Journal articles on the topic 'Improvisation (Musique)'

Cet article propose une analyse de l’improvisation en musique actuelle, un courant musical d’avant-garde qui s’est développé au Québec en 1979, à la lumière du contact-improvisation (mouvement chorégraphique apparu aux États-Unis en 1972). L’objectif est de comprendre la nature de ces arts improvisés où le rapport avec autrui en est le fondement. Comment l’individu et l’autre agissent-ils l’un sur l’autre? Comment prennent-ils la place qui leur revient dans le cadre d’un même processus conversationnel en cours? Le dialogisme selon Bakhtine, ici considéré comme métaphore, permet d’illustrer les interactions en jeu dans la musique actuelle et le contact-improvisation. Le dialogisme offre également l’occasion d’interroger la notion d’improvisation libre et collective, dont la musique actuelle et le contact improvisation sont les dignes représentants.

French musique concrète artist Pierre Schaeffer pioneered new ways of listening to and studying sound. His study and manipulation of recorded sounds to create music changed the way contemporary musicians, from a multitude of disciplines, approach making music. Additionally, Schaeffer’s treatise on acousmatic listening to sonorous objects has deeply influenced contemporary sound studies. In this article, I elucidate how musique concrète has informed my practice-led research project,Looking Awry– from which I will discuss two case studies. I outline how acousmatic listening to field recordings from everyday environments informed the development of performance strategies that guide improvised musical performance; a malleable practice that can be applied to a variety of performance settings.

Après avoir dénoncé l’ambiguïté du concept de musique actuelle, le compositeur Serge Provost en examine les composantes : impureté, mixité, ludisme, déconstruction, américanité, improvisation. Il lui oppose le concept de « contemporain » et fait l’éloge d’un retour nécessaire aux vertus de l’écriture.

Après avoir rendu un hommage à Daniel Stern, disparu en 2012, et notamment à son concept d’accordage affectif, l’auteur aborde la question des liens (aux objets externes comme aux objets internes) au regard de l’intersubjectivité, de la synchronisation polysensorielle et de l’improvisation. La question de la musique et du rythme est ensuite envisagée au sein du système des interactions précoces du bébé en évoquant, dans le registre prénatal, l’objet sonore prénatal de Suzanne Maiello qui représente en quelque sorte la première émergence d’une composante musicale au cours de l’ontogénèse. Le bébé apparait finalement comme le chef d’orchestre de la mère et réciproquement dit au sein d’une mutualité asymétrique.

Cet article présente une synthèse des principales contributions de mon projet de recherche doctorale qui porte sur l’improvisation musicale classique.Plus précisément, un devis de recherche en trois phases a été élaboré afin de documenter le parcours d’apprentissage, les stratégies de performances, ainsi que les approches d’enseignement-apprentissage d’instrumentistes et de pédagogues experts en improvisation musicale classique. Dans un premier temps, les résultats les plus significatifs de chacune des phases de la recherche sont présentés.Ensuite, les dimensions transversales aux trois phases sont discutées, avant de contextualiser les résultats par rapport au corpus de recherches théoriques et empiriques portant sur l’improvisation musicale. L’article se termine sur les principales implications pédagogiques de la recherche, celles qui ont émergé spécifiquement de chacune de ses phases, puis celles qui ressortent de l’analyse de l’ensemble des données.

AbstractLa gravure du Lab-Oratorium, dans l'Amphithéâtre de la Sagesse Eternelle (1595/1609), du paracelsien Heinrich Khunrath de Leipzig (1560–1605)—'docteur des deux médecines et fidèle amoureux de la théosophie'—est une image bien connue des historiens de l'ésotérisme du début des Temps Modernes, mais peu de choses ont été dites sur la signification des instruments musicaux qui sont au premier plan de l'image. Cet article examine les diverses références qui, dans les écrits de Khunrath, concernent la musique et le thème y relatif de l'harmonie dans le contexte des activités kabbalistiques et alchimiques de Khunrath en son Oratoire et son Laboratoire. Il examine l'influence d'idées pythagoriciennes sur les pratiques théurgiques de Khunrath, identifie la source christiano-kabbalistique de l'hymne polyglotte qu'il relie à l'une des images théosophiques sur la table de son Oratoire, et propose une réflexion sur l'usage de la musique dans cette dimension kabbalistique de son œuvre. Etant donné que Khunrath est connu surtout comme praticien de l'alchimie, la seconde section de l'article traite de quelques exemples de chant et de musique, à commencer par un manuscrit qui a survécu dans le travail de Khunrath, et se termine par un bref examen de la plus célèbre combinaison d'alchimie et de musique; à savoir, l' Atlanta Fugiens (1617), de son admirateur le Comte Michael Maier (1568–1622).

