Journal articles on the topic 'Recorder and harpsichord music Analysis'

It was as a boy of twelve or thirteen that I played the harpsichord for the first time. My early experiences of ensemble playing with the instrument took place with my contemporaries, but primarily with my Dutch teacher at secondary school and his wife, Mr and Mrs Meijer. Both were amateur recorder players, and as a young amateur harpsichordist I would accompany them. At first I would diligently play the realized basso-continuo parts, such as the ones often found in twentieth-century editions. Sometimes it was clear that one could make changes to what was in the realizations, informed by one's own insights, but my insights were not formed at that stage and I did not know where to begin. Very soon I found these realized parts boring. One day, while drinking a glass of wine (one of my first), Mr Meijer asked me, ‘Have you noticed that under the realized part, there are often figures noted down? Do you dare to play from them?’. After many wrong chords, but in the company of kind people who had also made mistakes themselves, I began to understand the system of figures a little. We played together every Saturday, and very soon I found it more pleasant to play without the chordal realizations. Then one fine Saturday afternoon, I sat down at the harpsichord to find that Mr or Mrs Meijer had taped over the right hand of the realized continuo part with an empty staff! There was no more escaping it now: I was dragged back to the bass line and the figures. After many further Saturday afternoon sessions, the results became more acceptable.

This study focuses on the relationships between music analysis, performance, and tension perception. Part 1 examines harpsichordists’ analyses and performances of an unmeasured prelude—a semi-improvisatory genre open to interpretive freedom. Twelve harpsichordists performed the Prélude non mesuré No. 7 by Louis Couperin on a harpsichord equipped with a MIDI console and submitted a formal analysis. Using a curve-fitting approach, we investigated the correspondence between analyzed segmentations and group-final lengthening. We found that harpsichordists also employed “group-final anticipation,” involving deceleration before, and acceleration through, analyzed boundaries. In Part 2, three listener groups (harpsichordists, musicians, and nonmusicians) continuously rated tension for 12 performances. In contrast to measured music, local tension peaks, rather than troughs, occurred at boundaries featuring group-final lengthening. Associations were found between global tempo and tension ratings, with significant differences among the three listener groups. Performers expressed the large-scale structure through the amount of tempo variability, which was also reflected in tension rating variability.

The article is based on the materials used for the author’s doctoral dissertation entitled Contemporary performance of 17th century German harpsichord toccatas in the context of instrument selection. Its main part is an analysis of the changes which occured in the harpsichord builiding before the end of the 19th century and the change in approach to early music at the beginning of the 20th century. The article is an attempt to answer the question to which extent instrument selection determines our today’s performance. Is it only a harpsichord being an exact copy of historical instruments that allows us to deliver an authentic and fresh interpretation? While listening to 20th century harpsichordists playing 20th century instruments (i.e., using contemporary models, not historically-based), we discover a different world of early music, which may even be more experimental than today’s performance sound-wise. It seems that the openness towards contemporary harpsichords while preserving historical practices at the same time may help discover new sound qualities in early music pieces.

The Baroque period is a period in which the form and style of the renaissance period came to an end, religious and mythological subjects were dealt with in all branches of art, and the period between renaissance and classicism in art history and described as 'ornate art style'. In this article, the differences between the harpsichord interpretation of J.S.Bach's Bwv 1056 F Minor Concerto originally written and the modern instrument piano interpretation were determined. In the first parts of the study, the general features of the Baroque period, the baroque period in music, the most important composers of the baroque period, the instruments of the baroque period and the music forms of the baroque period are mentioned. Subsequently, the focus is on the journey from the past of the harpsichord to the modern piano, J.S.Bach's style and harpsichord concertos; In the last part, with the support of the Project* recordings the analysis of BWV 1056 F Minor Concerto’s piano and harpsichord interpretations were analyzed and evaluated. It is aimed that this article will be a pre-study tutorial and contribution to many musicians and commentators.

The aim of the present article is the analysis of Concerto for harpsichord and five instruments by Manuel de Falla – a piece which was dedicated by the composer to Wanda Landowska, an outstanding Polish harpsichord player. The piece was meant to commemorate the friendship these two artists shared as well as their collaboration. Written in the period of 1923-1926, the Concerto was the first composition in the history of 20th century music where harpsichord was the soloist instrument. The first element of the article is the context in which the piece was written. We shall look into the musical influences that shaped its form. On the one hand, it was the music of the past: from Cancionero Felipe Pedrell through mainly Bach’s polyphony to works by Scarlatti which preceded the Classicism (this influence is particularly noticeable in the third movement of the Concerto). On the other hand, it was music from the time of de Falla: first of all – Neo-Classicism and works by Stravinsky. The author refers to historical sources – critics’ reviews, testimonies of de Falla’s contemporaries and, obviously, his own remarks as to the interpretation of the piece. Next, Inés R. Artola analyses the score in the strict sense of the word “analysis”. In this part of the article, she quotes specific fragments of the composition, which reflect both traditional musical means (counterpoint, canon, Scarlatti-style sonata form, influence of old popular music) and the avant-garde ones (polytonality, orchestration, elements of neo-classical harmony).

To date electric pianos and samplers tend to concentrate on authenticity in terms of temporal and spectral aspects of sound. However, they barely recreate the original sound radiation characteristics, which contribute to the perception of width and depth, vividness and voice separation, especially for instrumentalists, who are located near the instrument. To achieve this, a number of sound field measurement and synthesis techniques need to be applied and adequately combined. In this paper we present the theoretic foundation to combine so far isolated and fragmented sound field analysis and synthesis methods to realize a radiation keyboard, an electric harpsichord that approximates the sound of a real harpsichord precisely in time, frequency, and space domain. Potential applications for such a radiation keyboard are conservation of historic musical instruments, music performance, and psychoacoustic measurements for instrument and synthesizer building and for studies of music perception, cognition, and embodiment.

The article examines the chamber-instrumental work of Franghiz Alizadeh, a prominent representative of the modern Azerbaijani school of composition, People’s Artist, awarded the honorary title of ‘Artist of Peace’ by UNESCO. The article also highlights the characteristics of the musical and harmonic language, original timbre combinations, unusual dynamics, methods of using modern musical techniques of chamber-instrumental works of Franghiz Alizadeh, which is an area of her creative work that combines East-West music synthesis. The article analyzes Franghiz Alizadeh’s composition ‘Oasis for tape recorder and string quartet and gives specific features of the work. The article emphasizes that Franghiz Alizadeh’s presentation of Oriental thought in a synthesis of modern methods in the composition ‘Oasis’ is a unique feature of the work. The purpose of the research is to analyze the composition of Franghiz Alizadeh’s ‘Oasis’ and to determine the individual stylistic features of the composer. The interpretation of important innovations in Franghiz Alizadeh’s chamber-instrumental work and the discovery of its connection with modern music culture is especially emphasized. The basis of the research is the involvement of Franghiz Alizadeh, a prominent representative of the modern Azerbaijani school of composition, in the research work of the composition ‘Oasis’, which has not been subjected to scientific and theoretical analysis. The research methodology is based on music-analytical, theoretical, and historical analysis. It was noted that Franghiz Alizadeh’s chamber-instrumental work was formed in the context of the development of modern music, and modern technical methods were manifested uniquely. At the same time, the methodological basis of the article is based on the scientific-theoretical principles and research of Azerbaijani and foreign musicologists. The scientific novelty of the research is that for the first time, the general features of Franghiz Alizadeh’s chamber-instrumental creative work were studied within the framework of Azerbaijani music science, and the composer’s composition ‘Oasis’ was analyzed in detail. At the same time, based on the analysis, the article presents a detailed scientific study of the composition ‘Oasis’, which is of great importance in the work of the composer. Conclusions. The comprehensive analysis of Franghiz Alizadeh’s chamber-instrumental work and especially the composition ‘Oasis’ in the presented article allows drawing important conclusions about the features of the composer’s creative style. Franghiz Alizadeh is a modern Azerbaijani composer distinguished by her original creative style, and it was noted that the deep content of her works, distinguished by her unusual style of performance, is important in our national music art. It was noted that the East-West synthesis is dynamically manifested in the composer’s work, and this feature is directly felt like her works. From this point of view, F. Alizadeh’s camera-instrumental work is distinguished by the difference of modern writing techniques with rich images, and she has achieved great success not only in her native Azerbaijan but also far beyond its borders. It should be noted that Franghiz Alizadeh’s works, which combine East-West synthesis, have been performed in many countries and met with success. From this point of view, the composition of ‘Oasis’ differs by its rhythmic structure, artistic content, and texture form. It is especially emphasized that the unusual performance of the composition ‘Oasis’ was used to reveal a certain image. It is noted that the composition has a different musical language, along with deep content and non-traditional features. The combination of serial technique and mugam elements gives the composition ‘Oasis’ originality. It is noteworthy that the tape was used as an integral part of the camera-instrumental work. It was noted that the composition "Oasis", as a work of synthesis of theatre and music, has a theatrical effect. Franghis Alizadeh is currently living the period of wisdom in her work and enriches the professional music of Azerbaijan with her unusual works of modern type, which combine East- West synthesis.

Background. The XIX century presented the world with many wonderful musicians, among them there is Wanda Landowska (1879–1959), a researcher of the musical culture of the past. She is considered as one of the founders of the authentic movement in academic musical art, a representative of the first generation of “historical performers” who returned long-forgotten ancient music to their contemporaries. Landowska’s creativity, whose concerts with historical programs in the early XX century enjoyed extreme popularity, was covered in the press of that time, and, after, in special literature, although, given the world fame of the artist, clearly not enough. The name of W. Landowska is mentioned in passing by her contemporary A. Schweitzer in his famous monograph “J. S. Bach” (Schweitzer, 1965, transl. from German Ya. Druskin, p. 259); the review articles by famous Russian musicians and scientists A. V. Ossovsky (1971) and A. Maikapar (1991) are devoted to her. However, the fundamental studies of all aspects of W. Landowska’s activity are still lacking both in foreign and in domestic musicology. Ukrainian scientists have already taken certain steps in the study of the work of an outstanding Polish artist. G. Kurkovsky (1983) highlights the performances of a harpsichordist in Kiev, analyzing her repertoire. As a participant in concerts of the Imperial Russian Music Society, between 1907 and 1911 W. Landowska performed with constant success in Ukraine, not only in Kiev, but also in Odessa and Kharkiv. The researches by N. Svyrydenko, which appeared in the last decade (2010a, 2010b, 2017), gives a due assessment of the activity of the outstanding Polish musician in promoting ancient music. However, in general, in publications devoted to the artist, an analysis of the features of her performing style was not given enough attention, as well as her research works and notes. Objectives. This article aims to identify features of the concepts of W. Landowska regarding the performance of ancient music. The research material was, first of all, the notes of the outstanding harpsichordist collected by her student D. Restout; Russian translation by A. Maikapar (Landowska, W., 1991). The results of the study. Landowska is one of the firsts who was involved in the formation of the phenomenon of “early music”. She draws attention to the fact that few of her contemporaries carefully studied the music of the Middle Ages, Renaissance, Baroque. Meanwhile, the musical practice of these eras lays the foundation for the formation of styles and Viennese classicism, and Romanticism, and new music. Working on the interpretation of ancient works, Landowska, first of all, proceeded from the historical context of the era and the general musical meaning. She emphasized the importance of playing music on the instruments of the exact era for which they were written. In her works, Landowska focused on the problems of reproducing ancient music on the harpsichord, namely, on such performance parameters as tempo, dynamics, registration, phrasing, ornamentation. In particular, Landowska presents and parses the tables of F. Couperin, J. Ph. Rameau and J. S. Bach with decipherments of ornamentations, touching in this connection also to issues of improvisation. Landowska laid the foundations of historically informed performing, emphasizing the need for musicians to study the treatises of Р. F. Tosi-J. F.Agricola, J.J. Quantz, F. Couperin, J. Ph. Rameau, L. Mozart, G. Frescobaldi, F. W. Marpurg, С. Ph. E. Bach. Relying on the old treatises, she sought to find a practical solution to the problems of interpreting ancient music precisely on authentic instruments, since the technique and character of the performance largely depend on the construction of the latter. Landowska studied in detail the clavier works of the outstanding harpsichordists F. Couperin and J. Ph. Rameau, and also paid great attention to the issue of the influence of French music on German music. Landowska believed that in order to find the right tempo, high-quality sound, it is necessary to thoroughly study the mechanism of the instrument. We can talk about the “sense of rhythm”, “accuracy and articulation of sound” about “spatial representations” only from the position of the harpsichordist, since the latter can have just different principles of intonation on the instrument and completely different decisions for fingering, than the pianist, due to the different construction of the harpsichord and piano (for example, without the passing of one finger under another). Landowska deals with the main key to ancient music – rhetoric. Increased attention in interpretation should be given to phrasing and breathing, which plays a major role, since each pause, caesura logically share a melodic line. At the same time, rhythmic freedom should not become synonymous with arbitrariness – Landowska’s playing was always distinguished by rhythmic accuracy, with which it conveyed the duration of sounds. “Some phrases within the play require rhythmic changes, while others – do not,” notes the artist (1991, p. 373). Thus, Landowska insisted on a completely different approach to the interpretation of music of past eras compared to what reigned in her time. She believed that turning to the music of masters of the past gives the musician the opportunity to develop a good musical taste and aesthetic feeling, and studying of the theoretical sources of ancient eras – to create a full-fledged idea of ancient music. In order to embody his vision of music in sounds, the performer should have good taste, Landowska insists on this, but it must be connected with knowledge of the material, styles of the past and historical context. Studying old treatises, Landowska made certain conclusions: the technology of playing an instrument is more complex and multifaceted than simply polishing “complex passages”, as it is considered today, and “coordination of thought and fingers” was called “technology” in that time (ibid., p. 150). In general, the artist puts “ears” and “consciousness” above just good finger coordination. The task of an authenticist is more difficult – it’s not enough to have good technique, you need to be able to combine all other performance components: touché, rhythm, breath, agogics, ornamentation, rhetoric, symbolism, sound, timbre, etc. Conclusions. W. Landowska positioned herself primarily as a harpsichordist, popularizing this instrument, although the sound of her harpsichord is still quite far from the sound of a “historical harpsichord”, for example, G. Leonhardt. Nevertheless, the sound of the harpsichord recreated by Landowska made a stunning impression on his contemporaries. As a result, it completely changed the then performer’s and listener’s ideas about ancient music, giving a powerful impetus to a complete revision and rethinking of generally accepted manners of performing and romantic cliché of hearing. Fifty-year-old practical experience of Landowska-harpsichordist is very important for modern performers of ancient music, who strive for its most accurate reproduction, that open the perspectives for further in-depth study of the creative heritage of an outstanding artist.

Electroacoustic music on analog magnetic tape is characterized by several carrier-related specificities that must be considered when creating a copy for digital preservation. The tape recorder needs to be set to the correct speed and equalization, and the magnetic tape could have some intentional or unintentional alterations. During both the creation and the musicological analysis of a digital preservation copy, the quality of the work may be affected by human inattention. This article presents a methodology based on neural networks to recognize and classify the alterations of a magnetic tape from the video of the tape as it passes in front of the tape recorder's playback head. Furthermore, some machine-learning techniques have been tested to recognize a tape's equalization from its background noise. The encouraging results open the way to innovative tools able to unburden audio technicians and musicologists from repetitive tasks and to improve the quality of their work.

The present article is aimed at collecting and organising the knowledge about harpsichords and similar instruments which were made on the territory of today’s Italy between the 16th and the 18th centuries. The analysis of the instruments from the Italian Peninsula will cover their exterior (instrument as a work of art) and typically technical features (disposition, rage, tuning, etc.). An addition to the text are the illustrations presenting construction-related and decorative details. The article is addressed to both harpsichordists and early music performers. Harpsichords, virginals and Italian spinets are a sort of exception as compared to the instruments from other European centres. Italy-made instruments had a relatively short period of evolution before they achieved their final form – it nowadays causes a significant problem in terms of assigning the right date when a given model was created. The key for understanding the uniqueness of Italian instruments is their unusual structure and sound. Both features are important for a performer in order to ensure the best performance possible. The construction of the harpsichord is what influences its sound the most, so the knowledge about the differences between Italian, French or German instruments translates directly into the style of the aesthetics of performance. The article also presents the harpsichord as a unique work of art. Intricately ornamented, carved and painted, clavicembali were meant to please the eye and blend with the room interior like a beautiful piece of furniture. The practical interpretation of this issue are the descriptions of a few instruments and the techniques used by artists working on the territory of today’s Italy.

