Response to Trilogie de la Morte --> The Piece "Wired" is a composition that I created as a response to Radigue's electronic music composition. Wired tells a story about a human being wired to a machine, desperate to hold on to life. Wired strives to capture the way our bodies in modern society are closely related to machines.

My initial response -> 

The piece begins with a pulsating sound, as if it were the beating heart of larger sound. Then a circular ringing ensues that reminds me of the sound of someone spinning their finger on the lip of crystal glass. Then a sharp “large” sound overshadows the piece with more intense in amplification. Within the sound I hear a beating ring that reminds me of a digital alarm clock. I find that this beating is possibly warning me about something relating to time or reinforcing the way Pauline Oliveros deliberately constructed her compositions with a watch to achieve music that is external to time. After leaving a world of time, I hear an orbiting sound that is muffled as if I am floating in space or diving under the sea. I hear a wave that rolls from one ear to the other. I feel as if my ears are popping as the two beatings go back and forth between both me ears, while the glass spinning stays grounded in the middle. My ears are now throbbing as if they had just been next to the speakers of a heavily amped rock concert. I’m definitely feeling as if I’m under water, my ears about to pop as I get deeper. I hear an orca whale speak to me in a low “hummm.” The glass spinning between my ears begins to get more intense as the whale hums to me. The large sound dabs in a manner that sounds like it is laughing “hahahaha” with different frequencies of sound exchanging “ha’s.” Suddenly a big sound creeps in like a thunder cloud, casting a heavy shadow over the ocean, creating rapid ripples on the surface of the water. But the sound just turns out to be a submarine, mechanically propelling through the depths at me. It tries to envelop sounds, but all the little pings of sound still peak out of the loud roar of the machine. Everything gets really intense as the space becomes disturbed by the interjection of this machine. Hear a “fasten your seatbelt” sound, a consistent “ding” casting out some warning. The whole large sound, paired with the dinging, jerks my head forward and back, making my ears adjust and re-adjust to what they are exactly hearing. I feel like the music in my head is being controlled by a wammy bar, going in and out, forward and back. I realize that the ocean I am in is actually that of a human body. I can hear the heart beating of the person I have entered. The body is hooked up to a heart monitor, fluctuating with rippling beats and graphic lines. I feel a little bit unconscious. A sound comes in that sends me spinning, like the Tea Cup ride at the carnival. It’s been exactly 13 minutes into the piece and the sound of wind chimes lightly tickle my ears. The white noise comes in (14min) and starts to pour down on my head like a light shower in April. The crystal glasses are set out in front of me at the picnic table, they fill with the white noise (or “static”) rain water sound. Rain “pings” and “dings” on the metal wind chimes, trickling on the metal surface like a soft drum on a xylophone. The pinging of the rain creates a natural melody between the different sounds (15.44) making the sounds musically harmonious. The environment is creating the music that I hear and I am not touching anything. I am simply just listening. These melodies offer an essence of optimism and life in The Trilogie de Mort, elucidating that life is coming back to the piece that seemed somewhat dead and eerie at first. The circling of the class reinforces the “circular” notion of life, that explains the way death precedes life and vice versa. With every death, there is the beginning of a new life. In the background I hear an echo (18.29) that sounds like human voices, but I can’t make out exactly what they are saying. This human sound makes me think that this highly mechanical piece is becoming human (Machine transitioning back to human music making). I hear the heart monitor (19.46) again, but it is much more faint than I remembered it. I see a flat line _________ straight across the monitor, and I start to think that the person is dead by the faint constant ring in my ears. Suddenly my ears are in a game of tug-of-war between two conflicting sounds trying to manipulate me, both deriving from the overall large sound. The intensity of the large sound comes again in a new form than before (22.10), in a way that I can’t fully explain. My ear lobes are beating and throbbing again, completely overthrown by this larger sound. The sound mellows out, giving my ears rest. I am on an airplane, hearing the wind tunnel and mechanical equipment taking me through the air. I hear the faint sound of a piano (22.45) with its chord being held to drone, caused by a pedal. Then I hear the sound of an old school computer dialing up to the internet (24.12). The plane lands (27.14) and I hear the sound of a minor (key) sounding flute solo, very Arabian Nights. I hear a drilling noise into the ground consistently (28.52) and feet trudging through the snow (sort of like feedback from a tape recording). The whale floats in again and starts to speak to me in humming tones (29.15). Then the injection of actual familiar music, sort of the kind of music in a “mystery” movie, a “thriller,” a “horror film,” Casablanca or “The Twilight Zone.” The pulsating of the machine’s electronic music begins to interpenetrate with the sound of concrete music (30.51). So much chaos, a fugue between the machine, and the music playing of man and instrument (31.45). Storm sets in and things are blowing around in my mind, as if a tornado entered where the machine is killing music concrete (32.32). Total amplification takes shape, very climactic (33.56). Everything is shaking, falling off tables, and crashing (34.32). The spinning glass returns (35.02) as if I am entering a dream or some surreal state of mind. The static over the speaker tells me that a human is near (36.57). I turn off the music (37), and I have a head ache.
	Everything seems silent at first. Then everything in the room becomes suddenly extremely sensitive and audible, as if I am more aware now of where I am. I am not sure if what I listened to was from within myself or the recording. I am not sure if my thoughts contributed at all to the heightening of the piece. But I went somewhere, that I am certain. I feel like I woke up from a dream without closing my eyes. With my eyes wide awake I felt like I was somewhere else. It was completely weird, but psychologically interesting. I still hear the storm in silence. The vent in my room has many sounds burrowed within the large dominating sound. My computer hums, but my mind is at peace. 


SPoor