# data[].attributes.attachment_caption
Dissecting Phil Spector's 'Wall Of Sound' technique

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
The term 'wall of sound' is practically synonymous with the man that coined it: Phil Spector, the infamous musicians, songwriter, and record producer who gave hits like The Ronettes' 'Be My Baby' their signature chime. But how did the wall of sound technique actually function and how was it made? Join us, as we put Spector's famed recording technique under the microscope.

In simple terms, the wall of sound technique is a way of capturing live musicians that embraces chaos and oversaturation. Rather than attempting to record instrumental sections with minimal interference, Spector chose to exploit the sonic qualities of the studio itself, allowing sounds to bounce around the room and blend into a dense sonic mess, rich with complex overtones. People assume that all Spector had to do to achieve the desired effect was to put a couple of mics around the room and get everyone to play as loud as possible, but in reality, it's a great deal more nuanced than that.

As I mentioned, one of the most important aspects of the wall of sound technique was Spector's exploitation of the studio space. As Stan Ross, one of the recording engineers who sat in with Spector during some of his most memorable recording sessions, noted: "The wall of sound is a function of this studio, there's no doubt about it." The studio in question, which would have been packed with instruments and musicians, was fitted with a number of overhead microphones, the signal of which would then be transmitted into the "echo chamber", a basement room fitted with more speakers and microphones. Having saturated in its own feedback, the resulting audio would then be sent back to the live room, where it was sent to the Ampex 350 tape recorder in the control room.

But, according to Ross, it was the sheer number of musicians that really made the wall of sound what it was: "The echo chambers never made the sound acceptable; they enhanced the sound, but the fact that the room was full of musicians - and it is a small room - bounced everything around, so we've got all of this meshing going on, and then you added the chambers to it, and so you got this sound that was a wall - it was a room saturation. We had it all melded together in the room. And of course, there was one other ingredient that made it the wall of sound, a minor ingredient, but still meaningful, and that's Phil Spector."

Famed for his perfectionism, Phil Spector liked to spend a long time rehearsing with session musicians before he even pressed record, sometimes for several hours. As Ross recalled: "All of that time would be spent with the musicians playing and Phil listening. And one of the theories that I've evolved is that the reason he did it so long was that he wanted the musicians to be tired so that they lost their individualism." It was this same technique (if it was indeed intentional) that Spector used when he recorded 'Be My Baby'.

Nino Tempo, who sat in with Spector during The Ronettes' session remembered how: "I was out of the room and the musicians were playing, and there were a lot of mistakes out there, there were a lot of imperfections out there. And I thought 'oh boy, they sure haven't got this' - you've got a roomful of 36 guys and half of them are making mistakes. And I thought 'how's he ever gonna make this into a smash?' But then I walked back into the booth and Phil said: 'wait until you hear what I've got.' And I heard it coming back and it was a miracle, it was glorious. And I said 'but I just heard a bunch of mistakes' and he says 'never mind what's really out there, listen to what I've got out here.' And that's where the magic came: between the wires and the booth, Phil got magic."

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Dissecting Phil Spector's 'Wall Of Sound' technique

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The term 'wall of sound' is practically synonymous with the man that coined it, Phil Spector. But how does this legendary recording technique actually work?

# data[].attributes.attachment_caption
Brighton Festival Fills A Church With The Eternal Howl Of Lou Reed's Guitars

# data[].attributes.body
https://www.nme.com/blogs/nme-blogs/brighton-festival-fills-a-church-with-the-eternal-howl-of-lou-reed-s-guitars-764295

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Approaching St Mark's Chapel, a 19th century church in the east end of Brighton, a low rumbling note begins to filter its way in among the noise of the busy hospital traffic nearby. As you head up the church drive, the frequency grows rapidly louder, increasing to a roar, as if St Mark's is possessed by an electric spirit from a 1970s horror movie.

In a sense, it is. For the fiftieth Brighton Festival, St Mark's (nowadays an arts venue, The Spire) is hosting the UK premiere of Lou Reed Drones, a cacophonous live installation of the late New York musician's guitars and amps, humming to themselves at enormous volume in the afterlife.

This year's Brighton Festival is curated by Reed's widow, the musician, artist and filmmaker Laurie Anderson, and the Drones installation was the idea of Stewart Hurwood, Reed's guitar technician in his later years.

Once inside the church, its windows covered in thick black drapes expect for the sunlight streaming through the stained glass window over the altar, the noise is overpowering. St Mark's has been emptied of pews and in the centre, on a low stage, six of Reed's guitars lean against a semi-circle of his amps, feeding back and droning. A glitterball sparkles overhead. In the centre, Hurwood, in shades and Lou Reed tour t-shirt, makes slow, careful adjustments to the din, increasing one amp's output, decreasing another, creating gradual changes to the immersive guitar hum.

Read More: Lou Reed - A Life In Pictures

Drones and feedback have featured in Reed's work since The Velvet Underground in the '60s, influenced by his early VU colleagues John Cale and Angus MacLise's participation in La Monte Young's Theatre Of Eternal Music Ensemble. While Reed's notorious 1975 album 'Metal Machine Music' consisted of an hour of dense, complex feedback, the sound of Lou Reed Drones is more meditative and hypnotic. Hurwood is presenting the performance for five hours solid, over five days. As Anderson states in the programme notes, it's, "The closest you can now get to Lou's work".

This afternoon when we stop by, there are around two dozen people inside, some standing, some sitting, taking photographs or taking notes, some laid flat on the floor, eyes closed, absorbed in the roar. Even with the essential use of the complimentary ear plugs handed out on the door, within five minutes my hearing is starting to buckle and crackle.

In recent years I've sat through consecutive nights of My Bloody Valentine at their most aggressive and seen a Sunn O))) show so loud my clothes flapped as the volume threatened to strip them from my body. Foolishly I didn't use hearing protection on those occasions, and each time it took several days for my ears to return to normal. Having dodged tinnitus on so many occasions, I'm taking no chances, even with ear plugs.

