Sound sources ripe for the plunder? Precious aural jewels? Strict limitations? Infinite possibilities?
What follows is a collective investigation into the practice of audio sampling. Selected Sounds is an initiative with a few different identities. It is my PhD thesis--the culmination of almost seven years of questioning concerning what it means to "sample" sounds in the creation of "new" audio works. My convictions have changed remarkably over the course of this period, although a few notions have persisted--such as the belief that "sampling" is a remarkably useful concept for demonstrating the impossibility of separating practices from technologies of sound production. Chapter 3's literature review of academic approaches to sampling attempts to chart the course of these fluctuating convictions, as well as the history of sample-based music more generally. Selected Sounds is also a collection of interviews with seven different "sampling-inclined" sound artists from Montreal, Canada (myself included). These interviews have been organized into a hyper-textual database allowing for a remix of the project's principle contribution to knowledge with every reading (Chapter 4). A reflexive analysis of data gleaned from the interview process is the subject of Chapter 5. The project's third identity is more methodological--as a research-creation initiative it incorporates textual analysis with other audio/visual elements such as hyper-textual links, embedded sound examples and interactive remixing opportunities (discussed in Chapter 2). And finally, Selected Sounds is also a jointly-authored audio CD featuring a piece of sample based work by each participant. The CD (discussed further below) has been released independently in addition to accompanying this dissertation.
The phenomenon of sample-based music (i.e., music that relies on sampling in its composition) brings into strong relief a deeply-rooted dichotomy of opinion within the contemporary sound production scene--i.e, that digital technologies are the only future for sound storage, mixing and playback. While sampling is a practice with long-standing precedents, its most notorious cultural and historical emergence has undoubtedly been alongside the rise of hip hop, techno and other principally digitally-produced forms of music. While hip hop's sampling history is most appropriately traced back to the analog art of "turntablism" or scratch djing, the sample-based practices it is most renowned for involve the digital copying and looping of recognizable material from older popular recordings (mostly funk and disco 45s). This history is analyzed in greater detail in Chapter 3. Suffice it to say, however, that up until very recently sampling and recording were perceived as separate initiatives. Initially this made a certain amount of sense, as most recordings throughout the 80s were mixed down to analog tape, even tracks that used samplers. The computer memory available at the time was just not enough to handle all the digital data produceable by a band of playing musicians. Fast forward through the 90s to the contemporary scene (2007)--most sound studios utilize computers and digital components heavily in their production chain. 1 What differs today between those who consider themselves to be "sampling" versus those that are "recording" are attitudes around the "appropriateness" of the practices under question. These attitudes are responsive to a complex arithmetic. How are sounds being treated, before and after their digitization? How much are they being mixed with other sounds? Who is doing this mixing, and for what purpose? Are they sound composers, instrumentalists, engineers, or just plain listeners? How much knowledge of the history of sound recording do they possess? What exactly is being appropriated? Who does it belong to?
Musical collaboration is generally accepted by legal systems, at least in terms of recording (duets, groups and orchestras) and writing (partnerships). The practice of sampling-taking a snippet of a recording for use in a new work-has, however, changed the nature of collaboration, shaking up the recording industry and causing a legal furor. (Charman and Holloway 2006, para 29)
When I first began writing and thinking about sampling, the practice was defined in relationship to two different groups: professional studio engineers and hip hop producers. The first category generally understood sampling to be a form of cutting costs when working on multi-track recording projects. Samples could be used to create orchestrations without having to hire a great number of studio musicians, or even any at all. Sampling from copyrighted material constituted outright theft for most in this group (Porcello 1992).2 Using a so-called "sample CD" was alright, and many commercially-available samplers also had libraries (or banks) of "instruments" that could be purchased for subsequent copyright-free use. Hip hop producers, on the other hand, positively embraced sampling from copyrighted sources as a form of paying homage to the past as well as a method for creating "dope" beats with few instruments/tools. The practice became notorious as a form of postmodern resistance to tradition as well as a democratization of music production resources. Most academic authors interested in sampling during the last decade have focused on its theoretical/cultural significance and in particular its demonstration of new-media trends in regards to authorship and intellectual property.
