who seemed to listen with the fearless new ears required. It was also very important to me to reveal the sensuality of electronic sound, a feminine paradigm. My compositions were called “Waves,” as in my first album, Seven Waves. Not only was I ideologically attracted to the sea, but I felt the energy of a wave to have a very feminine form, building slowly and then releasing, and this became the compositional shape of my pieces. Also, of course, I got to design my own ocean waves that were specific for each piece. I also wanted my music to create a sense of security, safety, and peacefulness and I felt that the steadiness of the machine could provide the perfect subliminal communication of those feelings. ANP: Advertising music, jingles, et cetera, are typically written off by the higher brow but I’ve always found the whole idea incredible. Songs+sounds are used to manipulate, and even though we’re very often aware of it, their power over us is still very effective, which is quite fascinating. Your selling something, yes, but to chase this essence of something, and to achieve this psychological effect is worth examining. SC: I love the subliminal aspect of advertising…that notion that communication is on unconscious levels. And music and sound are perfect subliminal communicators: I could design a sound that might make you feel thirsty, or cold, or safe, or scared. It was not evil manipulation, but a form of poetry. The sound of a crystal jewel, a crispy potato chip. I do not subscribe to “higher brow” or “lower brow.” It is all apples and oranges. Pointless comparisons. I might write a symphonic score or a logo for Columbia Pictures that is three seconds long. Why compare them? I love all good music, whether pop or classical or ethnic. ANP: You created the sound of bubbles for Coca–Cola. Did you have any ethical dilemmas about doing commercial work or did you see it as a worthy opportunity to explore the instrument? SC: I loved doing commercial work, working in my own artistic bubble. I did refuse to do music for products to which I was morally averse, such as G.I. Joe, a “war” doll for kids. I was fairly unconscious of the real world of advertising, choosing to see each project as an artistic challenge. I also had a nobler purpose in my own mind, earning money to finance my record projects and I never lost sight of that goal. Once I was able to launch my artistic career sufficiently, I quit advertising. ANP: “Paris 1971” meanwhile, or “Lixiviation” suggest a link to other artists like Ariel Kalma or Klaus Schulze, in the case of the former, and Laurie Spiegel or Terry Riley, in the case of the latter. Your scores for the sculptor Ron Mallory and David Wood gave you the opportunity to score more extended pieces. Was there a particular medium you found particularly alluring to score? Did you prefer one type of work over another? SC: I adored writing for dance, but never found as many opportunities as I wished. The abstract film, Lixiviation, that I scored for Ronald Mallory, was a perfect match for me...creating sound to “marry” the image and bring it to life. Working with Harold Paris’ project, Voices of Packaged Souls, was a defining experience for me, exploring the beginnings of sound design, interpreting specific images sonically. The piece called “Paris” (nothing to do with the sculptor) was a type of composition that was an on-going “automatic” composition: I would have the Buchla on day and night and the piece was continuous, dependent on subtle interactions of the modules that were defined and yet random, so that the piece was always new. It required constant “tweaking” to find the right balance of interactions. I once did an installation in the University of California Art Museum with the Buchla generating an ongoing piece. At the time, no one understood where the sound was coming from. They all thought there was some sort of recording being played.
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