Un survol des développements choréomusicaux de la fin du XXe siècle révèle un nombre étonnant de productions en danse de tous genres et styles sur la musique de Jean-Sébastien Bach. Il ne fait aucun doute que Bach a été l’un des compositeurs les plus populaires chez les chorégraphes du siècle dernier, même si les oeuvres utilisées n’étaient pas forcément vouées à la danse. Ainsi, plusieurs faits peuvent expliquer ce phénomène. D’abord, les formes et les structures dans sa musique sont claires et évidentes, se prêtant admirablement aux chorégraphies. Deuxièmement, sa musique est très expressive, ce qui tient de la rhétorique et de la théorie des passions de son époque. Enfin, le compositeur a souvent été inspiré par les rythmes de la danse, même si sa musique est généralement beaucoup plus complexe que la musique de danse dite « idiomatique ». Nous comparerons deux démarches d’interprétation en danse afin de démontrer l’étendue possible des conceptions chorégraphiques de l’oeuvre de ce doyen de la musique occidentale. L’une est la création de Gerhard Bohner, chorégraphe allemand ayant évolué au sein du Tanztheater de Pina Bausch ; l’autre consiste en des improvisations de Steve Paxton.

Des études cliniques et de neuroimagerie récentes permettent de penser que la musique peut être un média privilégié dans la prise en charge de patients, en particulier dans les maladies neurologiques. La musique modifie le cerveau. Comment l’expliquer ? Quelles en sont les possibles applications cliniques ? La perception des sons participe à la construction du langage préverbal et verbal, dans une dimension dyadique d’interaction. Si les perceptions sont modifiées dans l’autisme, les processus d’accordage affectif et de communication peuvent être soutenus et améliorés en musicothérapie. Celle-ci constitue donc un soin pertinent pour les enfants présentant un TSA, spécifiquement dans des dimensions vocales et rythmiques, qui vont agir sur les altérations de la communication et sur les interactions sociales des patients.De même, des méthodes de musicothérapie telles que la Communication sonore non verbale d’Edith Lecourt (La musicothérapie analytique de groupe, 2007) ou les techniques de l’improvisation clinique de Kenneth E. Bruscia (Improvisational Models of Music Therapy, 1987) permettent d’apporter une réponse thérapeutique ou un accompagnement approprié des processus de vieillissement, dans leurs aspects tant psychique, identitaire que sociologique. Notamment dans le cas de troubles cognitifs liés à l’âge : les patients souffrant de maladies neurodégénératives de type Alzheimer pourront ainsi bénéficier efficacement des apports neuropsychologiques de la musique et de la musicothérapie.

Creative Activity of the Teacher in Music Lessons Summary The article is devoted to the study of the creative activity of a music teacher. It is noted here that musical pedagogical activity includes the work of a teacher, choirmaster, musicologist, performer, and researcher. The peculiarity of this activity is that it contains creativity. Artistic creativity in the work of a music teacher is manifested in the ability to conduct lessons and extracurricular activities in an interesting and exciting way, and in the bright imaginative performance of musical works, and in pedagogical improvisation, i.e. in the ability to quickly and correctly assess the situation and make prompt decisions. The highest form of creativity of a music teacher is research activity. Key worlds: aesthetic education, musical-pedagogical activity, creativity, research

The second half of the fifteenth century saw profound changes in the understanding and valuation of the concepts of "composer" and "composition." This article explores those changes, especially as they evolved in urban musical culture in the Low Countries in 1450-1500. Attention is given to oral traditions of popular and professional polyphony, the status of writing in musical instruction and practice, the emergence of a perceived opposition between "composition" and "improvisation," the technical and conceptual ramifications of that perception, the relative social and professional status implied in designations such as "singer," "composer," "musicus," and "tenorist," and, finally, the new understanding and valuation of musical authorship, around 1500, involving notions of personal style, artistic freedom, authorial intention, creative property, historical awareness, and professional organization, protection, and secrecy.

Abstract Although it is known that improvisation was an important part of musical performance in the 16th and 17th centuries, studying how extemporaneous elements were incorporated into real-world situations has proven to be difficult. Improvisers, by nature, do not record what they do, but there is evidence that points to some of these individuals attempting to document their approach to music, namely in ornamentation manuals and individual pieces with written-out embellishment. Among these sources is British Library Ms. Egerton 2971, a 37-folio volume probably dating from the second or third decade of the 17th century, which contains, among other things, embellished versions of Giulio Caccini’s Amarilli, mia bella and Dolcissimo sospiro, first published in Le nuove musiche (Florence, 1602). Sources like this, despite some inherent problems, offer the clearest window into the minds of improvisers of the time, and warrant further study. The research in this article serves two purposes. First, the versions of Amarilli, mia bella and Dolcissimo sospiro contained in Egerton 2971 will be examined and compared to those published in Le nuove musiche as a case study of early 17th-century improvisation. Second, because of Caccini’s open disdain for singers taking liberties with his compositions, an attempt will be made to see if these pieces might be examples of such treatments. The crux of the article aims to show that ornamentation of the time, at least as shown in these examples, was not a random act of substituting stereotyped musical patterns for given intervals, but instead points to a more robust idea of improvisatory thought. Rather than looking at individual ornaments or how specific musical gestures might have painted certain words, the overall structure of the ornamentation is examined to show that it is subject to deeper and subtler intellectual considerations of poetic structure, overall musical structure, and rhetoric.

