PALGRAVE STUDIES IN SOUND

Explosions in
the Mind
Composing Psychedelic Sounds and Visualisations

Jonathan Weinel
 Palgrave Studies in Sound

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 Jonathan Weinel

Explosions
in the Mind
Composing Psychedelic Sounds
and Visualisations
Jonathan Weinel
University of Greenwich
London, UK

ISSN 2633-5875 ISSN 2633-5883 (electronic)

Palgrave Studies in Sound
ISBN 978-981-16-4054-4 ISBN 978-981-16-4055-1 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-4055-1

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 Acknowledgements

Thanks are due first and foremost to Rajmil Fischman, for his vision
of what the future of electronic music and audio-visual composition
might hold, and his openness and support for my ideas. I would like to
acknowledge Keele University for supporting me with a grant to study
my MRes from 2005–2006, and the AHRC for providing the funding
that allowed me to study my Ph.D. at Keele from 2007–2010. Thanks
are also due to the other friends and colleagues that have helped shape
various aspects of my work over the years, especially Stuart Cunningham,
Mark Grimshaw-Aagaard, and the teams at University of Greenwich
and EVA London (Electronic Visualisation and the Arts). My friends
Sol Nte and Lyall Williams deserve a special mention for their various
recommendations of music, reading, and video games that I might have
missed. Thanks also to those artists, musicians, programmers, and theo-
rists, whose inspirational work I mention in this book. Lastly, thanks to
my family, especially Jen for the green dots.

v
 Praise for Explosions in the Mind

“Weinel’s book draws on his original and brilliant work as both a musi-
cian and visual artist of exceptional linguistic talent, which he uses
to create trailblazing narratives worthy of defining the emerging field
integrating digital sounds and images—his music and visualizations are
wrought from expressive interpretations of psychedelic technicolor states
of the inner mind. The reader’s journey is illuminating, exciting and
scholarly, making this book a must-must have for musicians and visual
artists.”
—Tula Giannini, Professor, Pratt Institute, NYC, Museums and Digital
Culture: New Perspectives and Research by Tula Giannini and Jonathan
Bowen, Springer, 2019, Great Flute Makers of France: The Lot and
Godfroy Families, 1650–1900 by Tula Giannini, Tony Bingham,
London, 1993

“To the uninitiated, the term ‘psychedelic art’ may simply recall sixties
tie-dye, or hippy nostalgia, yet Explosions in the Mind shows a way in
which the topic can remain relevant. Through its use as the subject of
‘practice-based research’, Weinel’s output expertly straddles the divide

vii
viii Praise for Explosions in the Mind

between underground electronic music and institutional electroacoustic

music. The book provides detailed insight into his working methods
which use both readily available digital tools and more traditional
analogue means.”
—Ryo Ikeshiro, Assistant Professor, School of Creative Media, City
University of Hong Kong, Co-author of “Sound in Japan”, in Sound
Art: Sound as a medium of art (ed. Peter Weibel), ZKM/MIT, 2019

“Weinel has been a leading light in the annual EVA London conferences
on Electronic Visualisation and the Arts over recent years, especially in
the musical aspects of these events. This book represents his thoughts
regarding altered states of consciousness in relation to music. The
book’s contents are founded on practice-based research, and demonstrate
significant insights concerning music and digital culture.”
—Jonathan Bowen, Emeritus Professor of Computing, London South
Bank University, The Turing Guide (Oxford University Press, 2017),
Bowen, J.P., Keene, S., and Ng, K., editors, Electronic Visualisation in
Arts and Culture. Springer Series on Cultural Computing, Springer,
2013. ISBN 978-1-4471-5406-8
 Contents

1 Introduction 1
2 Psychedelic Journeys in Sound: Electroacoustic
Compositions 27
3 Melting in the Mind’s Eye: Real-Time Performances 55
4 Tune in, Turn Up, and Trip Out: Audio-Visual
Compositions 81
5 Sensorial Apparatus: Interactive Projects 107
6 Optical Geometry: VJ Performances 131
7 Future Sound Dream: Virtual Reality Experiences 171
8 Conclusion: Design Frameworks 191