After 15 powerful minutes, I stumble outside where other attendees are now sprawled on the grass in the sunshine. At least the hospital's next door.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Brighton Festival Fills A Church With The Eternal Howl Of Lou Reed's Guitars

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Approaching St Mark's Chapel, a 19th century church in the east end of Brighton, a low rumbling note begins to filter its way in among the noise of the busy hospital traffic nearby. As you head up the church drive, the frequency grows rapidly louder, increasing to a roar, as if St Mark's is possessed [...]

# data[].attributes.attachment_caption
Wall of Sound (Grateful Dead) - Wikipedia

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Wall of Sound (Grateful Dead) - Wikipedia

# data[].attributes.headline
Why Fuzz Face Silicon vs Germanium transistors ?

# data[].attributes.subject
Why Fuzz Face Silicon vs Germanium transistors ?

# data[].attributes.body
I tried both types of fuzz faces  and and found the silicone version to be more responsive for my mission in this sound art project.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc.

Gustav Mahler, (born July 7, 1860, Kaliště, Bohemia, Austrian Empire-died May 18, 1911, Vienna, Austria), Austrian Jewish composer and conductor, noted for his 10 symphonies and various songs with orchestra, which drew together many different strands of Romanticism. Although his music was largely ignored for 50 years after his death, Mahler was later regarded as an important forerunner of 20th-century techniques of composition and an acknowledged influence on such composers as Arnold Schoenberg, Dmitry Shostakovich, and Benjamin Britten.

Early life

Mahler was the son of an Austrian Jewish distiller and tavern keeper living in the Bohemian village of Kaliště (German: Kalischt), in the southwestern corner of what is now the Czech Republic. Within months of his birth, the family moved to the nearby town of Jihlava (German: Iglau), where Mahler spent his childhood and youth. These simple facts provide a first clue to his tormented personality: he was afflicted by racial tensions from the beginning of his life. As part of a German-speaking Austrian minority, he was an outsider among the indigenous Czech population and, as a Jew, an outsider among that Austrian minority; later, in Germany, he was an outsider as both an Austrian from Bohemia and a Jew.

Mahler's life was also complicated by the tension existing between his parents. His father, a self-educated man of fierce vitality, had married a delicate woman from a cultured family and, coming to resent her social superiority, resorted to physically maltreating her. In consequence Mahler was alienated from his father and had a strong mother fixation, which even manifested itself physically: a slight limp was unconsciously adopted in imitation of his mother's lameness. Furthermore, he inherited his mother's weak heart, which was to cause his death at age 50. Finally, there was a constant childhood background of illness and death among his 13 brothers and sisters.

This unsettling early background may explain the nervous tension, the irony and skepticism, the obsession with death, and the unremitting quest to discover some meaning in life that was to pervade Mahler's life and music. But it does not explain the prodigious energy, intellectual power, and inflexibility of purpose that carried him to the heights as both a master conductor and a composer. The positive elements in his makeup stemmed no doubt from his father's side of the family, as did his great physical vitality. Despite his inherited heart trouble, he was an extremely active man-a ruthless musical director, a tireless swimmer, and an indefatigable mountain walker.

His musical talent revealed itself early and significantly. Around the age of four, fascinated by the military music at a nearby barracks and the folk music sung by the Czech working people, he reproduced both on the accordion and on the piano and began composing pieces of his own. The military and popular styles, together with the sounds of nature, became main sources of his mature inspiration. At 10 he made his debut as a pianist in Jihlava and at 15 was so proficient musically that he was accepted as a pupil at the Vienna Conservatory. After winning piano and composition prizes and leaving with a diploma, he supported himself by sporadic teaching while trying to win recognition as a composer. When he failed to win the Conservatory's Beethoven Prize for composition with his first significant work, the cantata Das klagende Lied (completed 1880; The Song of Complaint), he turned to conducting for a more secure livelihood, reserving composition for the lengthy summer vacations.

Career as a conductor

The next 17 years saw his ascent to the very top of his chosen profession. From conducting musical farces in Austria, he rose through various provincial opera houses, including important engagements at Budapest and Hamburg, to become artistic director of the Vienna Court Opera in 1897, at age 37. As a conductor he had won general acclaim, but as a composer, during this first creative period, he immediately encountered the public's lack of comprehension that was to confront him for most of his career.

Since Mahler's conducting life centred in the traditional manner on the opera house, it is at first surprising that his whole mature output was entirely symphonic (his 40 songs are not true lieder but embryonic symphonic movements, some of which, in fact, provided a partial basis for the symphonies). But Mahler's unique aim, partially influenced by the school of Richard Wagner and Franz Liszt, was essentially autobiographical-the musical expression of a personal view of the world. And for this purpose, song and symphony were more appropriate than the dramatic medium of opera: song because of its inherent personal lyricism, and symphony (from the Wagner and Liszt point of view) because of its subjective expressive power.

Musical works: first period

Each of Mahler's three creative periods produced a symphonic trilogy. The three symphonies of his first period were conceived on a programmatic basis (i.e., founded on a nonmusical story or idea), the actual programs (later discarded) being concerned with establishing some ultimate ground for existence in a world dominated by pain, death, doubt, and despair. To this end, he followed the example of Ludwig van Beethoven's Symphony No. 6 in F Major ( Pastoral) and Hector Berlioz's Symphonie fantastique in building symphonies with more than the then traditional four movements; that of Wagner's music-dramas in expanding the time span, enlarging the orchestral resources, and indulging in uninhibited emotional expression; that of Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 in D Minor (Choral) in introducing texts sung by soloists and chorus; and that of certain chamber works by Franz Schubert in introducing music from his own songs (settings of poems from the German folk anthology Des Knaben Wunderhorn [ The Youth's Magic Horn] or of poems by himself in a folk style).