Statement of the problem. The creative activity by Florent Schmitt (1870–1958) took place in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, when such stars of French music as C. Debussy, M. Ravel, and later the composers of the French “Six” group shone brightly. Therefore, Schmitt’s work remained in their shadow – among the performers of his piano works you will not find “big” names like V. Horowitz or G. Gould; nevertheless, in the last decade, the composer’s opuses have been increasingly included in the repertoire of foreign pianists. For example, Vincent Larderet (France), Ivo Kalchev (Bulgaria), Biljana Urban (Netherlands), and Edward Rushton (UK/Switzerland) are among them. The challenges of today are best suited to expanding the usual established horizons of Ukrainian performers, actualizing the need to pay attention to the work of lesser-known but no less interesting artists, among whom Florent Schmitt takes a worthy place. Objectives, methods, and novelty of the research. For a long time, anyone interested in the work by F. Schmitt faced a lack of resources. The scarcity of written materials about the composer is as surprising as it is disappointing. Moreover, almost all existing studies are published only in French, which makes research difficult for those who do not speak the language. In the first half of the twentieth century, a number of significant books were published, fully or partially devoted to the work of F. Schmitt (Ferroud, 1928; Aubert, Barraud, Pignari-Salles, 1937; Coeuroy, 1922; Dumesnil, 1946), most of which have long been out of reprint. Changes in the cultural context, traditions, perception and understanding of music, scientific approaches, and research quality requirements do not allow a modern scholar to rely exclusively on old publications. Besides, the composer’s piano music is not considered in detail, but is only included in a panoramic overview of his heritage. The absence of domestic research prompted the author of the article to delve into the French master’s heritage. The purpose of the article is to expand the horizons in the study of F. Schmitt’s piano works, to reveal the prerequisites and analyze the facets of his introspective expression on the example of the first book of the cycle “Musiques intimes” (“Intimate Music”) op. 16. The cultural-historical, structural-functional and comparative methods of analysis were used. Research results and conclusion. The program names of the pieces, landscape sketches, rich coloristic harmony, use of ostinato techniques, shimmering arpeggiated figures in the texture, etc., indicate the considerable influence of F. Schmitt’s compatriots music – C. Debussy and M. Ravel. The presence of sincere emotionality and poetry of expression, improvisation, and “through” dramaturgy resemble the ways of thinking of F. Chopin and R. Schumann. Nevertheless, a detailed analysis of the first book of “Musiques intimes” makes it easy to notice the characteristic features that will become a kind of “idioms” of textures, complex rhythmic patterns and an “orchestral” approach to the instrument, which are not aimed at external affectation, but create a feeling of being present on a secret excursion into the world of impressions and emotions close to the composer. Through the images of nature, the contemplation of which promotes communication between the individual and himself, the French artist introduces the listener to his personal space, opens personal boundaries, that in this case can be perceived as an invitation to a private intimate soirée with Maestro Florent Schmitt.

Improvisation and Compositional Process in Karl Naëgelen’s Fenêtre Ovale This paper is centred around the analysis of the creative process underlying the genesis of a recent work of music by French composer Karl Naëgelen, Fenêtre Ovale (2011), written in collaboration with two free improvisers active on the Parisian scene, Ève Risser (piano) and Joris Rühl (clarinet). This piece is remarkable in that, contrary to the vast majority of works composed in a so-called “comprovisation” framework, where the interaction between the composed and the improvised elements essentially takes place during the moments of performance, its score never actually requires any act of improvisation from its performers: the relation between improvisation and composition is thus entirely implicit, underlying the creative process itself rather than its product. Using the work’s various sketches, and the numerous improvisations realized by the two musicians over the course of the composition of Fenêtre Ovale, I show that improvisation played three distinct roles in the creative process: 1. A role of stimulation: the improvisation enables the generation of new compositional ideas; 2. An inspirational role: the ideas generated by improvisation are transferred, more or less directly, in the compositional setting; 3. A role of simulation: the improvisation is used to simulate a certain musical organization and/or to validate or invalidate a given compositional choice. But improvisation is also embedded in the compositional project itself at a deeper level: improvisation is indeed used as a model for the composition, which seeks to emulate some of its most notable aesthetic properties. This is mainly done by importing into the score some of the specific instrumental and musical gestures used by the musicians in an improvisational setting. However, this attempt to absorb improvisational gestures into composition is not straightforward: it reveals some of the fundamental differences existing between the compositional gesture and the improviser's gestures. The paper thus concludes by discussing the intrinsic paradoxes and tensions that lie at the heart of such a project. Improvisation et processus compositionnel dans la genèse de Fenêtre Ovale de Karl Naëgelen Cet article s’intéresse au processus de création d’une œuvre récente de Karl Naëgelen, Fenêtre Ovale (2011), qui a été composée en relation étroite avec un duo d’improvisateurs, Ève Risser (piano) et Joris Rühl (clarinette). Cette œuvre est remarquable en ce que, contrairement à la plupart des projets musicaux mêlant composition et improvisation, la confrontation de l’improvisation et de la composition ne se joue pas dans le moment de la restitution de l’œuvre mais bien en amont de la performance, lors de la gestation et de l’élaboration même de l’œuvre. En m’appuyant sur les multiples esquisses de l’œuvre, accompagnées des enregistrements audio des diverses séances de travail entre le compositeur et les improvisateurs, je montre que l’improvisation a pu occuper trois fonctions essentielles tout au long du processus compositionnel: 1. Une fonction de stimulation: l’improvisation permet la génération de nouvelles idées compositionnelles; 2. Une fonction d’inspiration: les matières et idées musicales apparues dans le temps de l’improvisation se trouvent remobilisées, de diverses manières, dans l’écriture de l’œuvre; 3. Une fonction de simulation: l’improvisation vient compléter un état encore lacunaire de la partition ou fournir de toute pièce une représentation sonore d’un processus formel encore indéterminé, afin de permettre au compositeur de valider ou d’invalider un certain nombre de choix. Mais si l’improvisation est au cœur du processus compositionnel de Fenêtre Ovale, c’est également parce que Karl Naëgelen a cherché à capturer certaines des propriétés les plus caractéristiques de l’improvisation, et à ainsi créer l’illusion d’une musique qui s’invente dans le temps de sa performance. Cela se fait principalement en incorporant dans la partition un certain nombre de gestes instrumentaux et musicaux spécifiquement utilisés par les musiciens dans un contexte d’improvisation. Toutefois, cette absorption de l’improvisation par la composition ne va pas sans difficulté; c’est donc par l’examen des limites et paradoxes inhérents à une telle démarche que se conclut l’article, en faisant apparaître toute la tension qui peut exister entre, d’un côté, le geste du compositeur qui vise la généralité et la reproductibilité et, de l’autre, le geste de l’improvisateur toujours profondément contextuel, dynamique et idiosyncrasique.

