Weird science in the world of music? From the ridiculous to the sublime, let’s briefly consider holograms used for improved sound, dummy buttons in the production studio, Aztec death whistles, and the number one song in heaven.
Though it seems impossible to find anything about it today, back in the 1990s a company sold a special holographic sticker for putting on one’s CDs so as to create a richer sound experience. Sure, it reeks of a gimmick, but the audiophile in me was curious enough to take the bait. Besides, I didn’t profess to understand the mysterious workings of the universe (that in itself would be crazy), and for all I knew, a spinning hologram really could affect fluctuations in the unified field and, with it, the listening experience. Could there be an actual science to the scheme, or would the sticker’s potential power ultimately lie in the listener’s ability to suspend disbelief? All I know is that I tested the sticker by playing a CD, for four people at once, first without the sticker and then with it. All four of us heard a richer sound with the hologram in place and spinning. The fact that it offered results meant that the special sticker was not, technically, merely a trick, even as a placebo drug can be weirdly efficacious against disease. The sticker’s power, like that of a placebo, could all be in the user’s mind, but then again, as we seek to navigate our metabolism of reality, it’s difficult to distinguish what is not in fact in one’s mind!
There could be an element of genuine magic to the following deliberate bit of trickery. Bassists like Mark White and Leland Sklar have employed a “dummy knob” or “producer knob” to appease clients whose feedback demanded an unwarranted change in levels. Twiddling a fake dial, or making a visual adjustment to an unused channel, followed by an, “Is that better?” tends to satisfy the request, and the client will typically approve of the “new” result. Perhaps the fake knob isn’t so much of a dummy since it delivers results, but more interestingly — consider that the producer’s intentionality in turning the knob to meet client expectations figures into the equation. The producer decides upon an outcome, uses a symbolic piece of technology (akin to a magic wand), and then, ahem, scores. Setting an intent — as in making a wish — and then ritualistically establishing it is a classic technology of occultism. From this perspective, the producer with the dummy knob isn’t so much duping the client but rather achieving satisfaction via the power of symbolism.
It remains a mystery to this day how and why the ancient Aztecs invented the sophisticated internal design of the so-called death whistle. The skull-shaped clay instruments’ intricately-crafted chambers manipulate airflow from the mouthpiece in mysterious ways, fostering unpredictable pressure fluctuations so as to produce an unnerving, chaotic sound like screaming winds or anguished spirits. Some theories suggest the whistle was used for psychological warfare against enemies, for guiding a soul to the netherworld, for healing rituals, for sacrificial ceremonies, or for altering states of consciousness and inducing trance states. The Mexica sonic technicians presumably knew what they were doing, but modern-day scientists can only seek to reverse-engineer the death whistles’ purpose by analyzing brainwave responses to the sounds.
The number one song in heaven, at least in 1978, was actually determined by the Developmental Psychology department at Plymouth State College. Thing is, about half of people who have undergone a Near-Death Experience report having heard “celestial” or “paradise” music. Rather famously, religious literature also describes heavenly or higher-dimensionality music being characterized by harps, bells, trumpets, and angelic choirs. Prof. Joel Funk, whose research was published in the Journal of Near-Death Studies, sought to determine which piece of music best resembled the super-high-frequency, “heavenly” sounds described by resuscitated individuals. Perhaps coming as no surprise, the piece found to sound closest to NDE reports was itself the product of a near-death experience: “The Angels of Comfort” by the Greek musician Iasos, a pivotal figure of New Age music. Meanwhile, musician Saskia Moore spent two years collating NDE reports so as to recreate the experience of such a soundscape. A sample of her “Dead Symphony,” performed by the UK’s Apartment House Ensemble, is here on Soundcloud.
These examples of weird science in music were merely off the top of my head. What have I forgotten? Let me know — my contact info is here.
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