some thought on Matthew Herbert's "One Pig":
Ross Wallace Chait
05/13/2012
Mechanizing Nature in Matthew Herbert’s “One Pig”
From slow, near silent birth, to cacophonous consumption, “One Pig” collects the resonating moments of a life cut short by human intervention, in a sonic arrangement that stimulates with fascinating experiments in field recording and electronically manipulated sound. Renown UK music producer Matthew Herbert, recorded the material for “One Pig” over an eight month stay on a farm in north England, visiting the pig every week or so to record the sounds of its journey from the sty to plate. The politically controversial (and viciously protested) motivating concept behind the album has and will likely continue to be argued by PETA officials and squeamish listeners worldwide. However, the sonic material objectively engages with me as a listener in intricate, delicately composed ways that attest to Herbert’s mastery in the field of music production. The intricate variations between raw field recording and electronically manipulated sound, stimulate a sonic environment that demands attention and contemplation. The month by month catalog that frames “One Pig”, is an exercise in information processing and sonic narrative that maintains a constantly adjusting space spanning untouched field recordings and electronically modulated found sounds that move in and out of mimetically engaging structural harmonies and rhythms.
In “August 2009”, the pig is born. The album begins with an unmanipulated sonic landscape of a pig breathing in its sty, as illustrated by the introductory field recording. The associations here are tied with the experience of the outdoors, as sounds of wind and bird chirps decorate the sonic environment. As the track moves closer to what becomes the climactic birth of the pig, the introductory elements of blatant sonic manipulation crawl to the forefront, thereby complicating the act of information processing, as what was once a comprehendible, untouched field recording is now the subject of electronic operations. Sporadic sounds resembling resonant hi hats and other seemingly electronically generated snippets, begin to make it difficult to decipher what is raw from what is altered. At a point approximately halfway through this first track, Herbert’s voice softly speaks “That was it. That was the pig being born” (here, Herbert argues, the album becomes not merely a dialogue between the animal and its environment, but a dialogue between the animal and human as well, perhaps stimulating an associative response to the familiarity of being a human intervening in an animal’s world, as would resonate with a pet owner or farmer), and the landscape rapidly changes from sounds of soothing breaths and natural ambience, to loud squeals of the newborn among a melodic atmosphere of diatonic synth blips. This structural shift introduces the first sources of mimetic engagement, an avenue that blatantly comes in and out of play throughout the duration of the album. The invitation to engage with this vague, synthesized tune, is not simple however, due to the lack of defined pulse. These introductory challenges of unstructured melody and attempts to distinguish between raw versus manipulated sounds, act as appropriate preparations for the chronicle that follows in “One Pig”.
This introduction to melodic stability at the end of “August 2009” continues into the beginnings of “September”, which opens with a syncopated, distorted line that moves back and forth between scale degrees one and two in a way that creates anticipation toward upward movement along the tonal register. Varying lines are rhythmically introduced on top of this foundational motif, creating complex pulses of duple over triple that simultaneously inspire and confuse the impulse to mimetically engage with the rhythmic intricacy of the music. Gradually, the sounds more easily associated with the pig itself (modulated, elongated squeals and groans) make their way to the forefront, invoking an invisibility and intangibility that begs the question of whether or not the animal is in pain, as the pitches and timbres of the pig’s utterances create an unfamiliar, ambiguous energy. Since the sonic material does not offer any tangible or visual stimuli, and because the sounds of the pig squeals do not have definite, recognizable associations with pleasure or pain the way human screams or laughs would, the vulnerability of aural interpretation is highlighted here via the avenue of invisibility and intangibility. The minor modality, abrasive timbres and ambiguous sound sources coupled with the inviting, danceable pulse, confuse this question of the pig’s well-being even more. By the end of “September”, the less mimetically engaging sounds of roaring squeals and ambient feedbacks take over the sonic landscape, thereby serving a transitional function into the return to unstructured purism at the beginning of “October”.