These procedures, together with Mahler's own tense and rhetorical style, phenomenally vivid orchestration, and ironic use of popular-style music, resulted in three symphonies of unprecedentedly wide contrasts but unified by his unmistakable creative personality and his firm command of symphonic structure. The program of the purely orchestral Symphony No. 1 in D Major (1888; one of its five movements was later discarded) is autobiographical of his youth: the joy of life becomes clouded over by an obsession with death in the macabre "Funeral March in the Manner of Callot" (basically a parody of popular music), which is eventually routed in the arduous and brilliant finale. The five-movement Symphony No. 2 (1894; popular title Resurrection) begins with the death obsession (the first movement's "funeral ceremony") and culminates in an avowal of the Christian belief in immortality (a huge finale portraying the Day of Judgment and ending with a setting of the 18th-century German writer Friedrich Klopstock's "Resurrection" ode involving soloists and chorus). The even vaster Symphony No. 3 in D Major (1896), also including a soloist and chorus, presents in six movements a Dionysian vision of a great chain of being, moving from inanimate nature to human consciousness and the redeeming love of God.

The religious element in these works is highly significant. Mahler's disturbing early background, coupled with his lack of an inherited Jewish faith (his father was a freethinker), resulted in a state of metaphysical torment, which he resolved temporarily by identifying himself with Christianity. That this was a genuine impulse there can be no doubt, even if there was an element of expediency in his becoming baptized, early in 1897, because it made it easier for him to be appointed to the Vienna Opera post. The 10 years there represent his more balanced middle period. His newfound faith and his new high office brought a full and confident maturity, which was further stabilized by his marriage in 1902 to Alma Maria Schindler, who bore him two daughters, in 1902 and 1904.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Gustav Mahler, Austrian Jewish composer and conductor, noted for his 10 symphonies and various songs with orchestra, which drew together many different strands of Romanticism. Although his music was largely ignored for 50 years after his death, Mahler was later regarded as an important forerunner

# data[].attributes.body
"Hendrix himself: his dazzling technique combines with a use of feedback and fuzz to almost casually create music of stunning strength and inventiveness. His vocals are warm, wistful or lascivious on cue, and never less than engaging; what passes for banter between numbers is winningly self-effacing. This is peak Hendrixosity, a live performance that has probably never been bettered or was never recorded if it was."

(Lloyd Bradley, 2020)

https://www.theguardian.com/profile/lloydbradley

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
One of the major British writers on black music from funk to reggae, Bradley began contributing to NME in the 1980s and then wrote for Q, MOJO and many other publications. His book Bass Culture, a history of reggae, was published in 2000

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc.

Gustav Mahler, (born July 7, 1860, Kaliště, Bohemia, Austrian Empire-died May 18, 1911, Vienna, Austria), Austrian Jewish composer and conductor, noted for his 10 symphonies and various songs with orchestra, which drew together many different strands of Romanticism. Although his music was largely ignored for 50 years after his death, Mahler was later regarded as an important forerunner of 20th-century techniques of composition and an acknowledged influence on such composers as Arnold Schoenberg, Dmitry Shostakovich, and Benjamin Britten.

Early life

Mahler was the son of an Austrian Jewish distiller and tavern keeper living in the Bohemian village of Kaliště (German: Kalischt), in the southwestern corner of what is now the Czech Republic. Within months of his birth, the family moved to the nearby town of Jihlava (German: Iglau), where Mahler spent his childhood and youth. These simple facts provide a first clue to his tormented personality: he was afflicted by racial tensions from the beginning of his life. As part of a German-speaking Austrian minority, he was an outsider among the indigenous Czech population and, as a Jew, an outsider among that Austrian minority; later, in Germany, he was an outsider as both an Austrian from Bohemia and a Jew.

Mahler's life was also complicated by the tension existing between his parents. His father, a self-educated man of fierce vitality, had married a delicate woman from a cultured family and, coming to resent her social superiority, resorted to physically maltreating her. In consequence Mahler was alienated from his father and had a strong mother fixation, which even manifested itself physically: a slight limp was unconsciously adopted in imitation of his mother's lameness. Furthermore, he inherited his mother's weak heart, which was to cause his death at age 50. Finally, there was a constant childhood background of illness and death among his 13 brothers and sisters.

This unsettling early background may explain the nervous tension, the irony and skepticism, the obsession with death, and the unremitting quest to discover some meaning in life that was to pervade Mahler's life and music. But it does not explain the prodigious energy, intellectual power, and inflexibility of purpose that carried him to the heights as both a master conductor and a composer. The positive elements in his makeup stemmed no doubt from his father's side of the family, as did his great physical vitality. Despite his inherited heart trouble, he was an extremely active man-a ruthless musical director, a tireless swimmer, and an indefatigable mountain walker.

His musical talent revealed itself early and significantly. Around the age of four, fascinated by the military music at a nearby barracks and the folk music sung by the Czech working people, he reproduced both on the accordion and on the piano and began composing pieces of his own. The military and popular styles, together with the sounds of nature, became main sources of his mature inspiration. At 10 he made his debut as a pianist in Jihlava and at 15 was so proficient musically that he was accepted as a pupil at the Vienna Conservatory. After winning piano and composition prizes and leaving with a diploma, he supported himself by sporadic teaching while trying to win recognition as a composer. When he failed to win the Conservatory's Beethoven Prize for composition with his first significant work, the cantata Das klagende Lied (completed 1880; The Song of Complaint), he turned to conducting for a more secure livelihood, reserving composition for the lengthy summer vacations.

Career as a conductor

The next 17 years saw his ascent to the very top of his chosen profession. From conducting musical farces in Austria, he rose through various provincial opera houses, including important engagements at Budapest and Hamburg, to become artistic director of the Vienna Court Opera in 1897, at age 37. As a conductor he had won general acclaim, but as a composer, during this first creative period, he immediately encountered the public's lack of comprehension that was to confront him for most of his career.

Since Mahler's conducting life centred in the traditional manner on the opera house, it is at first surprising that his whole mature output was entirely symphonic (his 40 songs are not true lieder but embryonic symphonic movements, some of which, in fact, provided a partial basis for the symphonies). But Mahler's unique aim, partially influenced by the school of Richard Wagner and Franz Liszt, was essentially autobiographical-the musical expression of a personal view of the world. And for this purpose, song and symphony were more appropriate than the dramatic medium of opera: song because of its inherent personal lyricism, and symphony (from the Wagner and Liszt point of view) because of its subjective expressive power.

