The thought of live acoustic music fills me with awe. Sound in general, really. Vibrations in the ear. Music. A miracle of the natural world. We tend to forget just how amazing the fact that we can hear sounds is; probably because most of us have been hearing sounds since birth – or even before, if you believe in Mozart’s capacity for formulating well-rounded pillars-of-society whilst still womb-bound. I would apply our inevitable taking of sound for granted to the sound of acoustically produced live music. Since the invention of the gramophone, the process of desensitising people to the miracle of humanly ‘organic’ (to use an over-flaunted buzz-word) music, has ‘snowballed’ (ditto); since the invention of the loudspeaker, we’ve come to think that the meticulously calculated vibrations of a small piece of plastic is synonymous with the vibrations of a small piece of the human diaphragm and vocal chords, the bow on string, or the reed on lips. And yet it is not. It’s just a piece of plastic with two positions: on or off.
The sound of humanly produced music in a live acoustic setting, however, is something miles away from this. Vibrations and resonances produced on stage by talented human beings (or even not-so-talented) and the acoustic properties of the performance space invade the ears from all possible angles, and the purity of the sound, the undistorted, unmediated quality of those directly transmitted vibrations is a true joy to behold. Just think about what you are hearing next time you hear live music: even singing in the shower could seem miraculous!
BBC Radio 3 recently changed their schedule to include a live broadcast of a full-length concert performance every night of the week. It’s an ambitious decision, and one fraught with financial, technological and musical dangers. And yet it shows an admirable trust in and celebration of live music, and illustrates a shift towards a re-appreciation of live, humanly produced sound. Of course, the irony is that the radio listeners still have the tap-tap of the plastic diaphragm reproducing the sounds. But one hopes that the excited hubbub of the live audience, the hushed tones of the expectant presenter, and the general feeling of contingency – ‘this is happening NOW and never again’ – will prove infectious, and a contagious love for live ‘organic’ music might be transmitted – via artificial vibrations – to a receptive audience at home; and that they in turn will soon have their eardrums massaged by humans and acoustics in a concert venue near them.
The sound of humanly produced music in a live acoustic setting, however, is something miles away from this. Vibrations and resonances produced on stage by talented human beings (or even not-so-talented) and the acoustic properties of the performance space invade the ears from all possible angles, and the purity of the sound, the undistorted, unmediated quality of those directly transmitted vibrations is a true joy to behold. Just think about what you are hearing next time you hear live music: even singing in the shower could seem miraculous!
BBC Radio 3 recently changed their schedule to include a live broadcast of a full-length concert performance every night of the week. It’s an ambitious decision, and one fraught with financial, technological and musical dangers. And yet it shows an admirable trust in and celebration of live music, and illustrates a shift towards a re-appreciation of live, humanly produced sound. Of course, the irony is that the radio listeners still have the tap-tap of the plastic diaphragm reproducing the sounds. But one hopes that the excited hubbub of the live audience, the hushed tones of the expectant presenter, and the general feeling of contingency – ‘this is happening NOW and never again’ – will prove infectious, and a contagious love for live ‘organic’ music might be transmitted – via artificial vibrations – to a receptive audience at home; and that they in turn will soon have their eardrums massaged by humans and acoustics in a concert venue near them.