Out of the introductory sounds of pig-populated nature come ambient soundscapes and short melodic cycles of rewarded anticipation that make “October” the most expressively soothing track on the album. Less cacophonous, settled squeals open this unfolding atmosphere of sonic calming. Soft, high octave motives centered around the tonic and dominant, slowly crawl toward dynamic prominence, then gracefully fall back into obscurity in ways that are quick to comfortably satisfy melodic anticipations. Simultaneously, resonant snare sounds create a steady, duple meter pulse that begins to align the multi-faceted sonic material into structured song, thereby soothing the mimetic engagement impulse and satisfying the anticipation brewed by the introductory soundscapes. The atmosphere expands into a wide, soft landscape defined by associations with dreams and exploration, as the pleasant sounds seem to mystically find their way to stability through a series of trials and errors.
The change of temper from “October” to “November” is the most dramatic transition between tracks on the album, as the latter opens with short, low volume oinks erupting in brief, sporadic durations. These bursts of sound shoot out at widely varying locations in the panning sonic atmosphere. The sporadic expression of the material is accentuated by the unpredictable entrances and exists of these ambiguous sounds. The layered landscape includes what sound like rapid fire bongo hits, human screams, liquid being poured into buckets as well as chirping birds. The lack of definable structure in this introduction, has become a setting for conditioned anticipation at this point in the record. Because previous tracks have found structure out of chaos, the expectation is for this track to follow a similar trajectory. It indeed does find some amount of relief in information processing and reclamation of mimetic engagement, as minor mode melodic content and a downbeat based pulse are introduced among the scatter. High pitched pig squeals, energetic paces and metallic timbres create a militaristic atmosphere by the end of the track, marching steadily forward toward the next chapter in the pig’s life.
“December” begins with the sounds of the pig and friends squealing in their sty, once again summoning the previously introduced association with the untouched landscape of a farm, as defined in the beginning of “August 2009”. Earlier than in most tracks, the structurally sound elements of melodic and rhythmic stability come into play, first with the looping sound of what resembles a closing wooden door. Out of these naturalist snippets, Herbert crafts a pulsating, characteristically dark and eerie tune. He creates these expressions with a combination of minor modality and metallic timbres. The i VI iv V i structure of the ominous melody is articulated with a muffled amplifier timbre and eight note based pulsing that adds even more acoustic supplementation to this composed aura of unsettling marching toward a fearful destination. Somewhat sporadically entering, expressively impassioned pig screams roar over this foundation of melody and rhythm in a way that associates the pig with the human sensations of pain and passion. After an unexpected drop into silent confusion, the motive grown out of the introductory material shockingly reenters with more volume and distorted cacophony, thereby stimulating the startle effect and creating associative anxiety and dark thrill in musical expression. The increase in dynamics and mechanical modulation intensifies the anticipation toward satisfaction of the exploratory, marching motive in this track, which comes to its conclusion with a short coda of rhythmic footsteps in the snow.
