British writer Arthur C. Clarke once claimed that "any sufficiently complexgeneration is indistinguishable from magic."
I'd argue that musical technology, from the earliest drums to the maximumrecent doodads, has at all times been imbued with that magical quality.
In her riveting unmarried from 2014, "Bird No Singing," Korean electronic producer Haihm uses the most present examples of "magic" in her music.
Haihm is yet any othera section of the wave of impressive feminine synth artists popping out of Korea, adding Shirosky and Kirara. As a classically trained pianist, the Seoul-based Haihm does not shy clear of complexity and has the chops to back it up.
Originally released at the 2014 EP "Point 9," the track "Bird No Singing" demonstrates that whilst Haihm is a wonderfully capable singer, she prefers to shy faraway from words and pay attention onnatural music in thisprolongededition of that track. Although her vocals do make some fleeting, albeit chopped-up appearances.
"Bird No Singing" opens with fleet snippets of vocal sound, not anything beyond a syllable. This has a form of now-you-see-it-now-you-don't effect.
As I discussed previously, magic.
The methodology of popping sounds out and in of the mixture at whim is going back to the heady days of early dub reggae, when manufacturers would permit horns or other delayed-out tools to be audible and then grab them away. This created an effect that used to bemost unlikelyto replicate in are living performance, yetin the process the magic of the recording studio, the rest would soon be possible.
As "Bird No Singing" continues, that nod to the early days of dub blending jujitsu remains a constant, while other parts come into play.
Strictly speaking, the solein point of factbasic musical part that makes itself heard all over all seven mins of "Bird No Singing" are 3 dulcet chords on what sounds like a Fender Rhodes. Beyond that, it is all technological manipulation.
Percussion plays a bigsection in the piece, but in an excessively untraditional way. Back in the days of strictly acoustic performances on recordings, the collection ofexact drums to be had to the performers may smartly be limited to what a single drummer would be capable to playing, in even the most ostentatious cases, finite by way of nature. By the usage of what may be any variety ofpc programs, Haihm is ready to manipulate the pitch of her drums to just about any pitch.
Suddenly, she has an impossibly massivestove of "drums" to play with. Magic? You be the judge.
The low-pitched bass frequencies do notappearto attemptto mimic any specific instrument, and the sweeps of sound that swoop thru the combine borrow from the outdated couple of decades of analog or virtual synthesizers. Time and area are rendered meaningless in this context.
Over the patient expanse of "Bird No Singing," Haihm is able to slowly build into a deserved saturation point. By the time the song has reached its climax, the drum programming doesn't resemble anything a "real drummer" might or would be capable of play; it is the musical sound of machines going berserk.
Describing it's going to brandthe finish result audio wildly out of control, but of course, moderatelythe other is true.
Haihm is able to exploit frenzy to signifythe sort of catharsis we seek from music, while working from a position of overall control.
The sense of chaos is a trick, or, as others might insist, an illusion.
Watch the music video for Haihm's 2014 single "Bird No Singing"RIGHT HERE
Jeff Tobias is a composer, musician and authorthese days living in Brooklyn, New York. As of late, he has been reading arcane systems of tuning and operating on his jump shot.
© 2015 KpopStarz. All rights reserved. Do now not reproduce without permission.