"Why's that?" he asks.
"It's the autotune. They sound like robots. I think it's the start of the android colonization program. They're priming us so that the next generation will revere the robot overlords."
"You really hate autotune, don't you?" he asks.
"It's not just that. I hate drum machines. It's the tiny imperfections in music that make it sound amazing. I can't stand it when it sounds artificial," I say.
"But you like The Postal Service?" he asks.
"Yeah."
"They use auto-tune on a few of their songs and you can't deny that they have drum tracks."
Quinn reminds me that the real issue isn't the instruments, but how artists choose to use them. Does it enhance or inhibit creativity? Does it admit the artificiality and in the process show us the human element? Or does it pretend to be real when it's not?
* * *
I've railed against certain instruments used in assessments, pointing out the dangers in standardization and in the multiple choice format. The truth is that in the right context and in the right way, both common assessments and multiple choice tests have a place. A fluency test is a standardized test and it's well worth using as a diagnostic tool. The problem is when we use it to judge teachers or to claim a "grade level" for reading. Multiple choice tests are bad when used objectively, but send kids out with multiple choice Needs Assessment surveys and you get a great snapshot on the overall views of the community.
Being indie isn't about creating new instruments or dogmatically opposing the sounds that are already out there. It's about pushing for environments where we can use the instruments more creatively, where we can choose songs that tell our stories and where an artist can find his or her voice without trying to sound like auto-tune.
Incidentally, that's the song that Micah (when he was two) used to call "the polka dot song" for how it starts.
The instruments, however, do dictate (to a large extent) the parameters of the results.
Our culture seriously underestimates the limits we place on ourselves while reveling on the great new things machines allow us to do.
But no matter--I can sing when I want to, dance when I care to, and always, always must breathe. I must breathe to receive the grace of the plants that split the water to release the oxygen.
Any tool that displaces me from those simple pleasures better have a good reason for me to use it.
You know, a famous neuroscientist links synesthesia and creativity. He says that we all "cross" senses in our brains letting us associate things that don't associate on the surface, but hold a deeper connection. I thought of that when you said your son(I assume) associated the sounds of the beginning of the song with visual imagery.
You've essentially done the same thing by linking music in this case to the use of educational tools. Creativity is the key, and unfortunately, exercising creativity often involves a little risk-taking and extra work. It's easier to build a box for everything to fit into; and once we make everything fit we call it success.
Thanks for the post & and the song-- I'd never heard it, and I like it.
Dear Michael,
Agreed. I think we need to look at the limitations of the instruments and apply it to the correct context (which was my original point). Not sure if we're in any disagreement there or not. I don't believe any technology (or instrument for that matter) is neutral. Nor do I believe we can always predict the social and cultural consequences of using shiny new tools. There's still a Luddite streak in me ;)
Dear Stephen,
That's an interesting concept. One of the things that I'm struck by is how we tend to create models and metaphors of the mind that match the technology we use. It was once a blank slate and it became an information processing computer of modern binary proportions and now it is a connective network. I'm with you on risk-taking and extra work. Boxed curriculum is easier. Indie teaching is much more frightening and draining.