Category: Spring 25

The article discusses the importance of human embodied presence in music, emphasizing how both intentional and unintentional “imperfections”—along with the physical movements of musicians—play a crucial role in shaping the “soul” of music.

At first, I found myself wondering the same thing: Does electronic music really have a soul? The perfection in electronic music—precise timing, flawless pitch, and speeds that human musicians cannot physically achieve—often creates a robotic and somewhat inaccessible quality. This seems to contrast with the warmth and expressiveness of human-performed music.

However, as I reflected on my own experiences with techno and electronic music, I realized that we are actually drawn to its cold, half-human, and futuristic aesthetic. As the author describes, it embodies a “disembodied, techno-fetishistic, futuristic ideal.” In this sense, electronic music’s unique identity is not about replicating human imperfection but about embracing a different kind of artistic expression.

The evolution of electronic music challenges us to rethink the essence of musical “soul.” Does music require human musicians physically playing instruments to be considered soulful? Ultimately, both electronic sounds and traditional instruments are merely mediums for artistic expression. Defining musical soul solely based on the medium—whether electronic or acoustic—seems arbitrary. If digital music is purely “cold,” does that mean instrument is purely”warm”?

Even when electronic music fully embraces mechanical perfection, it can still be deeply expressive, depending on how the artist uses it. As I mentioned earlier, techno and other electronic genres transform cold precision into something deeply moving. The soul of music does not come from imperfection alone, but from the wild and imaginative ideas of the artist. Rather than rigidly defining musical soul based on how “human” a sound is, we should recognize that it is the artist’s vision that gives music its depth, emotion, and meaning.

P.S. When I was reading through the “backbeat” part and the microscopic line about the snare drum always played slightly later than the midpoint between two consecutive pulses, I tried to replicate the rhythm in Tidal (Not sure if it’s right but sounds so). Then I searched on Youtube about the drummer playing Backbeat. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to hear the tiny time difference between the two. Maybe I would need more listening training for this:)

d1 $ stack [
    s "bd ~ sn ~ bd bd sn ~",
    s "hh*8"
] # room 0.3

Learning that groove is at the center of West African and African-American music and how it plays a critical role in giving “perception of a human, steady pulse in a musical performance” made me think that this might be the genre I’ll look into for when I’m creating music for our own live performance. As a dancer myself, I’d love to make the audience feel the urge to just break into a dance while they listen to our rhythm. It was interesting how altering such small details can completely change the nuance of the music, there wasn’t a lot of things to say or do.

The fact that the backbeat is presumed to be “some very ancient human musical behavior” that was one of the earliest musical attempts of humankind and that we’re still using it as the backbone of our music compositions after all these years made me wonder if having a backbeat is crucial for all types of music, or whether it can be omitted by choice. Is the reason why it sustained for this long solely due to it being a necessity in creating music, or is it because it’s helpful/personal choice of style/etc.?

Finally, the comment about the current music industries and how “rather convincing electronic tracks have replaced the drummer” in recorded tracks made me remember a question I’ve been harboring for a long time. I’ve always wondered whether the strings/orchestra in the background of songs were live recorded backtracks, or whether they were just electric keyboard synthesizers with keys that mimic the sound of strings playing. I just thought that using simple keyboards would save the musician’s budget by a lot more compared to hiring a live ensemble, and whether we’d be able to tell the difference between the two because nowadays, technology has evolved to the point where the tracks it produces are “rather convincing,” as the writer claims.

p.s. Here’s just a quote that I thought was really powerful — I wanted to write it here so that I’ll keep this in mind as I produce projects in the future. “For what is soul in music, if not a powerfully embodied human presence?”

I thought that the reading’s mention of how live coding is all about opening up rather than being exclusive was spot on with what I thought live coding was. Looking at the performance during my freshmen year, I felt included, almost as if I was part of the musical masterpiece that they were crafting right before my eyes because I could see the entire process of their codes, step by step. And I remember the anticipation, the thrill, as I predicted what was going to happen now — the beat might drop at this moment, or the visuals might change this way, etc. And I think this is what I want to replicate for the audience through my performance by the end of this semester as well, because a big part of live coding “involves showing the screen or making visible the coding process as part of a live performance.” So if the audience isn’t incorporated into my performance, then I believe it decreases the unique and special experience of the audience significantly.