Starting my PhD in Communication Studies in 2000, I eventually decided that the best way to contribute to this discussion was through the articulation of a "participant observer's" point of view into the world of sample-based musical production, a perspective that I felt had been notoriously absent. Most authors were forced to rely on what I believed were highly subjective statements derived through interviews as a source of general knowledge of sampling practices within the contemporary popular music scene. I found this counter-intuitive, for in my mind sampling practices are not homogenous. They are, in fact, as infinitely variable as snowflakes falling on a Montreal street in January. There are no rules when it comes to sampling; the only limitation a sample-based musician experiences is dictated by her imagination and familiarity with her chosen technologies. To claim that sampling="x", or samplers work in such and such a way is to generalize. Another thing I noticed is that sampling's relationship to DJing was often misunderstood in both popular and academic sources. Indeed the two practices were often conflated--usually with accompanying breathless descriptions of a DJ's capacity to borrow and/or steal ravenously from the annuls of recorded music history to the betterment/detriment of musical creativity across the globe.
The musical instrument most familiar to me before the sampler was the guitar. Although not the first instrument I learned how to play, it became the most influential in terms of my later approach to music and composition. I wanted to be able to accompany myself singing, and after learning enough chords from friends to get the knack of the repetitive patterns used in most pop tunes, I taught myself the rest of what I know through listening to recordings of songs enough times to absorb their lyrics and musical structures.
However, the Grunge era in which I took up these musical interests eventually waned, and the riff-driven melodic ballads that had provoked me to acquire an electric guitar in 1993 were replaced in the popular soundscape with various strains of sample-based music. It become tougher for me to "cover-version" my favourite songs as an increasing number of the groups I discovered eschewed traditional instruments and rock or folk song structures. Excellent music by English trip hop acts like Bjork, Portishead, Tricky, Massive Attack and Everything But The Girl came out, crossing-over into my sonic surroundings as an M.A. student in philosophy of science in the late 90s. I began to feel dissatisfied with the "guitar, three chords, and the truth" ethos that seemed to govern much of the music I had learned to perform. At the same time the figure of the DJ began to (re)emerge as a respected wielder of musical and cultural capital. More and more Canadian venues hired single individuals (or crews of individuals) to entertain, edify and electrify their patrons with an entire night's worth of seamlessly juxtaposed music using only two turntables, a mixer and a crate of vinyl records. These "magic mixers" were using techniques developed by hip hop and dance-music DJs in New York, Chicago, London and other international destinations such as Ibiza, Spain and Goa, India. Moreover, musicians who were "producing" (as opposed to "recording") within these new "electronica" genres were often DJs themselves and were building tracks for live cutting and mixing. Many of these new records were built on grooves that were sampled and mixed via DJ practices like "crate digging" and "scratching", as I later came to realize.
Two things needed to happen, as far as I was concerned. Firstly, I had to start purchasing new musical releases on vinyl instead of CD or tape as I had become accustomed. Secondly, I had to get myself some sort of DJ worthy turntables and a mixer. This proved tough financially--vinyls were expensive, with prices often higher than the same material on CD. And it was hard to learn enough about the multitude of electronica genres available to make informed choices without first purchasing a lot of crap.
Mixing records proved to be another endeavour entirely. The turntables everyone seemed to use (Technics 1200s) were 800$ a piece, not to mention the price of the mixer. I settled for gear I was able to purchase at pawn shops, and before long also found myself sifting through older records I would see at these shops, or at garage sales or thrift stores (other places I would looks for suitable turntables on the cheap). Buying records from these locations was an extremely different experience from going into the independent record stores where I grappled with the new vinyl experience (see Chapman 2001). Records here cost as little as 25 cents a piece. And I recognized many of the artists! Fleetwood Mac, Bob Dylan, Aretha Franklin, Parliament Funkadelic, The Beatles and Bee Gees. Rock, folk, soul, funk, and disco reigned over the dusty bins I started combing through, not to mention all sorts of "golden oldies", jazz, blues, and "easy listening" records. And then there were the Christmas albums and children's records, along with various other bits of exotica and sound effects compilations. So much more sound, so much cheaper, and with a way in--through my memories of listening to this music while growing up as someone born in 1973.
