BREAKING TO REBUILD - Part 3: Raw Expressionism, Objects as Musical Language with Ziúr

BREAKING TO REBUILD

Part 3: Raw Expressionism, Objects as Musical Language

with Ziúr

In this Lux Cache tutorial series, we invite you to dismantle conventional wisdom and reconstruct your approaches and understanding of music production from the ground up. In this instalment, artist and producer Ziúr dives into the case use of using everyday objects as instruments in her eccentric soundscapes, transforming the mundane into the extraordinary. This tutorial is available as a text post and a preferred .pdf document format. We ask you kindly to not share Lux Cache content outside of the platform, our contributors rely on your donations.

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CONTENTS

1. INTRODUCTION
2. OBJECTS AND SOUND SOURCES
   1. PREFACE: MUSIQUE CONCRÈTE
   2. PLATES, BOWLS GLASSES
   3. PACKING TAPE
   4. SQUEAKY WOODEN FLOOR
   5. WATER SPILLS ON A HOT IRON
   6. JEWELRY AND METAL CHAIN
   7. VOICE
3. COMPOSITIONAL APPROACH
   1. RAW WARMTH
   2. INDEFINABLE QUANTISATION
   3. NORTH AFRICAN TRADITIONAL MUSIC
4. CONCLUSION

INTRODUCTION

A while back, a studio engineer friend shared that whenever he hears music playing, his mind starts to wander, imagining the tools that might have been used in its production and analyzing the effect chain and processing. This conversation has stayed with me; as I've trained my ears, my perspective on music, mixes, and production has shifted significantly.

In the realm of music production, we often find ourselves confined to the boundaries of traditional instruments and digital software. But what if the key to unlocking a new level of creativity lies in the everyday objects that surround us? Welcome to the world of Raw Expressionism, specifically, using found objects to become the language of your musical narrative. From the clatter of kitchenware to the subtle rustle of paper, this approach encourages you to listen deeply to the world around you and reimagine these sounds in a musical context.

This piece focuses on recording, editing, and processing 'things you find around the house.' Decontextualizing objects from their dedicated purpose is an excellent way to playfully introduce different ways to experience your surroundings. Salad bowls and celery bites, when used in a sonic context, can be quite versatile.

Additionally, I'll explore how adding analogue elements to a digital setting inherently changes the sonics and dynamics of the production. The easy access to digital audio workstations and sophisticated production tools has democratized music significantly. While historically all music originated acoustically, nowadays much of it finds its home in a digital setting. Diverting from the somewhat 'sterile' environment of a digital project, the grittier, less polished character of analogue sources can offer new avenues for musical expression.

While the use of foley sounds in music production might initially be dismissed as kitschy or gimmicky, it's important to recognize the transformative potential these everyday sounds possess when approached with an experimental mindset. Far from being mere novelties, foley elements can add layers of texture, rhythm, and emotional resonance to a composition.

When manipulated, arranged, and integrated thoughtfully, these sounds transcend their origins and their conventional uses in film or theatre. They become more than just 'sound effects'; they evolve into integral components of the musical language, challenging our understanding of what music can be. In this way, foley transcends gimmickry and becomes a powerful tool for innovative sound design.

Once you learn to view objects as resonating bodies and apply this understanding to various contexts, the scientific aspect of music production becomes much more enjoyable. Apart from gaining unique sound material for your sample library, revisiting objects and places from a fresh perspective sharpens your senses and trains your ears.

Over time, my view of my surroundings has evolved considerably. I now find myself constantly incorporating random objects or sounds into musical settings. Whether it's a rhythm pattern I notice while standing at a traffic light or analyzing the origins of various sounds, I'm always considering their potential musical utility.

OBJECTS & SOUND SOURCES

PREFACE: MUSIQUE CONCRÈTE

For those well-versed in the history of experimental music, the concept of using found sounds as musical elements will likely evoke thoughts of Musique Concrète. Pioneered in the 1940s, this avant-garde form of music production took everyday sounds—be it the clatter of a train or the rustle of leaves—and transformed them into musical compositions. While Musique Concrète was revolutionary in its time, today's digital tools offer even more flexibility and ease in capturing and manipulating these sounds. Yet, the core philosophy remains the same: the world around us is a treasure trove of sonic possibilities, waiting to be discovered and recontextualized. So as we delve into the realm of Raw Expressionism, consider it a modern continuation of this groundbreaking tradition.

PLATES, BOWLS, GLASSES

My salad bowl has been a staple in my records for a decade, and it's probably the single object I return to most often—it makes an excellent-sounding bell. I've recorded it using various techniques: fingers, nails, mallets, and drumsticks. Recording different sizes of crockery adds a nice variety. One of my favorite recordings features a small porcelain plate that has two distinct tunings simultaneously. I played it with a soft mallet to minimize the attack's presence and emphasize the resonance.

Later, I imported these samples into a drum sampler (I prefer Battery by Native Instruments), duplicated them a few times, and applied different tunings. The result felt almost like a keyboard or an instrument, even though it doesn't adhere to any traditional scale. The tunings are somewhat random, guided by my personal sense of harmony. The only consistent aspect is that the sounds ascend in pitch when played at higher registers.

