“For as far back in human history as you would care to go, sounds had seemed to be the inevitable and ‘accidental’ (and therefore mostly ignored) accompaniment of the visual–stuck like a shadow to the object that caused them.”

He is describing the nature of sound before the advent of audio recording technology, for which the idea of the shadow being lifted off of the object is appropriate. However, he appears to be guilty confusing the object with the sight of the object. More evidence of this shortsighted mistake:

“And here is the problem: the shadow that had heretofore either been ignored or consigned to follow along submissively behind the image was suddenly running free, or attaching itself mischievously to the  unlikeliest of things.”

The sound has never been shadow to the sight, though we do expect to be able to reconcile the timing of what we see with that of what we hear: when things match up we can safely infer the causal source of both, when they do not match we are in the more difficult spot of trying  to explain away the difference or imagining independent sources from less information.

There is much made of the many ways we can trick the ear into hearing a different source than what was real: watermelons, cornstarch, and old leather jackets have made many sound effects from which we are quick to infer very different sources. This should be read as a tribute to our imaginations rather than a sign that sound is dependent on image. After all, these are tricks first developed for radio, from whence listeners were following the stories told in mixtures of narration and acting. And even when there are accompanying images, our eyes do not always succeed in overruling our ears. Multi-modal perception studies have found that the dominance of visual perception is context specific and dependent on the quality of the information provided by each perceptual mode.

I have many more chapters to read here, so this objection is not one I can yet put to Michel Chion directly, but already I am wary of the idea that we hear/see film. It seems more useful to bypass the false binary and consider instead how we imagine the sources of action behind the combined sight and sound that film provides.

At the end of the introduction, he raised the question: “Why does King Sight still sit on his throne?” Like other targeted authority structures, it looks like the language (and the understanding these words represent) of the resistance is counter productive as it reinforces the existing hierarchy instead of questioning more carefully the origin of “King Sight”‘s power.

I got the results of my second set of diagnostic tests yesterday, and my mind is buzzing all over in attempt to sort out what this means for my present, future, and past. It feels like coming out all over again: raking through my history to reinterpret events in relation to this new self-awareness, seeing “the signs” in everyone around me, and trying to figure out how to change my way of acting and thinking to make this new identity fit. It will be a few weeks before my head is clear of this issue.

Learning disabilities are usual diagnosed through a measured discrepancy between a person’s cognitive abilities and their performance on specific language related tasks such as reading, writing, speaking, listening, as well as basic arithmetic. Their design is meant to measure memory and attention within these domains. All of the tasks are evaluated comparatively: given your age and level of education, how do you rank against your peers, and is this rank different from that of your measured intelligence?

By this definition, I fit the bill, however it fits in such a way that I feel awkward about waving it around. While the first set of tests (taken in Canada at the Canadian Centre for Dyslexia) identified dyslexic behaviours, the second set of tests (taken in NYC with a clinical neuropsychologist) gave evidence of the discrepancy by which I can be labeled and provided with services. It turns out (surprise surprise) that I am at the rather bright end of the cognitive scale, however my performance on these tests range from “very superior” to “average”, and “average” is lower than normal for someone with my perceptual reasoning capacities.

Looking back, this discrepancy makes a fair bit of sense. In elementary school, my teachers didn’t take much notice of me until grade 6. My grades were OK, and sometimes good, so no one had reason to worry. I remember feeling so frustrated at meeting people who had been labeled as gifted: they didn’t sound any more intelligent that I was, but other people had given them more fun things to do. At the same time, I’ve seen a lot of people suffer under that pressure to excel; I was probably saved a lot of heartache by just doing my thing and having my apparent abilities balance out the disabilities without a fuss. At higher levels of education, however, it has become more difficulty to hide the issue, and this diagnosis means reinterpreting the feelings of academic inadequacy of times past.

I still need to figure out the morality of using resources intended to help people with marked disadvantages to manage in a system that expects everyone to be normal. From the perspective of wanting to be evaluated fairly on what I know and understand, it makes sense to ask for help to represent myself appropriately. Similarly, there are likely tricks and skills I can develop to help get around whatever visual attention problems seem to be interfering with my processing of written language. But if I am in some ways already ahead of the game, how is it fair to ask for accommodations?

The point of taking these assessments was to get a sense of what might help me do better and be less frustrated in school, and I think they will help. There are many useful services to which I will have access through the Moses Centre (NYU’s centre for students with disabilities). Here is hoping I convince myself to take advantage of these opportunities now that they are being offered to me.

