- I have no ideas in advance about how it will sound. I begin to imagine complex control structures in my mind. Complex feedback loops involving lots of LFOs and sample & holds, usually. Sometimes with gate modifications and logic.
- When it becomes clear enough, then I draw out an abstract patch diagram of the control structure (i.e. not naming specific modules).
- With power off, I patch up the control structure. Then power it and watch the blinking lights.
- Next step is to come up with an audio patch that includes VCOs, envelope generators and VCAs, maybe filters, and some CV-able FX. It usually involves some kind of cross-modulation between VCOs, such as dynamic depth linear FM.
- Then comes the patching of the controls over to the audio. This is always exploratory. I have a bunch of LFOs, gates, and S&H outputs available to patch to control the audio.
- Once I have a suitable patch, then comes the twiddling and wiggling. And some re-patching. This takes the longest, because of sensitive dependence on initial condition. Just a small tweak to an initial rate or CV depth can make a lot of difference. I fiddle, lie down and listen for a while, make some short recordings for reference. This can take several days, part time. Eventually I decide it’s ready to present to an audience.
- The last step is presenting it to a live audience. I explain that the ‘music’ is being generated in real time, using no recordings or samples, and that it’s all the movement of electricity until it hits the speakers, which transduce it into sound waves. I’ll let it run for an arbitrary amount of time.
I sometimes have a specific future date in mind, and a place where I’m supposed to present. The process from step one to six can take anywhere from two days to two weeks. After the presentation, it’s over and done with. I save recordings, but the ‘work’, such as it is, is always a live presentation.
A composer friend of mine asked me, ‘Since your pieces have no beginning or end, how do you think of them as beginning or ending, since they do start at some time and end at another time?’ Good question. I think of a composition as beginning after step six and ending when the patch is torn down. Sometimes I draw out the patch, but as often as not I don’t. It’s ephemeral and temporal, existing in the ears of the listeners. Even though the patch and tweak settings exist when the power is off, the cold patch is not the composition. It’s really existing only when speakers are on and someone is listening.
This is beautiful Richard. It’s always nice to see someone articulate their process when working with modular systems, which can be so idiosyncratic, if not the most idiosyncratic of all electronic instruments.
Thank you, Konstantine. I am glad you can appreciate the way I go about things. How artistic works emerge from an artist is often mysterious, even to the artist. That last step of deciding a work is ready to present to others is hard to explain. One thing it is certainly not is the arrival at a point where the work matches a preconceived idea. Rather, it ‘matches’ with a feeling. Sometimes, after I’ve tweaked a patch for hours, I take a break. Then, the next day when I turn it on again, it suddenly sounds right.
Is it because it sounds right or is it because you are now ready for it? I’ve always wondered that, coming from my experience with repeatedly listening to records I did not like at first listen, to which I mysteriously gravitated towards only to dislike them again, which ended up being some of my favourite albums at times. You know the drill.
What I mostly liked about your post is your ability to revisit a patch and build upon it. A process more so than an event. It’s quite inspiring as I find myself in a weird transition in my modular journey.
Anyway, keep posting. Most of your writings I revisit every now and again. Very inspirational stuff!
Really fascinating stuff. Thanks for writing this up and for linking it from Muff Wigglerz, where I came from.