Since the introduction of digital recording in the 1980s, there has been debate about the merits of new media over old media. Unlike the leap from acoustic to electronic recording around 1929 and the shift to stereo recording in the mid-1950s, the adoption of digital recording in the 1980s is not generally regarded by audiophiles as an advancement in recording technology.
So what’s the problem? Well, it’s really simple. Acoustic recording involves a needle attached to a membrane that vibrates (more or less) similarly to the sound that stimulates the membrane. Electrical recording basically extends this technology by having a membrane (in a microphone) convert sound into similar electrical impulses, which are then recorded onto a disc and then onto tape. This in turn will be used to drive the cutting lathe that cuts vinyl records. When the disc is played, a needle in the groove reads the small bumps and converts them into electrical pulses, which are amplified to drive the speaker cone, exciting the air and producing sound.
Digital recording involves a sampling technique in which certain sounds, or parts of sounds, are digitally encoded and then reproduced or reconverted back into electrical impulses, which then drive a speaker cone. The problem is that this is a sample involving the programmer’s choice of which sounds/parameters to encode. Therefore, this may not be as accurate a representation of the sound as an analog recording, which responds directly to what is happening to the sound. Of course, more samples containing more information will produce a better record than one using fewer samples.
To be fair, all recording techniques have their flaws. Even the best analog recordings cannot recreate the experience of hearing the sound live. The characteristics and flaws of analog equipment can and do limit various aspects of recording. There is a limit to what the device can record, so even in the best cases there are choices about which parts of the sound spectrum to capture. For example, the frequency range and dynamic range are limited. But connoisseurs believe that the sonic experience of analog recording is warmer and more realistic than digital recording.
Of course, most people can hear the difference between early digital recordings and more recent digital recordings. This is because the sampling has gotten better, encompassing a wider range of frequencies and dynamic range. But die-hards will insist that analog recording is the best recording technology for reproducing a satisfying listening experience and faithfully reproducing the live sound experience.
I’m not an engineer, but as someone with ears, I still like the warm sound of analog recordings. Of course, I listen to digital recordings because it’s the dominant technology and I want to listen to new recordings. I’m not advocating change here, just pointing out the essential differences.
Well, you ask, it’s all about the sound, but your title says it’s not all about the sound. So what is given?
Well, my purpose here is to use this simple exposition of recording technology as a metaphor for the digital sampling of opinions prevalent in today’s commercially driven culture. Our opinions are sought everywhere. Whether an interviewer approaches you, fills out a warranty card, or evaluates some experience you just had at a concert or theater, your opinion is surveyed and put into some sort of database, which in turn undergoes some sort of analysis. And, in turn, analytics drive future choices within a given business model.
It’s no secret that when Igor Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du Printemps premiered that night in 1913, most of the audience wasn’t satisfied with their listening experience . Yet few today would deny that this music is the most important work of the twentieth century. However, modern business practice dictates that such music should not be programmed as it will upset the audience and they may not return if they expect to repeat the experience.
The great musicologist/conductor/composer Nicolas Slonimsky (1894-1995) discovered this phenomenon in his wonderful Lexicon of Musical Invective (1953) , in which he recorded a considerable number of critical reviews of music that are now considered great but were first, heard by the aforementioned critics, described as inferior. This point is easy to understand. Our initial experience of a new piece of music may be very different from how we perceive it after hearing it again.
As statistical models ascend to religious practice, there is a growing belief that these models embody the essence of truth and clear vision. But what is the motivation behind this modeling? Anyone who has taken a statistics course or given it a little thought will realize that statistics can be as effective at obscuring results as they are at clarifying them. So if the motive is profit (as it should be in a business model), then the focus on quality (whatever that is) is bound to diminish.
I have had many exciting and joyful experiences of hearing a new piece of music at a concert that I had never heard before. I experienced the excitement of discovery. Now, not every new piece of music has this effect, and as I said before, after the second or third listen, I get the thrill of discovery.
I used to really love classical radio stations. At that time, in my adolescence, classical music was an adventure of discovery. Of course, in addition to the masterpieces, I heard a lot of mediocre and even terrible music, but I also remember that there are sometimes risks involved in writing new and less familiar music. Sometimes I get bored, sometimes I feel repelled, but sometimes I discover something new to add to my listening repertoire selection.
This was Chicago in the 1970s and 1980s, with Zenith’s WEFM, WFMT, and the late, lamented independent WNIB. But radio station programming appears to be similar to concert hall programming. These radio stations frequently broadcast concerts by orchestras such as the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra, Boston Symphony Orchestra, and various foreign orchestras. Their show also includes a lot of new music.
Over the past 5 to 10 years or so I’ve noticed that classical radio stations have become increasingly dull and predictable. Of course, it’s good to hear Beethoven symphonies and Mozart piano concertos, but some stations adopted a “request” mode of broadcasting, which resulted in Boleros, the 1812 Overture, and, as one writer put it, Overplaying of “wallpaper music”. Wallpaper Music references many newly recorded tracks that are so mediocre that they almost made me scream out of boredom and ennui.
I am not advocating the abandonment of digital recording or a libertarian approach to concert programming. Of course, both radio stations and concert organizations need to make at least a small profit to survive. What I am advocating is incorporating risk-taking and discovery into the business models I mentioned earlier.
Democratizing music programming and playing it to the middle or majority seems to produce mediocrity. Now every concert program and every classical radio station is pretty much the same. Of course, there are some notable exceptions, as some ensembles employ resident composers and occasionally premiere new works. Less common are second performances of new works.
There are some adventurous new music festivals with interesting arrangements. But these are beyond the scope of most classic programming today. So, at the end of the day (or the end of this little article), listen to what brings you joy, but don’t be afraid of new musical ideas. Be aware of new (and old) recording/reproduction technologies and their impact on the sounds you hear. It’s not just about the music, it’s also about the sound.
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