As my record collection began to grow, so too did my appreciation and knowledge of previously recorded music. I grew more savvy in terms of the records I would select--in an effort to bring home less "junk." I listened to new records in the store before purchasing them whenever possible. I started to see patterns of repetition in the stock of the thrift stores and used-record shops that I frequented. These elements of my developing record collecting practice pushed me to start exploring new genres and artists I knew very little about. This broadening of my tastes resulted in an ever-increasing stream of records entering my apartment, as well as more time spent beside the turntable, listening to music as well as developing skills at mixing and scratching records.
My electric guitar was at this point growing traded-industy--as had my practice of listening, memorizing and cover-versioning songs. But I couldn't go back. It was at this point (1998) that I decided to sell my guitar and purchase a sampler--an Ensoniq EPS 16+.
As mentioned, Selected Sounds involves an ethnographic investigation into the sampling and mixing practices of a group of sound artists from Montreal, Canada. Seven composers (in one case, a composing duo) each contributed a single piece of digitized sound to the project. Each was free to submit any sound they liked, with the one requirement that all samples be selected from sources discovered around Montreal. After collecting the audio files, I placed them together on a CD, copies of which were distributed to every participant. Each composer then put together a track drawing on this sample pool exclusively for source material. The resulting mixes have been compiled into a nationally-distributed, independent audio-CD.3. The compositions are remarkable in terms of originality--as each artist strove to bring the sample pool into their own mixing practice. All were interviewed regarding the evolution of their knowledge of digital audio production methods, as well as their thoughts on audio sampling.
Beyond a creative demonstration of different practices of sample-based music making, this research counters those who assert increased aural control as paramount to users of digital audio technology. Although extraordinary editing precision is currently possible when compared to the days of magnetic tape, copying, splicing and transforming audio with digital equipment is still very much about responsive listening. Those looking to write about the relationship between digital audio technology and contemporary practices of music making must never overlook the affective dimension of sound--its fleeting presence as vibrations of the ear drum. For recorded audio, no matter how many times it has been copied, must always pass through a singular moment of conversion into moving air molecules in order to be experienced.
Must a recording carry a relationship of consistent identity between it and an original source? A multi-track recording stretches this suggestion through layering such "consistent" elements together (drum beats, bass lines, guitar riffs, vocals, etc.,). Sample-based compositions, on the other hand, often sequence together samples into patterns, working on the development of multiple "tracks" at the same time--allowing serendipitous juxtapositions to determine subsequent choices. This is a skill that has taken some time for me to develop. It is also at the heart, interestingly, of musical improvisation. Composing through sampling has prompted me to engaged with other musicians, choreographers and artists in ways I never imagined when I traded-in my electric guitar.
I have interviewed the participants over the course of this project. This process consisted of one-on-one, open-ended discussions with each composer. These conversations were enabled through the following 10 questions:
My intent is not to nail down a universal and detailed definition for the practice of sampling. There is no unique semantic formulation or code that provides a means for understanding how the practice will play out in every instance. Instead, I'd like to put forward the perspectives articulated in Selected Sounds as a set of "singularities" regarding the practice of sample-based music. Simply put, sampling in 2007 is commonplace in all forms of media, and especially in music and sound design. As Charman and Holloway claim "[c]ontemporary examples of sampling are too common to pick highlights" (Charman and Holloway 2006, para 30). The phenomenon is too multifaceted for meta-narratives. This project should be understood fundamentally as an "example," or perhaps a collection of examples that support and help construct another, larger example which, because of its very constructed-ness and art-ificiality, is more open to detailed and subtle analysis. Regarding examples, Brian Massumi has claimed:
An example is neither general (as is a system of concepts) nor particular (as is the material to which a system is applied). It is "singular". It is defined by a disjunctive self-inclusion: a belonging to itself that is simultaneously an extendibility to everything else with which it might be connected. (Massumi 2002, 18)
Massumi uses examples in his writing in order to avoid the "application" of concepts--with an eye towards the very transformation of those concepts. If one wants to help evolve discussion about a cultural phenomenon such as sampling, one must start with some examples--thereby providing singular points of focus for the elaboration of further examples. My task as coordinator of Selected Sounds has been to work with the examples provided by the group (musical and interview-based) with the end goal of articulating an open-ended yet focussed perspective on the practices of sample-based music.
