David Behrman - 1978 - On the Other Ocean

David Behrman

1978

On the Other Ocean

01. On The Other Ocean         23:30

02. Figure In A Clearing         19:12

David Behrman - Electronics

Bassoon – Arthur Stidfole (1)

Flute – Maggi Payne (1)

Cello – David Gibson (2)

Track A recorded at the Recording Studio, Center for Contemporary Music, Mills College (Oakland, California), Sept. 18, 1977; Track B recorded at the Electronic Music Studio, State University of New York at Albany, June 9, 1977.

David Behrman (born August 16, 1937, in New York City) is an American composer, electronic music pioneer, and educator whose work has shaped the experimental landscape since the 1960s. Born to playwright S. N. Behrman and Elza Heifetz Behrman (sister of violinist Jascha Heifetz), he grew up steeped in culture, studying at Phillips Academy alongside future artists like Carl Andre. After earning degrees from Harvard and Columbia, Behrman dove into New York’s avant-garde scene, producing Columbia’s Music of Our Time series, including Terry Riley’s seminal In C.

In 1966, he co-founded the Sonic Arts Union with Robert Ashley, Alvin Lucier, and Gordon Mumma, creating performances that blended electronics with live elements. His compositions for Merce Cunningham’s dances—Walkaround Time (1968), Rebus (1975), Pictures (1984)—showcased his knack for integrating sound with movement. On the Other Ocean (1978), his debut album, marked a leap into computer music, using the KIM-1 microcomputer to interact with performers, a thread continued in works like Interspecies Small Talk and My Dear Siegfried. Behrman’s software designs, often collaborative, prioritize accessibility, letting non-experts engage with complex systems.

A minimalist at heart, Behrman’s music emphasizes interaction over imposition, earning him accolades like the 1994 Foundation for Contemporary Arts Grant. Married to media artist Terri Hanlon since 1979, he lives in New York City, still tinkering with sounds that bridge human and machine. He’s the kind of composer who’d rather let a computer hum along than steal the spotlight—lucky for us, his humility makes music that speaks volumes.

David Behrman’s On the Other Ocean, released in 1978 by Lovely Music, Ltd., stands as a pioneering work in the realm of computer music, blending live acoustic performance with early microcomputer technology in a way that feels both visionary and deeply human. Featuring two extended pieces—“On the Other Ocean” and “Figure in a Clearing”—the album showcases Behrman’s innovative use of a KIM-1 microcomputer to interact with live musicians, creating a dialogue between human intuition and machine responsiveness. This long-form analysis will explore the album’s musical structure, technological innovations, historical context, and artistic significance, offering a critical review of its enduring impact. A concise biography of Behrman follows, grounding the music in his multifaceted career. Written with scholarly rigor yet accessible prose, the piece includes a touch of wit—because even avant-garde electronics deserve a gentle nudge now and then.

By 1978, David Behrman was already a respected figure in experimental music, having co-founded the Sonic Arts Union and produced groundbreaking records for Columbia’s Music of Our Time series. The late 1970s were a fertile period for electronic music, with composers like John Cage and Alvin Lucier pushing boundaries, while affordable microcomputers like the KIM-1 (introduced in 1976) democratized access to digital processing. Behrman, ever the tinkerer, saw the KIM-1 not as a cold tool but as a musical partner, capable of “listening” to live performers and responding with harmonic shifts. On the Other Ocean emerged from this vision, recorded in two sessions: “Figure in a Clearing” on June 9, 1977, at the Electronic Music Studio at the State University of New York at Albany, and “On the Other Ocean” on September 18, 1977, at the Center for Contemporary Music at Mills College in Oakland, California.

The album was one of Lovely Music’s first releases, a label dedicated to experimental sounds, and its production—engineered by “Blue” Gene Tyranny and Richard Lainhart—captures the delicate interplay of acoustic and electronic elements. Behrman’s collaborators—Maggi Payne (flute), Arthur Stidfole (bassoon), and David Gibson (cello)—were chosen for their improvisational skill, creating a trio (or solo, in Gibson’s case) that could engage with the computer’s responses in real time. The result is an album that feels like a conversation across species—human and machine, organic and synthetic—conducted with curiosity and mutual respect, as if they’re all just trying to figure each other out over a cup of cosmic tea.

