or on cushions with bookshelf-size speakers placed a foot
or two from each ear; it's like having a pair of huge,
open cup headphones! With this arrangement, you are immersed in the
sound without pressure on the head or ears from wearing headphones,
and the bass is less compromised. Experimenting with different
configurations of the speakers, I have found that placing the
speakers slightly above and behind the head offers a particularly
pleasing sound.
Recording Formats
Some listeners may prefer a “surround sound” scheme, although it is
difficult to find much music specifically encoded for this format.
Surround sound has not really taken hold commercially for serious
music listening. This is unfortunate, since besides the availability
of true 3D sound reproduction, the 24-bit DVD surround format
provides superior clarity and a greater practical dynamic range.
While commercial surround sound setups are popular in home
entertainment centers, they are primarily used for movie watching.
Some music has been specifically encoded for surround systems—most
of it, film scores, since they were already encoded for surround in
the first place.
But it appears that at least for the present and near future, most
listeners will be working with 16-bit stereo systems, and nearly all
of the output of contemporary ambient composers is formatted for this
playback. The low volume level of many ambient recordings means that
the top bits of 16 bit recordings are often unused—a compromise
that removes them from the odious “volume wars” of popular music,
but also limits bit-resolution. Compression through MP3 encoding
tends to “flatten” recordings and distort low frequencies.
Listening carefully, one can often also hear warbling or other
artifacts introduced by compression. While necessary for streaming, I
find most recordings are irreparably damaged when encoded at bit
rates below 320 bps. (I do hope and believe that more albums
will become available in the 24-bit FLAC format. While not yet
practical for streaming, this format promises to deliver recordings
of superior audio quality, albeit longer download times.) Just
because rock and pop listeners who download their recordings on
iTunes may have given up on audio fidelity doesn't mean we have to!
One can make the case that ambient music, in particular, deserves the
best sound possible.
Immersive Listening – Attention and Process
As far as where to place one's attention in immersive listening, good
ambient music offers many possible inroads. If the music is
drone-based, there won't likely be much harmonic movement, so the ear
will be more likely engaged with texture and atmosphere. Drones,
often consisting of either a primary tonic tone or a root and fifth
combined, anchor a piece and provide a backdrop for the tension and
release of other tones, as they alternately pull away from the drone
in dissonance, or draw back to it in consonance. Melodic and rhythmic
components are both optional elements in ambient music, and tend to
claim one's aural attention when present. They emphasize time over
space, since melodic phrases are like musical sentences, with a
beginning, middle and end—and rhythms divide time into periodic
units. A highly melodic piece requires more sustained attention,
whereas a purely atmospheric piece may allow the listener to fade in
and out. I love both types of ambient music, and while more of my own
pieces are melodic than not, I have created non-melodic compositions
as well.
I've already alluded to the creative use of stereo space by ambient
composers, and once listening strategy I enjoy is to visualize
a spherical area extending around my ears and in front of me, in
which I track sounds as they originate and dissipate within this
field. The skillful use of dynamics, delay and reverb, and EQ
enable ambient composers to create vivid three-dimensional illusions,
and as a listener, I enjoy putting my attention on sound placement
and movement in the stereo field as an integral element of the
composition. Besides the lateral placement of sound between right and
left channels, one can listen to the “height” of sounds in the
stereo field, as the ear places higher frequencies “above” and
lower frequencies “below.” One can also notice the distances of
sounds, observing how some are present and close, while others recede
into the distance. It is also interesting to notice how sounds react
in an imaginary space. Ambient music is typically very heavily
reverbed, the perceived container for sound often cavernous. Letting
the ear follow a sound as it echoes in virtual space and then
gradually fades can create a vivid mental picture of the size of the
soundstage.
Ambient music is also rich with sounds that evolve in tone over time,
employing a variety of morphing and filter-controlled effects that
make an individual sound into its own journey. Listening for changing
harmonics in a sound, especially the upper partials that define a
sound's timbre, is a rewarding exercise in mindfulness of sound that
reveals interesting details in a piece.
Ambient composers may evoke any number of types of harmonic palettes in their
work. Some fine work is purely tonal or triadic, even completely
diatonic (using only seven tones of a scale), while works may employ
extended harmonies, including exotic scales, bitonality (simultaneous
sounding of harmonies in different keys), quartal harmony (based on
fourths instead of thirds), and even complete atonality (no “home
key,” but equal participation of all twelve tones. I have heard
some very fine music using alternate tunings and temperaments. This
is frequently a feature of tribal or world-music influenced ambient.
A tuning which takes listeners out of the familiar Western
equal-tempered scales can open up wonderful sonic vistas. Listening
for harmonic “spice” is a great way to enter into an ambient
piece that may involve creative use of tonality and tuning. It is not
necessary to “identify” exactly what these elements are
musicologically. Over-intellectualization can even get in the way of
fully appreciating an ambient composition. But being aware of these
possibilities, and listening for them, can open up the ear and
increase one's personal connection to a piece of music.
Much ambient music has a strong visual component, at least to me. It is
not surprising that so many ambient composers are also visual artists
or at least dabble in visual art forms—as I do. While few composers
or listeners may have true synesthesia (seeing music as color or
shape—or colors as musical tones), the practice of visualization
during the listening experience opens up many connections between the
senses and can enrich the experience. Some pieces have a strong sense
of “story,” and writing or telling a story that emerges from an
ambient music listening experience can be a wonderful way to
communicate your vision of a piece to others. It is also
interesting to experiment with listening with eyes open and closed.
For me, these are very different experiences. I find that by limiting
visual sensory input, my hearing becomes more acute, and I am able to
notice much more that I can with my eyes open. On the other hand,
there are some wonderful videos made to accompany ambient music,
well-worth exploring. Multi-media presentation may also represent one
of the more viable venues for ambient music in the concert hall.
Audiences may not accept purely recorded music as a “performance,”
but the addition of visuals creates a more complete “live”
experience.
There is a tremendous variety of style within the genre of ambient music,
ranging from New Age space music to very dark, industrial
noise-oriented music. I try to sample as much as I can, learning from
and appreciating the diversity of this growing genre. It is exciting
to be a part of this still-emerging format, both as a composer and a
listener.
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