AbstractThis experimental research aims to determine the learning outcomes of musical ensembles, recorder (soprano) in SMP Negeri 2 Banjarmasin using two methods of learning: peer tutoring and conventional. This study also seek out differences in the results of the two methods. Two classes of samples in this study were taken by purposive random sampling technique. Peer tutoring learning methods applied in the experimental class, and conventional teaching methods applied in the control class. Data collection techniques used are tests and documentation, while data analysis using descriptive statistical techniques. The results of this study indicate that: (1) the learning outcomes of students who use peer tutoring learning methods that are in a good qualifying with an average value of 82.91; (2) the results of student learning using the conventional method is more than enough in qualifying with an average value of 78.90; and; (3) test based on statistics found differences in student learning outcomes were significant between experimental class using peer tutors to grade control using conventional methods. Similarly it can be said that results for students in the experimental class is better than learning outcomes in the control class.Keywords: peer tutoring, learning, music ensembles, recorder

How might primary students utilise the stimulus of a painting in a collaborative composition drawing on a non-conventional sound palette of their own making? This practitioner research features 17 recorder players from a Year 6 class (10–11-year-olds) who attend a West Auckland primary school in New Zealand. These children were invited to experiment with the instrument to produce collectively an expanded ‘repertoire’ or ‘palette’ of sounds. In small groups, they then discussed a painting by an established New Zealand painter set in the Waitakere Ranges and attempted to formulate an interpretation in musical terms. On the basis of their interpretation, drawing on sounds from the collective palette (complemented with other sounds), they worked collaboratively to develop, refine and perform a structured composition named for their chosen painting. This case study is primarily descriptive (providing narrative accounts and rich vignettes of practice) and, secondarily, exploratory (description and analysis leading to the development of hypotheses). It has implications for a range of current educational issues, including curriculum integration and the place of composition and notation in the primary-school music programme.

The purpose of the article is to investigate the historical formationof the French clavier school; a characteristic of creativity and a peculiarityof the works concerning the famous French composer and harpsichordistFrancois Cooperen as the topmost of the French clavier school. The seriesmethods are delineated, first of all, by historical, structurally analyticaland axiological, as well as comparative approaches. The method ofperforming analysis acquires the special significance. Scientific novelty isto reveal the peculiarities of creativity and specific performance of worksby Francois Cooperen, from the point of view of the contemporary artist;characterizing the relation of the composer to the musical text;classification of subjective means of expressiveness of the game and theiruse precisely when performing works on the harpsichord. Conclusions.Each clavier school (Italian, Spanish, French, English, German) has itsown peculiarities, which were formed during the XV – beginning XVIIIcenturies. During the performance of a piece of music, the performer facesa difficult task – to perform the work according to the composer's designand in accordance with the style of the clavier school. For Ukrainianperformers of ancient music, this is more difficult than for Europeanmusicians, because Europe was the center of origin and flourishing ofclavier music. During the Renaissance and the Baroque, the mostprominent musicians (J. Gabrieli, J. Frescobaldi, I.S Bach, F. Handel,F. Couperin, D. Scarlatti) appear as representatives of various pianoschools. They left tracts and methodological instructions for performingtheir works that contemporary musicians can learn in the originallanguage.

“The tape recorder … creates above all new conditions of observations,” Pierre Schaeffer writes. This article picks up the theme of the link between listening and technology and asks how contemporary sound artworks reflect the relation between technology and perception. It suggests that many contemporary sound artworks explore the way digital culture conditions our listening acts. Based on a tentative analysis including works by Mihara et al., Zorio, Ikeda and Skjødt, the article argues that art lets us experience not only sound but also technological mediation, providing insight into how in the current digital culture we are constantly sharing our perception of the environment with nonhuman listening machines.

This research is a qualitative descriptive study. The main instrument in this study was the researcher itself and was assisted by supporting instruments such as writing instrument and camera. The data were collected through interviews, literature study, and documentation. The data analysis was conducted by identifying the data, classifying the data, describing the data, and making conclusions. The results show that the learning process for the musical ensemble at SMP Negeri 29 Padang consists of group division, coinciding, selection of musical instruments, and learning of each music / instrument. The music ensemble learning activities are divided into three stages: preparation, practice / process, and evaluation. In the preparation stage, the teacher prepares the teaching document and subject matter while the students prepare musical instruments. In the practice / process stage, the teacher gives apperception in reminding about the meaning of musical ensembles and types of musical instruments, introducing songs to be played, and providing musical scores as well as techniques for playing recorder and pianica. In the evaluation stage, the teacher assesses, reviews, and sees the success and development of students towards learning.Keywords: Descriptive Study, Learning, Ensemble

This research is a qualitative descriptive study. The main instrument in this study was the researcher itself and was assisted by supporting instruments such as writing instrument and camera. The data were collected through interviews, literature study, and documentation. The data analysis was conducted by identifying the data, classifying the data, describing the data, and making conclusions. The results show that the learning process for the musical ensemble at SMP Negeri 29 Padang consists of group division, coinciding, selection of musical instruments, and learning of each music / instrument. The music ensemble learning activities are divided into three stages: preparation, practice / process, and evaluation. In the preparation stage, the teacher prepares the teaching document and subject matter while the students prepare musical instruments. In the practice / process stage, the teacher gives apperception in reminding about the meaning of musical ensembles and types of musical instruments, introducing songs to be played, and providing musical scores as well as techniques for playing recorder and pianica. In the evaluation stage, the teacher assesses, reviews, and sees the success and development of students towards learning.Keywords: Descriptive Study, Learning, Ensemble

Relevance of the study. A new wave of creative interest in the piano transcription combines the constructive and destructive vectors of the development. In the performing sphere the former stimulate the search for original ways of presenting the personal “I”. The destructive influence is connected with the possible hyperbolization of any artistic ideas. The presented problematic situation determines the relevance of the topic of the article: the transcription legacy of the renowned Kharkiv pianist-pedagogue Serhiy Yushkevych still remains little studied in domestic art history.Main objective of the study. The objective of the research is concluded in comprehending the stylistic dominants of S. Yushkevych’s transcriptional approach.Methodology. The research is based on the principles of an integrated approach that motivates appealing to the genre, stylistic, intonation, structural-functional, compositional-dramaturgical and comparative-interpretative methods of analysis. The biographical method is used to provide additional important informational data Results and conclusions. Transcriptions demonstrate not only the aesthetic preferences and stylistic guidelines of a particular era (according to B. Borodin), but also the individual performing and interpreting tendencies of the transcriptor himself. This allows considering transcriptions as the key to understanding a musician’s artistic credo. S. Yushkevych’s transcriptional interests include the works of composers of the Baroque and Romantic eras, Soviet-era music, and Ukrainian folklore; he is attracted by various samples of orchestral, organ-harpsichord and vocal music. The transcriptions of the “Badinerie” collection can be divided into three groups: 1) ancient music; 2) the compositions which in the original are intended for the voice with accompaniment; 3) Ukrainian music. A significant role in understanding the creative search is played by the interpretation of Yushkevych-pianist.The specificity of the transcriptional style of the Kharkiv maestro lies in the ability to create the “sound op-art” with the help of typical formulas of piano technique (similar to the op-art by V. Vasarely). This is reflected in his own system of means of expression, the specifics of the texture and register distribution of the artistic material, the use of polyphony as a technique of additional ornament, the embodiment of various acoustic effects and more. This creates a different type of the pianosound relief. The stylistic features of S. Yushkevych’s transcript handwriting are: the special register framing of the composition, the multi-layered nature of piano texture, the openness to timbre orchestration, the use of quartet writing peculiarities, the tessitura fragmentation of thematic complex, the intonation-motive detailing of musical fabric and a significant freedom from the author’s remarks. The pianism itself is the main “factor of influence” and is a representative of the individual style.

Appealing to the stated topic is relevant because of the desire to concretize the knowledge of little-known in Russian musicology instrumental consorts (musical groups), as well as to expand the existing understanding of the court culture of Renaissance England and its musical and sound appearance. The main center of English consorts development was the Royal court of the Tudors — Henry VIII and his daughter Elizabeth I. Their heyday was at the peak of the “Golden Age” of English culture. Based on the results of scienti­fic research by Western scientists and visual and verbal sources available for study, the article outlines the milestones in the history of the main types of instrumental consort in England — the whole consort, consisting of instruments of the same family, and the broken consort, today often identified with the mixed consort, which connects heterogeneous instruments. The article notes that the early history of the recorder consort in England was closely connected with creative activities of the family of Venetian musicians Bassano. Extremely popular in musical circles of England, the consort of viol was originally formed thanks to Flemish and, somewhat later, Italian musicians. As for the mixed consort, which united performers of the viols da gamba and da braccio, lute, bandore, cistre and recorder, it started to be called “English” because of the stable combination of certain musical instruments. Analysis of consort music anthologies of the 16th—17th centuries made it possible to identify individual genre and musical-style reference points in musical groups’ repertoire, in which musicians improved the principles of instrumental polyphony and the stile concertante, topical in the Modern Period.

As 21st century is the era of modern technologies with different aspects, it offers us to make the best use of them. After tape recorder and overhead projector (OHP), multimedia has become an important part of language classroom facilities for its unique and effective application in delivering and learning lesson. Although in many parts of Bangladesh, a South Asian developing country, where English enjoys the status of a foreign language, the use of multimedia in teaching and learning is viewed as a matter of luxury. However, nowadays the usefulness and the necessity of it are well recognized by the academics as well as the government. The study aims to focus on the difference between a traditional classroom void of multimedia and multimedia equipped classrooms at university level by explaining how multimedia support the students with enhanced opportunity to interact with diverse texts that give them more in-depth comprehension of the subject. It also focuses on audio-visual advantage of multimedia on the students’ English language learning. The study has followed a qualitative method to get an in-depth understanding of the impact of using multimedia in an English language classroom at tertiary level. For this purpose, the data have been collected from two different sources. Firstly, from students’ written response to an open ended question as to their comparative experience of learning lessons with and without multimedia facilities; and secondly, through observation of English language classes at a private university of Dhaka, the capital city of Bangladesh. The discussion of the study is limited to the use of multimedia in English language classroom using cartoons, images and music with a view to enhance students’ skills in academic writing, critical analysis of image and critical appreciation of music. For this purpose, cartoons in English language, images from Google and music from You Tube have got focused discussion in this paper.

Der Fluyten Lust-hof by Jacob van Eyck (circa 1590-1657) is the largest collection of works for a solo instrument in the history of European music, which documents both the variety of techniques of early Baroque ornamentation and presents the vast repertoire of popular and folk songs of that time. It was that type of compositions that the blind recorder player also known as the Orpheus of Utrecht used to choose as the basis for his famous, improvised instrumental arrangements, which were later dictated by him in order to be published. After van Eyck’s death, his compositions lost popularity and were soon forgotten, and the new wave of interest in the works included in Der Fluyten Lust-hof only emerged in the 1970s along with the development of the historical performance trend. At present, van Eyck’s musical activity is relatively well explored, which we primarily owe to the work of Ruth van Baak Griffioen and Thiemo Wind. Despite that, some problems remain unsolved. One of the particularly important issues is related to the nature of separate compositions and the pacing in which they could be rendered at that time, which is still a subject of disputes among both musicologists and recorder players. Using three compositions as an example, this article presents a method to reconstruct this aspect of musical practice coming from the analysis of notation patterns and the comparison of the van Eyck’s ornamentation style with earlier written down compositions on the basis of which he created his improvisations. This last standpoint made it possible to show that the diminutions created by van Eyck in many cases do not have a purely technical character, and in some of them one can find numerous musical phrases indicative of a deeper connection between the variations included in Der Fluyten Lust-hof and lyrics of original songs and the specificity of their melodies than previously thought.

Der Fluyten Lust-hof by Jacob van Eyck (circa 1590-1657) is the largest collection of works for a solo instrument in the history of European music, which documents both the variety of techniques of early Baroque ornamentation and presents the vast repertoire of popular and folk songs of that time. It was that type of compositions that the blind recorder player also known as the Orpheus of Utrecht used to choose as the basis for his famous, improvised instrumental arrangements, which were later dictated by him in order to be published. After van Eyck’s death, his compositions lost popularity and were soon forgotten, and the new wave of interest in the works included in Der Fluyten Lust-hof only emerged in the 1970s along with the development of the historical performance trend. At present, van Eyck’s musical activity is relatively well explored, which we primarily owe to the work of Ruth van Baak Griffioen and Thiemo Wind. Despite that, some problems remain unsolved. One of the particularly important issues is related to the nature of separate compositions and the pacing in which they could be rendered at that time, which is still a subject of disputes among both musicologists and recorder players. Using three compositions as an example, this article presents a method to reconstruct this aspect of musical practice coming from the analysis of notation patterns and the comparison of the van Eyck’s ornamentation style with earlier written down compositions on the basis of which he created his improvisations. This last standpoint made it possible to show that the diminutions created by van Eyck in many cases do not have a purely technical character, and in some of them one can find numerous musical phrases indicative of a deeper connection between the variations included in Der Fluyten Lust-hof and lyrics of original songs and the specificity of their melodies than previously thought.

Bagurau Lapiak is one of the types of saluang dendang (sing along with saluang—a type of recorder—play) performance conducted in the corridors of Payakumbuh stores, using lapiak (mat) for seat. Bagurau Lapiak is organized by a group ‘pagurauan’ (jokers) held on evenings starting at 21.00 until dawn. The singer (‘pendendang’) in the show is a woman who will fulfill the request of the audience to sing and play certain tunes by giving some amount of money to a committee called janang. Previously all singers in Minangkabau are men; women singers are considered to violate traitional and religious norms and it is not appropriate for women to sing along with the men in public let alone at night. However, in the case of saluang pendendang, women sungers play an important role in attracting the ‘joke addict’ in saluang bagurau (joking) activity. This paper aims to reveal the form of presentation of bagurau lapiak in Payakumbuh and the society's view of women as singer. This stuy used qualitative descriptive analysis method with cultural anthropology approach to music which can be seen through the behavior of musical physic and verbal as cultural facts of individuals and community groups. The music and the communities’ behavior have a very close relation. This study also uses feminimisme theory to explain women’s role in the saluang dendang show. The result shows that the tunes, the rhymed text that are sung by women are a kind of communication between the singers and the audience. In the other hand, people support as well as criticize the woman singer based on traditional, religious, and performing art values. Keywords: pendendang women, Bagurau Lapiak, community views

This practitioner-based research, undertaken by the author in her own teaching context with herself as participant, explores how autonomous learning skills and motivation can be fostered in primary-aged instrumentalists. A primary school extra-curricular recorder group was observed participating in two stages of lessons: the first, teacher-directed and the second, focused around group learning. Lessons were videoed and transcribed for analysis and pupils’ views on the two styles of lessons gained through interviews. The teacher-directed lessons were considered in the light of the apprenticeship conception of the teacher's role, with its potential to balance direction and facilitation, and scaffolding was observed to be used in various ways, both promoting and restricting pupil autonomy. The group learning lessons used aspects of the Musical Futures1 informal learning approach, particularly self-directed learning in friendship groups, using aural models on CD, with the teacher's role facilitative rather than directive. These lessons were considered in the light of theories of group learning, with pupils observed providing mutual support, scaffolding in different ways to a teacher, and engaging in transactive communication. Pupils, though positive about both stages, valued the opportunity to learn independently in the group learning lessons, gaining a sense of flow through the challenge involved. Findings suggest that whilst both teacher-directed and group learning can be effective, music teachers could develop their pupils’ capacity for autonomous learning by taking opportunities to adopt a more facilitative role, providing the learning context and assistance when required, but allowing the pupils to direct their own learning.

Statement of the problem. Christian Sinding is considered “the first after Grieg” at the Norwegian music olympus. He created more than 130 opuses of different genres of music. However, nowadays his works are rarely performed, particularly in Ukraine. Thus, the relevance of the topic of the article is due to the lack of domestic musicology systematic study of Sinding’s piano work as a component of European art. The study of the heritage of the “second star” of Norwegian culture is the overtask of modern musicology – to fill the “white spot” in the study of national piano schools in Western Europe, including Norway, and make the music of this composer recognized and demanded by young performers of the XXI century. The purpose of the article is to represent the individual compositional style of С. Sinding on the basis of his own authorial performance of the analyzed piano pieces. The material for this is the iconic piano works (op. 24, op. 25) of the early and mature periods of creativity, which highlight the style of thinking of the artist. The object of research isthepianostyle of the Norwegian composer Christian Sindingin the prism of European musical culture, the subject – pianominiatures of Sinding. The research methods are based on material that is little known for most of Ukrainian musicians, but belongs to the classical European heritage. Thus, the historical method reveals the dialectic of tradition and innovation in the process of formation of national and individual style in music; genre method – determines the hierarchy of general and specific in the organization of a musical work; stylistic – in addition to the principles of the artist’s thinking indicates the nationally defined features of creativity; performing-interpretive method – reflects the personal feeling of the “sound image” of the piano by the author of the article as the first interpreter of C. Sinding’s music in Ukraine. The results obtained. Generalization of the principles of stylistic thinking of Christian Sinding in the field of his piano work has not received a systematic presentation in existing scientific sources. Therefore, to reveal the relevance of the proposed research topic, we highlight the typical stylistic features and principles of piano work of C. Sinding in terms of its national and stylistic identity. The criterion was the elements of the “national musical language” (according to O. Kozarenko). As for the elements of musical language that affect the sound image of the piano, the work of C. Sinding is characterized by a late romantic paradigm: folklore basis of melody, orchestral richness of piano texture, richness of timbre palette with effects of instrumental sound imitation, complex harmony rhythmic organization, which combines folk dance and instrumental formulas and metric schemes of emphasis (regularity and irregularity). The principles of monotheism and leitmotif are also one of the means of expression of late romanticism as C. Sinding’s worldview paradigm, which certain genre-language tendencies of his piano thinking are concentrated in. Most of the plays have sound effects – imitation of the timbres of folk instruments popular in Norway, including hardingphele, harpsichord, violin. As a result, the levels of stylistic significance of individual elements of the musical language of the artist’s piano works constitute a model of individual compositional style as a reflection of the national mentality of the musical worldview. Prospects for further development of the topic. In the development of the develop edmethodology of analysis of national and musical language C. Sinding will study majorgenres of mature and lateperiods of piano work to sub stantiate the style of thinking of the artist in the paradigms of European culture of Romanticism and modernism of the early twentieth century.