Musical works: first period

Each of Mahler's three creative periods produced a symphonic trilogy. The three symphonies of his first period were conceived on a programmatic basis (i.e., founded on a nonmusical story or idea), the actual programs (later discarded) being concerned with establishing some ultimate ground for existence in a world dominated by pain, death, doubt, and despair. To this end, he followed the example of Ludwig van Beethoven's Symphony No. 6 in F Major ( Pastoral) and Hector Berlioz's Symphonie fantastique in building symphonies with more than the then traditional four movements; that of Wagner's music-dramas in expanding the time span, enlarging the orchestral resources, and indulging in uninhibited emotional expression; that of Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 in D Minor (Choral) in introducing texts sung by soloists and chorus; and that of certain chamber works by Franz Schubert in introducing music from his own songs (settings of poems from the German folk anthology Des Knaben Wunderhorn [ The Youth's Magic Horn] or of poems by himself in a folk style).

These procedures, together with Mahler's own tense and rhetorical style, phenomenally vivid orchestration, and ironic use of popular-style music, resulted in three symphonies of unprecedentedly wide contrasts but unified by his unmistakable creative personality and his firm command of symphonic structure. The program of the purely orchestral Symphony No. 1 in D Major (1888; one of its five movements was later discarded) is autobiographical of his youth: the joy of life becomes clouded over by an obsession with death in the macabre "Funeral March in the Manner of Callot" (basically a parody of popular music), which is eventually routed in the arduous and brilliant finale. The five-movement Symphony No. 2 (1894; popular title Resurrection) begins with the death obsession (the first movement's "funeral ceremony") and culminates in an avowal of the Christian belief in immortality (a huge finale portraying the Day of Judgment and ending with a setting of the 18th-century German writer Friedrich Klopstock's "Resurrection" ode involving soloists and chorus). The even vaster Symphony No. 3 in D Major (1896), also including a soloist and chorus, presents in six movements a Dionysian vision of a great chain of being, moving from inanimate nature to human consciousness and the redeeming love of God.

The religious element in these works is highly significant. Mahler's disturbing early background, coupled with his lack of an inherited Jewish faith (his father was a freethinker), resulted in a state of metaphysical torment, which he resolved temporarily by identifying himself with Christianity. That this was a genuine impulse there can be no doubt, even if there was an element of expediency in his becoming baptized, early in 1897, because it made it easier for him to be appointed to the Vienna Opera post. The 10 years there represent his more balanced middle period. His newfound faith and his new high office brought a full and confident maturity, which was further stabilized by his marriage in 1902 to Alma Maria Schindler, who bore him two daughters, in 1902 and 1904.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Gustav Mahler, Austrian Jewish composer and conductor, noted for his 10 symphonies and various songs with orchestra, which drew together many different strands of Romanticism. Although his music was largely ignored for 50 years after his death, Mahler was later regarded as an important forerunner

# data[].attributes.body
"The Wall of Sound, or simply the Wall, would occupy only a blip on the long horizon of the Dead's history, though it remains a touchstone for sound systems of all shapes and sizes, from boutique disco PAs to the massive PAs deployed at any of today's mega festivals and at 61,500-seat stadiums like Soldier Field in Chicago, where the four surviving members of the Dead, including Weir and Lesh, wrapped up a string of farewell shows this weekend to commemorate the band's 50th anniversary."

(Brian Anderson, 2015)

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The untold story of the Grateful Dead's short-lived mega PA, arguably the largest, most technologically innovative sound system ever built.

# data[].attributes.attachment_caption
Dissecting Phil Spector's 'Wall Of Sound' technique

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
The term 'wall of sound' is practically synonymous with the man that coined it: Phil Spector, the infamous musicians, songwriter, and record producer who gave hits like The Ronettes' 'Be My Baby' their signature chime. But how did the wall of sound technique actually function and how was it made? Join us, as we put Spector's famed recording technique under the microscope.

In simple terms, the wall of sound technique is a way of capturing live musicians that embraces chaos and oversaturation. Rather than attempting to record instrumental sections with minimal interference, Spector chose to exploit the sonic qualities of the studio itself, allowing sounds to bounce around the room and blend into a dense sonic mess, rich with complex overtones. People assume that all Spector had to do to achieve the desired effect was to put a couple of mics around the room and get everyone to play as loud as possible, but in reality, it's a great deal more nuanced than that.

As I mentioned, one of the most important aspects of the wall of sound technique was Spector's exploitation of the studio space. As Stan Ross, one of the recording engineers who sat in with Spector during some of his most memorable recording sessions, noted: "The wall of sound is a function of this studio, there's no doubt about it." The studio in question, which would have been packed with instruments and musicians, was fitted with a number of overhead microphones, the signal of which would then be transmitted into the "echo chamber", a basement room fitted with more speakers and microphones. Having saturated in its own feedback, the resulting audio would then be sent back to the live room, where it was sent to the Ampex 350 tape recorder in the control room.

But, according to Ross, it was the sheer number of musicians that really made the wall of sound what it was: "The echo chambers never made the sound acceptable; they enhanced the sound, but the fact that the room was full of musicians - and it is a small room - bounced everything around, so we've got all of this meshing going on, and then you added the chambers to it, and so you got this sound that was a wall - it was a room saturation. We had it all melded together in the room. And of course, there was one other ingredient that made it the wall of sound, a minor ingredient, but still meaningful, and that's Phil Spector."

Famed for his perfectionism, Phil Spector liked to spend a long time rehearsing with session musicians before he even pressed record, sometimes for several hours. As Ross recalled: "All of that time would be spent with the musicians playing and Phil listening. And one of the theories that I've evolved is that the reason he did it so long was that he wanted the musicians to be tired so that they lost their individualism." It was this same technique (if it was indeed intentional) that Spector used when he recorded 'Be My Baby'.

Nino Tempo, who sat in with Spector during The Ronettes' session remembered how: "I was out of the room and the musicians were playing, and there were a lot of mistakes out there, there were a lot of imperfections out there. And I thought 'oh boy, they sure haven't got this' - you've got a roomful of 36 guys and half of them are making mistakes. And I thought 'how's he ever gonna make this into a smash?' But then I walked back into the booth and Phil said: 'wait until you hear what I've got.' And I heard it coming back and it was a miracle, it was glorious. And I said 'but I just heard a bunch of mistakes' and he says 'never mind what's really out there, listen to what I've got out here.' And that's where the magic came: between the wires and the booth, Phil got magic."

