A Conversation with Z'EV: Resilient Ears for Doom

Sometimes I write about music and how it influences society – and vice versa. Here is a letter to experimental percussion pioneer and master Z'EV that was intended as an invited contribution to a workshop on the topic of "doom and gloom". The letter was never published, however, until now. From 2005 to 2017, when he passed, I had the honor and opportunity of learning from him and playing and recording music with him. This letter was part of our conversation at the time.

Resilient Ears for Doom - Extreme Music and Coping Capacity

Dear z'ev,

there was something I was wondering about and given your knowledge on music I hope we can discuss the matter somehow. It actually relates to two of my main interests - disaster and music. The thing that I am wondering about is whether music can contribute to the capacity of people to cope with stressful situations or even disaster. I'll try to be more specific: in developed countries, there are forms of emergency management and communities create institutions to deal with disaster. One important part of that is training, where those involved in emergency management have the opportunity to hone the skills that may become necessary when disaster strikes. And this is where my assumption sets in: there are forms of music - noisy, confrontational - that perhaps serve as a metaphor for disaster. In this sense listening to these kinds of music could also be interpreted as training to increase coping capacity. This would mean that impending doom can be considered the opposite of our everyday lives both in a real-life situation as disaster or dramatized within a media form such as music. And, in the latter case, listening can support coping and increase resilience. Or: constitute a way to make something "normal" that is not widely considered so.

In order to discuss this matter, I will try to connect some dots in an arguably loose way. Beginning with some observations from music psychology, I will outline some points of emergency management and provide a real-life example for training in this context, the Hurricane Pam Planning Exercise. The aim here is to show how "exceptions" to "normal" routines of everyday life are institutionalized for the purpose of training or for being familiar with these circumstances should the time arise to respond to them (for the benefit of society). On the level of music, this "exception" to "normality" occurs when new, radical, confrontational, "noisy" music appears on the scene. For that purpose, I'd like to retrace some related aspects in music, ranging from Luigi Russolo via Iannis Xenakis to Justin Broadrick. And listening to that music, at least that is my hypothesis, constitutes a form of training, particularly if that music dramatically evokes notions of doom. Whether this "training for doom" can be applied to other fields or if the difference between institutional organizations and music is too far and wide shouldn't play a role at this point.

Interestingly, but perhaps not so surprisingly, psychologists have researched how different types of music influence people and their emotional responses. There is even research on how music can help people to cope with stress. This mirrors my initial argument at least to a certain level. One paper tested the responses of participants in an experiment according to four music types - classical (big surprise), self-selected music (not specified further), heavy metal or silence. A stressful event was staged prior to the experimental listening setup. It doesn't come much as a surprise that heavy metal appeared least beneficial or effective in reducing anger or anxiety or increasing relaxation. Self-selected music performed well, but what if the self-selected music was actually metal? Then the results would become questionable, because those who select metal indeed experience what the authors perceive as beneficial.  Another paper deals with the effects of music on participants' mood. Here, the music types used were grunge rock (hello 90s), classical, New Age and "designer". Yes, you're suspicion is correct, designer music sounds a lot like Muzak; it is engineered audio aimed at triggering a certain emotional response, which includes minimizing tension, distraction, and moods perceived as negative. All in all, an approach that sounds very "therapeutical", but then again, we're talking about psychologists here. The authors do point out that if listeners may prefer music that doesn't lead to the intended positive results in the paper's survey based on their sample group, results may be different. So, the momentary conclusion would be that music can contribute to coping, but when it comes to different music styles this is dependent on individual preference.

This means we are not talking about a broad phenomenon, but instead, something very targeted. And perhaps this is a good point of transition to discuss how institutions in developed countries deal with disaster and prepare for it. Let's take the US. Here, we have a system of comprehensive disaster management that is defined by a legal framework (the Stafford Act) and represented by a federal Agency (FEMA) that coordinates and cooperates with emergency management institutions on state and particularly local levels. Their operations are based on a cyclical model that begins with the occurrence of disaster as triggered by some type of hazard or stressor, to be followed by response, recovery, and planning and preparedness for the assumed next occurrence of disaster.