The phrase “author’s speech” the most frequently uses in musicological texts without exact definition but rather as a metaphor. However, its senses are not clear enough. The correlation of original and “borrowed” elements in music work also needs clarification. The objective of this article is to analyze the role of the author’s and borrowed elements, as well as their impact on artistic value of musical work on the examples of creativity by the composers of the XX century. Some examples of the “author’s speech” do not show any problem, as we clearly feel, when exactly the author suggests his/her personal commentary to the “events” that were depicted before. Among these are the sorrow solos of wind instruments in the symphonies by Dmitry Shostakovich, which he usually introduced after tragic culminations or the D minor orchestral interlude before the last episode of “Wozzeck” by Alban Berg. The author himself characterizes this interlude as the “author’s speech” directed to the audience, which represents the humankind. However, episodes of similar character (author’s “direct speech”) are not obligatory in music. Huge number of works by Shostakovich, Berg and other authors does not include them. Certainly, this does not mean they lack the “author’s speech”. While identifying this element in the piece, it is important to reject the stereotype to bind it with slow music of certain character (meditative, melancholic, sorrow, festive, solemn, etc.). In the same time, although such connotations sometimes are working, the faster episodes of another nature, with thematic contrasts and intensive development, should not be associated only with dramatic quasi-theatrical action. The author cannot avoid various emotions (doubt, trouble, uncertainty, protest, searching for a decision, multivalency of reaction, and many others), which definitely will be reflected in his/her piece and will producing a music of very different kinds. If we consider the music work in technical aspects, we find the combination of individual and “borrowed” elements at all levels of the compositional structure. So, we may conclude the author’s individuality manifests itself everywhere, and the meditative episodes do not enjoy any priority in comparison to episodes of another figurative character and type of movement. “Suite in the old style” for violin and piano (harpsichord) by Alfred Schnittke is a good example of such practice. In his dialogues with Dmitry Shulgin Schnittke characterizes this work as total stylization, except several tiny details. Nevertheless, the analysis of the piece reveals the more serious personal contribution. In addition to found by the researcher Olena Vashchenko harmonic and melodic elements that have their origin rather in the 20th century, the present article shows similar content in formal structure of the Suite and in part-writing of its polyphonic movements. Individual style reveals also in Schnittke’s choice of certain elements of “old styles” and their combination with the 20th century musical writing. Why Schnittke ignored his real stylistic contribution and qualified his Suite lower than it deserved? The author of the article finds an explanation in the composer’s work of the late 1960s and early 1970s, when the Suite was composed. In those years, the main Schnittke’s phenomenon – poly-stylistic writing – was coined in such wide-scaled works as the First Symphony, Piano Quintet, Requiem and others. Being occupied by these works that indicate his personality much stronger, Schnittke mentions just that feature of Suite, which stayed in his conscious as dominant, exactly stylization, so the explanation may be found in psychological field. Totally stylized piece would never become so popular and beloved both by the performers and the public as the Suite does. There is no reason to play and listen to pure stylization, when it is possible to have dealing with an original work. A listener and a performer are attracted by the combination of the original and stylized elements in the Suite, their interaction and flexible transition of one into other. This may be called as “modernized antiquity”. Due to this feature, the piece stays one of the most popular and wellknown works of the composer. Conclusion. The importance of the original and “borrowed” elements does not depend directly on the quantity of these elements and even on the ratio between them. The author’s individuality may show itself in various aspects in the context of the dominating stylization. The creative power of the author depends, first of all, on the strength of the author’s personality and his/her ability to adapt somebody else’s achievements to his/her own tasks, to fill them with new content and to create a new context for them. In case of a positive answers to these challenges the author gets the ability to utilize somebody else’s idiom similar to his/her own, and a listener, a performer and a researcher get a reason to refresh in memory the poetic prophesy by Osip Mandelstam: “… and will again the skald create somebody else’s song, and he will utter her as if it will his own”.

Statement of the problem. The violin style of A. Corelli, a composer-violinist who laid the foundation for the development of the violin art in Europe, represents a special “image of the instrument” that entered the professional-academic arena during the Baroque era. The research of A. Corelli’s violin style belongs to the field of organology, which is dedicated to the integrated study of instruments as the “organs” of musicians’ thinking. The close relationship, connection of the individual who is playing music with his/her instrument is not only one of the little developed theoretical problems, but also the basis of the practice for performing music, as well as learning this art. Analysis of recent publications on the topic. The available sources on the creative work of A. Corelli (written by K. Kuznetsov, I. Yampolsky, L. Ginzburg, N. Harnoncourt) contain either general information or individual observations on the image of the violin in the Baroque era. It is necessary to point out the significance of the general theory of the violin style (E. Nazaikinsky, V. Medushevsky, V. Kholopova, Y. Bentya) for the development of scientific ideas about the "image of the violin". The purpose of the article is to identify the special features of the “image” of the violin in the style of A. Corelli on the material of Concerti grossi op.6. The presentation of the main material. At the time of the creation of Concerts op.6 by A. Corelli, in Italy there was a violin school, which was distinguished by an exceptional variety of playing techniques. It was here that the historical process of replacing the viol with the violin was finally completed. The violin becomes the leading instrument in the instrumental genres of the 17th century music – suite, trio-sonata, solo sonata, and by the end of the century – concerto grosso. The path of movement to A. Corelli’s universal, generalized-reduced violin style ran along the line “ensemble feature – concert feature – solo feature”. The creation of the academic style of the violin playing logic is the merit of the Bologna school. The main thrust of the violin style of Bologna masters (Torelli, Antonia, Bassani, Vitali, and later Corelli and Vivaldi) is the combination of “church” and “chamber” models of the violin playing. For instrumental sound in an ensemble or orchestra, a “canon” and certain limitations in the technique of the playing are necessary, allowing establishing the balance of the parts of instruments and instrumental groups. The “invention” (inventio) in the violin playing, characteristic of the Italian school of the first half of the 17th century, was aimed at identifying the whole complex of the possible techniques of playing this instrument. The violin plating logic in Concertі grossi by A. Corelli is subordinated to the combination of two artistic and aesthetic tasks arising from two styles of concert making – the “church” one and the “chamber” one. Hence the choice of the appropriate techniques for playing. The “church” style, despite its democratization inherent in the Italian violin school, acquired the functions of a public concert for a mass audience and was distinguished by greater severity and regulation of the complex of the violin playing techniques. This stemmed from the genre style (“concert in the church”), where polyphonic presentation prevailed in the fast parts, the “tempo” names of the parts were used, and the organ in the numbered bass part was used. The “chamber” style opened up wider possibilities for the violin and the creation of an expressive technical complex associated with the genre (“dance” parts), replacing the organ in basso continuo with the harpsichord (cembalo), other stringed and plucked instruments (lute, theorbo), low string-and-bow instruments (gamba, cello, double bass), which gave a mono-articulate character to the general sounding. Playing shades of "lively speech" on the violin is a characteristic feature of A. Corelli’s violin style, reflected in the instrumental-playing complex through phrasing, attention to details and to micro-intonation. Conclusions. In describing the historical and artistic situation, in the context of which the style of the “great citizen of Bologna” was formed, its innovations have been outlined. The signs of the turning epoch have been indicated – they are the transition from the Renaissance polyphony and the “church” style to the secular homophony, with the instruments of the violin family singled out as the main ones. The particular attention has been paid to the principles of the violin intonation in the form of a speech playing (sprechendes Spiel) and dance motor skills, which together formed the semantics of A. Corelli’s violin style in the genres of concerto grosso, trio sonatas, solo sonata with bass. The main features of A. Corelli’s violin style, which became determinant for compositional decisions in the field of thematic, texture, and harmony, have been revealed.

Statement of the problem. The violin style of A. Corelli, a composer-violinist who laid the foundation for the development of the violin art in Europe, represents a special “image of the instrument” that entered the professional-academic arena during the Baroque era. The research of A. Corelli’s violin style belongs to the field of organology, which is dedicated to the integrated study of instruments as the “organs” of musicians’ thinking. The close relationship, connection of the individual who is playing music with his/her instrument is not only one of the little developed theoretical problems, but also the basis of the practice for performing music, as well as learning this art. Analysis of recent publications on the topic. The available sources on the creative work of A. Corelli (written by K. Kuznetsov, I. Yampolsky, L. Ginzburg, N. Harnoncourt) contain either general information or individual observations on the image of the violin in the Baroque era. It is necessary to point out the significance of the general theory of the violin style (E. Nazaikinsky, V. Medushevsky, V. Kholopova, Y. Bentya) for the development of scientific ideas about the "image of the violin". The purpose of the article is to identify the special features of the “image” of the violin in the style of A. Corelli on the material of Concerti grossi op.6. The presentation of the main material. At the time of the creation of Concerts op.6 by A. Corelli, in Italy there was a violin school, which was distinguished by an exceptional variety of playing techniques. It was here that the historical process of replacing the viol with the violin was finally completed. The violin becomes the leading instrument in the instrumental genres of the 17th century music – suite, trio-sonata, solo sonata, and by the end of the century – concerto grosso. The path of movement to A. Corelli’s universal, generalized-reduced violin style ran along the line “ensemble feature – concert feature – solo feature”. The creation of the academic style of the violin playing logic is the merit of the Bologna school. The main thrust of the violin style of Bologna masters (Torelli, Antonia, Bassani, Vitali, and later Corelli and Vivaldi) is the combination of “church” and “chamber” models of the violin playing. For instrumental sound in an ensemble or orchestra, a “canon” and certain limitations in the technique of the playing are necessary, allowing establishing the balance of the parts of instruments and instrumental groups. The “invention” (inventio) in the violin playing, characteristic of the Italian school of the first half of the 17th century, was aimed at identifying the whole complex of the possible techniques of playing this instrument. The violin plating logic in Concertі grossi by A. Corelli is subordinated to the combination of two artistic and aesthetic tasks arising from two styles of concert making – the “church” one and the “chamber” one. Hence the choice of the appropriate techniques for playing. The “church” style, despite its democratization inherent in the Italian violin school, acquired the functions of a public concert for a mass audience and was distinguished by greater severity and regulation of the complex of the violin playing techniques. This stemmed from the genre style (“concert in the church”), where polyphonic presentation prevailed in the fast parts, the “tempo” names of the parts were used, and the organ in the numbered bass part was used. The “chamber” style opened up wider possibilities for the violin and the creation of an expressive technical complex associated with the genre (“dance” parts), replacing the organ in basso continuo with the harpsichord (cembalo), other stringed and plucked instruments (lute, theorbo), low string-and-bow instruments (gamba, cello, double bass), which gave a mono-articulate character to the general sounding. Playing shades of "lively speech" on the violin is a characteristic feature of A. Corelli’s violin style, reflected in the instrumental-playing complex through phrasing, attention to details and to micro-intonation. Conclusions. In describing the historical and artistic situation, in the context of which the style of the “great citizen of Bologna” was formed, its innovations have been outlined. The signs of the turning epoch have been indicated – they are the transition from the Renaissance polyphony and the “church” style to the secular homophony, with the instruments of the violin family singled out as the main ones. The particular attention has been paid to the principles of the violin intonation in the form of a speech playing (sprechendes Spiel) and dance motor skills, which together formed the semantics of A. Corelli’s violin style in the genres of concerto grosso, trio sonatas, solo sonata with bass. The main features of A. Corelli’s violin style, which became determinant for compositional decisions in the field of thematic, texture, and harmony, have been revealed.

The goal of the paper is to evaluate and propose methodological techniques for the introduction of the playing of recorder in the music teaching for the first grade pupils, in order to more successfully develop the basic singing skills. Methods: analysis of the teaching and psychological literature regarding the possibilities of playing the recorder in the music teaching, observation and analysis of the process of music teaching and the reflection on the personal experience in connection with the standard of the General education of Latvia in the music teaching. Analysis of the informal discussion based on the use of playing of recorder in the music lesson. Modeling of the pupils’ practical activities in music teaching in the primary school. Results: Methodological techniques are proposed for the development of the basic singing skills using the playing of recorder, and the creation of the cooperation among the students and their self-expression skills in the music lessons is encouraged. A teacher starting the formation of the basic singing skills often in the teaching process faces the situation, when the majority of the pupils in the class have an insufficiently developed ability to listen and reproduce the sound using their voice. One of the goals of the music teaching is to create correct vocal skills of the pupils, placing an emphasis on proper inhalation, creation of sound and also on a posture. Correct breathing is important both for singing and playing the recorder, but the tune culture is formed by the interaction of the breathing and posture. These singing aspects have the common characteristics with the basics of playing the recorder: interaction of breathing and posture forms the timbre of the recorder’s sound. The pupils initially cannot physically sing a certain pitch, but playing of recorder helps them to obtain a certain pitch of the sound using their hands, thereby allowing hearing and reproducing the sound, while simultaneously developing preconditions for the composition of stable melody in the playing of recorder. The pupils acquire the note reading skills simultaneously with the learning of proper breathing and blowing in. In order for the pupils to easier comprehend the recording of the note rhythm, they are offered to play simple rhythm examples, gradually increasing the number of ledger lines until a full staff is reached. Such method of learning to read the notes allows comprehending that the same melody can be played at different pitches. Any sound is always perceived and processed together with its duration and timbre (Griffin, 2007), so the combination of the sound of playing the recorder and singing gives an additional impulse to the pupils’ auricular centre. The timbral differences of the sounds of recorder and human voice are processed in different areas of the brain – the secondary and associative; therefore it is reasonable to assume that the combination of playing the recorder and singing stimulates the brain activity, based on the research of M. Tervaniemi and I. Winklera (Tervaniemi & Winklera, 1997). The use of the playing of recorder in teaching music is not new in the music education. In the middle of 20th century, it was popularized in their philosophies of teaching music by Karl Orff, Schinichi Suzuki and Zoltan Kodaly. The playing of recorder is not difficult, it does not create problems for the pupils, but brings them joy and satisfaction about their playing skills. This factor is therefore one of the most important for the creation of positive self-expression skills and motivation during the music lesson. Based on the opinion of B. Teplov (Теплов, 1947), the musical talent is formed in the childhood and it manifests itself in the pupil’s attitude towards the music: he or she likes or dislikes it. Combining the singing skills with the playing of recorder in the music lesson brings the joy to the pupils about their ability to play and creates the positive motivation. A teacher develops a vocal and instrumental musical score, encouraging all pupils to participate in playing music, thereby creating a situation, when each pupil achieves a positive result in accordance with his or her specific playing skills. The creation of skills to play in the group is equally important. Learning to read the notes in the staff is the beginning for the creation of polyphony in the music teaching. The teacher using the singing and playing of recorder skills may form the vocal, vocal and instrumental or instrumental groups. The pupils during the playing of recorder listen to the pitch of the sound and form a precise musical sound of the recorder.The goal of the study: to find out the opinion of the teachers of music regarding the possibilities to use the playing of recorder in teaching music. The methods used in the study: informal discussion of the target group. The group at the beginning of the discussion is asked to share its experience and provide the comments regarding the use of playing of recorder in teaching music. The following results were gathered after summarizing the opinions and arguments expressed during the discussion of the group: all members of the target group are familiar with the playing of recorder; 5 respondents admit that they play the recorder, 2 respondents have the basic skills of playing the recorder, and 1 respondent does not know how to play the recorder; 4 respondents use the playing of recorder in music teaching, but only one respondent has used the elements of playing the recorder in teaching of the singing skills; 1 respondent has decided to use the playing of recorder in music teaching during the next school year; all respondents consider the playing of recorder as a supplemental method, which can be used in music teaching; all respondents admit that the playing of recorder facilitates the development of pupils’ musical hearing; 6 respondents believe that the learning to play the recorder in a music lesson is a time – consuming learning method, because there is already limited time for teaching the curriculum; 3 respondents using the recorder in the teaching process believe that the introduction of playing the recorder in the music teaching is not useful, because the recorders available to the pupils do not allow playing in unison; 1 respondent expressed an opinion that the playing of recorder can be used in the music lesson only by working with a previously prepared selection of pupils. The following negative and positive arguments were gathered after summarizing the opinions and arguments provided during the group discussions: the pupils buy the recorders manufactured by different companies, therefore their timbral sound may differ, and the pitches of the sounds, which are not always identical, do not allow reaching a perfect unison; different fingering of the recorders (German recorders and baroque recorders) makes the learning process difficult. The pupils observing each other’s finger movements often learn to play incorrect pitches of the sounds, which are difficult for the teacher to control during the beginning stage of learning to play the recorder. traditional teaching methods are more useful and easier to apply in music teaching. The teachers of music relying on their personal experience, however, confirm the positive aspects of using the playing of recorder in teaching music for the first grade pupils: playing of recorder facilitates the development of the pupils’ musical achievements, especially the development of musical hearing of the pupils; facilitates the development of the pupils’ self-expression skills, because playing of recorder allows each pupil accomplishing his/her individual artistic potential. the playing of recorder in teaching music facilitates the development of the pupils both from the teaching and psychological point of view. It can be concluded by comparing the musical development of the pupils from 3 different classes that the musical development is the highest in the classes using the playing of recorder in their music lessons. This conclusion is also affirmed by the number of pupils in each class participating in the groups of amateur performance. The number of such pupils is the highest in the classes with the elements of playing the recorder in teaching music. Therefore it can be concluded that the process of teaching music creates a positive motivation, which facilitates the necessity for an emotional musical experience for pupils, as well as the tendencies of creation of a collective body of the class and the cooperation skills among the pupils.