Title:

Quantifying the temporal dynamics of music listening: A critical investigation of analysis techniques for collections of continuous responses to music

Abstract:

Continuous response measurement offers a data-rich trace of a listener’s experiences of music in time. Listeners’ responses are most often studied in collections—each a set of time series of the same response measure to the same stimulus from multiple listenings. Inter-response variability and the challenges of time series analysis complicate the interpretation of these collections. This thesis describes traditional and novel methods of analyzing collections of continuous responses to music with the goal of identifying what information can be found in these collections before trying to establish possible relationships to the features of the stimulating music. Besides mathematical investigations of these analysis meth- ods, their potential outcomes are assessed by applying each to forty experimental collections of continuous rating responses and four artificial collections of unrelated continuous rating responses. The traditional analyses studied include the average response time series and Pearson correlations between continuous responses as a measure of response reliability. The chapter on novel techniques introduces activity analysis and coordination tests, evaluates measures of the relative significance of time points in these collection, and applies cluster analysis in search of distinct patterns of response to the same stimuli. The results of these analyses suggest that though music does not provoke the same continuous response from all listeners, musical works can induce distinct and repeatable listening experiences which are measurable in collections of continuous responses.

To help explore this list of article, associated data sets, and corresponding definitions of continuous response measures and analysis techniques, the wiki uses Semantic MediaWiki, an extension of the MediaWiki base for linking and searching semantic content. Users can search for data sets making use of “Tension” ratings, for example, because continuous measures are properties tagged automatically when users input information using the specially made forms.

I hope I have time to keep developing the wiki, and that others jump in a contribute as well. If it remains an article database, that is still useful for students and researchers looking to know what has been asked and measured in previous experiments. And if it grows into an encyclepedia of techniques that are described in useful terms for researchers at different levels of numerical experience, it can only improve the quality research in the future.

With experience, I’ve worked out better ways of keeping my claims in check but under the interrogation lamp, I would have to admit that I get credited with knowing more than that for which I can provide references. Of course, people rarely ask and that is what has me worried. I’m not out there making stuff up all the time or lying to peoples’ faces; there is usually some reasoning to fall back on. But still, why is it that I am rarely questioned (directly) when my words try to invite scepticism?

A prof gave me a clue following a presentation for which I was underprepared. He suggested that he trusted my research because I confidently voiced claims about what other people thought. Pretending to know the minds of others is a dangerous game, but it’s one I can’t stop playing. For all that I can pass as logical math girl, most of my analytical experience comes from trying to understand people and how they interact. This means a lot of my cognitive metaphors for strength of argument or association include a human face, posture or tone of voice. A new fact has a much better chance at staying in my head if I can append an impression of how people feel about it, and when I am explaining something on the fly, I often share both kinds of information.

Lucky for me, a lot of people like a sprinkling of emotional references on top of an otherwise dry discussion of time series. Humans, as a species, seem to remember socially-weighted data preferentially. Using a power-dynamics metaphor in  a presentation is not a bad things, nor is mentioning the humanity of those who generated the relevant information. Instead, the danger lies in the accuracy of these potentially subjective details and the authority it may bring to the speaker. I may be quick to read inter-human dynamics in research papers, but facility does not ensure accuracy (who hasn’t gone from fuming indignation to sheepishly agreement on a second reading? ) And if listeners are more trusting of socially charged statements, taking it to be a sign of intimacy with the topic, this may prevent proper scrutiny of ideas being shared.

I’m not inclined to desiccate my speech of feeling; it would probably be more painful than my accuracy binge of the late nineties. Nor am I likely to stop thinking in social terms. I guess the best I can do is take some more care with the statements exiting my mouth and stay conscious of how they reflect on me as well as the subject. Honestly, I don’t want any extra authority; I’ve got more than my fair share of speaking rights as is.

Despite not getting tested, I keep a mental list of all the reasons I think I might be diagnosable. Some of them are fun, like being able to read backwards and upside down and understand knots, others less so, like regularly misspelling common words (I hate adverbs and vowels and english). Today I noticed another reason for my love of taking notes on construction paper. Usually I attribute this habit to the haptics of ball point on loosely packed fibers, but using non-white paper is a common trick to help (some) dyslexics read printed instructions, and it’s true that I have preferences for some colours over others.

The trouble now is the same as the trouble back in high school, when my guidance councillor refused to consider having me tested for learning disabilities. If I do have some kind of documentable “abnormality”, it hasn’t been holding me back enough to make many people worry. Maybe I have to struggle more with some things but other stuff is a breeze; everyone has their challenges so why should mine get special accommodations? When my motivation is high, I do read and write, enough to get me through nine years of post secondary education and counting, so I really shouldn’t complain.

