Ingenious: Jonathan Berger - Issue 38: Noise

I was electrified by Jonathan Berger's music before I knew he wrote about music. His chamber works arise out of a lightning storm of modernist angles, dramatic and startling, though anchored to melodies that sail like a swallow, as one of his string quartets is called. His one-act operas Theotokia and The War Reporter, performed together in concert, match taut musical brocades to the hallucinations of, respectively, a schizophrenic, hearing voices of various mothers, and a photojournalist, based on Paul Watson, who won the 1994 Pulitzer Prize for his image of the corpse of an American soldier being dragged through the streets of Mogadishu. A few years ago, I read some of Jonathan's academic writing about music, which had a sharp focus on neurology and acoustics. He is a professor of music at Stanford, where he teaches composition, music theory, and cognition at the Center for Computer Research in Music and Acoustics. On a hunch that he could connect with a popular audience, I asked him to write an essay for Nautilus about how composers upend expectations to keep listeners off guard and engaged. That article, "Composing Your Thoughts," and his next one for Nautilus, "How Music Hijacks Our Perception of Time," which contain musical clips to illustrate his points, have been among our most popular articles. There's a certain amount of problem solving that happens in the context of a band of noise. For this month's issue I called Jonathan and was delighted to learn he had thought a lot about noise.