Kodály-inspired pedagogy enables students to participate effectively in a music course by engaging in active musical interactions with folk songs and melodies. The purpose of this study was to explore the effects of Kodály-inspired pedagogy on recorder performance and attitudes toward music of secondary school students. A quasi-experimental design was used in the study. The experimental group was taught using Kodály-inspired pedagogy and the control group using the general music teaching methods for 9 weeks. A two-way mixed-design analysis of variance (ANOVA) and content analysis were used to analyze the data. A Recorder Performance Grading Key, music course attitude scale, and open-ended questions were used to collect the data. Consequently, the findings indicated that Kodály-inspired pedagogy had a significant effect on the students’ recorder performance but the researchers could not find a significant effect on students’ attitudes toward the music course. Moreover, students in the experimental group reported improvement in their recorder performance and attitudes toward music education. The researchers recommended including information about the implementation of Kodály-inspired pedagogy in music teacher textbooks, providing in-service training for teachers to enable them to use Kodály-inspired pedagogy.

This article examines computer-based music (ca. 1982–87) created by Finnish composer Kaija Saariaho at the Institut de Recherche et Coordination Acoustique/Musique (IRCAM) in Paris. A detailed account of archival materials for an early étude in voice synthesis, Vers le blanc (1982), demonstrates the music-theoretical import of software to Saariaho’s development of a robust compositional method that resonated with the emergent aesthetics of a post-spectral milieu. Subsequent analyses of two additional works from this period—Jardin secret II (1984–86) for harpsichord and tape, and IO (1987) for large ensemble and electronics—serve to illustrate Saariaho’s extension of this method into instrumental settings. Specific techniques highlighted include the use of interpolation systems to create continuous processes of transformation, the organization of individual musical parameters into multidimensional formal networks, and the exploration of harmonic structures based on the analysis of timbral phenomena. Relating these techniques to the affordances of contemporaneous IRCAM technologies, including CHANT, FORMES, and Saariaho’s own customized program, “transkaija,” this article adopts a transductive approach to archival research that is responsive to the diverse media artifacts associated with computer-based composition.

An acoustic camera consists of a microphone array, a data recorder and sound analysis- and -visualization software. It creates a color-coded sound map that displays the sound sources overlaid on the visual image of the recorded object. The sound maps are usually produced by analyzing the phase differences of the signals measured by the array microphones. Delay-and-sum beamformer and multiple signal classification (MUSIC) techniques are used in this work for the localization of sound sources. Beamformers are able to determine the amplitude of incident sound, but suffer from poor resolution and from ghost images. MUSIC, on the other hand, is an established technique for efficient and accurate noise source location, which can provide high-resolution source maps, but does not provide any information about the sound level. The combination of both methods gives comprehensive information about the acoustic emission of the system under investigation.

Software is intangible, invisible, and at the same time pervasive in everyday devices, activities, and services accompanying our life. Therefore, citizens hardly realize its complexity, power, and impact in many aspects of their daily life. In this study, we report on one experiment that aims at letting citizens make sense of software presence and activity in their everyday lives, through sound: the invisible complexity of the processes involved in the shutdown of a personal computer. We used sonification to map information embedded in software events into the sound domain. The software events involved in a shutdown have names related to the physical world and its actions: write events (information is saved into digital memories), kill events (running processes are terminated), and exit events (running programs are exited). The research study presented in this article has a “double character.” It is an artistic realization that develops specific aesthetic choices, and it has also pedagogical purposes informing the causal listener about the complexity of software behavior. Two different sound design strategies have been applied: one strategy is influenced by the sonic characteristics of the Glitch music scene, which makes deliberate use of glitch-based sound materials, distortions, aliasing, quantization noise, and all the “failures” of digital technologies; and a second strategy based on the sound samples of a subcontrabass Paetzold recorder, an unusual and special acoustic instrument which unique sound has been investigated in the contemporary art music scene. Analysis of quantitative ratings and qualitative comments of 37 participants revealed that the sound design strategies succeeded in communicating the nature of the computer processes. Participants also showed in general an appreciation of the aesthetics of the peculiar sound models used in this study.

“In the performing arts the very absence of a complete score, i.e., of a complete duplicate, enables music, dances and plays to survive. The tension created by the adaptation of a work of yesterday to the style of today is an essential part of the history of the art in progress” (Rudolf Arnheim, “On Duplication”). In his essay “On Duplication”, Rudolf Arnheim proposes the idea that a close look at the life of adaptations indicates that change is not only necessary and inevitable, but also increases our understanding of the adapted work. To Arnheim, the most fruitful approach to adaptations is therefore to investigate the ways in which the various re-interpretations partake of the (initial) work and concretise latent aspects in a new historical and cultural context. This article analyzes how, and to what ends, the re-contextualising of Georges Bizet’s Carmen in other media—flamenco dance and film – changes, distorts and subverts our perception of the opera’s music. The text under analysis is Carlos Saura’s 1983 movie about a flamenco transposition of Bizet’s Carmen. I discuss this film in terms of how flamenco music and dance, on the one hand, and the film camera, on the other hand, gradually demystify the fascinating power of Bizet’s music, as well as its clichéd associations. Although these forms displace and defamiliarise music in many ways, the main argument of the analysis centers on how flamenco dance and the film image foreground the artificiality of the exotic sections from Bizet’s opera, as well as their inadequacy in the Spanish context, and also on how the film translates and self-reflexively comments on the absence of an embodied voice for Carmen. “C’est la Carmen! Non, ce n’est pas celle-là!” As the credits from Carlos Saura’s Carmen are displayed against the backdrop of Gustave Doré’s drawings, we can hear the chorus of the cigarières from Bizet’s opera singing “C’est la Carmen! Non, ce n’est pas celle-là!”. Why did the director choose this particular section of Bizet’s Carmen with which to begin his film? Moreover, what is the significance of combining Doré’s drawings with these words? In a way, we can say that the reality/illusion polarity signified by the sung words informs and gives a preview of one of the movie’s main themes—the futility of an adapter’s attempt at finding a “true” Carmen. The music’s juxtaposition with Doré’s drawings of nineteenth-century espagnolades adds to the idea of artifice and inauthenticity: Saura seems to be dismissing Bizet’s music by pairing it with the work of another one of the creators of a stereotyped (and false) image of Spain. Demystifying the untrue image that foreigners have created of Spain is one of the film director’s main concerns in his adaptation of both Bizet and Mérimée’s Carmen. The movie’s production history reinforces this idea. In his book on the films of Carlos Saura, Marvin D’Lugo notes that in 1981 the French company Gaumont had approached Saura with the project of making a filmed version of Bizet’s Carmen, “with a maximum of fidelity to the original text” (202), an idea which the director clearly rejected. Another important aspect related to the production history is the fact that Antonio Gadés, the film’s choreographer and actor for Don José’s part, had previously created a ballet version of Bizet’s Carmen, based solely on the second act of the opera. The 1983 film production is then the result of Carlos Saura—the film director attempting to reframe the French opera in the Spanish context—and Antonio Gadés—the flamenco troupe director—collaborating to create a Spanish dance version of Carmen. The film’s constant superimposition of its two diegetic levels—the fictional level, consisting in the rehearsal scenes, and the actual level, which coincides with the characters’ lives outside of and in-between rehearsals—and the constant blurring of the lines separating these two worlds, have been the cause of a plethora of varying interpretations. Susan McClary sees the movie as “a brilliant commentary on ‘exoticism’: on the distance between actual ethnic music and the mock-ups Bizet and others produced for their own ideological purposes” (137); to D’Lugo, the film is an illustration and critique of how “the Spaniards, having come under the spell of the foreign, imposter impression of Spain, find themselves seduced by the falsification of their own cultural past” (203). Other notable interpretations come from Marshall H. Leicester, who sees the film as a comment on the fact that Carmen has become a discourse and a cultural artifact, and from Linda M. Willem, who interprets the movie as a metafictional mise en abyme. I will discuss the movie from a somewhat different perspective, bearing in mind, however, McClary and D’Lugo’s readings. Saura’s Carmen is also a story about adaptation, constantly commenting on the failed attempts at perfect fidelity to the source text(s), by the intradiegetic adapter (Antonio) and, at the same time, self-reflexively embedding hints to the presence of the extradiegetic adapter: the filmmaker Saura. On the one hand, as juxtaposed with flamenco music and dance, the opera’s music is made to appear artificial and inadequate; we are presented with an adaptation in the making, in which many of the oddities and difficulties of transposing opera music to flamenco dance are problematised. On the other hand, the film camera, by constantly foregrounding the movie’s materiality—the possibility to cut and edit the images and the soundtrack, its refusal to maintain a realist illusion—displaces and re-codifies music in other contexts, thus bringing to light dormant interpretations of particular sections of Bizet’s opera, or completely altering their significance. One of the film’s most significant departures from Bizet’s opera is the problematised absence of a suitable Carmen character. Bizet’s opera, however revolves around Carmen: it is very hard, if not impossible, to dissociate the opera from the fascinating Carmen personage. Her transgressive nature, her “otherness” and exoticism, are translated in her singing, dancing and bodily presence on the stage, all these leading to the creation of a character that cannot be neglected. The songs that Bizet adapted from the cabaret numéros in order to add exotic flavor to the music, as well as the provocative dances accompanying the Habaňera and the Seguidilla help create this dimension of Carmen’s fascinating power. It is through her singing and dancing that she becomes a true enchantress, inflicting madness or unreason on the ones she chooses to charm. Saura’s Carmen has very few of the charming attributes of her operatic predecessor. Antonio, however, becomes obsessed with her because she is close to his idea of Carmen. The film foregrounds the immense gap between the operatic Carmen and the character interpreted by Laura del Sol. This double instantiation of Carmen has usually been interpreted as a sign of the demystification of the stereotyped and inauthentic image of Bizet’s character. Another way to interpret it could be as a comment on one of the inevitable losses in the transposition of opera to dance: the separation of the body from the voice. Significantly, the recorded music of Bizet’s opera accompanies more the scenes between rehearsals than the flamenco dance sections, which are mostly performed on traditional Spanish music. The re-codification of the music reinforces the gap between Saura and Gadés’ Carmen and Bizet’s character. The character interpreted by Laura del Sol is not a particularly gifted dancer; therefore, her dance translation of the operatic voice fails to convey the charm and self-assuredness that Carmen’s voice and the sung words fully express. Moreover, the musical and dance re-insertion in a Spanish context completely removes the character’s exoticism and alterity. We could say, rather, that in Saura’s movie it is the operatic Carmen who is becoming exotic and distant. In one of the movie’s first scenes, we are shown an image of Paco de Lucia and a group of flamenco singers as they play and sing a traditional Spanish song. This scene is abruptly interrupted by Bizet’s Seguidilla; immediately after, the camera zooms in on Antonio, completely absorbed by the opera, which he is playing on the tape-recorder. The contrast between the live performance of the Spanish song and the recorded Carmen opera reflects the artificiality of the latter. The Seguidilla is also one of the opera’s sections that Bizet adapted so that it would sound authentically exotic, but which was as far from authentic traditional Spanish music as any of the songs that were being played in the cabarets of Paris in the nineteenth century. The contrast between the authentic sound of traditional Spanish music, as played on the guitar by Paco de Lucia, and Bizet’s own version makes us aware, more than ever, of the act of fabrication underlying the opera’s composition. Most of the rehearsal scenes in the movie are interpreted on original flamenco music, Bizet’s opera appearing mostly in the scenes associated with Antonio, to punctuate the evolution of his love for Carmen and to reinforce the impossibility of transposing Bizet’s music to flamenco dance without making significant modifications. This also signifies the mesmerising power the operatic music has on Antonio’s imagination, gradually transposing him in a universe of understanding completely different from that of his troupe, a world in which he becomes unable to distinguish reality from illusion. With Antonio’s delusion, we are reminded of the luring powers of the operatic fabrication. One of the scenes which foregrounds the opera’s charm is when Antonio watches the dancers led by Cristina rehearse some flamenco movements. While watching their bodies reflected in the mirror, Antonio is dissatisfied with their appearance—he doesn’t see any of them as Carmen. The scene ends with an explosion of Bizet’s music heard from off-screen—probably as Antonio keeps hearing it in his head—dramatically symbolising the great distance between flamenco dance and opera music. One of the rehearsal scenes in which Bizet’s music is heard as an accompaniment to the dance is the scene in which the operatic Carmen performs the castaňet dance for Don José. In the Antonio-Carmen interpretation the music that we hear is the Habaňera and not the seductive song that Bizet’s Carmen is singing at this point in the opera. According to Mary Blackwood Collier, the Habaňera song in the opera has the function to define Carmen’s personality as strong, independent, free and enthralling at the same time (119). The purely instrumental Habaňera, combined with the lyrical and tender dance duo of Antonio/José and Carmen in Saura’s film, transforms the former into a sweet love theme. In the opera, this is one of the arias that centralise the image of Carmen in our perception. The dance transposition as a love pas de deux diminishes the impression of freedom and independence connoted by the song’s words and displaces the centrality of Carmen. Our perception of the opera’s music is significantly reshaped by the film camera too. In her book The Hollywood Musical Jane Feuer contends that the use of multiple diegesis in the backstage musical has the function to “mirror within the film the relationship of the spectator to the film. Multiple diegesis in this sense parallels the use of an internal audience” (68). Carlos Saura’s movie preserves and foregrounds this function. The mirrors in which the dancers often reflect themselves hint to an external plane of observation (the audience). The artificial collapse of the boundaries between off-stage and on-stage scenes acts as a reminder of the film’s capacity to compress and distort temporality and chronology. Saura’s film makes full use of its capacity to cut and edit the image and the soundtracks. This allows for the mise-en-scène of meaningful displacements of Bizet’s music, which can be given new significations by the association with unexpected images. One of the sections of Bizet’s opera in the movie is the entr’acte music at the beginning of Act III. Whereas in the opera this part acts as a filler, in Saura’s Carmen it becomes a love motif and is heard several times in the movie. The choice of this particular part as a musical leitmotif in the movie is interesting if we consider the minimal use of Bizet’s music in Saura’s Carmen. Quite significantly however, this tune appears both in association with the rehearsal scenes and the off-stage scenes. It appears at the end of the Tabacalera rehearsal, when Antonio/Don José comes to arrest Carmen; we can hear it again when Carmen arrives at Antonio’s house the night when they make love for the first time and also after the second off-stage love scene, when Antonio gives money to Carmen. In general, this song is used to connote Antonio’s love for Carmen, both on and off stage. This musical bit, which had no particular significance in the opera, is now highlighted and made significant in its association with specific film images. Another one of the operatic themes that recur in the movie is the fate motif which is heard in the opening scene and also at the moment of Carmen’s death. We can also hear it when Carmen visits her husband in prison, immediately after she accepts the money Antonio offers her and when Antonio finds her making love to Tauro. This re-contextualisation alters the significance of the theme. As Mary Blackwood Collier remarks, this motif highlights Carmen’s infidelity rather than her fatality in the movie (120). The repetition of this motif also foregrounds the music’s artificiality in the context of the adaptation; the filmmaker, we are reminded, can cut and edit the soundtrack as he pleases, putting music in the service of his own artistic designs. In Saura’s Carmen, Bizet’s opera appears in the context of flamenco music and dance. This leads to the deconstruction and demystification of the opera’s pretense of exoticism and authenticity. The adaptation of opera to flamenco music and dance also implies a number of necessary alterations in the musical structure that the adapter has to perform so that the music will harmonise with flamenco dance. Saura’s Carmen, if read as an adaptation in the making, foregrounds many of the technical difficulties of translating opera to dance. The second dimension of music re-interpretation is added by the film camera. The embedded camera and the film’s self-reflexivity displace music from its original contexts, thus adding or creating new meanings to the ways in which we perceive it. This way of reframing the music from Bizet’s Carmen adds new dimensions to our perception of the opera. In many of the off-stage scenes, the music seems to appear from nowhere and, then, to inform other sequences than the ones with which it is usually associated in the opera. This produces a momentary disruption in the way we hear Bizet’s music. We could say that it is a very rapid process of de-signification and re-signification—that is, of adaptation—that we undergo almost automatically. Carlos Saura’s adaptation of Carmen self-reflexively puts into play the changes that Bizet’s music has to go through in order to become a flamenco dance and movie. In this process, dance and the film image make us aware of new meanings that we come to associate with Bizet’s score. References Arnheim, Rudolf. “On Duplication”. New Essays on the Psychology of Art. Berkeley: U of California P, 1986: 274-85. Blackwood Collier, Mary. La Carmen Essentielle et sa Réalisation au Spectacle. New York: Peter Lang Publishing, 1994. D’Lugo, Marvin. The Films of Carlos Saura: The Practice of Seeing. Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1991. Feuer, Jane. “Dream Worlds and Dream Stages”. The Hollywood Musical. Bloomington, IN: Indiana UP, 1993: 67-87. Leicester, Marshall H. Jr. “Discourse and the Film Text: Four Readings of ‘Carmen’”. Cambridge Opera Journal 4.3 (1994): 245-82. McClary, Susan. “Carlos Saura: A Flamenco Carmen”. Georges Bizet: Carmen. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1992: 135-7. Willem, Linda M. “Metafictional Mise en Abyme in Saura’s Carmen”. Literature/Film Quarterly 24.3 (1996): 267-73. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Furnica, Ioana. "Subverting the “Good, Old Tune”: Carlos Saura’s Carmen." M/C Journal 10.2 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0705/10-furnica.php>. APA Style Furnica, I. (May 2007) "Subverting the “Good, Old Tune”: Carlos Saura’s Carmen," M/C Journal, 10(2). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0705/10-furnica.php>.

