Lauren RabainoSince the first instrument has been electrified, musicians in the realm of electronics have dealt with the struggle between instrument and sound. Synthesizers were first made to recreate orchestras and each new Macintosh contains a set of software devices emulating nearly every musical instrument. The tools of the digital generation were made for making sounds of a past generation. Signal, a band made up of Frank Bret Schneider, Cars ten Nicola and Loaf Bender, rejects this. Their debut album “Robotron” is an uncompromising manifesto of true digital sound.
The masterminds that make up Signal are architects of a distinctly modern sound. Signal realizes their tools for building and what they are best used for. The computer is seen as an instrument and then questioned. Signal zooms in on the basic unit of digital sound, the discrete sound element, and builds off it to reveal the true essence of the computer’s role as a musical instrument. The result is not an emulation of other instruments, but rather unapologetic computer music.
It is no wonder then why this album will first come off as just noise to the inexperienced ear. The first track sounds like a skipping metronome sped up through a blown speaker. Stripped of all decoration is the equally sparse title track “Robot Ron,” which midway reveals a minimal melody of a few brief beeps. The tracks that make up the album sound as if the buzz of computer was stretched to its breaking point to reveal an internal rhythm. The rhythms are so abrupt the silence in between noise becomes louder than the noise itself. The deliberate architecture of “Robotron” brings to light how its sound was created. Staying true to their beliefs, Signal dismisses the use of traditional samplers and sequencers opting to create the pulsing rhythms of buzzes, clicks and cuts by precise algorithms and computer programming. The unrelenting tightness of the rhythms demonstrates the computer’s superior accuracy for calculation. On a micro-level however, the pops and hisses that occasionally make their way into the beats make us aware of the computer’s inability to come to terms with conflicting codes. This contrast in scale brings a depth to the starkness of the record that rivals that of any orchestra.
Signal is also aware of the ritualistic act of listening to music and tactility of media. Gone is the cheap plastic compact-disc case always prone to cracking. Instead the CD is slipped into the folds of the softest and most pleasant cardstock. Unfolding the case is calming as the buttery surface slides across your fingertips. Inside, the disc slips into the most elegant of cutouts. The case itself is the last and in some ways the most critical element to the album. It turns what was data, or space on a hard drive, into an object, connecting the sense of sound to a sense of touch. Although “Robotron” is quiet to the eye and soft to the touch, to the ear it is enormous.
Paul Cambon is an architecture junior and a music director at KCPR, San Luis Obispo, 91.3 FM. He’s also completely full of it.