Disaster can be considered a form of crisis, and scholars differentiate between conflict crises (for instance, war) and consensus crises (which would include disasters). It is further viewed as an interruption of everyday life, an "exception" to the existing order, to ongoing "routines." And the perceived task of the state is to reestablish that order and restore "normality". Members of emergency management institutions undergo training to be prepared for disaster events. In a sense, this constitutes the attempt of routinizing what is exceptional. One really interesting example here is the "Southeast Louisiana Catastrophic Hurricane Plan" or in short, Hurricane Pam Planning Exercise. One year before Katrina struck New Orleans, FEMA contracted a private company (Innovative Emergency Management, Inc. or IEM) in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, to hold a training exercise with representatives from all institutions and organizations involved in and responsible for emergency management in southern Louisiana. They had to deal with a simulated scenario modeled by Louisiana State University in cooperation with the National Weather Service. The scenario included a large Hurricane and storm surge. Participants in the exercise had to respond to this hazard only and exclusively with the means and resources they actually had access to in real life. So, within the exercise, they couldn't suggest what they wished to set into motion in an ideal situation (ten boats would be great!), but instead, what they had at their disposal at that point in time (three boats...). The whole exercise was documented and filed - and forgotten (unfortunately), because eventually funds ran short. And then Katrina happened and everything turned out differently. Nevertheless, that wasn't the fault of the Hurricane Pam exercise, it in fact provided a productive setting for planning and preparedness in the case of disaster: dealing with a hypothetical situation that was rooted in the real life of the actors involved, or that mirrored a possible real-life situation as closely as possible in a highly plausible way, within an orchestrated setting.

Now we can talk about another kind of orchestration. What happens if music resembles mirrors or dramatizes crisis, disasters or "doom"? Does listening to this kind of music constitute some form of training? Before answering that question, I'd like to redraw some notions in music that I find very interesting. Let's start with some of Luigi Russolo's observations from his "The Art of Noise". He describes an interruption of everyday life in the past through the advent of modernity. In his words, everyday silence was conquered by machine-generated noise(s). He even compares noise with storms, hurricanes and similar triggers of disaster, which interrupt the normality of silence. I couldn't have wished for a better way to bridge the subjects of disaster and music! With the creation of noise through machinery, "pure sound" is transcended and fails to instill emotions in its listeners. He concedes that some noises may not be pleasant, but some may indeed be, while the aim of the composer is to attain control over noise. Let that sink in for a moment. This also gives me the chance to fast-forward to the work of Iannis Xenakis: he experienced war and conflict first-hand and also aimed at making that experience a part of his music. In his "Formalized Music" he points out that music should lead to listeners losing their consciousness in a moment of immediate truth beyond emotion. He refers to the dualism of "disorder" (ataxia) and "order" (taxis) in antiquity and the ability of knowledge to progressively rationalize disorder without actually attaining a complete understanding of it. In other words, a glimpse of its chaos remains, breaking our rational perception of reality. On the level of composition, it is no surprise that he operated with mathematical concepts and ideas of causality. "Natural events" become part of the composition process as well as sound(scape)s from the social sphere, such as demonstrations or large groups of clamoring people. For instance, he envisions a climax of confrontation between the demonstrators and the policing force as an acoustic event. While he sees these events according to stochastic properties, he clearly speaks of continuities and discontinuities. However, I have the feeling in reading his text that he searches not only for an explanatory means to gain control of the discontinuities, but in fact a sort of reconciliation - which I would interpret as a coping strategy.