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Dissecting Phil Spector's 'Wall Of Sound' technique

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The term 'wall of sound' is practically synonymous with the man that coined it, Phil Spector. But how does this legendary recording technique actually work?

# data[].attributes.attachment_caption
Classic Single Coil Pick Ups as used in Fender Stratocaster Guitars

# data[].attributes.attachment_caption
Dissecting Phil Spector's 'Wall Of Sound' technique

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
The term 'wall of sound' is practically synonymous with the man that coined it: Phil Spector, the infamous musicians, songwriter, and record producer who gave hits like The Ronettes' 'Be My Baby' their signature chime. But how did the wall of sound technique actually function and how was it made? Join us, as we put Spector's famed recording technique under the microscope.

In simple terms, the wall of sound technique is a way of capturing live musicians that embraces chaos and oversaturation. Rather than attempting to record instrumental sections with minimal interference, Spector chose to exploit the sonic qualities of the studio itself, allowing sounds to bounce around the room and blend into a dense sonic mess, rich with complex overtones. People assume that all Spector had to do to achieve the desired effect was to put a couple of mics around the room and get everyone to play as loud as possible, but in reality, it's a great deal more nuanced than that.

As I mentioned, one of the most important aspects of the wall of sound technique was Spector's exploitation of the studio space. As Stan Ross, one of the recording engineers who sat in with Spector during some of his most memorable recording sessions, noted: "The wall of sound is a function of this studio, there's no doubt about it." The studio in question, which would have been packed with instruments and musicians, was fitted with a number of overhead microphones, the signal of which would then be transmitted into the "echo chamber", a basement room fitted with more speakers and microphones. Having saturated in its own feedback, the resulting audio would then be sent back to the live room, where it was sent to the Ampex 350 tape recorder in the control room.

But, according to Ross, it was the sheer number of musicians that really made the wall of sound what it was: "The echo chambers never made the sound acceptable; they enhanced the sound, but the fact that the room was full of musicians - and it is a small room - bounced everything around, so we've got all of this meshing going on, and then you added the chambers to it, and so you got this sound that was a wall - it was a room saturation. We had it all melded together in the room. And of course, there was one other ingredient that made it the wall of sound, a minor ingredient, but still meaningful, and that's Phil Spector."

Famed for his perfectionism, Phil Spector liked to spend a long time rehearsing with session musicians before he even pressed record, sometimes for several hours. As Ross recalled: "All of that time would be spent with the musicians playing and Phil listening. And one of the theories that I've evolved is that the reason he did it so long was that he wanted the musicians to be tired so that they lost their individualism." It was this same technique (if it was indeed intentional) that Spector used when he recorded 'Be My Baby'.

Nino Tempo, who sat in with Spector during The Ronettes' session remembered how: "I was out of the room and the musicians were playing, and there were a lot of mistakes out there, there were a lot of imperfections out there. And I thought 'oh boy, they sure haven't got this' - you've got a roomful of 36 guys and half of them are making mistakes. And I thought 'how's he ever gonna make this into a smash?' But then I walked back into the booth and Phil said: 'wait until you hear what I've got.' And I heard it coming back and it was a miracle, it was glorious. And I said 'but I just heard a bunch of mistakes' and he says 'never mind what's really out there, listen to what I've got out here.' And that's where the magic came: between the wires and the booth, Phil got magic."

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Dissecting Phil Spector's 'Wall Of Sound' technique

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
The term 'wall of sound' is practically synonymous with the man that coined it, Phil Spector. But how does this legendary recording technique actually work?

# data[].attributes.headline
WALL OF SOUND  :  WALL OF SILENCE                     The Experiment 

# data[].attributes.subject
WALL OF SOUND  :  WALL OF SILENCE                     The Experiment 

# data[].attributes.body
https://youtu.be/nv9Qags1slw?si=6MOF_rZLKYmA5mGv

# data[].attributes.headline
Marshall 4x12” Cabinet (each cab contains 4x12” speakers 

# data[].attributes.subject
Marshall 4x12” Cabinet (each cab contains 4x12” speakers 

# data[].attributes.body
https://youtu.be/4yxa3_ZSQn0?si=KLCno3P_LZPzZtiW

# data[].attributes.body
https://youtu.be/-OprcP_SWv8?si=W-2q867etldWANbx

# data[].attributes.body
https://youtu.be/LS_NMSnMOus?si=dia-b89sEKDy6tLH

# data[].attributes.attachment_caption
Jimi Hendrix in a classic demonstration of using the guitar with it’s pick ups facing the speakers along with the use of high volume = Feedback 

# data[].attributes.headline
Jimi Hendrix creating feedback at at the Monterey Pop festival 1967

# data[].attributes.subject
Jimi Hendrix creating feedback at at the Monterey Pop festival 1967

# data[].attributes.attachment_caption
The famous iconic guitar that belonged to Rory Gallagher 

# data[].attributes.body
https://youtu.be/29W0AE_hfVw?si=nZyvEXApfdDy940s

# data[].attributes.body
Wall Of Marshall Stacks by Jim Marshall
Marshall 100watt Amplifier heads using 4xEL34 Valves + Speakers in cabinets. Each Stack is comprised of 1 Amplifier 2 Marshall Cabinets containing 4x12” Marshall Celestian speakers. = 1 angled top cab + straight bottom cab (1960a)top
1960b = bottom

# data[].attributes.body
https://youtu.be/JMyoT3kQMTg?si=MiK6wNgg7cbR0Nug

# data[].attributes.body
https://youtu.be/8RW3_wiXpeU?si=SIvGhPcgE9WMYTKT

# data[].attributes.body
https://youtu.be/x-pw_uqq4Ao?si=0ZA8wrarYh2d0MGu

# data[].attributes.body
As used in guitar and JC800 Marshall 100 watt valve amp
https://youtu.be/G0NtdPhGZ7k?feature=shared

# data[].attributes.attachment_caption
This is a modern reproduction of The Jimi Hendrix Monterey Stratocaster 

# data[].attributes.headline
Fender Stratocaster 1960s  version as used by Jimi Hendrix 

# data[].attributes.subject
Fender Stratocaster 1960s  version as used by Jimi Hendrix 

# data[].attributes.body
https://youtu.be/eq9H_nZK-Q4?si=K4mqWhATjyCgfH1h

# data[].attributes.body
Wall Of Silence = wall of silent Projections

# data[].attributes.attachment_caption
Tape  echo unit by Charlie Watkins (WEM)

# data[].attributes.body
https://youtu.be/C7inyUhMJPE?si=Jh_F7kaoDCo5stJz

# data[].attributes.body
• .........................................................................
Remake Of Wall Of Sound : Wall Of Silence
............................................................................