Plusieurs éléments ont participé à la naissance de la musique interactive, dont la naissance se situe assez précisément entre 1977 et 1985. La découverte de la synthèse par modulation de fréquence montre que l’on peut utiliser un ordinateur pour calculer des sons de façon économique (donc potentiellement en temps réel) ; le standard MIDI permet à des machines de communiquer, y compris en situation de concert. Enfin, la synthèse opérée par Joel Chadabe sur les expérimentations électro-acoustiques de type installation et les dernières avancées des synthétiseurs analogiques vont permettre d’imaginer des situations hybrides entre composition et improvisation.

Un texte artistique (littéraire, musical) argumente toujours auprès de son lecteur. Cherchant à convaincre, il s’ouvre comme un horizon au sein duquel se négocie sa compréhension. Celle‑ci n’advient qu’au prix d’un dialogue où texte et lecteur doivent consentir une ouverture à l’autre. C’est en grande partie de cette manière que l’herméneutique gadamérienne conçoit l’interprétation. En musique, l’interprétation – qu’il s’agisse de la réception ou de l’exécution de l’œuvre – est aussi de cette nature. Mais lorsque l’ouverture du texte musical se fait trop grande, presque béante, la notion d’interprétation peut avoisiner celle d’improvisation. En quoi et à partir de quel moment interprétation et improvisation se singularisent-elles ? N’est-ce qu’une question de degré d’ouverture du texte musical ? Ou faut-il chercher la réponse ailleurs, par exemple dans l’esthétique particulière que ces deux modalités de l’art musical pourchassent ?