From control to coping to organized chaos: I'd like to fast-forward again into the 1980s. Plenty of bands had made use of noise in order to produce some kind of anti-music opposed to, perhaps, the "commercial" disco music of the 1970s. Perhaps Napalm Death were those who most radically achieved a climax of such strategies. Early death metal and blast beat-hardcore tape demos that where in circulation at that time were the initial catalyst for bands that released their music on the Earache label, which in 1987 would be witness to a revolution or game change in heavy metal and hardcore. Until that point in time there existed thrash metal, speed metal and hardcore as distinct sub-genres, with some bands crossing over between styles. And if speed metal was like driving a Porsche along a highway at full speed, grindcore was like overtaking that car with a tank. And the spearhead band of this movement were Napalm Death. Originally a punk band; playing guitar, bass guitar and drums with an incredible speed reaching up to 350 bpm. To some, their sound was so reminiscent of vacuum cleaners that they even coined the genre term "Hoovercore". ND's songs were often ridiculously short during this period. The singer would grunt like a wild animal, followed by the high-pitch screams of the drummer, in call-and-response-mode. Their lyrics had strong socio-political content ("Multi-national corporations, genocide of the starving nations"). The aural power of the band was staggering and overwhelming. After their first album titled "Scum", the band changed its sound towards a more song-oriented style closer to death metal than to grindcore.

Founding member Justin Broadrick left Napalm Death before the first record was actually released. His other band, Fall Of Because, eventually became Godflesh, which included Broadrick on guitars and vocals, G. Christian Green on bass guitar, and a drum machine. This also reminds us of Russolo's notion of machine noise. A band that had already championed this kind of orchestration was Chicago's Big Black. They certainly influenced Godflesh and can be considered the pioneers of what was also called "noise rock" or later, "industrial rock". Yet, of all the bands that used a drum machine, Godflesh were, without any doubt, the most monstrous, the most inhuman, and the most monolithic. What Big Black had championed in the format of "noise rock", Godflesh had drawn into a black vortex that echoed the detuned chords of grindcore and death metal. The duo of Broadrick and Green created a true beast that shone brightest on their second release, Streetcleaner. The sloppy punk drumming of Fall Of Because was now replaced by the cold, mechanic inhumanity of a militaristically clattering Alesis HR 16 drum machine. The rhythm patterns included breakbeats as well as marches suffused with death metal double bass kick drums. On top of Green's rumbling bass was Broadrick's atonal, ambient guitar, feedback wailing off into the nothingness of pitch-black eternity. Vocals sounded consistently tortured throughout and were partially treated with pitchshifter effects.

After "Streetcleaner", Godflesh proceeded to record a standout piece titled "Love is a Dog from Hell" released on the "Pathological Compilation". Here something remarkable happens. With their drum machine sound and detuned, atonal guitar, Godflesh had already buried the entire competition under layers of grey ash and sludge. Noise Machines reigned supreme. But in "Love is a Dog from Hell", the noise is destroyed by silence within a magnificent break, or let's call it fugue. One can already feel that doom is coming within the overall very-doomy, very gloomy atmosphere or sound environment of the song, and at Minute 3:00 wailing feedback erases consciousness and rational thought. Noise is replaced by the meta-silence of feedback, and Russolo's notion has been turned on its head. The crisis of silence is no longer noise, and the crisis of noise becomes silence. Both are immersed, but the abruptness, contrast, and dualistic nature of both mark the onset of the crisis. Disaster becomes an aesthetic experience.

What does this mean for my initial thesis? Can extreme or confrontational music contribute to the coping capacity of individuals? Can listening to this kind of music be considered a kind of "training" for disastrous events to come, at least on a personal, individual level? Can its experience increase resilience? Let me offer a brief conclusion of sorts to begin our conversation. Music can assist and support coping in relation to personal preference. The disaster cycle shows that dealing or coping with disaster can contribute to being prepared for a potential future hazard event. In an institutionalized way, "planning and preparedness" as an element of the disaster cycle serves precisely that purpose. Music dramatizes events such as crises or disasters within the rules of that particular media. It can also incorporate them more or less directly via sampling techniques that Russolo presciently described as "noise". But this dramatization and aesthetization within the rules of music transcends the conceptualization of disaster as opposite of everyday life or "normality". It becomes difficult to see noise and silence as a dualism that is analogous to everyday life and disaster, because noise can become normality, whereas disaster can't: it is the instance a change sets in. In other words, noise has the capacity to become normal. Perhaps this is the way the dramatization of crisis in music can offer the means to be able to cope with it. Perhaps my brief outline offered some food for thought on whether this may be so, hopefully in a plausible way. For all intents and purposes, music is obviously an entertaining way to mediate change. But please tell me what you think.

Best!

Mark

Photo: Andreas Graf