# data[].attributes.body
"Music has been studied for literally thousands of years – Pythagoras worked out a tuning system based on the perfect fifth, whose two notes have a frequency ratio of 3:2, and the octave, where the frequency ratio is 2:1. Over the last 70 years or so, there has been growing academic interest in the relationship between music and emotion."

(Zoe Nendick, 2022)

https://www.bps.org.uk/psychologist/how-does-music-make-you-feel

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Music is a significant part of the everyday lives of many of us - whether you actively choose to listen to it while walking or cooking dinner, or you hear it on the radio, TV or in the background in shops or restaurants. Music can be very powerful. Many of us have put on our favourite song and immediately felt better, or heard a song that made us want to dance, relax, explore, or even cry. How do we choose what to listen to? Why do certain passages of music make us feel a certain way? Can music be inherently happy or sad? Does everyone feel the same when they listen to the same piece of music?

I began to ask these questions when I studied A-level music. I was taught how to harmonise chorales (short, hymn-like passages of music in four parts) in the style of Bach, following various 'rules' such as 'don't double the third' and 'the seventh must always be followed by the tonic'. An even more fundamental 'rule' I learned while growing up was that major music sounds happy and minor music sounds sad. This is probably familiar to you, and I took it for granted until I began to question it in school. I ended up following this curiosity and making music perception the subject of my Extended Project Qualification (EPQ) essay in sixth form, in which I asked to what extent our perception of music is determined by our culture (answer: probably quite a lot).

When I started my music degree, I applied this way of thinking about music - in terms of the emotions it evokes - to all of my work. In my first year, I chose to write an essay about how the music of two Radiohead songs reflected the emotional content of the lyrics, and in my second year I looked at the emotion and meaning behind Muse's album, Drones. (If you haven't listened to the title track of this album, I thoroughly recommend it - I wrote a 4000-word essay in my third year just about that song!)

It wasn't until my final year that I managed to really immerse myself in the field of music and emotion through my dissertation.

From theories to framework

I considered the role of individual differences in determining our emotional response to a piece of music. Most of us will have memories attached to some songs, perhaps of a specific event or period of time, or about a person or place, and these can have a strong impact on how a song makes us feel (Belfi et al., 2016). I also discussed the effects of the listening context on our emotional response - in particular, our mood at the time of listening (e.g. Hunter et al., 2011). I have since discovered that the enjoyment of music is associated with reward areas in the brain. For example, musical 'chills' - highly pleasurable responses to music - have been associated with activity in the ventral striatum, amygdala, and medial prefrontal cortex (Blood & Zatorre, 2001), and the nucleus accumbens (Salimpoor et al., 2011).

Music has been studied for literally thousands of years - Pythagoras worked out a tuning system based on the perfect fifth, whose two notes have a frequency ratio of 3:2, and the octave, where the frequency ratio is 2:1. Over the last 70 years or so, there has been growing academic interest in the relationship between music and emotion - one of the most significant earlier works being Leonard Meyer's book, Emotion and Meaning in Music (1956). Meyer proposed that we feel emotions in response to the harmonic progressions of the music, and to the extent each note or chord fulfils our expectations. A number of theories have since been proposed to explain how music induces emotions in the listener, and to develop Meyer's theory (e.g. Steinbeis et al., 2006). For my dissertation, I focused on the work of Patrik Juslin and his team, who have attempted to draw together a number of different theories in one framework.

Juslin is currently one of the leading researchers in the field of emotional responses to music, and I was particularly inspired by his work of the last 20 years or so. In his book Musical Emotions Explained (2019), he notes that, as well as generally focusing on Western classical music (Eerola & Vuoskoski, 2013), which does not necessarily represent the musical interests of most Western listeners, music psychologists have previously lacked a theoretical framework of psychological mechanisms underlying emotional responses to music, with which to guide empirical research. This has formed a key part of the research of Juslin and his colleagues, many of whom work at the University of Uppsala, Sweden. Music-induced emotions are thought to arise as a result of a complex interaction between the listener, the music, and the situation (Juslin, 2011), and a theoretical framework has now been developed by Juslin and colleagues to explain how music induces emotions, known as the BRECVEMA framework (Juslin & Västfjäll, 2008; Juslin, 2013). BRECVEMA is an acronym for eight psychological mechanisms, in the order in which they are theorised to have developed throughout evolution (see box).

An evolving area

The study of music-induced emotions using the BRECVEMA framework is at a very early stage, and there is much scope for further research about these mechanisms and their interactions. There is also scope for research about emotional responses to music from the perspective of the personality and individual differences. For example, it is suggested that those higher in neuroticism are more prone to experiencing nostalgia when listening to music than those lower in this trait (Barrett et al., 2010).

Furthermore, a number of factors pertaining to the listening context may affect music-induced emotions. These include external factors relating to the social and physical environment, such as the social context (e.g. Egermann et al., 2011), and whether the music is self-selected (Eerola & Vuoskoski, 2013). There are also internal factors, such as the listener's emotional state (e.g. Hunter et al., 2011), their attentiveness to the music (e.g. Sagha et al., 2015), and listening motives (Juslin & Laukka, 2004).

