‘Thirty Minutes’ for diplacusis piano

The Aural Diversity conference is fast approaching. This includes the second Aural Diversity concert, which is being curated by Duncan Chapman. I have been asked to contribute a performance on the diplacusis piano. The idea is that my performance should be done as an installation in the intervals between the more formal sections (three of them) of the concert. I like this format very much. The audience may come and go as they please, and there is less pressure on me and my hearing to deliver a typical concert performance.

Which brings me to the composition itself. Previous blog entries have detailed just how hard it is for me to compose for this instrument. The ‘diplacusis piano’ is a digital instrument that reproduces what I actually hear when I play a normal piano. In the low to mid register, notes are unevenly ‘split’ between the actual pitch and a detuned pitch, which may be anything up to a minor third flat. In the low register, I cannot hear fundamentals, which means that the overtone structures that I do hear are similarly pitch-distorted. High register is not too bad, although the top two octaves sound increasingly harsh. And the whole thing is unbalanced by the fact that my right ear has much less hearing than my left, and everything is heard through a wall of ever-changing tinnitus (which I do not reproduce on the instrument).

Not surprisingly, therefore, composing for this instrument is hard because it sounds like endlessly self-reflecting mirrors. It is psychologically and acoustically distressing. My objective is to make something beautiful out of this, so I persist. But it is very hard to do.

My solution this time is to compose thirty one-minute pieces that may be played in any order. This way, I only need to listen for short periods, and I can vary the range of listening required, which makes it easier for me. I am forcing the music (and the instrument) to adjust to what I can do, rather than trying to push myself to meet the demands of the instrument. I hope that this kinder, gentler approach will reflect in music that is more approachable for another listener. At any rate, if someone does not like a particular piece, they only have to wait one minute for something different. That’s aural diversity!

As before, I am using a visual composition method, involving a scrolling spectrogram (see below). However, I have also included now a Lissajous vectorscope, which shows the behaviour of the various notes within the stereo field. You can get the idea from this video.

Spectrogram display

The music is very diverse: everything from Feldman-esque pianissimo minimalism to textural builds, pretty melodies, tintinnabulations and even the occasional silent piece. The visual display will be projected throughout and a poster will explain what is going on to the audience.

Author: Andrew Hugill

Neurodivergent. Professor, composer, musicologist and pataphysician. Born 1957. Semi-retired, but still gainfully employed at University of Leicester.

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