Muffled squeals and grunts that mingle behind a central sonic space introduce “January”, thus calling attention to the abnormality of the acoustic location in this most energetically pulsing track. From the decorative background, a new, definitively electronic tone is abruptly introduced on top of the scattering layer of pig sounds. The lengthy pitches resonate with a looming timbre that disintegrates into near silence before rejuvenation. These unmistakably electronic tones are confused by the layer of sonic material that follows, which consists of highly resonant pig sounds that almost serve the same sonic purpose as the tones, yet are distinguishable for their resemblance to pig squeals and grunts. A shocking, slightly mechanized, colorful pig grunt drops into the foreground of the sonic landscape, then disappears after just a moment, inspiring the most startling acoustic impact on the entire album. Subsequently, the rest of the growing background material experiences a drop in dynamics down to the point of near silence. This gripping change in structure creates anticipation for another entrance of a brash, central pig sound and whatever unpredictable changes in sonic material it will bring with it. After this period of almost silence with some indeterminably muffled human voices, a low volume, pulsing synth-like sound introduces the fast-paced, steady tempo that comes to structure the rest of the track. The pulse is faster and more accented than any previous beat durations on the album, thus creating more frantic energy and rapid mimetic stimulation. A heavily delayed, chime-like synth melody expands over the much darker background, introducing the incoming structural shift to louder, more abrasive danceability. Indeed, a loud pig groan backed by pulsing, distorted synths with modally major melodic content, breaks the track into its ironically unsettling satisfaction of the anticipation created in the first half. At this point, the suspense brewed by the isolated pig sound followed by near silence closer to the beginning of the track, has been abrasively satisfied. Variations between distinctly electronic manipulations versus unaltered material, sporadically cut from noisy to tonal sounds that increasingly layer on top of each other, creating an expectation for a structured synthesis of raw and manipulated sounds. Out of the chaos, a racing pulsation of bass hits streamlines toward the center, leading into the beat-based conclusion of the track. The finale of “January” consists of a milky line of eight note triplet pulses underneath a very simple melodic motive of synth blips. The rhythmic and melodic content is stable and therefore does not anticipate motion into new territory. As this structure of sonic material fades out, raw footage of the one pig comes back from under the manipulated sounds to finish the track. The pig is alive and seemingly well, thereby setting up the most drastic contrast in narrative transition between “January” and the brutal “February”.
Sounds of sharpening knives and butchering tools mark the opening moments of “February”, stimulating worrisome associations in a way that creates tension in anticipation of oncoming danger and violence. These associative sounds of threatening bloodshed trigger the exploration of general taboos, allowing me to enjoy my own survival despite the sensation of danger that the music is able to create. The sound of liquid droplets falling into a bucket follows this introduction, transitioning the track into its electronic manipulations, as the plopping sounds become pulsed and serve as the primary element of rhythmic structure around which snippets of raw footage (taken from the site of the pig’s butchering) are layered. From this point on, the track follows (more closely than any other on the album) the trajectory of a standard club music song, with functionally place build ups, drop outs and repetitive melodic lines. This associative, if not cliched structure again highlights the avenue of exploring taboos. Hearing these mimetically engaging, dance stimulating sounds while at the same time understanding the sources of brutality and violence from which they were collected, calls attention to the human affinity for danceable music and its ability to surpass the squeamish tendencies tied to the act of butchering a dead pig’s carcass. In the act of mimetically engaging with these sounds, I find myself exploring the enjoyment of my own survival, finding entertainment in sound sources that would otherwise disgust me and enjoying the guilty pleasure of the resemblance to club music all at once. The sampled sonic materials used to put together this mimetically engaging stimulus of sounds includes pig’s blood dropping into a bucket, hand saws cutting up the corpse and the loud sound of the entire body being dropped on the cutting board. Without a doubt, using prerecorded sound in such a way is a politically questionable experiment, however the sonic material on its own is intricately fascinating.
The second to last track on “One Pig” is composed of sounds gathered a year after the animal’s birth in track one. In “August 2010”, pitched bass drum sounding thumps at a rate of one per measure, introduce the downbeat of this final stylistically coherent track on the album. In between these almost too spread out to be mimetically engaging hits, Herbert releases small snippets of raw field recording footage. These introductory tidbits function as narrative scene setting images, with sounds of forks and knives clinking against plates, burning oil and conversations among hungry humans. The pig is going to be eaten. The same bongo sound hits heard in previous tracks explode over the field recording setting to introduce the six eight meter that frames the structured portion of the track. The decision to use the bongo-like sounds for the introduction to the structural middle section creates another thread of linearity between the varying tracks on the album, supplementing the overriding similarity of the shared narrative scope. In conjunction with the slow, marching pulse, an extremely high pitched melodic line wails above the bass melody. Both of these voices sound like the utterances of a pig, a mouse and a human combined. The timbre and pitch of these voices in opposite registers stimulate a very specific and thematically relevant type of mimetic engagement. Not only are the melodies rhythmically and diatonically stable and therefore easy to sing and move along to, the combination of human and animal vocal timbres calls attention to the discrepancy in emotive value between people and in this case pigs, a theme that the whole album associatively highlights. The eeriness of this consideration is excentuated by the hypnotic affect that the repetition and slow, steady pulse of the sonic material creates. When the structured song portion fades out, in its central place come the sounds of the pig being consumed. A clutter of chewing, salivating, grunting and silverware maneuvers populated the sonic atmosphere with very little electronic manipulation. This conclusive ending functions to narratively satisfy this life story and sonically end with the same absence of manipulation that the album started with.