On the Other Ocean consists of two tracks, each around 20–24 minutes, designed as immersive soundscapes rather than conventional compositions. Both pieces use the KIM-1 microcomputer to detect specific pitches played by the musicians, triggering harmonic changes in two handmade synthesizers. The music unfolds organically, guided by minimal scores (lists of pitches) and the performers’ improvisational responses to the computer’s output.

“On the Other Ocean”

The title track, clocking in at approximately 24 minutes, features Maggi Payne on flute and Arthur Stidfole on bassoon, with Behrman operating the electronics and KIM-1. The piece is built around six pitches, which, when played, activate the computer’s pitch-sensing circuits. The KIM-1 then sends harmony-changing messages to the synthesizers, creating a shifting electronic backdrop that responds to the musicians’ choices. Payne’s flute opens with long, breathy tones, her phrasing delicate yet deliberate, like a bird calling across a misty lake. Stidfole’s bassoon answers with lush, sustained notes, its reedy timbre adding a grounding warmth. The synthesizers hum and glide, their tones ranging from soft pulses to shimmering drones, reacting to the acoustic pitches with a delay that feels almost thoughtful—like a friend pausing to consider your point before replying.

The interplay is hypnotic, with Payne and Stidfole hovering around the prescribed pitches, sometimes holding notes for delectably long durations, as if daring the computer to catch up. The KIM-1’s responses are not always predictable; at one point, it swoops to a new harmony with a clunky elegance, described by critic Andy Beta as “like a kid cannonballing into a pool.” This moment, around the 10-minute mark, sparks a subtle shift, with Payne’s flute growing more melodic and Stidfole’s bassoon exploring lower registers. The track’s structure is fluid, with no clear beginning, middle, or end—rather, it ebbs and flows like waves (hence the oceanic title), each cycle revealing new textures. The music is serene yet dynamic, a slow-motion game of tag where no one’s in a rush to win. It’s ambient in spirit but too interactive to fade into the background, demanding attention like a quiet but captivating storyteller.

“Figure in a Clearing”

The second track, recorded earlier at 19:34, features David Gibson on cello, with Behrman again on electronics and KIM-1. This piece, Behrman’s first to use a computer for music, employs a program that varies chord-change intervals based on a model of a satellite in elliptical orbit—a concept that sounds like it escaped from a sci-fi novel but translates into a dreamy, unpredictable rhythm. Gibson’s cello is the star, its rich, resonant tones blending seamlessly with the synthesizers’ triangle waves. He plays from a “score” of six pitches, instructed not to speed up when the computer does, creating a tension between human steadiness and machine variability.

Gibson’s performance is both concentrated and eloquent, his bow work producing timbres that range from mournful to luminous. Around the 5-minute mark, the KIM-1 pushes the pace, its chords shifting more rapidly, like a satellite gaining momentum. Gibson responds with measured restraint, his phrases long and lyrical, as if anchoring the machine’s enthusiasm. The synthesizers’ tones are busier here than in “On the Other Ocean,” with a metallic sheen that contrasts the cello’s warmth—think of it as a conversation between a poet and a slightly overeager robot. By the 15-minute mark, a stasis emerges, the cello and electronics settling into a meditative groove that feels both eternal and fleeting. The track’s dreaminess, as noted in the liner notes, resists analytical counting, inviting listeners to simply float in its orbit. It’s a singular experience, less structured than its counterpart but equally immersive, like wandering through a forest and stumbling on a glowing clearing.

On the Other Ocean is a landmark in computer music, not for its complexity but for its humanity. Behrman’s use of the KIM-1—a $200 microcomputer dwarfed by today’s smartphones—was revolutionary in 1977, when computers were still rare in music outside academic labs. Unlike tape-based electronic works or fully automated systems, Behrman’s setup allowed real-time interaction, with the KIM-1 “listening” to pitches via custom pitch-sensing circuits and responding through handmade synthesizers. This interactivity, described by Tom Johnson in The Village Voice as “humans and electronic sound equipment communicating with spontaneity and intelligence,” was a bold step toward integrating technology with live performance.