References 203
Index 225

ix
 About the Author

Jonathan Weinel is a London-based artist/researcher, whose main exper-

tise is in electronic music and computer art. His electronic music, visual
music compositions, and virtual reality projects have been performed
internationally, and he lectures in video games development at the
University of Greenwich.

xi
 List of Figures

Fig. 2.1 Graphic score indicating the structure of Entoptic

Phenomena 42
Fig. 2.2 Diagram indicating the compositional structure
of Nausea 47
Fig. 2.3 Painting representing visual patterns of hallucination,
as used for the label artwork of the Entoptic Phenomena
in Audio vinyl EP 51
Fig. 3.1 Author’s sketches of Klüver’s (1971) form constants 57
Fig. 3.2 Atomizer Live Patch, main user interface 59
Fig. 3.3 Performance notes indicating the structure of Entoptic
Phenomena in Audio 65
Fig. 3.4 User interface for the Bass Drum, Saxophone &
Laptop Max/MSP application 70
Fig. 4.1 User interface and example visual noise output
of the Atomizer Visual Max/MSP/Jitter application 85
Fig. 4.2 Graphic score indicating the structure of Tiny Jungle 86
Fig. 4.3 Still image from Tiny Jungle representing visual
patterns of hallucination 89

xiii
xiv List of Figures

Fig. 4.4 Various frames of animation showing visual artefacts

and textures produced by direct animation on 8 mm
film 94
Fig. 4.5 Spiral spatialisation patterns produced with PANcho 96
Fig. 4.6 A skull figure in Mezcal Animations 97
Fig. 4.7 Waves of triangles and fish in Cenote Zaci 99
Fig. 4.8 Skulls transfigure into candles in Cenote Sagrado 101
Fig. 5.1 Quake Delirium system diagram 113
Fig. 5.2 Quake Delirium in operation, with various graphical
distortions representing a hallucinatory perceptual state 115
Fig. 5.3 Psych Dome system diagram 118
Fig. 5.4 Spiral animations based on visual patterns
of hallucination and EEG signals in Psych Dome 120
Fig. 5.5 Screenshot from the ASC Sim project. Coloured boxes
in a simple game scene provide sound sources located
in 3D space for testing purposes. Metres for ‘attention’
and ‘enhancement’ (top-left) indicate the current
values of these properties 124
Fig. 5.6 Diagram showing the ‘selective auditory attention’
mechanism. When the player attends an object, all
unattended sound sources fade out 125
Fig. 5.7 Diagram showing the ‘enhanced sonic perception’
mechanism. As the enhancement value increases,
sounds fade between ‘dull’, ‘medium’, and ‘bright’
versions of the source material 125
Fig. 5.8 Diagram showing the ‘spatial disruption of sound’
mechanism. Each sound source moves in oscillating
spatial patterns around the object with which it is
associated 126
Fig. 6.1 Various still images from the VJ loops 136
Fig. 6.2 ‘Trancecore’ sketch, digitally re-coloured 140
Fig. 6.3 Still from a practice VJ mix combining multiple loops 143
Fig. 6.4 Diagram showing the VJ setup used in the studio 144
Fig. 6.5 Still from the ‘Yes to Satan’ video 145
Fig. 6.6 Still from the ‘Wipe the Needle’ video 146
Fig. 6.7 Still from the ‘Acid Rain VIP’ video 149
Fig. 6.8 Diagram showing the live setup used for the VJ
London performance 152
 List of Figures xv