As our means of music consumption continue to evolve, it will be interesting to see how research progresses. Think about how you primarily listen to music now compared to 10, 20, or 30 years ago - many of us now use streaming services such as Spotify or Apple Music. These are full of playlists created for specific moods and genres or based on specific artists; the songs we listen to can be chosen for us. While this is not a new concept in the digital age - songs played on the radio have been chosen for us for decades - streaming services have made this process more personalised and automatic. Spotify even creates a playlist based on any one song. We can listen to a huge number of artists and songs, sometimes just once and never again. There is no longer the need to make a deliberate choice to purchase a specific CD by a specific artist. Listening to music in this way may impact how connected we feel to the artist. I have some playlists with hundreds of songs, and I would struggle to name the artists of some songs just by listening, even though I may have listened to them ten or so times. Of course, there are individual differences in how we choose what to listen to, but it is interesting to think about how this might have changed for you over time.

Applying music

The study of emotional responses to music is closely linked to the field of music therapy. The ability to predict the emotional effects of certain styles or features of music can inform the practice of music therapists. For example, major music seems to be more effective at relieving stress than minor music (Suda et al., 2008). Music's ability to evoke autobiographical memories has also been used in music therapy, for example to improve memory recall in people with Alzheimer's disease (Fraile et al., 2019). Music can also have pain-relieving effects for individuals recovering from surgery (see Finn & Fancourt, 2018, for a review).

There is also a less benign side to music and emotion research - its uses in consumer behaviour. There are the obvious uses of this research such as by Spotify to generate personalised playlists. But background music can affect consumption at the levels of cognition, emotion and behaviour (see Jain & Bagdare, 2011 for a review). Music is also used in advertising for several purposes, including to facilitate implicit learning of the advert (e.g. Alexomanolaki et al., 2007).

But music does not cause significant emotional responses in everyone. People who derive very little or no pleasure from listening to music are said to have music anhedonia. They can still perceive the fundamentals of the music, such as the key and harmonic progression (Satoh et al., 2011). Congenital music anhedonia is estimated to occur in approximately 5 per cent of the general population (Mas-Herrero et al., 2013), whereas acquired music anhedonia is limited to just a handful of case reports (e.g. Griffiths et al., 2004). At the other end of the scale is musicophilia, where people derive an unusually high amount of pleasure from listening to music (Mas-Herrero et al., 2013).

Now, over to you. Why not think about your music listening habits and choices as you go about your day. How do you choose what to listen to? What emotions or memories does it evoke? What is it about the music that makes you feel this way? Does a particular song always make you feel the same way? Perhaps you will notice something you hadn't before.
Zoe Nendick completed a MSc Psychology (conversion) at the University of Nottingham in 2021, and now works with London Youth Choirs.
References

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Zoe Nendick discusses the link between music and emotion.

# data[].attributes.body
"His creative use of the tools at his disposal set a precedent for tone crafting and sonic texturing that countless numbers of players continue to pursue today. Hendrix was able to vary his tones in seemingly endless ways that fail to sound dated decades later. With equal parts sonic braggadocio and understated elegance, Hendrix used his hands, his instrument, his effects, and most importantly his ears to concoct a brilliant synergy of sound and song rarely, if ever, equaled.

...

With a Fuzz Face® Distortion, Hendrix could elicit an endless variety of tones by using different pickup combinations, manipulating his guitar’s volume control, and picking at different areas of a string. This unruly stompbox not only gave him a full-on primal howl with its burly, fat-sounding fuzz tones—it afforded him remarkably detailed clean textures as well."

(Dunlop, 2017)

https://lifestyle.jimdunlop.com/the-sonic-synergy-of-jimi-hendrix/

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
With a Fuzz Face ® Distortion, Hendrix could elicit an endless variety of tones by using different pickup combinations, manipulating his guitar's volume control, and picking at different areas of a string. This unruly stompbox not only gave him a full-on primal howl with its burly, fat-sounding fuzz tones-it afforded him remarkably detailed clean textures as well.

The Are You Experienced album remains a shining example of Hendrix's ingenious use of the effect. The song "Manic Depression," for example, has Hendrix veer in and out of grainy yet-almost-twangy tones during the verses only to go to full-on meltdown during the solo with howling sustain and thick-as-a-brick midrange. By backing down his guitar's volume control, Hendrix used the exaggerated treble bite and hyper-sensitive attack the Fuzz Face Distortion offers to enhance clean tones and make them really speak. Another example of this sonic yin-yang is, among others, "Third Stone from the Sun," as it features some amazingly jangly chordal work as well as the insane sonic equivalent of WWIII, all achieved with help from the Fuzz Face Distortion.

Over the course of '69 & '70, Jimi Hendrix played several famous shows using a particular Fuzz Face Distortion, red with white knobs, that sounded completely different from the others in his arsenal. Whereas standard Fuzz Face Distortions tend to sound smooth and girthy-to varying degrees, depending on the transistor, of course-this mysterious pedal was snarling and aggressive in character.

The song "Machine Gun" from Band of Gypsys and the rendition of "The Star-Spangled Banner" from Woodstock demonstrate the uniquely biting tones of this particular Fuzz Face Distortion. In both examples, Hendrix combined the fuzz effect with his Uni-Vibe Chorus/Vibrato to imbue his notes with an ethereal chainsaw quality.

That mysterious prototype has been lost to history, but our engineers pored tirelessly over all of the different customized circuit designs Jimi used over the years. They narrowed it down to a version of the Octavio® circuit that didn't have the octave up signal. After making a few tweaks, they nailed the elusive sound heard on the aforementioned live recordings. For this series, we have dubbed it the Gypsy ™ Fuzz.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
The Sonic Synergy of Jimi Hendrix - Lifestyle - Dunlop

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
In 1967, the Jimi Hendrix Experience made its first major American appearance at the legendary Monterey Pop Festival. Jimi Hendrix demonstrated his almost supernatural mastery of the electric guitar, punctuating the performance by setting his guitar on fire, swinging it wildly around and smashing it on the stage floor.

