A few days ago I meandered around downtown Tacoma parking garages with a friend of mine (whom I was visiting), a Conch shell and my trusty digital recorder. Though I've often been fond of reverberant spaces and sounds, I hadn't spent too much time experimenting with playing instruments in these types of places, but I was taken aback by the effect. After I finished with a series of notes the sound would come rush back on top of me, and the first time I had an involuntary physical reaction, not unlike the one where you brace yourself for wind upon hearing it coming in your direction. The sounds echoing around urged further experimentation. Though I've long enjoyed a few recordings by Stuart Dempster that were made up at Ft. Worden in a giant empty cistern that has a 45-second reverb time, I previously didn't understand the full scope of how those pieces must be put together thanks to the reverb, or just how interesting it is to experience that sound coming back on you and making your bones vibrate, but now I get the appeal and have a new appreciation for those sounds...and for numerous other people who've since gone up there to record inspired by the possibilities.
     This experimenting has been in preparation for recording the electronics part of a piece I'm doing for winds and fixed media, as well as for the 3rd installment of my iPod/time-site specific pieces, Blue Hour, which will start at sunset and go until it's black. For the winds and fixed media piece I had been using some small pieces of Conch recordings I made in a reverberant stairwell, and I wanted more Conch sound, but then it occurred to me, well, why not have the 5-7 wind players just all play Conch shells during that section? So, I've set about the task of finding a few different sounding conch shells for the different performances of this as of yet untitled work. What could be more exciting than listening to tea kettle sounds followed by 5-7 people playing conch shells? Nothing.
     Conch shells popped up additionally recently when I was listening to a recording that came out this year of some of Cage's number pieces, which were composed towards the end of his life. This particular recording has one track that has two of his works combined, which is something Cage encouraged during his life, but has taken on greater popularity posthumously as people unpack the great treasure trove of works and ideas left behind. Notably, using this technique percussionist Bonnie Whiting Smith has created 51'15.657" for a speaking percussionist. This combination of works on the aforementioned recording, Two3 and 108, has rich undulating textures, surprising harmonies, and some curious and fanciful sounds coaxed out of Conch shell with water. Also perhaps it's fitting to talk about all this today as it's the birthday of Edgar Varese, and where would any of us composers (Cage included) be without him?