I also liked how similar live coding is to what I think Interactive Media is as well because, in the center of live coding, there’s an element of exchanged feedback from the audience and the coders/performers, as well as being expressive, free, and being present at the moment, which is what I believe Interactive Media artworks strive to be. While there definitely is a rough guideline from the performers’ part, it’s always up for changes based on how the audience interacts and is feeling at the moment, thus adding a sprinkle of spontaneity by capturing the moment that the performance is being held in.

Oftentimes, people are curious to know what the codes look like, what go into the process of coding, and everything in-between. The transparency of codes that live coding provides gives us a new framework to think about coding itself. The act becomes less of a gatekept activity that only professionals can understand and more of a public display of the logic necessary for programmers to build code-based materials. Live coding clearly conveys the sense of logic being carried out and the sense of communication between live programmers. The art helps bridge the gap between arts and programming, between viewers and computer engineers.

Software engineering or computer science as a practice teaches us to keep code abstracted and encapsulated for it to be production ready. While the average college coding assignment will be in one file with a large amount of ‘cout>>”here”; ‘s or ‘printf(“heree2”);’s humanising the the otherwise cold language of computers, code bases in the industry are surprisingly bland.

The existence of Live coding is an attempt of liberating the tool that we use to interact with computers. It is also an attempt at regaining the autonomy over the the strict regimes and practices we have established for communicating through computers. In a sense, the Turing Complete User definition established in the text diminishes with every iteration that a thought goes through a computer.

Furthermore the level of transparency in the process of creating the work in Live coding adds to its punk nature, as it tries to combat the encapsulated and abstracted, product oriented nature of software and code we have been accustomed to. In addition the novelty of using code, in contrast to other mediums of electronic artistic expression is a largely refreshing one.

The concept of live coding, as presented in the text, feels both exciting and deeply relevant to my experiences as a computer science and math double major. The idea of writing and modifying code in real time, while making the process visible to an audience, challenges the traditional view of programming as a solitary or rigid task. Instead, it reframes coding as an improvisational and collaborative act, which resonates with how I often approach problem-solving—iteratively and creatively.

What stands out to me is how live coding emphasizes “thinking in public.” As someone familiar with AI due to my major, this reminds me of the iterative nature of training models: experimenting, adapting, and learning from feedback. Similarly, live coding invites a dialogue between the coder, the machine, and the audience. The notion of making algorithms “strange” also intrigues me—it’s a reminder to question assumptions and explore new perspectives, something I value in both my technical and mathematical work.

Ultimately, live coding feels like a bridge between technical rigor and artistic expression. It inspires me to think about how my skills could be used not just to solve problems but to create meaningful, interactive experiences that push the boundaries of what technology can do.

Live coding challenges conventional views of coding and technology by making the process transparent, participatory, and creative. Live coding is a real-time creative and performative coding practice. It involves writing, modifying, and displaying code as it runs, blending improvisation, transparency, and audience participation.

What I find really interesting and revolutionary about live coding is that it breaks down the stigma of coding as a difficult and ‘elite’ skill by showcasing every line of code and its immediate impact, making it accessible and understandable. This openness makes live coding a welcoming platform where the process is as important as the outcome, inviting people to see coding as a more approachable and less intimidating practice.

By making coding visible in real time, live coding deconstructs the complexity often associated with it, proving that it’s not as hard or impossible as it may seem at first glance. This can also can dismantle barriers for people who feel alienated by traditional programming. It’s not just a performance art—it’s an act of empowerment, inviting people of all backgrounds to participate and experiment without fear of failure. In this way, live coding not only challenges conventional views of coding but also reimagines it as a deeply human and inclusive practice. Furthermore, the emphasis on process over product challenges traditional notions of technological perfectionism, where polished outcomes often obscure the creative messiness behind them. Instead, live coding celebrates imperfection, failure, and experimentation.