Composers' Desktop Project: a musical imperative

Abstract

In the early 1970s, you could have gone to Trevor Wishart's front garden on St Mary's in York and found huge slabs of steel sheeting. You could have walked into the Lyons Concert Hall of York University and found him and several other people using 20′ scaffolding poles as trumpets (now that's a great sound!). While I was still in the States in 1969, I made a 3′ diameter red gong from the hood of a truck ( = bonnet of a lorry) and could be seen striking a suspended piece of ¼“ curved steel flooring with a sledge hammer, etc. etc. Scenes like this were duplicated across the world. Why? How did it start? Sounds, sounds – the sounds were there, they wanted out. How did they get in? Anybody's guess really, but maybe a clue is what often happens while working in the studio. You've been deploying a sound and then seem to hear it at a time when playback is switched off, then realise that it's coming in from outside the building. The sounds are out there in the environment. We have ears (and other ways of sensing vibrations) and so the sounds have found a way to get inside us. Now they want out again. Composers: they just can't help it.