IntroductionThe 2009 American film Trash Humpers, directed by Harmony Korine, was released at a time when the hipster had become a ubiquitous concept, entering into the common vernacular of numerous cultures throughout the world, and gaining significant press, social media and academic attention (see Žižek; Arsel and Thompson; Greif et al.; Stahl; Ouellette; Reeve; Schiermer; Maly and Varis). Trash Humpers emerged soon after the 2008 Global Financial Crisis triggered Occupy movements in numerous cities, aided by social media platforms, reported on by blogs such as Gawker, and stylized by multi-national youth-subculture brands such as Vice, American Apparel, Urban Outfitters and a plethora of localised variants.Korine’s film, which is made to resemble found VHS footage of old-aged vandals, epitomises the ironic, retro stylizations and “counterculture-meets-kitsch” aesthetics so familiar to hipster culture. As a creative stereotype from 1940s and ‘50s jazz and beatnik subcultures, the hipster re-emerged in the twenty-first century as a negative embodiment of alternative culture in the age of the Internet. As well as plumbing the recent past for things not yet incorporated into contemporary marketing mechanisms, the hipster also signifies the blurring of irony and authenticity. Such “outsiderness as insiderness” postures can be regarded as a continuation of the marginality-from-the-centre logic of cool capitalism that emerged after World War Two. Particularly between 2007 and 2015, the post-postmodern concept of the hipster was a resonant cultural trope in Western and non-Western cultures alike, coinciding with the normalisation of the new digital terrain and the establishment of mobile social media as an integral aspect of many people’s daily lives. While Korine’s 79-minute feature could be thought of as following in the schlocky footsteps of the likes of Rob Zombie’s The Devil’s Rejects (2006), it is decidedly more arthouse, and more attuned to the influence of contemporary alternative media brands and independent film history alike – as if the love child of Jack Smith’s Flaming Creatures (1963) and Vice Video, the latter having been labelled as “devil-may-care hipsterism” (Carr). Upon release, Trash Humpers was described by Gene McHugh as “a mildly hip take on Jackass”; by Mike D’Angelo as “an empty hipster pose”; and by Aaron Hillis as either “the work of an insincere hipster or an eccentric provocateur”. Lacking any semblance of a conventional plot, Trash Humpers essentially revolves around four elderly-looking protagonists – three men and a woman – who document themselves with a low-quality video camera as they go about behaving badly in the suburbs of Nashville, Tennessee, where Korine still lives. They cackle eerily to themselves as they try to stave off boredom, masturbating frantically on rubbish bins, defecating and drinking alcohol in public, fellating foliage, smashing televisions, playing ten-pin bowling, lighting firecrackers and telling gay “hate” jokes to camera with no punchlines. In one purposefully undramatic scene half-way through the film, the humpers are shown in the aftermath of an attack on a man wearing a French maid’s outfit; he lies dead in a pool of blood on their kitchen floor with a hammer at his feet. The humpers are consummate “bad” performers in every sense of the term, and they are joined by a range of other, apparently lower-class, misfits with whom they stage tap dance routines and repetitively sing nursery-rhyme-styled raps such as: “make it, make it, don’t break it; make it, make it, don’t fake it; make it, make it, don’t take it”, which acts as a surrogate theme song for the film. Korine sometimes depicts his main characters on crutches or in a wheelchair, and a baby doll is never too far away from the action, as a silent and Surrealist witness to their weird, sinister and sometimes very funny exploits. The film cuts from scene to scene as if edited on a video recorder, utilising in-house VHS titling sequences, audio glitches and video static to create the sense that one is engaging voyeuristically with a found video document rather than a scripted movie. Mainstream AlternativesAs a viewer of Trash Humpers, one has to try hard to suspend disbelief if one is to see the humpers as genuine geriatric peeping Toms rather than as hipsters in old-man masks trying to be rebellious. However, as Korine’s earlier films such as Gummo (1997) attest, he clearly delights in blurring the line between failure and transcendence, or, in this case, between pretentious art-school bravado and authentic redneck ennui. As noted in a review by Jeannette Catsoulis, writing for the New York Times: “Much of this is just so much juvenile posturing, but every so often the screen freezes into something approximating beauty: a blurry, spaced-out, yellow-green landscape, as alien as an ancient photograph”. Korine has made a career out of generating this wavering uncertainty in his work, polarising audiences with a mix of critical, cinema-verité styles and cynical exploitations. His work has consistently revelled in ethical ambiguities, creating environments where teenagers take Ritalin for kicks, kill cats, wage war with their families and engage in acts of sexual deviancy – all of which are depicted with a photographer’s eye for the uncanny.The elusive and contradictory aspects of Korine’s work – at once ugly and beautiful, abstract and commercial, pessimistic and nostalgic – are evident not just in films such as Gummo, Julien Donkey Boy (1999) and Mister Lonely (2007) but also in his screenplay for Kids (1995), his performance-like appearances on The Tonight Show with David Letterman (1993-2015) and in publications such as A Crackup at the Race Riots (1998) and Pass the Bitch Chicken (2001). As well as these outputs, Korine is also a painter who is represented by Gagosian Gallery – one of the world’s leading art galleries – and he has directed numerous music videos, documentaries and commercials throughout his career. More than just update of the traditional figure of the auteur, Korine, instead, resembles a contemporary media artist whose avant-garde and grotesque treatments of Americana permeate almost everything he does. Korine wrote the screenplay for Kids when he was just 19, and subsequently built his reputation on the paradoxical mainstreaming of alternative culture in the 1990s. This is exemplified by the establishment of music and film genres such “alternative” and “independent”; the popularity of the slacker ethos attributed to Generation X; the increased visibility of alternative press zines; the birth of grunge in fashion and music; and the coining of “cool hunting” – a bottom-up market research phenomenon that aimed to discover new trends in urban subcultures for the purpose of mass marketing. Key to “alternative culture”, and its related categories such as “indie” and “arthouse”, is the idea of evoking artistic authenticity while covertly maintaining a parasitic relationship with the mainstream. As Holly Kruse notes in her account of the indie music scenes of the 1990s, which gained tremendous popularity in the wake of grunge bands such as Nirvana: without dominant, mainstream musics against which to react, independent music cannot be independent. Its existence depends upon dominant music structures and practices against which to define itself. Indie music has therefore been continually engaged in an economic and ideological struggle in which its ‘outsider’ status is re-examined, re-defined, and re-articulated to sets of musical practices. (Kruse 149)Alternative culture follows a similar, highly contentious, logic, appearing as a nebulous, authentic and artistic “other” whose exponents risk being entirely defined by the mainstream markets they profess to oppose. Kids was directed by the artist cum indie-director Larry Clark, who discovered Korine riding his skateboard with a group of friends in New York’s Washington Square in the early 1990s, before commissioning him to write a script. The then subcultural community of skating – which gained prominence in the 1990s amidst the increased visibility of “alternative sports” – provides an important backdrop to the film, which documents a group of disaffected New York teenagers at a time of the Aids crisis in America. Korine has been active in promoting the DIY ethos, creativity and anti-authoritarian branding of skate culture since this time – an industry that, in its attempts to maintain a non-mainstream profile while also being highly branded, has become emblematic of the category of “alternative culture”. Korine has undertaken commercial projects with an array skate-wear brands, but he is particularly associated with Supreme, a so-called “guerrilla fashion” label originating in 1994 that credits Clark and other 1990s indie darlings, and Korine cohorts, Chloë Sevigny and Terry Richardson, as former models and collaborators (Williams). The company is well known for its designer skateboard decks, its collaborations with prominent contemporary visual artists, its hip-hop branding and “inscrutable” web videos. It is also well known for its limited runs of new clothing lines, which help to stoke demand through one-offs – blending street-wear accessibility with the restricted-market and anti-authoritarian sensibility of avant-garde art.Of course, “alternative culture” poses a notorious conundrum for analysis, involving highly subjective demarcations of “mainstream” from “subversive” culture, not to mention “genuine subversion” from mere “corporate alternatives”. As Pierre Bourdieu has argued, the roots of alternative culture lie in the Western tradition of the avant-garde and the “aesthetic gaze” that developed in the nineteenth century (Field 36). In analysing the modernist notion of advanced cultural practice – where art is presented as an alternative to bourgeois academic taste and to the common realm of cultural commodities – Bourdieu proposed a distinction between two types of “fields”, or logics of cultural production. Alternative culture follows what Bourdieu called “the field of restricted production”, which adheres to “art for art’s sake” ideals, where audiences are targeted as if like-minded peers (Field 50). In contrast, the “field of large-scale production” reflects the commercial imperatives of mainstream culture, in which goods are produced for the general public at large. The latter field of large-scale production tends to service pre-established markets, operating in response to public demand. Furthermore, whereas success in the field of restricted production is often indirect, and latent – involving artists who create niche markets without making any concessions to those markets – success in the field of large-scale production is typically more immediate and quantifiable (Field 39). Here we can see that central to the branding of “alternative culture” is the perceived refusal to conform to popular taste and the logic of capitalism more generally is. As Supreme founder James Jebbia stated about his brand in a rare interview: “The less known the better” (Williams). On this, Bourdieu states that, in the field of restricted production, the fundamental principles of all ordinary economies are inversed to create a “loser wins” scenario (Field 39). Profit and cultural esteem become detrimental attributes in this context, potentially tainting the integrity and marginalisation on which alternative products depend. As one ironic hipster t-shirt puts it: “Nothing is any good if other people like it” (Diesel Sweeties).Trash HipstersIn abandoning linear narrative for rough assemblages of vignettes – or “moments” – recorded with an unsteady handheld camera, Trash Humpers positions itself in ironic opposition to mainstream filmmaking, refusing the narrative arcs and unwritten rules of Hollywood film, save for its opening and closing credits. Given Korine’s much publicized appreciation of cinema pioneers, we can understand Trash Humpers as paying homage to independent and DIY film history, including Jack Smith’s Flaming Creatures, William Eggleston’s Stranded in Canton (1973), Andy Warhol’s and Paul Morrissey’s Lonesome Cowboys (1967) and Trash (1970), and John Waters’s Pink Flamingos (1972), all of which jubilantly embraced the “bad” aesthetic of home movies. Posed as fantasized substitutions for mainstream movie-making, such works were also underwritten by the legitimacy of camp as a form of counter-culture critique, blurring parody and documentary to give voice to an array of non-mainstream and counter-cultural identities. The employment of camp in postmodern culture became known not merely as an aesthetic subversion of cultural mores but also as “a gesture of self-legitimation” (Derrida 290), its “failed seriousness” regarded as a critical response to the specific historical problem of being a “culturally over-saturated” subject (Sontag 288).The significant difference between Korine’s film and those of his 1970s-era forbears is precisely the attention he pays to the formal aspects of his medium, revelling in analogue editing glitches to the point of fetishism, in some cases lasting as long as the scenes themselves. Consciously working out-of-step with the media of his day, Trash Humpers in imbued with nostalgia from its very beginning. Whereas Smith, Eggleston, Warhol, Morrissey and Waters blurred fantasy and documentary in ways that raised the social and political identities of their subjects, Korine seems much more interested in “trash” as an aesthetic trope. In following this interest, he rightfully pays homage to the tropes of queer cinema, however, he conveniently leaves behind their underlying commentaries about (hetero-) normative culture. A sequence where the trash humpers visit a whorehouse and amuse themselves by smoking cigars and slapping the ample bottoms of prostitutes in G-strings confirms the heterosexual tenor of the film, which is reiterated throughout by numerous deadpan gay jokes and slurs.Trash Humpers can be understood precisely in terms of Korine’s desire to maintain the aesthetic imperatives of alternative culture, where formal experimentation and the subverting of mainstream genres can provide a certain amount of freedom from explicated meaning, and, in particular, from socio-political commentary. Bourdieu rightly points out how the pleasures of the aesthetic gaze often manifest themselves curiously as form of “deferred pleasure” (353) or “pleasure without enjoyment” (495), which corresponds to Immanuel Kant’s notion of the disinterested nature of aesthetic judgement. Aesthetic dispositions posed in the negative – as in the avant-garde artists who mined primitive and ugly cultural stereotypes – typically use as reference points “facile” or “vulgar” (393) working-class tropes that refer negatively to sensuous pleasure as their major criterion of judgment. For Bourdieu, the pleasures provided by the aesthetic gaze in such instances are not sensual pleasures so much as the pleasures of social distinction – signifying the author’s distance from taste as a form of gratification. Here, it is easy to see how the orgiastic central characters in Trash Humpers might be employed by Korine for a similar end-result. As noted by Jeremiah Kipp in a review of the film: “You don't ‘like’ a movie like Trash Humpers, but I’m very happy such films exist”. Propelled by aesthetic, rather than by social, questions of value, those that “get” the obscure works of alternative culture have a tendency to legitimize them on the basis of the high-degree of formal analysis skills they require. For Bourdieu, this obscures the fact that one’s aesthetic “‘eye’ is a product of history reproduced by education” – a privileged mode of looking, estranged from those unfamiliar with the internal logic of decoding presupposed by the very notion of “aesthetic enjoyment” (2).The rhetorical priority of alternative culture is, in Bourdieu’s terms, the “autonomous” perfection of the form rather than the “heteronomous” attempt to monopolise on it (Field 40). However, such distinctions are, in actuality, more nuanced than Bourdieu sometimes assumed. This is especially true in the context of global digital culture, which makes explicit how the same cultural signs can have vastly different meanings and motivations across different social contexts. This has arguably resulted in the destabilisation of prescriptive analyses of cultural taste, and has contributed to recent “post-critical” advances, in which academics such as Bruno Latour and Rita Felski advocate for cultural analyses and practices that promote relationality and attachment rather than suspicious (critical) dispositions towards marginal and popular subjects alike. Latour’s call for a move away from the “sledge hammer” of critique applies as much to cultural practice as it does to written analysis. Rather than maintaining hierarchical oppositions between authentic versus inauthentic taste, Latour understands culture – and the material world more generally – as having agency alongside, and with, that of the social world.Hipsters with No AlternativeIf, as Karl Spracklen suggests, alternativism is thought of “as a political project of resistance to capitalism, with communicative oppositionality as its defining feature” (254), it is clear that there has been a progressive waning in relevance of the category of “alternative culture” in the age of the Internet, which coincides with the triumph of so-called “neoliberal individualism” (258). To this end, Korine has lost some of his artistic credibility over the course of the 2000s. If viewed negatively, icons of 1990s alternative culture such as Korine can be seen as merely exploiting Dada-like techniques of mimetic exacerbation and symbolic détournement for the purpose of alternative, “arty” branding rather than pertaining to a counter-hegemonic cultural movement (Foster 31). It is within this context of heightened scepticism surrounding alternative culture that the hipster stereotype emerged in cultures throughout the world, as if a contested symbol of the aesthetic gaze in an era of neoliberal identity politics. Whatever the psychological motivations underpinning one’s use of the term, to call someone a hipster is typically to point out that their distinctive alternative or “arty” status appears overstated; their creative decisions considered as if a type of bathos. For detractors of alternative cultural producers such as Korine, he is trying too hard to be different, using the stylised codes of “alternative” to conceal what is essentially his cultural and political immaturity. The hipster – who is rarely ever self-identified – re-emerged in the 2000s to operate as a scapegoat for inauthentic markers of alternative culture, associated with men and women who appear to embrace Realpolitik, sincerity and authentic expressions of identity while remaining tethered to irony, autonomous aesthetics and self-design. Perhaps the real irony of the hipster is the pervasiveness of irony in contemporary culture. R. J Magill Jnr. has argued that “a certain cultural bitterness legitimated through trenchant disbelief” (xi) has come to define the dominant mode of political engagement in many societies since the early 2000s, in response to mass digital information, twenty-four-hour news cycles, and the climate of suspicion produced by information about terrorism threats. He analyses the prominence of political irony in American TV shows including The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, The Simpsons, South Park, The Chappelle Show and The Colbert Report but he also notes its pervasiveness as a twenty-first-century worldview – a distancing that “paradoxically and secretly preserves the ideals of sincerity, honesty and authenticity by momentarily belying its own appearance” (x). Crucially, then, the utterance “hipster” has come to signify instances when irony and aesthetic distance are perceived to have been taken too far, generating the most disdain from those for whom irony, aesthetic discernment and cultural connoisseurship still provide much-needed moments of disconnection from capitalist cultures drowning in commercial hyperbole and grave news hype. Korine himself has acknowledged that Spring Breakers (2013) – his follow-up feature film to Trash Humpers – was created in response to the notion that “alternative culture”, once a legitimate challenge to mainstream taste, had lost its oppositional power with the decentralization of digital culture. He states that he made Spring Breakers at a moment “when there’s no such thing as high or low, it’s all been exploded. There is no underground or above-ground, there’s nothing that’s alternative. We’re at a point of post-everything, so it’s all about finding the spirit inside, and the logic, and making your own connections” (Hawker). In this context, we can understand Trash Humpers as the last of the Korine films to be branded with the authenticity of alternative culture. In Spring Breakers Korine moved from the gritty low-fi sensibility of his previous films and adopted a more digital, light-filled and pastel-coloured palette. Focussing more conventionally on plot than ever before, Spring Breakers follows four college girls who hold up a restaurant in order to fund their spring break vacation. Critic Michael Chaiken noted that the film marks a shift in Korine’s career, from the alternative stylings of the pre-Internet generation to “the cultural heirs [of] the doomed protagonists of Kids: nineties babies, who grew up with the Internet, whose sensibilities have been shaped by the sweeping technological changes that have taken place in the interval between the Clinton and Obama eras” (33).By the end of the 2000s, an entire generation came of age having not experienced a time when the obscure films, music or art of the past took more effort to track down. Having been a key participant in the branding of alternative culture, Korine is in a good position to recall a different, pre-YouTube time – when cultural discernment was still caught up in the authenticity of artistic identity, and when one’s cultural tastes could still operate with a certain amount of freedom from sociological scrutiny. Such ideas seem a long way away from today’s cultural environments, which have been shaped not only by digital media’s promotion of cultural interconnection and mass information, but also by social media’s emphasis on mobilization and ethical awareness. ConclusionI should reiterate here that is not Korine’s lack of seriousness, or irony, alone that marks Trash Humpers as a response to the scepticism surrounding alternative culture symbolised by the figure of the hipster. It is, rather, that Korine’s mock-documentary about juvenile geriatrics works too hard to obscure its implicit social commentary, appearing driven to condemn contemporary capitalism’s exploitations of youthfulness only to divert such “uncool” critical commentaries through unsubtle formal distractions, visual poetics and “bad boy” avant-garde signifiers of authenticity. Before being bludgeoned to death, the unnamed man in the French maid’s outfit recites a poem on a bridge amidst a barrage of fire crackers let off by a nearby humper in a wheelchair. Although easily overlooked, it could, in fact, be a pivotal scene in the film. Spoken with mock high-art pretentions, the final lines of the poem are: So what? Why, I ask, why? Why castigate these creatures whose angelic features are bumping and grinding on trash? Are they not spawned by our greed? Are they not our true seed? Are they not what we’ve bought for our cash? We’ve created this lot, of the ooze and the rot, deliberately and unabashed. Whose orgiastic elation and one mission in creation is to savagely fornicate TRASH!Here, the character’s warning of capitalist overabundance is drowned out by the (aesthetic) shocks of the fire crackers, just as the stereotypical hipster’s ethical ideals are drowned out by their aesthetic excess. The scene also functions as a metaphor for the humpers themselves, whose elderly masks – embodiments of nostalgia – temporarily suspend their real socio-political identities for the sake of role-play. It is in this sense that Trash Humpers is too enamoured with its own artifices – including its anonymous “boys club” mentality – to suggest anything other than the aesthetic distance that has come to mark the failings of the “alternative culture” category. In such instances, alternative taste appears as a rhetorical posture, with Korine asking us to gawk knowingly at the hedonistic and destructive pleasures pursued by the humpers while factoring in, and accepting, our likely disapproval.ReferencesArsel, Zeynep, and Craig J. Thompson. “Demythologizing Consumption Practices: How Consumers Protect Their Field-Dependent Identity Investments from Devaluing Marketplace Myths.” Journal of Consumer Research 37.5 (2011): 791-806.Bourdieu, Pierre. Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste. Trans. Richard Nice. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1984.Bourdieu, Pierre. The Field of Cultural Production Essays on Art and Literature. Edited by Randal Johnson. London: Polity Press, 1993.Carr, David. “Its Edge Intact, Vice Is Chasing Hard News.” New York Times 24 Aug. 2014. 12 Nov. 2016 <https://www.nytimes.com/2014/08/25/business/media/its-edge-intact-vice-is-chasing-hard-news-.html>.Catsoulis, Jeannette. “Geriatric Delinquents, Rampaging through Suburbia.” New York Times 6 May 2010. 1` Nov. 2016 <http://www.nytimes.com/2010/05/07/movies/07trash.html>.Chaiken, Michael. “The Dream Life.” Film Comment (Mar./Apr. 2013): 30-33.D’Angelo, Mike. “Trash Humpers.” Not Coming 18 Sep. 2009. 12 Nov. 2016 <http://www.notcoming.com/reviews/trashhumpers>.Derrida, Jacques. Positions. London: Athlone, 1981.Diesel Sweeties. 1 Nov. 2016 <https://store.dieselsweeties.com/products/nothing-is-any-good-if-other-people-like-it-shirt>.Felski, Rita. The Limits of Critique. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2015.Greif, Mark. What Was the Hipster? A Sociological Investigation. New York: n+1 Foundation, 2010.Hawker, Philippa. “Telling Tales Out of School.” Sydney Morning Herald 4 May 2013. 12 Nov. 2016 <http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/movies/telling-tales-out-of-school-20130503-2ixc3.html>.Hillis, Aaron. “Harmony Korine on Trash Humpers.” IFC 6 May 2009. 12 Nov. 2016 <http://www.ifc.com/2010/05/harmony-korine-2>.Jay Magill Jr., R. Chic Ironic Bitterness. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2007.Kipp, Jeremiah. “Clean Off the Dirt, Scrape Off the Blood: An Interview with Trash Humpers Director Harmony Korine.” Slant Magazine 18 Mar. 2011. 1 Nov. 2016 <http://www.slantmagazine.com/house/article/clean-off-the-dirt-scrape-off-the-blood-an-interview-with-trash-humpers-director-harmony-korine>.Latour, Bruno. “Why Has Critique Run Out of Steam? From Matters of Fact to Matters of Concern.” Critical Inquiry 30.2 (2004): 225-248.Maly, Ico, and Varis, Piia. “The 21st-Century Hipster: On Micro-Populations in Times of Superdiversity.” European Journal of Cultural Studies 19.6 (2016): 637–653.McHugh, Gene. “Monday May 10th 2010.” Post Internet. New York: Lulu Press, 2010.Ouellette, Marc. “‘I Know It When I See It’: Style, Simulation and the ‘Short-Circuit Sign’.” Semiotic Review 3 (2013): 1–15.Reeve, Michael. “The Hipster as the Postmodern Dandy: Towards an Extensive Study.” 2013. 12 Nov. 2016. <http://www.academia.edu/3589528/The_hipster_as_the_postmodern_dandy_towards_an_extensive_study>.Schiermer, Bjørn. “Late-Modern Hipsters: New Tendencies in Popular Culture.” Acta Sociologica 57.2 (2014): 167–181.Sontag, Susan. “Notes on Camp.” Against Interpretation. New York: Octagon, 1964/1982. 275-92. Stahl, Geoff. “Mile-End Hipsters and the Unmasking of Montreal’s Proletaroid Intelligentsia; Or How a Bohemia Becomes BOHO.” Adam Art Gallery, Apr. 2010. 12 May 2015 <http://www.adamartgallery.org.nz/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/adamartgallery_vuwsalecture_geoffstahl.pdf>.Williams, Alex. “Guerrilla Fashion: The Story of Supreme.” New York Times 21 Nov. 2012. 1 Nov. 2016 <http://www.nytimes.com/2012/11/22/fashion/guerrilla-fashion-the-story-of-supreme.html>.Žižek, Slavoj. “L’Etat d’Hipster.” Rhinocerotique. Trans. Henry Brulard. Sep. 2009. 3-10.