Battery offers a comprehensive set of tools for editing samples within the instrument, which is likely why I find myself returning to it so often. While I don't utilize its internal effects, I do use it to pitch and trim the sample, and to adjust the attack, hold, and decay. This allows me to control which part of the sample I want to emphasize and which parts should be removed. I'll frequently shorten sounds with longer decays and subtle tails to achieve a cleaner overall mix. The built-in high and low-cut filters are also quite handy, enabling the sound to cut through where needed without adding unnecessary muddiness. This approach results in a more distinct mix, allowing other elements to shine.

Native Instruments’ ‘Battery’ sampler plug-in inside of Logic Pro X, c/o Ziúr

Ceramic bowl creating harmonic layers with mallet hit, c/o Ziúr

🔊 BowlRecording_Example.mp3

PACKING TAPE

This turned out to be the most surprising household item I've ever recorded. While wrapping a package, I noticed that the nearly depleted roll of inexpensive tape had become so compressed that the adhesive had tightly fused the layers together. When I pulled the tape, it produced an unusual drizzling sound, akin to large raindrops hitting a metal roof. I affixed the tape's end to my desk and began recording as it unspooled, capturing the tiny bits of adhesive creating what could only be described as a jazzy drum solo.

As I continued to unroll the tape and increase its length, the tone started to deepen, and bass notes emerged. Suddenly, there was an interplay between the crisp crunches of the plastic and the resonant swings of the tape. The experience of discovering such richly textured and varied sounds from an entirely unexpected source still brings me immense joy.

Studio recording of packing tape, c/o Ziúr

 🔊 Tape_Recording_Example.mp3

SQUEAKY WOODEN FLOOR

One evening, a friend visited my apartment and immediately remarked, "Your floor is quite squeaky." It struck me that I had lived here for 15 years without ever noticing it. Perhaps the squeaks had gradually intensified, but it took an outsider's perspective to awaken my awareness. We later recorded the sound, transforming it into a textural element for my new album. Now, I can't unhear my squeaky floor.

Its frequency spectrum is generally rich in higher harmonics, making it a useful tool for cutting through a dense mix. When isolated and processed, these squeaks can be manipulated to serve as unconventional percussive elements or even melodic motifs. The inherent randomness of the squeaks' timing can also serve to humanize a digital grid, introducing a subtle swing or groove.

WATER SPILLS ON A HOT IRON

This idea was sparked by a video my friend Debit posted online, so I can't take creative credit for this one. Lately, it's become my go-to hi-hat sound. It has a soft, almost shaker-like quality that blends well in a mix. Hi-hats can be tricky to place; they're often either too harsh or get lost among other percussive elements. A truncated and occasionally pitched water sizzle sample has all the qualities I seek in a hi-hat. Thanks, Delia.

Studio recording of water spills on a hot iron, c/o Ziúr

JEWELLERY AND METAL CHAIN

This adds a fascinating textural layer. The most effective use I've found is with metal chains on drums. I used Roto Toms extensively on my last album, and my favorite moments are when the chain strikes the metal frame of the toms. When the chain strikes the metal frame of the Roto Toms, it generates a transient-rich sound that can cut through a dense mix. This transient quality, combined with the metallic timbre, can add a unique percussive element that traditional drum samples may lack. Furthermore, the chain's impact can create a short, natural reverb tail, adding depth and space to the overall drum sound. This technique exemplifies how unconventional sound sources can be harnessed to enhance musical texture.

Studio recording of jewellery and metal chains being used on Roto Toms, c/o Ziúr

HUMAN VOICE

The voice is perhaps the most personal instrument, and the rawer it is, the better. The spectrum of sound available through vocals or even just the mouth is nearly endless. There's a fundamental quality to vocal recordings that I believe we subconsciously respond to, even without lyrical content. Technically, the voice can be manipulated in countless ways, from pitch correction to formant shifting, to fit into various musical contexts. However, it's often the raw, unprocessed vocal that carries the most emotional weight, serving as a direct conduit between the artist and the listener.

From a psychological standpoint, the human voice has a unique ability to trigger emotional and biological responses. Research has shown that the human brain has specialized mechanisms for voice recognition, which is crucial for social interaction and communication. This biological predisposition to respond to the human voice likely contributes to its emotional impact in a sound design or compositional setting.

The voice's inherent 'human-ness' can serve as an emotional anchor in a mix, especially in electronic or heavily processed genres where organic elements may be scarce. Even without intelligible lyrics, the tonal quality, pitch fluctuations, and timbral nuances of the voice can evoke a wide range of emotions, from joy to sorrow. This makes it an incredibly powerful tool for composers and producers, offering a layer of emotional complexity that is difficult to achieve with synthesized or sampled sounds.