Jamming culture has become associated with digital manipulation and reuse of materials. As well, the term jamming has long been used by musicians (and other performers) to mean improvisation, especially in collaborative situations. A practice that gets to the heart of both these meanings is live coding; where digital content (music and/or visuals predominantly) is created through computer programming as a performance. During live coding performances digital content is created and presented in real time. Normally the code from the performers screen is displayed via data projection so that the audience can see the unfolding process as well as see or hear the artistic outcome. This article will focus on live coding of music, but the issues it raises for jamming culture apply to other mediums also. Live coding of music uses the computer as an instrument, which is “played” by the direct construction and manipulation of sonic and musical processes. Gestural control involves typing at the computer keyboard but, unlike traditional “keyboard” instruments, these key gestures are usually indirect in their effect on the sonic result because they result in programming language text which is then interpreted by the computer. Some live coding performers, notably Amy Alexander, have played on the duality of the keyboard as direct and indirect input source by using it as both a text entry device, audio trigger, and performance prop. In most cases, keyboard typing produces notational description during live coding performances as an indirect music making, related to what may previously have been called composing or conducting; where sound generation is controlled rather than triggered. The computer system becomes performer and the degree of interpretive autonomy allocated to the computer can vary widely, but is typically limited to probabilistic choices, structural processes and use of pre-established sound generators. In live coding practices, the code is a medium of expression through which creative ideas are articulated. The code acts as a notational representation of computational processes. It not only leads to the sonic outcome but also is available for reflection, reuse and modification. The aspects of music described by the code are open to some variation, especially in relation to choices about music or sonic granularity. This granularity continuum ranges from a focus on sound synthesis at one end of the scale to the structural organisation of musical events or sections at the other end. Regardless of the level of content granularity being controlled, when jamming with code the time constraints of the live performance environment force the performer to develop succinct and parsimonious expressions and to create processes that sustain activity (often using repetition, iteration and evolution) in order to maintain a coherent and developing musical structure during the performance. As a result, live coding requires not only new performance skills but also new ways of describing the structures of and processes that create music. Jamming activities are additionally complex when they are collaborative. Live Coding performances can often be collaborative, either between several musicians and/or between music and visual live coders. Issues that arise in collaborative settings are both creative and technical. When collaborating between performers in the same output medium (e.g., two musicians) the roles of each performer need to be defined. When a pianist and a vocalist improvise the harmonic and melodic roles are relatively obvious, but two laptop performers are more like a guitar duo where each can take any lead, supportive, rhythmic, harmonic, melodic, textual or other function. Prior organisation and sensitivity to the needs of the unfolding performance are required, as they have always been in musical improvisations. At the technical level it may be necessary for computers to be networked so that timing information, at least, is shared. Various network protocols, most commonly Open Sound Control (OSC), are used for this purpose. Another collaboration takes place in live coding, the one between the performer and the computer; especially where the computational processes are generative (as is often the case). This real-time interaction between musician and algorithmic process has been termed Hyperimprovisation by Roger Dean. Jamming cultures that focus on remixing often value the sharing of resources, especially through the movement and treatment of content artefacts such as audio samples and digital images. In live coding circles there is a similarly strong culture of resource sharing, but live coders are mostly concerned with sharing techniques, processes and tools. In recognition of this, it is quite common that when distributing works live coding artists will include descriptions of the processes used to create work and even share the code. This practice is also common in the broader computational arts community, as evident in the sharing of flash code on sites such as Levitated by Jared Tarbell, in the Processing site (Reas & Fry), or in publications such as Flash Maths Creativity (Peters et al.). Also underscoring this culture of sharing, is a prioritising of reputation above (or prior to) profit. As a result of these social factors most live coding tools are freely distributed. Live Coding tools have become more common in the past few years. There are a number of personalised systems that utilise various different programming languages and environments. Some of the more polished programs, that can be used widely, include SuperCollider (McCartney), Chuck (Wang & Cook) and Impromptu (Sorensen). While these environments all use different languages and varying ways of dealing with sound structure granularity, they do share some common aspects that reveal the priorities and requirements of live coding. Firstly, they are dynamic environments where the musical/sonic processes are not interrupted by modifications to the code; changes can be made on the fly and code is modifiable at runtime. Secondly, they are text-based and quite general programming environments, which means that the full leverage of abstract coding structures can be applied during live coding performances. Thirdly, they all prioritise time, both at architectural and syntactic levels. They are designed for real-time performance where events need to occur reliably. The text-based nature of these tools means that using them in live performance is barely distinguishable from any other computer task, such as writing an email, and thus the practice of projecting the environment to reveal the live process has become standard in the live coding community as a way of communicating with an audience (Collins). It is interesting to reflect on how audiences respond to the projection of code as part of live coding performances. In the author’s experience as both an audience member and live coding performer, the reception has varied widely. Most people seem to find it curious and comforting. Even if they cannot follow the code, they understand or are reassured that the performance is being generated by the code. Those who understand the code often report a sense of increased anticipation as they see structures emerge, and sometimes opportunities missed. Some people dislike the projection of the code, and see it as a distasteful display of virtuosity or as a distraction to their listening experience. The live coding practitioners tend to see the projection of code as a way of revealing the underlying generative and gestural nature of their performance. For some, such as Julian Rohrhuber, code projection is a way of revealing ideas and their development during the performance. “The incremental process of livecoding really is what makes it an act of public reasoning” (Rohrhuber). For both audience and performer, live coding is an explicitly risky venture and this element of public risk taking has long been central to the appreciation of the performing arts (not to mention sport and other cultural activities). The place of live coding in the broader cultural setting is still being established. It certainly is a form of jamming, or improvisation, it also involves the generation of digital content and the remixing of cultural ideas and materials. In some ways it is also connected to instrument building. Live coding practices prioritise process and therefore have a link with conceptual visual art and serial music composition movements from the 20th century. Much of the music produced by live coding has aesthetic links, naturally enough, to electronic music genres including musique concrète, electronic dance music, glitch music, noise art and minimalism. A grouping that is not overly coherent besides a shared concern for processes and systems. Live coding is receiving greater popular and academic attention as evident in recent articles in Wired (Andrews), ABC Online (Martin) and media culture blogs including The Teeming Void (Whitelaw 2006). Whatever its future profile in the boarder cultural sector the live coding community continues to grow and flourish amongst enthusiasts. The TOPLAP site is a hub of live coding activities and links prominent practitioners including, Alex McLean, Nick Collins, Adrian Ward, Julian Rohrhuber, Amy Alexander, Frederick Olofsson, Ge Wang, and Andrew Sorensen. These people and many others are exploring live coding as a form of jamming in digital media and as a way of creating new cultural practices and works. References Andrews, R. “Real DJs Code Live.” Wired: Technology News 6 July 2006. http://www.wired.com/news/technology/0,71248-0.html>. Collins, N. “Generative Music and Laptop Performance.” Contemporary Music Review 22.4 (2004): 67-79. Fry, Ben, and Casey Reas. Processing. http://processing.org/>. Martin, R. “The Sound of Invention.” Catapult. ABC Online 2006. http://www.abc.net.au/catapult/indepth/s1725739.htm>. McCartney, J. “SuperCollider: A New Real-Time Sound Synthesis Language.” The International Computer Music Conference. San Francisco: International Computer Music Association, 1996. 257-258. Peters, K., M. Tan, and M. Jamie. Flash Math Creativity. Berkeley, CA: Friends of ED, 2004. Reas, Casey, and Ben Fry. “Processing: A Learning Environment for Creating Interactive Web Graphics.” International Conference on Computer Graphics and Interactive Techniques. San Diego: ACM SIGGRAPH, 2003. 1. Rohrhuber, J. Post to a Live Coding email list. livecode@slab.org. 10 Sep. 2006. Sorensen, A. “Impromptu: An Interactive Programming Environment for Composition and Performance.” In Proceedings of the Australasian Computer Music Conference 2005. Eds. A. R. Brown and T. Opie. Brisbane: ACMA, 2005. 149-153. Tarbell, Jared. Levitated. http://www.levitated.net/daily/index.html>. TOPLAP. http://toplap.org/>. Wang, G., and P.R. Cook. “ChucK: A Concurrent, On-the-fly, Audio Programming Language.” International Computer Music Conference. ICMA, 2003. 219-226 Whitelaw, M. “Data, Code & Performance.” The Teeming Void 21 Sep. 2006. http://teemingvoid.blogspot.com/2006/09/data-code-performance.html>. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Brown, Andrew R. "Code Jamming." M/C Journal 9.6 (2006). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0612/03-brown.php>. APA Style Brown, A. (Dec. 2006) "Code Jamming," M/C Journal, 9(6). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0612/03-brown.php>.

