Review: Sachiko M, STEIM, Amsterdam Thurs Nov 27, 2003

[derek holzer <derek@xxxxxxx>]

Sachiko M: STEIM, Amsterdam Thurs Nov 27, 2003

The most common response to the "onkyo" school of Japanese minimalism, 
represented by Otomo Yoshihide, Toshimaru Nakamura, Tetuzi Akiyama, Taku 
Sugimoto and Sachiko M, among others, is an incredulous one. Simply put, 
for many the notion of being confined in a room with a 1000Hz sine wave 
for 30 minutes, or 30 minutes of silence punctuated by several small 
clicks, makes them wonder if they are the butt of some esoteric joke.

Or more likely, it confronts them with a silence they would rather was 
filled up with some other kind of distraction, rather than confronting 
it directly and accepting both the silence, and what it makes them aware of.

I really must give STEIM some credit for inviting Sachiko M. The she 
music makes, through the use of a single sine wave inside of a sampler, 
brings up the most Cageian associations I have felt from music in a long 
time. For the casual listener, however, it invokes a sense of curiousity 
at first, followed by a spirit of physical experimentation. Different 
positions of the head, relative to the speakers and the peaks of the 
sine waves coming from them, change the character of the sound and makes 
the concert mildly interactive. Following this, a sense of physical 
nervousness sets in as the constant sound pressure on the eardrums gains 
in psychoacoustic intensity. The mind wanders or the feet shuffle in an 
attempt to find some stimulus, something to break the perceived monotony 
of the experience. Those who do not leave outright are given to 
sniggering and coughing, simply to assert themselves against the sound 
they hear.

And this is precisely where it becomes most interesting.

Because there are things happening, events on a scale both small and 
large, which are in fact part of the performance, and cannot be set 
apart from it.

In a recent article from The Wire on Tokyo's Onkyo headquarters, some 
members of the scene critiqued a visiting western improv musician for 
the lack of "space" that he left in his perfromance. Though many 
catagories are used to describe it, one of the hallmarks of the Onkyo 
school is a disdain of traditional elements of rhythm and melody in 
favor of an exploration of the spaces in between such elements. In the 
same way as the poetic gaps in the form of the haiku, the use of 
negative space in traditional Japanese calligraphy or the 
electromagnetic void which makes up most of the structure of an atom, 
what is missing in Onkyo is often more important than what is there. And 
it calls attention to that fact by virtue of its aesthetic omissions.

The lazy Zen student in me might interpret Sachiko M's performance so:

Dig if you will a space of undifferentiated sound. 1000Hz of sine wave 
serves as a basis point, a modulator for every other event which happens 
in that space, whether it is Sachiko herself cutting the sine wave short 
mid-phase or the sophmoric Dutchboys of the second act chuckling in the 
back row of the theatre. What Sachiko creates is a space where all these 
sounds can be heard and accepted, without intellectualizing or 
prioritizing one from the other.

The comment I heard most often out in the lobby went something like

this:

It was monotonous [because] there wasn't enough change.

or this:

I was uncomfortable [because] I could hear everyone else in the room.

but this:

Both of these miss the point [because] the point was all of the those 
sounds in the room one would want to shut out. How often in our everyday 
life are we compelled to sit still for a half an hour? To sit still with 
the wonderful opportunity to take in our environment and hear sounds 
that we would never normally even notice? These comments miss the point 
[simply because] the people who made them lacked the concentration not 
to discriminate between one sound source and the other.

An example from my own history:

Travelling in Brasil last summer, I made myself [and perhaps several 
others around me] completely crazy with my search for "pure, natural" 
sounds. I had a minidisc in my backpack, and insisted on capturing 
impressions from the Brasillian nature. Unfortunately for my delusions, 
there are quite a few million people living in Brasil, and many of them 
own diesel-engine boats, load cars, wild children, loose chickens, rabid 
dogs, ripping chainsaws, un-muffled motorcycles, cheap boom boxes and 
even a few jet airplanes which constantly managed to step on every 
"pure, natural" monkey, parakeet, cricket, frog or fruit-bat that ever I 
laid a mike on.

End conclusion [on returning to normalized, regulated Holland]:
"Pure" sound doesn't exist. It can only be a combination of the source, 
our expectations as listeners and then everything else which happens in 
between. Even to listen to Sachiko M's digitally-recorded and -mastered 
CD at home is not pure. It is only modulated by my own point-of-view 
cross-poly-phased with my own cheap boombox and the noise of the 
big-boned, bad-haired blonde Dutch students who ride their bikes under 
my window day and night.

But don't ask me about it. Ask Sachiko.

Throughout the performance, Ms. M maintained a Zen-master's composure. 
Eyes set down, thin fingers resting on --not so much as working-- the 
mixer and sampler. This state went on uninterrupted even past the point 
where sounds could be heard. Please, oh please, don't let this moment 
end. When it did, Sachiko smiled shyly, thanked us for listening and 
soon after packed her bags.

When I caught up with her and asked her about my impressions, she said 
said she appreciated hearing the audience's reaction during the show. 
Just as much as she appreciated hearing the creaks and hisses of STEIM's 
heating system.

And these "other" sounds, the ones she did not make. Are these part of 
the performance too?

"They're ok. It's just like life? Right?"

----Utrecht 4:02 Nov 28 2003

d.