IntroductionThis short article examines contemporary artistic use of walkie-talkies across two projects: Saturday (2002) by Sabrina Raaf and Walk That Sound (2014) by Lukatoyboy. Drawing on Dominic Pettman’s notion of sonic intimacy, I argue that both artists incorporate walkie-talkies as part of their explorations of mediated wandering, and in ways that seek to capture sonic ambiances and intimacies. One thing that is striking about both these works is that they rethink what’s possible with walkie-talkies; both artists use them not just as low-tech, portable devices for one-to-one communication over distance, but also—and more strikingly—as (covert) recording equipment for capturing, while wandering, snippets of intimate conversation between passers-by and the “voice” of the surrounding environment. Both artworks strive to make the familiar strange. They prompt us to question our preconceived perceptions of, and affective engagements with, the people and places around us, to listen more attentively to the voices of others (and the “Other”), and to aurally inhabit in new ways the spaces and places we find ourselves in and routinely pass through.The walkie-talkie is an established, simple communication device, consisting of a two-way radio transceiver with a speaker and microphone (in some cases, the speaker is also used as the microphone) and an antenna (Wikipedia). Walkie-talkies are half-duplex communication devices, meaning that they use a single radio channel: only one radio on the channel can transmit at a time, but many can listen; when a user wishes to talk, they must turn off the receiver and turn on the transmitter by pressing a push-to-talk button (Wikipedia). In some models, static—known as squelch—is produced each time the push-to-talk button is depressed. The push-to-talk button is a feature of both projects: in Saturday, it transforms the walkie-talkie into a cheap, portable recorder-transmitter. In Walk That Sound, rapid fire exchanges of conversation using the push-to-talk button feature strongly.Interestingly, walkie-talkies were developed during World War Two. While they continue to be used within certain industrial settings, they are perhaps best known as a “quaint” household toy and “fun tool” (Smith). Early print ads for walkie-talkie toys marketed them as a form of both spyware for kids (with the Gabriel Toy Co. releasing a 007-themed walkie-talkie set) and as a teletechnology for communication over distance—“how thrilling to ‘speak through space!’”, states one ad (Statuv “New!”). What is noteworthy about these early ads is that they actively promote experimental use of walkie-talkies. For instance, a 1953 ad for Vibro-Matic “Space Commander” walkie-talkies casts them as media transmission devices, suggesting that, with them, one can send and receive “voice – songs – music” (Statuv “New!”). In addition, a 1962 ad for the Knight-Kit walkie-talkie imagines “you’ll find new uses for this exciting walkie-talkie every day” (Statuv “Details”). Resurgent interest in walkie-talkies has seen them also promoted more recently as intimate tools “for communication without asking permission to communicate” (“Nextel”); this is to say that they have been marketed as devices for synchronous or immediate communication that overcome the limits of asynchronous communication, such as texting, where there might be substantial delays between the sending of a message and receipt of a response. Within this context, it is not surprising that Snapchat and Instagram have also since added “walkie-talkie” features to their messaging services. The Nextel byline, emphasising “without asking permission”, also speaks to the possibilities of using walkie-talkies as rudimentary forms of spyware.Within art practice that explores mediated forms of wandering—that is, walking while using media and various “remote transmission technologies” (Duclos 233)—walkie-talkies hold appeal for a number of reasons, including their particular aesthetic qualities, such as the crackling or static sound (squelch) that one encounters when using them; their portability; their affordability; and, the fact that, while they can be operated on multiple channels, they tend to be regarded primarily as devices that permit two-way, one-to-one (and therefore intimate, if not secure) remote communication. As we will see below, however, contemporary artists, such as the aforementioned earlier advertisers, have also been very attentive to the device’s experimental possibilities. Perhaps the best known (if possibly apocryphal) example of artistic use of walkie-talkies is by the Situationist International as part of their explorations in urban wandering (a revolutionary strategy called dérive). In the Situationist text from 1960, Die Welt als Labyrinth (Anon.), there is a detailed account of how walkie-talkies were to form part of a planned dérive, which was organised by the Dutch section of the Situationist International, through the city of Amsterdam, but which never went ahead:Two groups, each containing three situationists, would dérive for three days, on foot or eventually by boat (sleeping in hotels along the way) without leaving the center of Amsterdam. By means of the walkie-talkies with which they would be equipped, these groups would remain in contact, with each other, if possible, and in any case with the radio-truck of the cartographic team, from where the director of the dérive—in this case Constant [Nieuwenhuys]—moving around so as to maintain contact, would define their routes and sometimes give instructions (it was also the director of the dérive’s responsibility to prepare experiments at certain locations and secretly arranged events.) (Anon.) This proposed dérive formed part of Situationist experiments in unitary urbanism, a process that consisted of “making different parts of the city communicate with one another.” Their ambition was to create new situations informed by, among other things, encounters and atmospheres that were registered through dérive in order to reconnect parts of the city that were separated spatially (Lefebvre quoted in Lefebvre and Ross 73). In an interview with Kristin Ross, Henri Lefebvre insists that the Situationists “did have their experiments; I didn’t participate. They used all kinds of means of communication—I don’t know when exactly they were using walkie-talkies. But I know they were used in Amsterdam and in Strasbourg” (Lefebvre quoted in Lefebvre and Ross 73). However, as Rebecca Duclos points out, such use “is, in fact, not well documented”, and “none of the more well-known reports on situationist activity […] specifically mentions the use of walkie-talkies within their descriptive narratives” (Duclos 233). In the early 2000s, walkie-talkies also figured prominently, alongside other media devices, in at least two location-based gaming projects by renowned British art collective Blast Theory, Can You See Me Now? (2001) and You Get Me (2008). In the first of these projects, participants in the game (“online players”) competed against members of Blast Theory (“runners”), tracking them through city streets via a GPS-enabled handheld computer that runners carried with them. The goal for online players was to move an avatar they created through a virtual map of the city as multiple runners “pursued their avatar’s geographical coordinates in real-time” (Leorke). As Dale Leorke explains, “Players could see the locations of the runners and other players and exchange text messages with other players” (Leorke 27), and runners could “read players’ messages and communicate directly with each other through a walkie-talkie” (28). An audio stream from these walkie-talkie conversations allowed players to eavesdrop on their pursuers (Blast Theory, Can You See Me Now?).You Get Me was similarly structured, with online players and “runners” (eight teenagers who worked with Blast Theory on the game). Remotely situated online players began the game by listening to the “personal geography” of the runners over a walkie-talkie stream (Blast Theory, You Get Me). They then selected one runner, and tracked them down by navigating their own avatar, without being caught, through a virtual version of Mile End Park in London, in pursuit of their chosen runner who was moving about the actual Mile End Park. Once their chosen runner was contacted, the player had to respond to a question that the runner posed to them. If the runner was satisfied with the player’s answer, conversation switched to “the privacy of a mobile phone” in order to converse further; if not, the player was thrown back into the game (Blast Theory, You Get Me). A key aim of Blast Theory’s work, as I have argued elsewhere (Wilken), is the fostering of interactions and fleeting intimacies between relative and complete strangers. The walkie-talkie is a key tool in both the aforementioned Blast Theory projects for facilitating these interactions and intimacies.Beyond these well-known examples, walkie-talkies have been employed in productive and exploratory ways by other artists. The focus in this article is on two specific projects: the first by US-based sound artist Sabrina Raaf, called Saturday (2002) and the second by Serbian sound designer Lukatoyboy (Luka Ivanović), titled Walk That Sound (2014). Sonic IntimaciesThe concept that gives shape and direction to the analysis of the art projects by Raaf and Lukatoyboy and their use of walkie-talkies is that of sonic intimacy. This is a concept of emerging critical interest across media and sound studies and geography (see, for example, James; Pettman; Gallagher and Prior). Sonic intimacy, as Dominic Pettman explains, is composed of two simultaneous yet opposing orientations. On the one hand, sonic intimacy involves a “turning inward, away from the wider world, to more private and personal experiences and relationships” (79). While, on the other hand, it also involves a turning outward, to seek and heed “the voice of the world” (79)—or what Pettman refers to as the “vox mundi” (66). Pettman conceives of the “vox mundi” as an “ecological voice”, whereby “all manner of creatures, agents, entities, objects, and phenomena” (79) have the opportunity to speak to us, if only we were prepared to listen to our surroundings in new and different ways. In a later passage, he also refers to the “vox mundi” as a “carrier or potentially enlightening alterity” (83). Voices, Pettman writes, “transgress the neat divisions we make between ‘us’ and ‘them’, at all scales and junctures” (6). Thus, Pettman’s suggestion is that “by listening to the ‘voices’ that lie dormant in the surrounding world […] we may in turn foster a more sustainable relationship with [the] local matrix of specific existences” (85), be they human or otherwise.This formulation of sonic intimacy provides a productive conceptual frame for thinking through Raaf’s and Lukatoyboy’s use of walkie-talkies. The contention in this article is that these two projects are striking for the way that they both use walkie-talkies to explore, simultaneously, this double articulation or dual orientation of sonic intimacy—a turning inwards to capture more private and personal experiences and conversations, and a turning outwards to capture the vox mundi. Employing Pettman’s notion of sonic intimacy as a conceptual frame, I trace below the different ways that these two projects incorporate walkie-talkies in order to develop mediated forms of wandering that seek to capture place-based sonic ambiances and sonic intimacies.Sabrina Raaf, Saturday (2002)US sound artist Sabrina Raaf’s Saturday (2002) is a sound-based art installation based on recordings of “stolen conversations” that Raaf gathered over many Saturdays in Humboldt Park, Chicago. Raaf’s work harks back to the early marketing of walkie-talkie toys as spyware. In Raaf’s hands, this device is used not for engaging in intimate one-to-one conversation, but for listening in on, and capturing, the intimate conversations of others. In other words, she uses this device, as the Nextel slogan goes, for “communication without permission to communicate” (“Nextel”). Raaf’s inspiration for the piece was twofold. First, she has noted that “with the overuse of radio frequency bands for wireless communications, there comes the increased occurrence of crossed lines where a private conversation becomes accidentally shared” (Raaf). Reminiscent of Francis Ford Coppola’s film The Conversation (1974), in which surveillance expert Harry Caul (Gene Hackman) records the conversation of a couple as they walk through crowded Union Square in San Francisco, Raaf used a combination of walkie-talkies, CB radios, and “various other forms of consumer spy […] technology in order to actively harvest such communication leaks” (Raaf). The second source of inspiration was noticing the “sheer quantity of non-phone, low tech, radio transmissions that were constantly being sent around [the] neighbourhood”, transmissions that were easily intercepted. These conversations were eclectic in composition and character:The transmissions included communications between gang members on street corners nearby and group conversations between friends talking about changes in the neighbourhood and their families. There were raw, intimate conversations and often even late night sex talk between potential lovers. (Raaf)What struck Raaf about these conversations, these transmissions, was that there was “a furtive quality” to most of them, and “a particular daringness to their tone”.During her Saturday wanderings, Raaf complemented her recordings of stolen snippets of conversation with recordings of the “voice” of the surrounding neighbourhood—“the women singing out their windows to their radios, the young men in their low rider cars circling the block, the children, the ice cream carts, etc. These are the sounds that are mixed into the piece” (Raaf).Audience engagement with Saturday involves a kind of austere intimacy of its own that seems befitting of a surveillance-inspired sonic portrait of urban and private life. The piece is accessed via an interactive glove. This glove is white in