While digital remix practices in music have been researched extensively in the last few years (see recently Jansen; Navas; Pinch and Athanasiades; Väkevä), the specific challenges and skills that are central to remixing are still not well understood (Borschke 90). As writers like Demers, Lessig, and Théberge argue, the fact that remixers rework already existing songs rather than building a track from scratch, often means they are perceived as musical thieves or parasites rather than creative artists. Moreover, as writers like Borschke and Rodgers argue, because remixers make use of digital audio workstations to produce and rework their sounds, their practices tend to be seen as highly automated, offering relatively little by way of musical and creative challenges, especially compared to more traditional (electro)acoustic forms of music-making. An underestimation of skill is problematic, however, because, as my own empirical research shows, creative skills and challenges are important to the way digital remixers themselves experience and value their practice. Drawing from virtual ethnographic research within the online remix communities of Indaba Music, this article argues that, not despite but because remixers start from already existing songs and because they rework these songs with the help of digital audio workstations, a particular set of creative abilities becomes foregrounded, namely: ‘fluency’ and ‘flexibility’ (Gouzouasis; Guilford, “Creativity Research”, Intelligence, “Measurement”). Fluency, the way the concept is used here, refers to the ability to respond to, and produce ideas for, a wide variety of musical source materials, quickly and easily. Flexibility refers to the ability to understand, and adapt these approaches to, the ‘musical affordances’ (Gibson; Windsor and De Bézenac) of the original song, that is: the different musical possibilities and constraints the source material provides. For remixers, fluency and flexibility are not only needed in order to be able to participate in these remix contests, they are also central to the way they value and evaluate each other’s work.Researching Online Remix ContestsAs part of a larger research project on online music practices, between 2011 and 2012, I spent eighteen months conducting virtual ethnographic research (Hine) within several remix competitions hosted on online music community Indaba Music. Indaba is not the only online community where creative works can be exchanged and discussed. For this research, however, I have chosen to focus on Indaba because, other than in a remix community like ccMixter for example, competitions are very much central to the Indaba community, thus making it a good place to investigate negotiations of skills and techniques. Also, unlike a community like ACIDplanet which is tied explicitly to Sony’s audio software program ACID Pro, Indaba is not connected to any particular audio workstation, thus providing an insight into a relatively broad variety of remix practices. During my research on Indaba, I monitored discussions between participants, listened to work that had been uploaded, and talked to remixers via personal messaging. In addition to my daily monitoring, I also talked to 21 remixers more extensively through Skype interviews. These interviews were semi-structured, and lasted between 50 minutes and 3.5 hours, sometimes spread over multiple sessions. During these interviews, remixers not only talked about their practices, they also shared work in progress with me by showing their remixes on screen or by directing a webcam to their instruments while they played, recorded, or mixed their material. All the remixers who participated in these interviews granted me permission to quote them and to use the original nicknames or personal names they use on Indaba in this publication. Besides the online observations and interviews, I also participated in three remix competitions myself, in order to gain a better understanding of what it means to be part of a remix community and to see what kind of challenges and abilities are involved. In the online remix contests of Indaba, professional artists invite remixers to rework a song and share and discuss these works within the community. For the purpose of these contests, artists provide separate audio files (so-called ‘stems’) for different musical elements such as voice, drums, bass, or guitar. Remixers can produce their tracks by rearranging these stems, or they can add new audio material, such as beats, chords, and rhythms, as long as this material is not copyrighted. Remixers generally comply with this rule. During the course of a contest, remixers upload their work to the website and discuss and share the results with other remixers. A typical remix contest draws between 200 or 300 participants. These participants are mostly amateur musicians or semi-professionals in the sense that they do not make a living with their creative practices, but rather participate in these contests as a hobby. A remix contest normally lasts for four or five weeks. After that time, the hosting artist chooses a winner and the remixers move on to another contest, hosted by a different artist and featuring a new song, sometimes from a completely different musical genre. It is partly because of this move from contest to contest that fluency and flexibility can be understood as central abilities within these remix practices. Fluency and flexibility are concepts adopted from the work of Joy Paul Guilford (“Creativity Research”, Intelligence, “Measurement”) who developed them in his creativity research from the 1950s onwards. For Guilford, fluency and flexibility are part of divergent-production abilities, those abilities we need in order to be able to deal with open questions or tasks, in which multiple solutions or answers are possible, in a quick and effective way. Within creativity research, divergent-production abilities have mainly been measured and evaluated quantitatively. In music related studies, for example, researchers have scored and assessed so-called fluency and flexibility factors in the music practices of children and adults and compared them to other creative abilities (Webster). For the purpose of this article, however, I do not wish to approach fluency and flexibility quantitatively. Rather, I would like to show that in online remix practices, fluency and flexibility, as creative abilities, become very much foregrounded. Gouzouasis already alludes to this possibility, pointing out that, in digital music practices, fluency might be more important than the ability to read and write