COMPOSITIONAL APPROACH

RAW WARMTH

Recording your own material is one of the simplest ways to create a unique sound palette. I'm no purist; I appreciate an efficient workflow and have a vast sample library that I frequently use. However, I do focus on refining factory sounds to make them uniquely mine. I also enjoy layering odd combinations of sounds and employing a wide range of sources and techniques.

Since incorporating analogue elements into my music, I've noticed a new level of sonic richness. Mixing analogue and digital sources significantly alters the overall character of the music. While I can't explain this scientifically, I have some theories. One is that a subtle level of background noise in a recording adds grit and character to the overall mix. Another is that the natural tuning imperfections of random objects can add a charming dissonance, enriching the mix.

Recording your own material also fosters a deeper connection with your work, imbuing it with a sense of authenticity that's hard to replicate with pre-made samples. It allows for serendipitous moments—those happy accidents where a sound or texture you never planned on becomes the missing piece in your sonic puzzle. This hands-on approach not only enhances your creative freedom but also deepens your understanding of sound manipulation and design. It's a form of sonic exploration that can lead to unexpected and delightful discoveries, enriching your music and expanding your artistic vocabulary. This personalized touch can make your work stand out in a saturated market, offering listeners an experience that is both unique and deeply personal.

INDEFINABLE QUANTIZATION

Quantization also plays a role in the character of a recording. While digital elements are easily quantized, analogue recordings often don't align as precisely. This can be adjusted in post-production, but some elements benefit from a looser approach, especially percussive sounds. A little wiggle room can add significant swing to a rhythm.

I often build percussive loops from elements that were unpredictable during recording. These loops, with their random peaks, can quickly create unique rhythms. This process frequently introduces me to unfamiliar patterns and fresh ideas.

Incorporating analogue or unquantized elements into my DAW workflow adds an almost indefinable quality—let's call it dirt, inaccuracy, entropy, warmth, or perhaps a form of human expression.

Analogue sources are never 100% clean, and many contemporary digital workspaces come with a framework that implies a need for precision. Straying from this takes analytical skill and effort.

NORTH AFRICAN TRADITIONAL MUSIC

In a recent project, I worked with recordings of North African traditional music. While the melodies were easy to recognize, it took me days to understand the complex tuning due to my pre-conditioned biases.

Instruments like the oud, a stringed instrument similar to a lute, have a warm, resonant sound that can convey a wide range of emotions. The qanun, a type of zither, adds a sparkling, harp-like quality. Hand drums like the darbuka bring rhythmic complexity, often playing intricate patterns that interact in sophisticated ways with the melody instruments. The interplay between these instruments creates a rich, layered texture that's both captivating and challenging to the uninitiated ear.

The Oud’s Kāmil al-Ḫula‘ī’s note positions on the finger-board, native to North Africa, 1904

The vocal techniques used in this traditional music often employ ornamentation and melismatic phrasing that add another layer of complexity to the music. The voice serves not just as a vehicle for melody, but as an instrument in its own right, capable of a wide range of timbral and emotional expression.

The unique scales challenged my understanding of melody and harmony, while the complex rhythms pushed me to rethink my approach to timing and groove. It was a transformative experience that not only broadened my musical vocabulary but also deepened my appreciation for the universal language of music in all its diverse forms.

The technical intricacies of North African traditional music, with its unique scales and microtonal nuances, serve as a compelling parallel to the practice of recording found objects. Both require a deep understanding of sound manipulation and a keen ear for detail. In the case of North African music, one must grasp the complexities of non-Western scales and rhythms. Similarly, when recording everyday objects, understanding the acoustic properties and potential harmonic content is crucial for effective sound design.

These two seemingly disparate practices actually share a common thread: they both challenge conventional Western approaches to pitch, rhythm, and sonic texture, thereby enriching the overall musical composition.

This experience reminded me that there are endless ways to explore music and far more opportunities for learning and growth than we often consider.

CONCLUSION

While a certain level of precision is needed to produce work that aligns with the Western standard of equal temperament or a rigid 4/4 rhythm, I believe the most captivating work exists in the liminal spaces—those that prioritize swing and harmonic complexity.

The subtleties conveyed through music, especially when performed by humans, continue to fascinate me. Its ability to communicate a wide spectrum of emotions is what I find to be the most beautiful aspect of music. It functions as a universal language, at least to some extent, and can be understood across cultures.

Consciously, we often reduce our communication to the techniques we know best and consider most practical. However, we possess a broader skill set for sending and receiving information. Music is one such form of communication that we might not immediately recognize as such.

A unique human trait—whether a curse or a blessing—is our ability to exist between the lines. Unlike current technology, which can't read between the lines, our non-binary existence allows us to emotionally engage with our surroundings, rather than just replicating a formula. Modern technology provides shortcuts to quickly create market-ready products, but it's easy to lose sight of the value of human tools that have evolved over millennia. Music keeps our senses sharp and our communication skills honed; it brings people together and reminds us of our intrinsic value. Our complexity is both beautiful and unparalleled.

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Ziúr is an artist and producer based in Berlin. You can listen to her new album ‘Eyeroll’ out now.

Follow Ziúr on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ziurinhell/

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