There is a pervasive opinion within the literature on sampling that it is a practice that sidesteps a number of musical conventions like copyright, or established rules for studio production and mixing. Sampling is also understood as fundamentally linked to the mechanical/electrical/digital reproduction of sound--a phenomenon as young as the history of devices like Emile Berliner's gramophone, ancestor to the Technics 1200 turntable (the contemporary DJ turntable of choice). Charles Mudede asserts a strong link between the turntable and sampling. Just as early New York DJs such as Grandmaster Flash "repurposed" (Mudede's term) the turntable in order to extend breakbeats (e.g., The Amazing Adventures of Grandmaster Flash on the Wheels of Steel), the sampler is "repurposed" by hip hop producers in order to extend and mix previously recorded sound understood as a type of information. Sample-based music is meta music--"music about music" (Mudede 2003, "scratch 7"). Hip hop sampling (the only type of sampling Mudede seems to consider worthy of serious consideration) is distinctly different from playing or performing instrumental music, and all accounts that suggest that a turntable is like a drum or a guitar, or that a sampler should be considered similar to a synthesizer or other electronic instrument are "whack". "Real hip hop", he suggests, "does not sample real sounds, like the toilet flushing in Art of Noise's "Close (to the Edit)" (1984), but samples copyrighted music". (Mudede 2003, "scratch 9")
"Real hip hop." "Real sounds."? I guess a toilet flushing is a real sound, but are drums beats not also similarly real at the moment they are recorded? If someone copyright protects a recording they make, does the sound contained on the record become less real? I believe what Mudede is pointing to has to do with the question of authenticity within hip hop and (by correlation) the practice of sampling and making sample based music. Tricia Rose's book Black Noise, in particular, echoes this concern. The book is regarded as an extremely important contribution to the field of hip hop studies, at once for its inclusion of female rappers in its retelling of the history and contemporary status of hip hop, as well as for its welcome incorporation of ethnography into an account of the practice of making beats from samples. Reading quotes from Hank Shocklee and Chuck D (from "Public Enemy") about "deliberately work[ing] in the red" (Rose 1994, 75), or (old school hip hop vocalist) Kurtis Blow describing the 808 kick drum as a "car speaker destroyer...[as] African music" (Rose 1994, 75) provides an extraordinary glimpse into the (largely Afro-American) subcultures of producers, rappers and recording engineers that have brought rap music and sampling into our everyday listening experiences (music on the radio, in car commercials, etc.)
Black Noise situates the history of rap music, and thereby a great deal of sample-based music, firmly in "Afrodiasporic musical priorities. Rap production resonates with black cultural priorities in the age of digital reproduction." (Rose 1994, 75) This remains an extremely important point, and should not be underestimated or forgotten--the history of sample-based music can easily be read as an offshoot of hip hop and other musics with vital and well-established roots in Afro-American rhythmic culture (such as Jazz and early Detroit or Chicago Techno/House). This is not my story to tell, however. It has already been recounted very eloquently by Rose. Her book is dated, however, having been published in 1994 and prior to, for instance, the widespread use of software synthesizers and personal-computer-based digital recording programs. This is always a pitfall when it comes to writing about contemporary technological practices and their relationship to particular subcultures, since these practices tend to change at the same pace as technological innovation, and often much faster than the identity politics involved in social hierarchies such as "subcultures". Which is not to say that these hierarchies are somehow more permanent, only slower to shift, as social paradigms are affected by technological change at the same time as they shape they way new technologies are adopted (and eventually cast aside).
Rose focuses exclusively on hip hop production when discussing sampling--and is careful to always refer back to her central thesis regarding "Afrodiasporic musical priorities." For those seeking to widen what the term "sampling" can entail, a more inclusive perspective is needed. Sampling practices in hip hop have continued to evolve since the writing of Black Noise, and groups like the Art of Noise were also making music based on samples in ways quite different (although undoubtedly indebted to) the techniques and practices articulated by Rose's interviewees. A contemporary account of sampling needs to be more open ended, and less interested in laying claim to the roots of the revolutionary appropriation that can take place within sample-based music than Rose or Mudede.4
Paul Théberge's highly influential work Any Sound You Can Imagine opened room for this sort of research in 1997 through its focus on sounds as "objects" of consumption and the corroborating observation that many contemporary producers of music have become digital consumers/connoisseurs/collectors of sounds. Particular samplers, drum machines, and sound libraries are selected by sample-savvy musicians in order to situate their work within certain genres. These devices are sought after as they allow for the manipulation of certain particular sounds, types of sounds or sound modulations. The Roland 808 kick-drum sound (mentioned above by Kurtis Blow) is used by Théberge as an example of such a preference for a particular sample's putative acoustic and psychological qualities (Théberge 1997, 196-198).
Blow, Kurtis. 1985. If I Ruled The World. 12 inch Single. Mercury Records.
Use of the 808 kick drum sound situates one's work within a wider community of users and consumers of sounds. As an old-school hip hop staple, the sound can be understood as conveying an attitude towards musical production that eschews the use of live instrumentation in favour of recognizable (and reproducible) "sound banks". It also supports the claim that sounds are now manipulable as objects or even commodities,
The ability of digital instruments to both create new timbres and to reproduce older ones has made them an indispensable tool. In the age of electronic reproduction, with recordings and radio disseminating and reinforcing "sound" as an identifying mark of contemporary music-making, individual "sounds" have come to carry the same commercial and aesthetic weight as the melody of the lyric in pop song. (Théberge 1997, 195)
The question must be asked, however, whether or not the capacity of digital instruments to create and contain new timbres makes users of these timbres into consumers of sounds in ways that are different from previous practices of music making. Those who play instruments have always been consumers in one form or another--consumers of instruments and their components, as well as sheet music and the like. Moreover, the way sounds are manipulated by sample-based composers differs remarkably from one instance to the next, and has also evolved since Théberge's book, at the same rapid pace as the technological options for sampling and digital sound manipulation. While many producers load sounds into a computer and copy, paste or program these sounds into musical sequences, just as many opt for commercially-available (MIDI) keyboard-controllers for use in playing back samples. The issue of whether to focus on the political economy of sound objects or the "practical" considerations involved in performing with samples therefore becomes an important question for the would be researcher of sampling in 2007. Selected Sounds attempts to address theses options simultaneously.
I couldn't afford it, a pound an hour for lessons. Well, my dad said 'Well there you are, I can't pay for it, it's too much money.' I thought 'Well blow it, I'll find my own way'...[I taught myself] by sound, and a record player, you used to put the HMV records on it. Seventy-eights...The thing I have never learned to do properly is a [drum] roll.(Finnegan 1998, 103)
DJ Shadow. 1996. Building Steam With A Grain Of Salt. From Endtroducing. Mowax Records.
The common practice of learning new playing styles through listening to the work of others suggests a fundamental way in which musicians have always been ready to consume on behalf of their art. It is not simply about possession of the right kind of gear, or even music, but more about what listening to music/sounds can do to one's own style. I have also started drum lessons in the past year, but have stopped, mostly for reasons of time as well as being resistant to feeling guilty for not practicing. Listening to records as a form of drum lesson, trying to emulate the style of past giants--this has financial incentives, but is also appealing in terms of independence. An interesting displacement takes place--recordings become agents of instruction. Teachers. The important thing on the part of a pupil is a willingness to copy. This can be accomplished in many different ways. A technology can be a practice of learning.
I'd like to go further than Théberge in suggesting that sampling is a practice that revels in the capacity for sounds to bring their own requirements to the table in terms of manipulability. Sampling is about dialogue with sounds--dialogue enabled and informed by technology and its intimate relationship to the history of music. In my own practice I find the samples I select carry as much compositional inertia as my own ideas or plans. Certain sounds cry out to be used in unusual ways, and also seem to long for particular types of "collaborators"--bass-lines, drum-machine sounds (like the 808 kick), equalizations, effects and (of course) other samples. Start with a funky drum-break and chop it up as much as you want--it's unlikely that you're going to layer another beat on top of it with its own unique tempo. Vocal samples are also great for grabbing the attention of a listener. However, using too many sounds layered over top of one another creates a sense of competition that one might prefer to avoid. There are ways around this that involve panning and mixing, but these techniques also have their own limits. These and other examples of samples that serve-up their own rules-of-use are a fundamental contribution of the Selected Sounds project. But I don't want to insist on these rules. They change with every new composition, with every new genre, with every new listening audience. This is something Selected Sounds demonstrates in the collective production contained on our audio CD. One can also begin to feel what is involved in this sort of practice through playing with the seven Selected Sounds samples embedded at the top of this introductory chapter.
A variety of digital technologies now exist that can transform analog sound waves into binary code. Any sound can be sampled in this way: drum beats, field recordings, even live players using traditional instruments. Samples are then ready to be cut, copied, spliced, pitch-shifted, equalized, turned backwards, and/or passed through a myriad of different effects processors before being multi-tracked and layered into a final stereo mix.
Once completed, tracks are easily converted to MP3 or burnt to CD-R for quick distribution. It is as though sound in the digital age has become "utterly malleable", (Miller 2004, 20), leaving only the sound selector and manipulator as the all-powerful source of creativity, of individual musical genius. To date the majority of academic work on digital sound practices relies upon this suggestion that technology has provided us with almost total control over recorded sound (see (Miller 2004), (Mudede 2003), (Pinch and Bijsterveld 2003), (Lysloff 2003), (Cascone 2002), (Théberge 1997), and (Jones 1992).
This point of view is very common within the literature on audio sampling, and is responsible, I believe, for the tendency to identify the figure behind the mixing console as the absolute center of digitally-assisted musical production. The technology involved in recording has become a tool so sophisticated that its only limit is said to be our imagination. But what is it that limits this imagination, if anything? Do the sounds we mix not require us to attend to their particular shape before we attempt to bring them into alignment with other sources? What techniques must we adopt to accommodate their particularities? What constraints led to the adoption of these techniques over others? And how were these sounds selected in the first place? Were they recorded "live"? If so, what procedures and equipment were employed? Were the sounds "sampled"? If so, how were they collected? What were the archives used?
It is through such questioning that the artistry involved in sampling becomes apparent. The technologies used are not simply tools--they represent an entire family of practices employed in a wide variety of unique scenarios. No two situations will be exactly alike, but there will be resemblances. Such an open-ended perspective is paramount in the development of analyses that accurately reflect the heterogeneity of sampling practices. A more elaborate challenge to the "sampling-as-control" thesis can be found in Chapter 3.
While recent collections/books such as (Greene and Porcello 2005), (Braun 2002), (Lysloff 2003), (Taylor 2001) and (Sterne 2003), explore the impact of technology upon the political economy of organized sound production (including its history, mechanisms of distribution, gender/ethnic/geographic biases, and social import), very few authors discuss the phenomenological experience of contemporary digital composition.5 This is because it is difficult to speak in general terms about practices as hyper-personalized and context specific as individual styles of audio production. Selected Sounds offers another way into similar issues, focusing on ethnographic accounts of using sampling technology along with my own artistic experience and first-hand knowledge as a sample-based artist. In addition, our collaboratively produced audio CD offers a second way into the questions explored in the interviews, using sounds as opposed to words as a mechanism of communication of ideas about sampling. Lastly, the project begins to scratch the surface as to the nature of the home studios used in the construction of much contemporary independent music, through the various interview accounts of the studio spaces and devices used by the participants. These spaces are under-researched in the current literature on digital audio production.
Selected Sounds explores the sampling and mixing practices of a group of collaborating independent sound artists, but artists who were brought together via their invitation to the project (although many, if not all, were known to each other through various interconnections of the Montreal independent music scene). This type of investigation is innovative relative to those described in the existing literature on digital audio technology, as it involves not just the observation but also the construction of community in order to ground the research in a specific time, place and subjective framework. Furthermore, it differs from other aural studies (such as Coldcut's groundbreaking 1998 work "Beats and Pieces") in that the sound sources used in composition all have a relationship to each other established through the process of their selection (i.e., their Montreal-ness). Hence the project allows for creative responses to a place-specific context of sound collection and identity.6
While many of the anecdotal examples contained in this work come from electronic "dance" music such as Hip Hop or various DJ-related genres like Trip Hop, House, Drum and Bass and Techno, another aim is to challenge the sort of interpretive framework that sets such an activity apart from "non-popular" studio-practices such as those involved in electro-acoustic music, radio art, soundscape composition7, or interactive audio installations. Moreover, popular music is also discussed, as well as soundtrack design for video and intermedia. Key to this articulation is the observation that the question of sampling has already contributed to the deconstruction of many "important" interpretive dichotomies within the study of media, such as "performer/composer", "producer/consumer", and "recordist/(re)mixer".
There are many important precedents in terms of attention to sampling within contemporary culture. Many adhere to a "subcultural-studies" approach (Black Noise (Rose 1994), Rap Attack Vols. 1-3 (Toop 2000) Cut and Mix (Hebdige 1994), More Brilliant than the Sun (Eshun 1998), Clubcultures (Thornton 1996), Generation Ecstasy (Reynolds 1998), and Any Sound You Can Imagine (Théberge 1997). However, in most of these cases, as with much work on sampling, the specific subtleties of studio and performance techniques are left undiscussed, while "spectacular" practices, vocabularies and styles associated with certain forms of subcultural participation are extensively dissected and "decoded".8 It is through listening, however, both to the first hand accounts of producers, as well as to their works, that one is provided with a taste of the relationship to sound which the practices involved in sample-based music entail. For this is primarily what is required of the sample-based artist--the ability to turn active listening into a type of collective expression with the help of recording technology, cultural memory and musical know-how.
Technologies are not easily de-limitable from practices--the two words are in fact almost synonymous. This observation is central to the work of theorists such as Ursula Franklin who argues that technologies involve both tools and mindsets (Franklin 1992), as well as Martin Heidegger who made clear the philosophical link between technology and the human capacity to reveal hidden features of the natural world (Heidegger 1977). It is also a point of departure for much contemporary research on digital audio production.
Selected Sounds, therefore, asks the question : "How can sample-based music demonstrate the human capacity to develop associations between phenomena which exceed any simple reduction to the expression of an individual will to power?" Sample-based music is understood as a practice fundamentally linked to the theme of collecting--"to a relationship to objects which does not emphasize their functional, utilitarian value--that is, their usefulness--but studies and loves them as the scene, the stage, of their fate."(Benjamin 1969a, 160) Sampling technologies are more than black boxes built out of microprocessors, and should be explored as practices that articulate sounds, ideas, intentions, histories, traditions, techniques, digital files and broken beats. As Franklin claims,
Technology is not the sum of the artifacts, of the wheels and gears, of the rails and electronic transmitters. Technology is a system. It entails far more than its individual material components. Technology involves organization, procedures, symbols, new words, equations, and, most of all, a mindset. (Franklin 1992, 12)
Franklin's view of technology coincides nicely with Heidegger's, discussed in Chapter 3. What is involved in these practical conceptions of technology is the willingness to weigh "things" equally with "subjectivities". Technologies must be understood as incorporating both physical features like computer chips and social elements like procedures, mindsets and user communities. Moreover, articulations concerning the forms and uses of these technologies need to be constantly referred back to the procedures and communities that embody them and by which they are drastically and continually affected. Mudede's notion of "repurposing" here becomes a self-centered fiction. Technologies have no "initial essence" to rob, but are in a constant state of negotiation as practices. For sample-based composers, this negotiation is often reflected in the history and variety of the different pieces of audio equipment assembled in their home studios.
The next chapter of this dissertation (Chapter 2) is focussed on outlining the various methodological considerations behind the Selected Sounds project. The question of technology as practice is then returned to in the literature review that makes up Chapter 3. Chapters 4 and 5 present, remix and articulate the specific examples revealed through the Selected Sounds interviews.