traditional music notation. Gouzouasis’ argument, however, does not refer to a specific empirical case. Also, it does not reflect on how digital musicians themselves consider these abilities central to their own practices. Looking at online remix competitions, however, this last aspect becomes clear.FluencyFor Guilford, ‘fluency’ can be understood as the ability to produce a response, or multiple responses, to an open question or task quickly and easily (“Creativity Research”, Intelligence, “Measurement”). It is about making associations, finding different uses or purposes for certain source materials, and combining separate elements into organised phrases and patterns. Based on this definition, it is not difficult to see a link with remix competitions, in which remixers are asked to come up with a musical response to a given song within a limited time frame. Online remix contests are essentially a form of working on demand. It is the artist who invites the audience to remix a song. It is also the artist who decides which song can be remixed and which audio files can be used for that mix. Remixers who participate in these contests are usually not fans of these artists. Often they do not even know the song before they enter a competition. Instead, they travel from contest to contest, taking on many different remix opportunities. For every competition, then, remixers have to first familiarise themselves with the source material, and then try to come up with a creative response that is not only different from the original, but also different from all the other remixes that have already been uploaded. Remixers do not consider this a problem, but embrace it as a challenge. As Moritz Breit, one of the remixers, explained to me: “I like remixing [on Indaba] because it’s a challenge. You get something and have to make something different out of it, and later people will tell you how you did.” Or as hüpersonique put it: “It’s really a challenge. You hear a song and you say: ‘OK, it’s not my taste. But it’s good quality and if I could do something in my genre that would be very interesting’.” If these remixers consider the competitions to be a challenge, it is mainly because these contests provide an exercise of call and response. On Indaba, remixers apply different tempos, timbres, and sounds to a song, they upload and discuss work in progress, and they evaluate and compare the results by commenting on each other’s work. While remixers officially only need to develop one response, in practice they tend to create multiple ideas which they either combine in a single eclectic mix or otherwise include in different tracks which they upload separately. Remixers even have their own techniques in order to stimulate a variety of responses. Some remixers, for example, told me how they expose themselves to a large number of different songs and artists before they start remixing, in order to pick up different ideas and sounds. Others told me how they prefer not to listen to the original song, as it might diminish their ability to move away from it. Instead, they download only one or two of the original stems (usually the vocals) and start improvising around those sounds, without ever having heard the original song as a whole. As Ola Melander, one of the remixers, explained: “I never listen to it. I just load [the vocals] and the drum tracks. [....] I have to do it [in] my own style. [….] I don’t want that the original influences it, I want to make the chords myself, and figure out what it will sound like.” Or as Stretched Mind explained to me: “I listen to the vocal stem, only that, so no synths, no guitars, just pure vocal stems, nothing else. And I figure out what could fit with that.” On Indaba, being able to respond to, and associate around, the original track is considered to be more important than what Guilford calls ‘elaboration’ (“Measurement” 159). For Guilford, elaboration is the ability to turn a rough outline into a detailed and finished whole. It is basically a form of fine tuning. In the case of remixing, this fine tuning is called ‘mastering’ and it is all about getting exactly the right timbre, dynamics, volume, and balance in a track in order to create a ‘perfect’ sounding mix. On Indaba, only a select group of remixers is actually interested in such a professional form of elaboration. As Moritz Breit told me: “It’s not that you have like a huge bunch of perfectly mastered submissions. So nobody is really expecting that from you.” Indeed, in the comment section remixers tend to say less about audio fidelity than about how they like a certain approach. Even when a critical remark is made about the audio quality of a mix, these criticisms are often preceded or followed by encouraging comments which praise the idea behind the track or applaud the way a remixer has brought the song into a new direction. In short, the comments are often directed more towards fluency than towards elaboration, showing that for many of these remixers the idea of a response, any response, is more important than creating a professional or sellable track.Being able to produce a musical response is also more important on Indaba than having specific musical instrument skills. Most remixers work with digital audio workstations, such as Cubase, Logic Pro, and Pro Tools. These software programs make it possible to manipulate and produce sounds in ways that may include musical instruments, but do not necessarily involve them. As Hugill writes, with these programs “a sound source could be a recording, a live sound, an acoustic instrument, a synthesizer, the human body, etc. In fact, any sounding object can be a sound source” (128). As such, remix competitions tend to draw a large variety of different participants, with a wide range of musical backgrounds and instrument skills. Some remixers on Indaba create their remixes by making use of sample libraries and loops. Others, who have the ability, also add sounds with instruments such as drums, guitars, or violins, which they record with microphones or, in the case of electronic or digital instruments, plug directly into their personal computers. Remixers who are confident about their instrument skills improvise around the original tracks in real-time, while less confident players record short segments, which they then alter and correct afterwards with their audio programs. Within the logic of these digital audio workstation practices, these differences are not significant, as all audio input merely functions as a starting point, needing to be adjusted, layered, combined, and recombined afterwards in