For all that I don’t know if it’s actually a legitimate label, I have sometimes used dyslexia as an excuse. At least I include the caveat of “untested” before a slew of reasons why I interpret some problem to be connected to my apparent sequential processing deficiency. I remember my panic before my last musicianship exam, when I still couldn’t reliably differentiate melodic whole steps and half steps within key. At that point, it was hard to tell whether the problem was my brain or just a lack of practice, though having gotten through musicianship 1 through 5 without solving the issue suggests something fishy. My teacher listened to my fears and suspicions, nodded sympathetically, and in the end I did OK, so that wave of worry passed too.

Maybe I’ll find some convincing arguments about getting tested online somewhere, but really, I should just get back to my readings and finish pulling together references for Thursday’s presentation. Looks like this is being put off yet again for the next season of overwhelming work.

I feel better having a contingency plan, in case of revolution.

If I had wanted to play, I would have, but in all honestly, the instrument made me feel sick. I could hardly stand listening to a bassoon, let alone touch my own. I had been demoralized by failing to give this learning opportunity all that it deserved. If no one had told me that I might have the chops to go professional, I wouldn’t have felt so guilty for missing the ambition. But with that in mind, how could I not feel like the years of private instruction were wasted on me. My poor teacher had to battle weekly with my seething frustration, and the experience probably left both of us scarred. Fortunately, the shame didn’t prevent all musical development.

In parallel, my math studies had become a strong source of self-loathing. By not living up to some articulated potential, I felt unworthy of being called a math major. Incapacitated by the fact that I did not give my classes and professors all of the attention they were due, hard work became impossible. I am somewhat amazed that I managed to graduate when so much time was lost clamoring over this miserable psychological lump. Add on the accumulation of all I had neglected in student government, never reaching research targets, nor ever writing a satisfactory paper, and it’s no wonder I graduated with a queasy sense of incompetence. Though in retrospect, I see something ironic in my internal state at a time when my accomplishments were being recognized. I still have to remind myself that two honours degrees and a scarlet key should be considered evidence of being able to do stuff.

All this to say, I needed to escape the throngs of overaccomplished peers and academic expectations, and volunteer run organisations apparently provided the right kind of shelter. Having spent most of my life doing work without pay, volunteering wasn’t new, but somehow the attitude of “whatever works” hadn’t sunk in before taking part in these successful structures of good intentions. At twenty five, I was learning to assess what people did as opposed to looking for what they didn’t. Applying the same to myself is an ongoing project, but the theory is in place.

With this new permission to work on my strengths rather than towards externally articulated virtues, Sigismund the third is no longer scary. I don’t have to be a better sight reader, or have faster technique to be a bassoonist. If I want to play, I will, and finally I did, and it sounded good.

First off, I know how the music can go, so the deviations in vocal lines, and the thinning of the instrumental lines are not adding to the intensity of the experience. Similarly, live performances, even from a pro group, are not as tight as what can be produced in studio. Not every song is going to be a together as we might be used to.

And then there are there are the recording particularities–the performance venue acoustics, the crowd noises and the messy mixing that is so hard to avoid in live performances.

As I sit the library working on homework, this recording of a live show isn’t as enjoyable as the album versions had been. But I bet that had I been at the show, all of these little differences would not have been a problem. Lots of performers know how a live crowd can get into music that would never work if listened to off site. There are genres of music that really work live but only work live. What’s the big difference? I figure it is mostly due to immersion.

Consider your last show and all the effort to help you focus on the art being performed. The lights are turned down, except for the stage, to help you ignore the people around you, the sound is turned up so you can’t avoid the audio, and so that it masks the aural cues of other again. Add to that the information gleaned from watching the music being made, and you’ve got quite a lot to help you keep tuned into what is going on. But that’s not all: when you go to a show you’ve prepared yourself for the experience. You’ve signed up to play along and get into it for considerable amount of time, and for most people, or at least most Canadians, you also have to respect for those sharing the concert experience by staying inline with acceptable concert behaviour. With all of these external and internal reasons to be into the music of a live show, deviations in performance are not nearly so disturbing. In fact, for the most part, they are easily explained by the information that doesn’t make it into the audio archive.

Of course, with a little time, we can adapt to a lot of the weirdness. By Midnight Coward, I’ve been successfully carried away by this compromised copy of the show.

Come to think of it, how am I to know if this is normal or abnormal career investment? Is school harder than most peoples work?

The answer is probably that it depends on what and who, but either way, here’s to hoping that the work is worth doing.