# data[].attributes.body
https://www.nme.com/blogs/nme-blogs/brighton-festival-fills-a-church-with-the-eternal-howl-of-lou-reed-s-guitars-764295

# data[].attributes.attachment_caption
Brighton Festival Fills A Church With The Eternal Howl Of Lou Reed's Guitars

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Approaching St Mark's Chapel, a 19th century church in the east end of Brighton, a low rumbling note begins to filter its way in among the noise of the busy hospital traffic nearby. As you head up the church drive, the frequency grows rapidly louder, increasing to a roar, as if St Mark's is possessed by an electric spirit from a 1970s horror movie.

In a sense, it is. For the fiftieth Brighton Festival, St Mark's (nowadays an arts venue, The Spire) is hosting the UK premiere of Lou Reed Drones, a cacophonous live installation of the late New York musician's guitars and amps, humming to themselves at enormous volume in the afterlife.

This year's Brighton Festival is curated by Reed's widow, the musician, artist and filmmaker Laurie Anderson, and the Drones installation was the idea of Stewart Hurwood, Reed's guitar technician in his later years.

Once inside the church, its windows covered in thick black drapes expect for the sunlight streaming through the stained glass window over the altar, the noise is overpowering. St Mark's has been emptied of pews and in the centre, on a low stage, six of Reed's guitars lean against a semi-circle of his amps, feeding back and droning. A glitterball sparkles overhead. In the centre, Hurwood, in shades and Lou Reed tour t-shirt, makes slow, careful adjustments to the din, increasing one amp's output, decreasing another, creating gradual changes to the immersive guitar hum.

Read More: Lou Reed - A Life In Pictures

Drones and feedback have featured in Reed's work since The Velvet Underground in the '60s, influenced by his early VU colleagues John Cale and Angus MacLise's participation in La Monte Young's Theatre Of Eternal Music Ensemble. While Reed's notorious 1975 album 'Metal Machine Music' consisted of an hour of dense, complex feedback, the sound of Lou Reed Drones is more meditative and hypnotic. Hurwood is presenting the performance for five hours solid, over five days. As Anderson states in the programme notes, it's, "The closest you can now get to Lou's work".

This afternoon when we stop by, there are around two dozen people inside, some standing, some sitting, taking photographs or taking notes, some laid flat on the floor, eyes closed, absorbed in the roar. Even with the essential use of the complimentary ear plugs handed out on the door, within five minutes my hearing is starting to buckle and crackle.

In recent years I've sat through consecutive nights of My Bloody Valentine at their most aggressive and seen a Sunn O))) show so loud my clothes flapped as the volume threatened to strip them from my body. Foolishly I didn't use hearing protection on those occasions, and each time it took several days for my ears to return to normal. Having dodged tinnitus on so many occasions, I'm taking no chances, even with ear plugs.

After 15 powerful minutes, I stumble outside where other attendees are now sprawled on the grass in the sunshine. At least the hospital's next door.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Brighton Festival Fills A Church With The Eternal Howl Of Lou Reed's Guitars

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Approaching St Mark's Chapel, a 19th century church in the east end of Brighton, a low rumbling note begins to filter its way in among the noise of the busy hospital traffic nearby. As you head up the church drive, the frequency grows rapidly louder, increasing to a roar, as if St Mark's is possessed [...]

# data[].attributes.attachment_caption
Brighton Festival Fills A Church With The Eternal Howl Of Lou Reed's Guitars

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.readable_text
Approaching St Mark's Chapel, a 19th century church in the east end of Brighton, a low rumbling note begins to filter its way in among the noise of the busy hospital traffic nearby. As you head up the church drive, the frequency grows rapidly louder, increasing to a roar, as if St Mark's is possessed by an electric spirit from a 1970s horror movie.

In a sense, it is. For the fiftieth Brighton Festival, St Mark's (nowadays an arts venue, The Spire) is hosting the UK premiere of Lou Reed Drones, a cacophonous live installation of the late New York musician's guitars and amps, humming to themselves at enormous volume in the afterlife.

This year's Brighton Festival is curated by Reed's widow, the musician, artist and filmmaker Laurie Anderson, and the Drones installation was the idea of Stewart Hurwood, Reed's guitar technician in his later years.

Once inside the church, its windows covered in thick black drapes expect for the sunlight streaming through the stained glass window over the altar, the noise is overpowering. St Mark's has been emptied of pews and in the centre, on a low stage, six of Reed's guitars lean against a semi-circle of his amps, feeding back and droning. A glitterball sparkles overhead. In the centre, Hurwood, in shades and Lou Reed tour t-shirt, makes slow, careful adjustments to the din, increasing one amp's output, decreasing another, creating gradual changes to the immersive guitar hum.

Read More: Lou Reed - A Life In Pictures

Drones and feedback have featured in Reed's work since The Velvet Underground in the '60s, influenced by his early VU colleagues John Cale and Angus MacLise's participation in La Monte Young's Theatre Of Eternal Music Ensemble. While Reed's notorious 1975 album 'Metal Machine Music' consisted of an hour of dense, complex feedback, the sound of Lou Reed Drones is more meditative and hypnotic. Hurwood is presenting the performance for five hours solid, over five days. As Anderson states in the programme notes, it's, "The closest you can now get to Lou's work".

This afternoon when we stop by, there are around two dozen people inside, some standing, some sitting, taking photographs or taking notes, some laid flat on the floor, eyes closed, absorbed in the roar. Even with the essential use of the complimentary ear plugs handed out on the door, within five minutes my hearing is starting to buckle and crackle.

In recent years I've sat through consecutive nights of My Bloody Valentine at their most aggressive and seen a Sunn O))) show so loud my clothes flapped as the volume threatened to strip them from my body. Foolishly I didn't use hearing protection on those occasions, and each time it took several days for my ears to return to normal. Having dodged tinnitus on so many occasions, I'm taking no chances, even with ear plugs.

After 15 powerful minutes, I stumble outside where other attendees are now sprawled on the grass in the sunshine. At least the hospital's next door.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Brighton Festival Fills A Church With The Eternal Howl Of Lou Reed's Guitars

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.description
Approaching St Mark's Chapel, a 19th century church in the east end of Brighton, a low rumbling note begins to filter its way in among the noise of the busy hospital traffic nearby. As you head up the church drive, the frequency grows rapidly louder, increasing to a roar, as if St Mark's is possessed [...]