order to create the final mix. For the contestants themselves these differences are also not so significant, as contestants are still, in their own ways, involved in the challenge of responding to and associating around the original stems, regardless of the specific techniques or instruments used. The fact that remixers are open to different methods and techniques does not mean, however, that every submission is considered to be as valid as any other. Remixers do have strong opinions about what is a good remix and what is not. Looking at the comments contestants give on each other’s work, and the way they talk about their practices during interviews, it becomes clear that remixers find it important that a remix somehow fits the original source material. As hüpersonique explained: “A lot of [remixes] don’t really match the vocals (…) and then it sounds not that good.” From this perspective, remixers not only need to be fluent, they also need to be flexible towards their source material. FlexibilityFor Guilford, flexibility is the readiness to change direction or method (Intelligence, “Measurement”). It is, as Arnold writes, “facilitated by having a great many tricks in your bag, knowing lots of techniques, [and] having broad experience” (129). In music, flexibility can be understood as the ability to switch easily between different sounds, rhythms, and approaches, in order to achieve a desired musical effect. Guilford distinguishes between two forms of flexibility: ‘spontaneous flexibility’, when a subject chooses himself to switch between different approaches, and ‘adaptive flexibility’ when a switch in approach is necessary or preferred to fit a certain task (“Measurement” 158). While both forms of flexibility can be found on Indaba, adaptive flexibility is seen as a particularly important criterion of being a skilled remixer, as it shows that a remixer is able to understand, and react to, the musical affordances of the original track. The idea that music has affordances is not new. As Windsor and De Bézenac argue, building on Gibson’s original theory of affordances, even in the most free expressive jazz improvisations, there are certain cues that make us understand if a solo is “going with” or “going against” the shared context, and it is these cues that guide a musician through an improvisation (111). The same is true for remix practices. As Regelski argues, any form of music rearranging or appropriation “requires considerable understanding of music’s properties – and the different affordances of those properties” (38). Even when remixers only use one of the original stems, such as the vocals, they need to take into account, for example, the tempo of the song, the intensity of the voice, the chord patterns on which the vocals are based, and the mood or feeling the singer is trying to convey. A skilled remixer, then, builds his or her ideas on top of that so that they strengthen and not diminish these properties. On Indaba, ironic or humoristic remixers too are expected to consider at least some of the basic features of the original track, such as its key or its particular form of musical phrasing. Remixes in which these features are purposely ignored are often not appreciated by the community. As Tim Toz, one of the remixers, explained: “There’s only so much you can do, I think, in the context of a melody plus the way the song was originally sung. […] I hear guys trying to bend certain vocal cadences into other kinds of grooves, and it somehow doesn’t work […], it [begins] to sound unnatural.” On Indaba, remixers complement each other when they find the right approach to the original track. They also critique each other when an approach does not fit the original song, when it does not go along with the ‘feel’ of the track, or when it seem to be out of key or sync with the vocals. By discussing each other’s tracks, remixers not only collectively explore the limits and possibilities of a song, they also implicitly discuss their abilities to hear those possibilities and be able to act on them appropriately. What remixers need in order to be able to do this is what Hugill calls, ‘aural awareness’ (15): the ability to understand how sound works, both in a broad and in-depth way. While aural awareness is important for any musician, remixers are especially reliant on it, as their work is centred around the manipulation and extension of already existing sounds (Hugill). In order to be able to move from contest to contest, remixers need to have a broad understanding of how different musical styles work and the kind of possibilities they afford. At the same time they also need to know, at a more granular level, how sounds interact and how small alterations of chords, timbres, or rhythms can change the overall feel of a track. ConclusionRemix competitions draw participants with a wide variety of musical backgrounds who make use of a broad range of instruments and techniques. The reason such a diverse group is able to participate and compete together is not because these practices do not require musical skill, but rather because remix competitions draw on particular kinds of abilities which are not directly linked to specific methods or techniques. While it might not be necessary to produce a flawless track or to be able to play musical material in real-time, remixers do need to be able to respond to a wide variety of source materials, in a quick and effective way. Also, while it might not be necessary for remixers to be able to produce a song from scratch, they do need to be able to understand, and adapt to, the musical affordances different songs provide. In order to be able to move from contest to contest, as true musical chameleons, remixers need a broad and in-depth understanding of how sound works in different musical contexts and how particular musical responses can be achieved. As soon as remixers upload a track, it is mainly these abilities that will be judged, discussed, and evaluated by the community. In this way fluency and flexibility are not only central abilities in order to be able to participate in these remix competitions, they are also important yardsticks by which remixers measure and evaluate both their own work and the achievements of their peers.AcknowledgementsThe author would like to thank Renée van de Vall, Karin Wenz, and Dennis Kersten for their comments on early drafts of this article. Parts of this research have, in an earlier stage, been presented during the IASPM International Conference for the Study of Popular Music in Gijon, Spain 2013. 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