Musically, the album bridges minimalism, ambient, and electroacoustic traditions. The six-pitch framework recalls Terry Riley’s In C, which Behrman produced, but the improvisational freedom and electronic responses set it apart. Payne, Stidfole, and Gibson bring acoustic warmth, their instruments’ timbres grounding the synthesizers’ abstract tones. The KIM-1’s harmonic shifts are simple—sustained chords, drones—but their timing and choice create a sense of agency, as if the machine has a personality, albeit a slightly quirky one. The album’s texture is diaphanous, with layers that shimmer and dissolve, yet it retains a compositional integrity that avoids aimless meandering.

Technically, the recording is pristine for its era, capturing the delicate interplay of flute, bassoon, cello, and electronics without muddiness. The production avoids over-reverberation, letting each sound breathe—credit to engineers Tyranny and Lainhart. One critique might be the album’s monochromatic pace; both tracks unfold slowly, which can test listeners expecting more dynamic shifts. Yet this deliberateness is intentional, aligning with Behrman’s goal of creating “works that have personalities, distinct yet open to surprising changes.” The vinyl’s quiet pressing (though some reissues suffered warps) enhances the intimacy, like listening to a private experiment in your living room.

In 1978, electronic music was diversifying. Punk and disco dominated popular culture, while experimentalists like Brian Eno explored ambient textures and Steve Reich refined minimalism. On the Other Ocean carved a unique niche, neither pop nor purely academic, blending the avant-garde with an accessible serenity. Its release on Lovely Music, alongside works by Robert Ashley and Lucier, positioned it within a burgeoning experimental scene, though its Japanese distribution limited initial U.S. reach. The album’s use of a microcomputer was prescient, predating the digital revolution in music production—think Pro Tools or Auto-Tune—by decades. As Andy Beta notes in Pitchfork, it suggests “a parallel world, a path not taken,” where technology serves human connection rather than automation.

Culturally, the album resonates with the 1970s’ fascination with technology’s potential to expand consciousness, akin to early sci-fi or meditation movements. Its serene mood offered a counterpoint to the era’s noise, a “solitude that could be a universal treasure,” as Behrman told critic John Rockwell. Its influence extends to ambient pioneers like Eno, who admired Lovely Music’s catalog, and modern composers like Oneohtrix Point Never, whose Influences playlist includes Behrman. Choreographer Molissa Fenley used both tracks in her work, underscoring their evocative power, while artists like Robin Pecknold have cited “On the Other Ocean” as a personal touchstone.

Critically, the album has grown in stature. Pitchfork’s 9.0 for the 2019 reissue praised its optimism, while Exclaim!’s Nilan Perera called it “sonic bliss.” Some listeners, however, find it too safe, lacking the visceral edge of, say, Lucier’s I Am Sitting in a Room—a fair point if you’re craving drama over drift. Yet its subtlety is its strength, a quiet revolution that invites contemplation over confrontation, influencing fields from ambient music to interactive installations.

On the Other Ocean is a remarkable achievement, a record that marries technological innovation with emotional resonance. Behrman’s KIM-1 system, primitive by today’s standards, feels alive, its harmonic responses a gentle nudge to Payne, Stidfole, and Gibson’s improvisations. The musicians shine—Payne’s flute ethereal, Stidfole’s bassoon soulful, Gibson’s cello profound—while the synthesizers add a futuristic glow without dominating. The album’s two tracks are immersive journeys, serene yet surprising, like sailing on a sea where the waves have their own ideas.

Its pacing may challenge some—40 minutes of slow unfolding isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and the lack of dramatic peaks can feel like a long exhale. But this is by design, a meditative space where listeners can lose themselves in texture and interplay. Compared to Behrman’s later works like Leapday Night, it’s less polished but more raw, capturing the thrill of a new frontier. For fans of minimalism, ambient, or electroacoustic music, it’s a must-hear; for newcomers, it’s a gentle entry into experimental sounds, provided you’re willing to float along.

In essence, On the Other Ocean is like a conversation with a curious alien—strange, warm, and full of wonder. It’s not just music; it’s a snapshot of humans and machines learning to sing together, a reminder that even circuits can have soul. Play it when you need calm or inspiration, and let it carry you to the other ocean.