colour and about the size of a large gardening glove, with a Velcro strap that fastens across the hand, like a cycling glove. The glove, which only has coverings for thumb and first two fingers (it is missing the ring and little fingers) is wired into and rests on top of a roughly A4-sized white rectangular box. This box, which is mounted onto the wall of an all-white gallery space at the short end, serves as a small shelf. The displayed glove is illuminated by a discrete, bent-arm desk lamp, that protrudes from the shelf near the gallery wall. Above the shelf are a series of wall-mounted colour images that relate to the project. In order to hear the soundtrack of Saturday, gallery visitors approach the shelf, put on the glove, and “magically just press their fingertips to their forehead [to] hear the sound without the use of their ears” (Raaf). The glove, Raaf explains, “is outfitted with leading edge audio electronic devices called ‘bone transducers’ […]. These transducers transmit sound in a very unusual fashion. They translate sound into vibration patterns which resonate through bone” (Raaf).Employing this technique, Raaf explains, “permits a new way of listening”:The user places their fingers to their forehead—in a gesture akin to Rodin’s The Thinker or of a clairvoyant—in order to tap into the lives of strangers. Pressing different combinations of fingers to the temple yield plural viewpoints and group conversations. These sounds are literally mixed in the bones of the listener. (Raaf) The result is a (literally and figuratively) touching sonic portrait of Humboldt Park, its residents, and the “voice” of its surrounding neighbourhoods. Through the unique technosomatic (Richardson) apparatus—combinations of gestures that convey the soundscape directly through the bones and body—those engaging with Saturday get to hear voices in/of/around Humboldt Park. It is a portrait that combines sonic intimacy in the two forms described earlier in this article. In its inward-focused form, the gallery visitor-listener is positioned as a voyeur of sorts, listening into stolen snippets of private and personal relationships, experiences, and interactions. And, in its outward-focused form, the gallery visitor-listener encounters a soundscape in which an array of agents, entities, and objects are also given a voice. Additional work performed by this piece, it seems to me, is to be found in the intermingling of these two form of sonic intimacy—the personal and the environmental—and the way that they prompt reflection on mediation, place, urban life, others, and intimacy. That is to say that, beyond its particular sonic portrait of Humboldt Park, Saturday works in “clearing some conceptual space” in the mind of the departing gallery visitor such that they might “listen for, if not precisely to, the collective, polyphonic ‘voice of the world’” (Pettman 6) as they go about their day-to-day lives.Lukatoyboy, Walk That Sound (2014)The second project, Walk That Sound, by Serbian sound artist Lukatoyboy was completed for the 2014 CTM festival. CTM is an annual festival event that is staged in Berlin and dedicated to “adventurous music and art” (CTM Festival, “About”). A key project within the festival is CTM Radio Lab. The Lab supports works, commissioned by CTM Festival and Deutschlandradio Kultur – Hörspiel/Klangkunst (among other partnering organisations), that seek to pair and explore the “specific artistic possibilities of radio with the potentials of live performance or installation” (CTM Festival, “Projects”). Lukatoyboy’s Walk That Sound was one of two commissioned pieces for the 2014 CTM Radio Lab. The project used the “commonplace yet often forgotten walkie-talkie” (CTM Festival, “Projects”) to create a moving urban sound portrait in the area around the Kottbusser Tor U-Bahn station in Berlin-Kreuzberg. Walk That Sound recruited participants—“mobile scouts”—to rove around the Kottbusser Tor area (CTM Festival, “Projects”). Armed with walkie-talkies, and playing with “the array of available and free frequencies, and the almost unlimited amount of users that can interact over these different channels”, the project captured the dispatches via walkie-talkie of each participant (CTM Festival, “Projects”). The resultant recording of Walk That Sound—which was aired on Deutschlandradio (see Lukatoyboy), part of a long tradition of transmitting experimental music and sound art on German radio (Cory)—forms an eclectic soundscape.The work juxtaposes snippets of dialogue shared between the mobile scouts, overheard mobile phone conversations, and moments of relative quietude, where the subdued soundtrack is formed by the ambient sounds—the “voice”—of the Kottbusser Tor area. This voice includes distant traffic, the distinctive auditory ticking of pedestrian lights, and moments of tumult and agitation, such as the sounds of construction work, car horns, emergency services vehicle sirens, a bottle bouncing on the pavement, and various other repetitive yet difficult to identify industrial sounds. This voice trails off towards the end of the recording into extended walkie-talkie produced static or squelch. The topics covered within the “crackling dialogues” (CTM Festival, “Projects”) of the mobile scouts ranged widely. There were banal observations (“I just stepped on a used tissue”; “people are crossing the street”; “there are 150 trains”)—wonderings that bear strong similarities with French writer Georges Perec’s well-known experimental descriptions of everyday Parisian life in the 1970s (Perec “An Attempt”). There were also intimate, confiding, flirtatious remarks (“Do you want to come to Turkey with me?”), as well as a number of playfully paranoid observations and quips (“I like to lie”; “I can see you”; “do you feel like you are being recorded?”; “I’m being followed”) that seem to speak to the fraught history of Berlin in particular as well as the complicated character of urban life in general—as Pettman asks, “what does ‘together’ signify in a socioeconomic system so efficient in producing alienation and isolation?” (92).In sum, Walk That Sound is a strangely moving exploration of sonic intimacy, one that shifts between many different registers and points of focus—much like urban wandering itself. As a work, it is variously funny, smart, paranoid, intimate, expansive, difficult to decipher, and, at times, even difficult to listen to. Pettman argues that, “thanks in large part to the industrialization of the human ear […], we have lost the capacity to hear the vox mundi, which is […] the sum total of cacophonous, heterogeneous, incommensurate, and unsynthesizable sounds of the postnatural world” (8). Walk That Sound functions almost like a response to this dilemma. One comes away from listening to it with a heightened awareness of, appreciation for, and aural connection to the rich messiness of the polyphonic contemporary urban vox mundi. ConclusionThe argument of this article is that Sabrina Raaf’s Saturday and Lukatoyboy’s Walk That Sound are two projects that both incorporate walkie-talkies in order to develop mediated forms of wandering that seek to capture place-based sonic ambiances and sonic intimacies. Drawing on Pettman’s notion of “sonic intimacy”, examination of these projects has opened consideration around voice, analogue technology, and what Nick Couldry refers to as “an obligation to listen” (Couldry 580). In order to be heard, Pettman remarks, and “in order to be considered a voice at all”, and therefore as “something worth heeding”, the vox mundi “must arrive intimately, or else it is experienced as noise or static” (Pettman 83). In both the projects discussed here—Saturday and Walk That Sound—the walkie-talkie provides this means of “intimate arrival”. As half-duplex communication devices, walkie-talkies have always fulfilled a double function: communicating and listening. This dual functionality is exploited in new ways by Raaf and Lukatoyboy. In their projects, both artists turn the microphone outwards, such that the walkie-talkie becomes not just a device for communicating while in the field, but also—and more strikingly—it becomes a field recording device. The result of which is that this simple, “playful” communication device is utilised in these two projects in two ways: on the one hand, as a “carrier of potentially enlightening alterity” (Pettman 83), a means of encouraging “potential encounters” (89) with strangers who have been thrown together and who cross paths, and, on the other hand, as a means of fostering “an environmental awareness” (89) of the world around us. In developing these prompts, Raaf and Lukatoyboy build potential bridges between Pettman’s work on sonic intimacy, their own work, and the work of other experimental artists. For instance, in relation to potential encounters, there are clear points of connection with Blast Theory, a group who, as noted earlier, have utilised walkie-talkies and sound-based and other media technologies to explore issues around urban encounters with strangers that promote reflection on ideas and experiences of otherness and difference (see Wilken)—issues that are also implicit in the two works examined. In relation to environmental awareness, their work—as well as Pettman’s calls for greater sonic intimacy—brings renewed urgency to Georges Perec’s encouragement to “question the habitual” and to account for, and listen carefully to, “the common, the ordinary, the infraordinary, the background noise” (Perec “Approaches” 210).Walkie-talkies, for Raaf and Lukatoyboy, when reimagined as field recording devices as much as remote transmission technologies, thus “allow new forms of listening, which in turn afford new forms of being together” (Pettman 92), new forms of being in the world, and new forms of sonic intimacy. Both these artworks engage with, and explore, what’s at stake in a politics and ethics of listening. Pettman prompts us, as urban dweller-wanderers, to think about how we might “attend to the act of listening itself, rather than to a specific sound” (Pettman 1). His questioning, as this article has explored, is answered by the works from Raaf and Lukatoyboy in effective style and technique, setting up opportunities for aural attentiveness and experiential learning. However, it is up to us whether we are prepared to listen carefully and to open ourselves to such intimate sonic contact with others and with the environments in which we live.ReferencesAnon. “Die Welt als Labyrinth.” Internationale Situationiste 4 (Jan. 1960). International Situationist Online, 19 June 2019 <https://www.cddc.vt.edu/sionline/si/diewelt.html>Blast Theory. “Can You See Me Now?” Blast Theory, 19 June 2019 <https://www.blasttheory.co.uk/projects/can-you-see-me-now/>.———. “You Get Me.” Blast Theory, 19 June 2019 <https://wwww.blasttheory.co.uk/projects/you-get-me/>.Cory, Mark E. “Soundplay: The Polyphonous Tradition of German Radio Art.” Wireless Imagination: Sound, Radio, and the Avant-garde. Eds. Douglas Kahn and Gregory Whitehead. Cambridge, MA: MIT P, 1992. 331–371.Couldry, Nick. “Rethinking the Politics of Voice.” Continuum 23.4 (2009): 579–582.CTM Festival. “About.” CTM Festival, 2019. 19 June 2019 <https://www.ctm-festival.de/about/ctm-festival/>.———. “Projects – CTM Radio Lab.” CTM Festival, 2019. 19 June 2019 <https://www.ctm-festival.de/projects/ctm-radio-lab/>.Duclos, Rebecca. “Reconnaissance/Méconnaissance: The Work of Janet Cardiff and George Bures Miller.” Articulate Objects: Voice, Sculpture and Performance. Eds. Aura Satz and Jon Wood. Bern: Peter Lang, 2009. 221–246. Gallagher, Michael, and Jonathan Prior. “Sonic Geographies: Exploring Phonographic Methods.” Progress in Human Geography 38.2 (2014): 267–284.James, Malcom. Sonic Intimacy: The Study of Sound. London: Bloomsbury, forthcoming.Lefebvre, Henri, and Kristin Ross. “Lefebvre on the Situationists: An Interview.” October 79 (Winter 1997): 69–83. Leorke, Dale. Location-Based Gaming: Play in Public Space. Singapore: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019.Lukatoyboy. “Walk That Sound – Deutschlandradiokultur Klangkunst Broadcast 14.02.2014.” SoundCloud. 19 June 2019 <https://soundcloud.com/lukatoyboy/walk-that-sound-deutschlandradiokultur-broadcast-14022014>.“Nextel: Couple. Walkie Talkies Are Good for Something More.” AdAge. 6 June 2012. 18 July 2019 <https://adage.com/creativity/work/couple/27993>.Perec, Georges. An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Paris. Trans. Marc Lowenthal. Cambridge, MA: Wakefield Press, 2010.———. “Approaches to What?” Species of Spaces and Other Pieces. Rev. ed. Ed. and trans. John Sturrock. Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin, 1999. 209–211.Pettman, Dominic. Sonic Intimacy: Voice, Species, Technics (Or, How to Listen to the World). Stanford, CA: Stanford UP, 2017.Raaf, Sabrina. “Saturday.” Sabrina Raaf :: New Media Artist, 2002. 19 June 2019 <http://raaf.org/projects.php?pcat=2&proj=10>.Richardson, Ingrid. “Mobile Technosoma: Some Phenomenological Reflections on Itinerant Media Devices.” The Fibreculture Journal 6 (2005). <http://six.fibreculturejournal.org/fcj-032-mobile-technosoma-some-phenomenological-reflections-on-itinerant-media-devices/>. Smith, Ernie. “Roger That: A Short History of the Walkie Talkie.” Vice, 23 Sep. 2017. 19 June 2019 <https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/vb7vk4/roger-that-a-short-history-of-the-walkie-talkie>. Statuv. “Details about Allied Radio Knight-Kit C-100 Walkie Talkie CB Radio Vtg Print Ad.” Statuv, 4 Jan. 2016. 18 July 2019 <https://statuv.com/media/74802043788985511>.———. “New! 1953 ‘Space Commander’ Vibro-Matic Walkie-Talkies.” Statuv, 4 Jan. 2016. 18 July 2019 <https://statuv.com/media/74802043788985539>.Wikipedia. “Walkie-Talkie”. Wikipedia, 3 July 2019. 18 July 2019 <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walkie-talkie>.Wilken, Rowan. “Proximity and Alienation: Narratives of City, Self, and Other in the Locative Games of Blast Theory.” The Mobile Story: Narrative Practices with Locative Technologies. Ed. Jason Farman. New York: Routledge, 2014. 175–191.

