The Music Of The Spheres (Or The Wheel, Anyway)!

The Music Of The Spheres (Or The Wheel, Anyway!)

Now, I know most of you, my dear readers, are sensitive, socially-conscious people.  (Even if you aren't, nod in agreement!)  So, I'm going to share some "forbidden knowledge" with you that I know you never, never will use.  Right?  (Again, nod in agreement!) It's something I never, ever used myself and wouldn't, in a million years, ever use. Really!

OK, here goes:  If you really want to insult a musician (or, more precisely, someone who fancies him- or her-self as one) and be politically incorrect (Now why would you want to do that?), here is what you say:

"You're a real artist.  You have a Van Gogh's ear for music."

Now, I assure you, I love Van Gogh more than any Japanese banker who paid $100 million for one of his paintings.  (When you're poor, you console yourself by saying things like that!)  One of the high points of my second bike trip in Europe was stopping in Arles and sitting on the cafe terrace Vincent graced with his paintbrush.

So... what would it be like to have a Van Gogh's ear for music--at least, before he did that little bit of DIY surgery on himself?  Somehow I think he would have heard things most of us can't.  After all, isn't his painting about seeing what most of us don't?  (Perhaps the same could be said for any great artist.) Sometimes I think that in "Starry Night", he was hearing--and feeling, and perhaps even smelling and tasting, as well as seeing-- all of those lines and colors as he painted them.  

Likewise, I wonder what other artists heard in the music they listened to.  Many a writer has expressed his or her perceptions about Mozart, Marley and Monk, as well as musicians in every other part of the spectrum--and alphabet!   But we don't often hear what painters, sculptors and others who work in visual media feel when they listen to musical maestros.  If they were to turn to pianos instead of palettes, or using their voices instead of violet and vermillon (or cellos instead of celeste green)--or if they composed instead of chisled--what kind of music would they make?

(Let's hope that if they write, they won't over-use alliteration!)

I believe I may have stumbled onto what sounds Marcel Duchamp might have made had he turned at least one of his objets into a musical instrument:



Now tell me:  Whatever you think of him, who else but Frank Zappa could have done it?  

And who else but Steve Allen could have gotten away with bringing a then-unknown musician onto his show, and letting said musician do, basically, what ten-year-old boys (and, sometimes, girls) had been doing for decades with their bicycles?  Who else could have, in front of a national audience, treated such a musician as if he were, well, a musician?  

At the time of that broadcast--1963--most American audiences weren't ready for the Beatles or Bob Dylan, let alone Frank Zappa.  I'm not sure Steve Allen was, either.  At least he deserves credit for his willingness to expand his own horizons--which, of course, was the first step in helping to expand the horizons of his audience.

What would Marcel Duchamp have played on that bicycle wheel in his studio?  

Sound: Of The Wind, Or From It?

April Fool's Day was nearly two weeks ago.  Still, I thought the e-mail someone sent me about a certain bicycle accessory was a joke.  Then again, I think a lot of bicycle accessories are jokes, whether or not they are intended as such.

Anyway...It has to do with the sounds you hear when you're riding.  Me, when I'm riding, I like to be aware of my surroundings.  That is why I never ride with headphones:  I want to hear traffic and such, so I can be alert to any possible hazards.  When none exist, I like to enjoy the sounds of birds chirping, ocean waves spilling,  the wind rippling and rasping,  and snippets of conversation--or simply silence, depending on where I am.

When I was a kid, Radio Shack used to offer transistor (Is that what I am to my siblings?) radios that clamped onto the handlebars.  I was tempted to buy one, mainly because they were offered in every color in which jellybeans were ever made.  Or so it seemed.  But since that fancy passed, I never had any desire to add an accessory that made sounds I couldn't already hear from my saddle.

I guess others don't feel the same way.  For them, Korean designer Joseph Kim created Sound From The Wind, which, as its name tells us, takes the breeze that blows in your face and turns it into something that sounds like a flute or an ocarina.  The funny thing, though, is that the device looks like something a kid of my generation might've put on a Sting Ray or Chopper to pretend he was piloting a fighter jet.  Like such devices, Sound From The Wind grows louder as you ride faster.  The pitch can be altered with switches on the handlebars.

Hmm...I wonder whether the way one rides also determines what kind of music comes from the device.  I mean, how would I have to pedal if I wanted to hear Vivaldi's La Tempesta di Mare?  Or a Chopin nocturne?

P.S.  Gotta wonder about that brake lever...
 

Bespoken: The Sound Of Gears Turning And Spokes Spinning

Yesterday I wrote about a piece of bicycle art.  I've also written posts about drawings, paintings and other objets inspired by bicycles and bicycling.


We don't read as much about bicycle music.  And, it seems that whatever is written about it discusses songs that mention bikes or riding, even if only in passing.


What we never seem to hear about (or simply hear) is music made from the bicycle itself.  Steven Baber, who designs music from all sorts of objects you won't find on the stages of the world's concert halls, has created a unique series of sounds from the movements of bicycle parts.





He says he's wanted to do such a thing since he heard the sound coming from his bicycle spokes when he was a kid.  "Oh, I wish I could play that like I could play these other instruments," he mused.


You can find a selection of his "Bespoken" series here.