“May 2011” literally ends right back where the album began, as Herbert returns to the sty of the now deceased and consumed pig to sing a song in memorial on his acoustic guitar. Recorded almost one year after the pig had been eaten and it’s life story completed, the landscape of the sty sounds calm and lonelier without the squeals and nervous grunts recalled from “August 2009”. The atmospheric sounds of mooing cows, pigs, insects and wind, introduce the setting as Herbert tunes up before beginning his folky tune. The solemn song involves a moderately simple melody centered around the tentative leading tone, coupled with lyrical content that rekindles the theme of contemplation. What is being pondered in these lines is the difference between humans’ and animals’ emotions, with statements like “A simple life is all we need, Enough to multiply”, that attempt perhaps to equate the existences of man and pig. The vocal expression in Herbert’s voice is executed with a humorless, slightly sentimental tone that relays the man’s earnest gratitude toward the deceased subject of his musical experiment. Subsequent to this brief, sweet tune, the last minute of the album consists exclusively of the untouched field recording of the sty on the farm. Very quiet sounds of sheep and animals with high pitched voices decorate this sonic landscape, dominated in this case by rustling winds and waters, with the clanking sounds of farm equipment in motion. The album is brought in circular form back to this peaceful sonic environment, only now the pig has been shipped away, slaughtered, butchered and consumed by the hungry supporting cast of the record. This fulfilled anticipation for finalizing closure amidst the chaotic exploration of one pig’s life, settles me in these calm last moments.
In March of 2010, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals stated their complaints against Matthew Herbert’s “One Pig” project, arguing that “Pigs are inquisitive, highly intelligent, sentient animals who become frightened when they are sent to the slaughterhouses, where they kick and scream and try to escape the knife. They are far more worthy of respect than Matthew Herbert or anyone else who thinks cruelty is entertainment”. Contrary to PETA’s accusations, I find “One Pig” to be a stunning, tragically honest musical devotion comparable to Messiaen’s birdsong projects or any other effort committed to the exposition of musicality in animal life. The emotive value of the project spans blissful subtly to fearful cacophony, in a way that makes the chronicle of “One Pig” a beautiful eclecticism of sonic storytelling. Structural elements of gratified melodic and rhythmic closure, engage with mimetic impulses in ways that maintain a consistency of excitement and challenging stimulation. However, it is the blending of electronically manipulated versus untouched recorded sounds that seems to set this album apart from others composed merely of one or the other of these two types of sound. This mysterious concoction of crafted field recordings constantly has me questioning the sources of the sounds I am being exposed to. It also stimulates the impulse to figure out what part of the pig’s story is being sonically relayed. This fascinating synthesis of acoustic and electronically manipulated sounds coupled with Matthew Herbert’s craftwork that inspires anticipation, emotive impact and challenges in information processing, makes “One Pig” a sonic narrative made beautiful by its intricacy of stimuli and musical profundity.
stream "One Pig"
otherwise..
Myles Emmons and I are finishing our first full length record to be released early this summer. Below is a sample from the upcoming release titled "Fireworks." based on a graphic score written for the Scratch Orchestra by Cornelius Cardew.