Did you see the videos where the cat jumps in the box, attacks the printer or tries to leap from the snowy car? As the availability and popularity of watching videos on the Internet has risen rapidly in the last decade, so has the prevalence of cat videos. Although the cuteness of YouTube videos of cats might make them appear frivolous, in fact there is a significant irony at their heart: online cat videos enable corporate surveillance of viewers, yet viewers seem just as oblivious to this as the cats featured in the videos. Towards this end, I consider the distinguishing features of contemporary cat videos, focusing particularly on their narrative structure and mode of observation. I compare cat videos with the “Aesthetic of Astonishment” of early cinema and with dog videos, to explore the nexus of a spectatorship of thrills and feline performance. In particular, I highlight a unique characteristic of these videos: the cats’ unselfconsciousness. This, I argue, is rare in a consumer culture dominated by surveillance, where we are constantly aware of the potential for being watched. The unselfconsciousness of cats in online videos offers viewers two key pleasures: to imagine the possibility of freedom from surveillance, and to experience the power of administering surveillance as unproblematic. Ultimately, however, cat videos enable viewers to facilitate our own surveillance, and we do so with the gleeful abandon of a kitten jumping in a tissue box What Distinguishes Cat Videos? Cat videos have become so popular, that they generate millions of views on YouTube, and the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis now holds an annual Internet Cat Video Festival. If you are not already a fan of the genre, the Walker’s promotional videos for the festival (2013 and 2012) provide an entertaining introduction to the celebrities (Lil Bub, Grumpy Cat, and Henri), canon (dancing cats, surprised cat, and cat falling off counter), culture and commodities of online cat videos, despite repositioning them into a public exhibition context. Cats are often said to dominate the internet (Hepola), despite the surprise of Internet inventor Tim Berners-Lee. Domestic cats are currently the most popular pet in the world (Driscoll), however they are already outnumbered by smartphones. Cats have played various roles in our societies, cultures and imaginations since their domestication some 8-10,000 years ago (Driscoll). A potent social and cultural symbol in mythology, art and popular culture, the historical and cultural significance of cats is complex, shifting and often contradictory. They have made their way across geographic, cultural and class boundaries, and been associated with the sacred and the occult, femininity and fertility, monstrosity and domesticity (Driscoll, Rogers). Cats are figured as both inscrutable and bounteously polysemic. Current representations of cats, including these videos, seem to emphasise their sociability with humans, association with domestic space, independence and aloofness, and intelligence and secretiveness. I am interested in what distinguishes the pleasures of cat videos from other manifestations of cats in folklore and popular culture such as maneki-neko and fictional cats. Even within Internet culture, I’m focusing on live action cat videos, rather than lolcats, animated cats, or dog videos, though these are useful points of contrast. The Walker’s cat video primer also introduces us to the popular discourses accounting for the widespread appeal of these videos: cats have global reach beyond language, audiences can project their own thoughts and feelings onto cats, cats are cute, and they make people feel good. These discourses circulate in popular conversation, and are promoted by YouTube itself. These suggestions do not seem to account for the specific pleasures of cat videos, beyond the predominance of cats in culture more broadly. The cat videos popular on the Internet tend to feature several key characteristics. They are generated by users, shot on a mobile device such as a phone, and set in a domestic environment. They employ an observational mode, which Bill Nichols has described as a noninterventionist type of documentary film associated with traditions of direct cinema and cinema verite, where form and style yields to the profilmic event. In the spirit of their observational mode, cat videos feature minimal sound and language, negligible editing and short duration. As Leah Shafer notes, cat videos record, “’live’ events, they are mostly shot by ‘amateurs’ with access to emerging technologies, and they dramatize the familiar.” For example, the one-minute video Cat vs Printer comprises a single, hand-held shot observing the cat, and the action is underlined by the printer’s beep and the sounds created by the cat’s movements. The patterned wallpaper suggests a domestic location, and the presence of the cat itself symbolises domesticity. These features typically combine to produce impressions of universality, intimacy and spontaneity – impressions commonly labelled ‘cute’. The cat’s cuteness is also embodied in its confusion and surprise at the printer’s movements: it is a simpleton, and we can laugh at its lack of understanding of the basic appurtenances of the modern world. Cat videos present minimalist narratives, focused on an instant of spectacle. A typical cat video establishes a state of calm, then suddenly disrupts it. The cat is usually the active agent of change, though chance also frequently plays a significant role. The pervasiveness of this structure means that viewers familiar with the form may even anticipate a serendipitous event. The disruption prompts a surprising or comic effect for the viewer, and this is a key part of the video’s pleasure. For example, in Cat vs Printer, the establishing scenario is the cat intently watching the printer, a presumably quotidian scene, which escalates when the cat begins to smack the moving paper. The narrative climaxes in the final two seconds of the video, when the cat strikes the paper so hard that the printer tray bounces, and the surprised cat falls off its stool. The video ends abruptly. This disruption also takes the viewer by surprise (at least it does the first time you watch it). The terse ending, and lack of resolution or denouement, encourages the viewer to replay the video. The minimal narrative effectively builds expectation for a moment of surprise. These characteristics of style and form typify a popular body of work, though there is variation, and the millions of cat videos on YouTube might be best accounted for by various subgenres. The most popular cat videos seem to have the most sudden and striking disruptions as well as the most abrupt endings. They seem the most dramatic and spontaneous. There are also thousands of cat videos with minor disruptions, and some with brazenly staged events. Increasingly, there is obvious use of postproduction techniques, including editing and music. A growing preponderance of compilations attests to the videos’ “spreadability” (Jenkins, Ford, and Green). The conventional formal structure of these videos effectively homogenises the cat, as if there is a single cat performing in millions of videos. Indeed, YouTube comments often suggest a likeness between the cat represented in the video and the commenter’s own cat. In this sense, the cuteness so readily identified has an homogenising effect. It also has the effect of distinguishing cats as a species from other animals, as it confounds common conceptions of all (other) animals as fundamentally alike in their essential difference from the human (animal). Cat videos are often appreciated for what they reveal about cats in general, rather than for each cat’s individuality. In this way, cat videos symbolise a generic feline cuteness, rather than identify a particular cat as cute. The cats of YouTube act “as an allegory for all the cats of the earth, the felines that traverse myths and religions, literature and fables” (Derrida 374). Each cat swiping objects off shelves, stealing the bed of a dog, leaping onto a kitchen bench is the paradigmatic cat, the species exemplar. Mode of Spectatorship, Mode of Performance: Cat Videos, Film History and Dog Videos Cat videos share some common features with early cinema. In his analysis of the “Aesthetic of Astonishment,” which dominated films until about 1904, film historian Tom Gunning argues that the short, single shot films of this era are characterised by exciting audience curiosity and fulfilling it with visual shocks and thrills. It is easy to see how this might describe the experience of watching Cat vs Printer or Thomas Edison’s Electrocution of an Elephant from 1903. The thrill of revelation at the end of Cat vs Printer is more significant than the minimal narrative it completes, and the most popular videos seem to heighten this shock. Further, like a rainy afternoon spent clicking the play button on a sequence of YouTube’s suggested videos, these early short films were also viewed in variety format as a series of attractions. Indeed, as Leah Shafer notes, some of these early films even featured cats, such as Professor Welton’s Boxing Cats from 1894. Each film offered a moment of spectacle, which thrilled the modern viewer. Gunning argues that these early films are distinguished by a particular relationship between spectator and film. They display blatant exhibitionism, and address their viewer directly. This highlights the thrill of disruption: “The directness of this act of display allows an emphasis on the thrill itself – the immediate reaction of the viewer” (Gunning “Astonishment” 122). This is produced both within the staging of the film itself as players look directly at the camera, and by the mode of exhibition, where a showman primes the audience verbally for a moment of revelation. Importantly, Gunning argues that this mode of spectatorship differs from how viewers watch narrative films, which later came to dominate our film and television screens: “These early films explicitly acknowledge their spectator, seeming to reach outwards and confront. Contemplative absorption is impossible here” (“Astonishment” 123). Gunning’s emphasis on a particular mode of spectatorship is significant for our understanding of pet videos. His description of early cinema has numerous similarities with cat videos, to be sure, but seems to describe more precisely the mode of spectatorship engendered by typical dog videos. Dog videos are also popular online, and are marked by a mode of performance, where the dogs seem to present self-consciously for the camera. Dogs often appear to look at the camera directly, although they are probably actually reading the eyes of the camera operator. One of the most popular dog videos, Ultimate dog tease, features a dog who appears to look into the camera and engage in conversation with the camera operator. It has the same domestic setting, mobile camera and short duration as the typical cat video, but, unlike the cat attacking the printer, this dog is clearly aware of being watched. Like the exhibitionistic “Cinema of Attractions,” it is marked by “the recurring look at the camera by [canine] actors. This action which is later perceived as spoiling the realistic illusion of the cinema, is here undertaken with brio, establishing contact with the audience” (Gunning “Attractions” 64). Dog videos frequently feature dogs performing on command, such as the countless iterations of dogs fetching beverages from refrigerators, or at least behaving predictably, such as dogs jumping in the bath. Indeed, the scenario often seems to be set up, whereas cat videos more often seem to be captured fortuitously. The humour of dog videos often comes from the very predictability of their behaviour, such as repeatedly fetching or rolling in mud. In an ultimate performance of self-consciousness, dogs even seem to act out guilt and shame for their observers. Similarly, baby videos are also popular online and were popular in early cinema, and babies also tend to look at the camera directly, showing that they are aware of bring watched. This emphasis on exhibitionism and modes of spectatorship helps us hone in on the uniqueness of cat videos. Unlike the dogs of YouTube, cats typically seem unaware of their observers; they refuse to look at the camera and “display their visibility” (Gunning “Attractions,” 64). This fits with popular discourses of cats as independent and aloof, untrainable and untameable. Cat videos employ a unique mode of observation: we observe the cat, who is unencumbered by our scrutiny. Feline Performance in a World of Pervasive Surveillance This is an aesthetic of surveillance without inhibition, which heightens the impressions of immediacy and authenticity. The very existence of so many cat videos online is a consequence of camera ubiquity, where video cameras have become integrated with common communications devices. Thousands of cameras are constantly ready to capture these quotidian scenes, and feed the massive economy of user-generated content. Cat videos are obviously created and distributed by humans, a purposeful labour to produce entertainment for viewers. Cat videos are never simply a feline performance, but a performance of human interaction with the cat. The human act of observation is an active engagement with the other. Further, the act of recording is a performance of wielding the camera, and often also through image or voice. The cat video is a companion performance, which is part of an ongoing relationship between that human and that other animal. It carries strong associations with regimes of epistemological power and physical domination through histories of visual study, mastery and colonisation. The activity of the human creator seems to contrast with the behaviour of the cat in these videos, who appears unaware of being watched. The cats’ apparent uninhibited behaviour gives the viewer the illusion of voyeuristically catching a glimpse of a self-sufficient world. It carries connotations of authenticity, as the appearance of interaction and intervention is minimised, like the ideal of ‘fly on the wall’ documentary (Nichols). This lack of self-consciousness and sense of authenticity are key to their reception as ‘cute’ videos. Interestingly, one of the reasons that audiences may find this mode of observation so accessible and engaging, is because it heeds the conventions of the fourth wall in the dominant style of fiction film and television, which presents an hermetically sealed diegesis. This unselfconscious performance of cats in online videos is key, because it embodies a complex relationship with the surveillance that dominates contemporary culture. David Lyon describes surveillance as “any focused attention to personal details for the purposes of influence, management, or control” (“Everyday” 1) and Mark Andrejevic defines monitoring as “the collection of information, with or without the knowledge of users, that has actual or speculative economic value” (“Enclosure” 297). We live in an environment where social control is based on information, collected and crunched by governments, corporations, our peers, and ourselves. The rampancy of surveillance has increased in recent decades in a number of ways. Firstly, technological advances have made the recording, sorting and analysis of data more readily available. Although we might be particularly aware of the gaze of the camera when we stand in line at the supermarket checkout or have an iPhone pointed at our face, many surveillance technologies are hidden points of data collection, which track our grocery purchases, text messages to family and online viewing. Surveillance is increasingly mediated through digital technologies. Secondly, surveillance data is becoming increasingly privatised and monetised, so there is strengthening market demand for consumer information. Finally, surveillance was once associated chiefly with institutions of the state, or with corporations, but the process is increasingly “lateral,” involving peer-to-peer surveillance and self-surveillance in the realms of leisure and domestic life (Andrejevic “Enclosure,” 301). Cat videos occupy a fascinating position within this context of pervasive surveillance, and offer complex thrills for audiences. The Unselfconscious Pleasures of Cat Videos Unselfconsciousness of feline performance in cat videos invites contradictory pleasures. Firstly, cat videos offer viewers the fantasy of escaping surveillance. The disciplinary effect of surveillance means that we modify our behaviour based on a presumption of constant observation; we are managed and manipulated as much by ourselves as we are by others. This discipline is the defining condition of industrial society, as described by Foucault. In an age of traffic cameras, Big Brother, CCTV, the selfie pout, and Google Glass, modern subjects are oppressed by the weight of observation to constantly manage their personal performance. Unselfconsciousness is associated with privacy, intimacy, naivety and, increasingly, with impossibility. By allowing us to project onto the experience of their protagonists, cat videos invite us to imagine a world where we are not constantly aware of being watched, of being under surveillance by both human beings and technology. This projection is enabled by discourse, which constructs cats as independent and aloof, a libertarian ideal. It provides the potential for liberation from technologized social surveillance, and from the concomitant self-discipline of our docile bodies. The uninhibited performance of cats in online videos offers viewers the prospect that it is possible to live without the gaze of surveillance. Through cat videos, we celebrate the untameable. Cats model a liberated uninhibitedness viewers can only desire. The apparent unselfconsciousness of feline performance is analogous to Derrida’s conception of animal nakedness: the nudity of animals is significant, because it is a key feature which distinguishes them from humans, but at the same time there is no sense of the concept of nakedness outside of human culture. Similarly, a performance uninhibited by observation seems beyond humans in contemporary culture, and implies a freedom from social expectations, but there is also little suggestion that cats would act differently if they knew they were observed. We interpret cats’ independence as natural, and take pleasure in cats’ naturalness. This lack of inhibition is cute in the sense that it is attractive to the viewer, but also in the sense that it is naïve to imagine a world beyond surveillance, a freedom from being watched. Secondly, we take pleasure in the power of observing another. Surveillance is based on asymmetrical regimes of power, and the position of observer, recorder, collator is usually more powerful than the subject of their gaze. We enjoy the pleasure of wielding the unequal gaze, whether we hit the “record” button ourselves or just the “play” button. In this way, we celebrate our capacity to contain the cat, who has historically proven conceptually uncontainable. Yet, the cats’ unselfconsciousness means we can absolve ourselves of their exploitation. Looking back at the observer, or the camera, is often interpreted as a confrontational move. Cats in videos do not confront their viewer, do not resist the gaze thrown on them. They accept the role of subject without protest; they perform cuteness without resistance. We internalise the strategies of surveillance so deeply that we emulate its practices in our intimate relationships with domestic animals. Cats do not glare back at us, accusingly, as dogs do, to remind us we are exerting power over them. The lack of inhibition of cats in online videos means that we can exercise the power of surveillance without confronting the oppression this implies. Cat videos offer the illusion of watching the other without disturbing it, brandishing the weapon without acknowledging the violence of its impact. There is a logical tension between these dual pleasures of cat videos: we want to escape surveillance, while exerting it. The Work of Cat Videos in ‘Liquid Surveillance’ These contradictory pleasures in fact speak to the complicated nature of surveillance in the era of “produsage,” when the value chain of media has transformed along with traditional roles of production and consumption (Bruns). Christian Fuchs argues that the contemporary media environment has complicated the dynamics of surveillance, and blurred the lines between subject and object (304). We both create and consume cat videos; we are commodified as audience and sold on as data. YouTube is the most popular site for sharing cat videos, and a subsidiary of Google, the world’s most visited website and a company which makes billions of dollars from gathering, collating, storing, assessing, and trading our data. While we watch cat videos on YouTube, they are also harvesting information about our every click, collating it with our other online behaviour, targeting ads at us based on our specific profile, and also selling this data on to others. YouTube is, in fact, a key tool of what David Lyon calls “liquid surveillance” after the work of Zygmunt Bauman, because it participates in the reduction of millions of bodies into data circulating at the service of consumer society (Lyon “Liquid”). Your views of cats purring and pouncing are counted and monetised, you are profiled and targeted for further consumption. YouTube did not create the imbalance of power implied by these mechanisms of surveillance, but it is instrumental in automating, amplifying, and extending this power (Andrejevic “Lateral,” 396). Zygmunt Bauman argues that in consumer society we are increasingly seduced to willingly subject ourselves to surveillance (Lyon “Liquid”), and who better than the cute kitty to seduce us? Our increasingly active role in “produsage” media platforms such as YouTube enables us to perform what Andrejevic calls “the work of being watched” (“Work”). When we upload, play, view, like and comment on cat videos, we facilitate our own surveillance. We watch cat videos for the contradictory pleasures they offer us, as we navigate and negotiate the overwhelming surveillance of consumer society. Cat videos remind us of the perpetual possibility of observation, and suggest the prospect of escaping it. 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