April 05, 2023 / By mobanmarket
Take a walk at night. Walk so silently that the bottoms of your feet become ears.—Pauline Oliveros, Sonic Meditations
The one activity that distinguishes audiophiles from other music lovers is our practice of sitting in solitude and listening closely to music reproduced on a finely tuned playback system.
That is not to suggest that there’s anything wrong with playing music in the background. But what’s unique about us audiophiles is the seriousness of intent with which some of us sit in front of or among two or more speakers, or within a headphone soundfield, and focus intently on well-produced and well-reproduced music. What was formerly a collective ritual shared by millions of gramophone owners and folks who gathered ’round a piano for music-making and listening is now practiced by relatively few music lovers. Among them are the members of our loose-knit audiophile community who take great care in assembling sound systems that provide a superior listening experience.
But assembling great hardware and music software is just part of the equation. Turning off the world and focusing solely on music is not easy to do. First, one must quiet children, animals, roommates, partner, or spouse and shut out intrusions from neighbors, cars, planes, lawnmowers, and not so “smart” devices. (How can anything that interrupts music be “smart”?) When I retreat to my relatively soundproof listening room and control digital playback with my iPad, for example, I must remember to turn off the tablet’s sound and place it out of view so that, in the middle of the quietest or most heart-gripping musical passages, texts and headlines about matters profound, ridiculous, or profoundly ridiculous don’t distract me as they flash across the screen. (Editor Jim Austin has castigated me for not having a second iPad that’s devoted solely to digital music playback. He has a point.)
Next, one must quiet the mind. Once I’m sure that the dogs have been walked and fed and that sufficient time remains before dinner or bed, I sit down, take some deep breaths, and prepare to enter an altered universe. In an act of will, I shut out the world and immerse myself deeply in the music that brings me joy. Joy, of course, can come in many forms. Music can make me smile, laugh, or sob. Some music touches my soul, transports me to new dimensions, or opens a portal to truths and mysteries beyond words. Other music infuriates. I try to make room for it all. Sometimes I embark on the journey with music tried-and-true, performed by artists I’m familiar with. At other times the music is familiar, but the artists and approach are new. And then there’s music that’s entirely unknown, which I eagerly explore to see what it can reveal.
What I value most deeply, beyond the music itself and the music’s sound, is artists whose every sound is created with intention. I never tire of hearing how far Rickie Lee Jones goes in her bizarre rendition of the Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil” or how singers on the exalted level of Elisabeth Schumann, Lotte Lehmann, Maggie Teyte, Lorraine Hunt Lieberson, Joan Baez, and Joni Mitchell sustain tension in a manner that transforms a simple string of notes into something profound. I can’t explain how much it means to me to hear Schumann descend from a high note as if her voice was a feather floating downward on the cushion of a soft breeze, or to hear Teyte, in Debussy’s Chansons de Bilitis, sound the last three words of “et tour à tour nos bouches s’unissent sur la flûte” (and our mouths join in turn on the flute) as if two people were engaged in the most profound act of lovemaking ever recorded.
Why does Billy Eckstine’s and Ella Fitzgerald’s singing almost always make me feel good? How do Yo-Yo Ma and Emanuel Ax manage to smile through their instruments when the music calls for smiles? How can Murray Perahia, with more than a little help from J.S. Bach, channel the voice of the Divine through a single aria, 30 variations, and a recapitulation? How can the soundscapes of Anna Thorvaldsdóttir be so rooted in the earth yet metaphysical in their expanse?
I don’t have answers to these questions. Nor do I need them. What I do need, and crave, is the experience of getting closer to the artists and music I love. I not only want to hear intent; I want to feel it. And for that, a great sound system (or a great live performance in a superb acoustic) is essential.
The late teacher and music pioneer Pauline Oliveros defined deep listening as “a way of listening in every possible way to everything possible, to hear no matter what you are doing.” Oliveros is talking about listening into music and sound in a way that transports you to a level where subject and object—listener and that which is listened to—become one. She’s describing the unity that comes about when we merge with what we are hearing.
It’s a lofty goal, this merging, and its ambitiousness increases my desire to create the mindset, listening space, and sound system where unity with music in all its manifestations is possible. Hence, I take great delight in every change to system and room that enables me to hear more of what artists, composers, and sound engineers hope to convey.
What some might dismiss as nervosa I see as a path to nirvana. As hilarious at it may seem to contemplate achieving samadhi via an 80-year-old recording and a change of interconnect, it’s a dance I love. And there you have it.
Click Here: Manchester City Jersey Sale
Categories: