Relating to the Noise-Making Machine
Relating to the Noise-Making Machine:
Reflections on Sisters With Transistors
June 22, 2021
Elise Mills
“No matter the instrument, musicians exist in profound relationship with their musical tools. It is the playful rediscovery of that dialogue between musician and instrument that reminds us that musical tools, from the classic piano to even the strangest and clunkiest of noise-making machines, are absolutely sensitive.”
All photos attached come from the Sisters With Transistors official website
Lisa Rovner’s documentary Sisters With Transistors tells the stories of 10 women in some of the most significant electronic music experiments of the 20th century. Like many of my peers, I was very excited that the film was available for streaming on Metrograph this past April and May. Beginning with Clara Rockmore’s involvement with the theremin’s development and ending with Laurie Spiegel’s contributions to the field, it’s to be expected that the film does not touch upon all the key women involved in these early experimental projects. In fact, many notable women are left out, likely due to a lack of archival footage. Even so, I do think that Sisters With Transistors is really inspiring. Firstly, the film serves as an important reminder of how far we’ve come in the art and science of electronic music, and how far we can go in reimagining new and uncanny sound universes. But I’ve been specifically reflecting on how the film effectively communicates the almost spiritual depth of what electronic music is ironically capable of, importantly placing these women in radical conversation with the very nature of sound and listening.
While I’m not sure to what extent these women “blew up power structures” with their approaches to music technology as Laurie Spiegel claims, their work was undoubtedly revolutionary. These women’s explorations with the fundamentals of sound carved out a highly resonant legacy, directly challenging musical conventions and paving the way for what it could mean for something industrial and mechanical to sing; they infused machines with humanity and noise with meaning. In doing so, their experiments revealed the immense power that the musician has to bridge seemingly meaningless noise with the emotional, the sensory, and the historical. It’s important that theirs was a project that genuinely frightened people, because how could machines be simultaneously mechanical, sensitive, emotional, and as Suzanne Ciani puts it at the beginning of the documentary, even “sensual?”
Eliane Radigue
Especially in the aftermath of World War II, and the apprehension of the Cold War era, theirs was a project deeply rooted in and inextricably linked with history, in societies that were reevaluating everything about modern life. The sonic textures these women created were in direct conversation with reconciling past and present, and an uncertain future. Electronic music is little over a century old– by using tools and technology that are unequivocally new and unfamiliar, you generate and introduce sounds that are refreshing and bizarre, even “diabolical” as Radigue mentions early on in the film.
Pauline Oliveros once said that “Listening is the basis of culture.” The philosophical implications of this are astounding: engaging with new tools allows for new experiences in listening and relating to ourselves and to the environment. This is why it is no understatement that the experimentation of the age we live in must drive music forward, which will inevitably reshape the way listeners listen and interpret what they hear. At the moment, electronic music as a broad category is playing a major role in driving much of musical experimentation further. But who knows what tools we will encounter in the future that will breathe new life and meaning into our lived experiences?
Suzanne Ciani
I think my greatest takeaway from Sisters With Transistors is something that Eliane Radigue states so succinctly, that the true magic comes from the hand of the musician between the raw noise and the interpretation as music. To me, this is a powerful observation. No matter the instrument, musicians exist in profound relationship with their musical tools. It is the playful rediscovery of that dialogue between musician and instrument that reminds us that musical tools, from the classic piano to even the strangest and clunkiest of noise-making machines, are absolutely sensitive.
From Delia Derbyshire’s eerie Dr. Who theme and Pauline Oliveros’ adventures in “deep listening,” to Laurie Anderson’s vocal experiments and Else Marie Pade’s almost operatic approach to musique concrete… each of them provided an important foundation for my musical inclinations to spring from. And their music has posed some interesting questions regarding the curiously personal relationship between musician and their tools.
In my experience, the most interesting questions for composing have been: what do I want sounds to actually feel like, physically in my body as well as emotionally? What collaborations can I have with my tools to yield distinct sound palettes, even whole worlds? And finally, what does it mean for me to trace myself within the music I create, in and between the seemingly “meaningless” sounds and noises that I have designated as mysteriously relatable to my experience?
With a similar spirit, the women in Sisters With Transistors emphasize that it’s a powerful exercise to sit down and think about relating to the noise-making machine. To tangibly create something that stands seemingly apart from “traditional” listening experience yet still potentially relate-able to some other human is incredibly meaningful. The result is something that sings to us and envelops us in a different kind of sonic embrace, one that has the potential to reflect us as well as to relate to us. Of course, this phenomenon isn’t exclusive to electronic music, but I do think that the emergence and progression of electronic music in the last century has taken the musical world by storm. The pioneers of this technology brought the tools of music technology back to the forefront, as musical collaborators as well as muses.
Pauline Oliveros
It has become abundantly clear to me that noise comes alive when all humans have to do is pay attention differently. Any slight adjustment with a synthesizer may result in tonalities that are unexpected and unintentional. Happy accidents often make for some of the most beautiful art. And all the while, these sounds from any number of conventional or unconventional noise-making “machines” are absolutely in conversation with us, even if it takes an extra moment to notice their creative potential. And the most exciting thing is that the technology we haven’t even dreamed of will yet again conspire with experimental minds, and inspire future generations with newly diabolical sounds for our consideration.
Elise is a recovering 2020 graduate, sound artist, and noise lover born and raised in San Francisco. Especially interested in the metaphysicality of sound, she spends her time attempting to prototype DIY synthesizers and experimenting with (and lamenting!) the whims of magnetic tape, among other experimental electronic projects.