Fig. 6.9 Performing as Soundcat at VJ London (New River

Studios, 12 July 2018) (Photo credit: Laurie Bender
[L’Aubaine]) 153
Fig. 6.10 Still from the ‘One Consciousness’ video 155
Fig. 6.11 Vortex, acrylic on canvas, 39.7 × 49.8 cm 156
Fig. 6.12 Trip at the Brain, airbrush on paper, 29.7 × 29.7 cm 157
Fig. 6.13. 31 Seconds, acrylic on canvas, 25.4 × 30.5 cm 158
Fig. 6.14 Bug Powder Dust, acrylic and collage on canvas, 25.4
× 30.5 cm 159
Fig. 6.15 Seasons in the Abyss, acrylic on canvas, 30.5 × 40.6 cm 161
Fig. 6.16 Holo Point Break, acrylic and collage on canvas, 50.8
× 76.2 cm 162
Fig. 6.17 Enter Soundcat, acrylic and collage on canvas, 30.5 ×
40.6 cm 164
Fig. 6.18 Soundcat 2000, acrylic and collage on canvas, 30.5 ×
40.6 cm 165
Fig. 6.19 Soundcat S-101, acrylic and collage on canvas, 30.5 ×
40.6 cm 166
Fig. 7.1 Various still images showing scenes from Cyberdream
GearVR 178
Fig. 7.2 Diagram showing the structure of Cyberdream, which
resembles the form of a DJ/VJ mix with crossfades 183
Fig. 7.3 Controller configuration for Cyberdream Oculus Quest 184
Fig. 7.4 Still showing the ‘ZigZagToy’ (right) and ‘StreamerToy’
(left) sound toys in operation 185
Fig. 7.5 Step sequencer patterns used by the ‘ZigZagToy’ 186
Fig. 8.1 Framework for composing psychedelic journeys
in sound 195
Fig. 8.2 Framework for designing altered states of consciousness
simulations 198
Fig. 8.3 Framework for composing synaesthetic visualisations
of sound 200
 List of Tables

Table 5.1 Psych Dome compositional structure 119

Table 8.1 Summary of techniques used to represent ASC features
in fixed-media electroacoustic compositions 195

xvii
 List of Media

Media 2.1 Night Breed , electroacoustic music, 6 minutes 23

seconds 33
Media 2.2 Surfer Stem, electroacoustic music, 7 minutes 9 seconds 36
Media 2.3 Night Dream, electroacoustic music, 8 minutes 0
seconds 38
Media 2.4 Entoptic Phenomena, electroacoustic music, 5 minutes
44 seconds 40
Media 2.5 Swamp Process, electroacoustic music, 7 minutes 35
seconds 43
Media 2.6 Nausea, electroacoustic music, 19 minutes 11 seconds 45
Media 3.1 Atomizer Live Patch, Max/MSP software 57
Media 3.2 Entoptic Phenomena in Audio (NYC 2010), recording
of a real-time electroacoustic performance, 19 minutes
53 seconds 63
Media 3.3 Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop, Max/MSP software 68
Media 3.4 Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop (23 February 2010,
Session 1), instrumental performance with live
electronics, 11 minutes 5 seconds 76

xix
xx List of Media

Media 3.5 Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop: Extract 1,

instrumental performance with live electronics, 1
minute 0 seconds 77
Media 3.6 Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop: Extract 2,
instrumental performance with live electronics, 1
minute 0 seconds 78
Media 4.1 Atomizer Visual, Max/MSP/Jitter software 84
Media 4.2 Tiny Jungle, audio-visual composition, 7 minutes 10
seconds 86
Media 4.3 Mezcal Animations, audio-visual composition, 4
minutes 0 seconds 92
Media 4.4 Cenote Zaci, audio-visual composition, 4 minutes 5
seconds 97
Media 4.5 Cenote Sagrado, audio-visual composition, 5 minutes
37 seconds 100
Media 5.1 Quake Delirium demonstration video, 6 minutes 0
seconds 112
Media 5.2 Quake Delirium EEG demonstration video, 2 minutes
36 seconds 116
Media 5.3 Psych Dome composition example, 2 minutes 4
seconds; and documentation video, 1 minute 36
seconds 118
Media 5.4 ASC Sim software and demonstration video, 3
minutes 5 seconds 123
Media 6.1 VJ Loops demonstration video, 6 minutes 30 seconds 135
Media 6.2 Soundcat DJ/VJ mix, 30 minutes 32 seconds 151
Media 6.3 AR Paintings demonstration video, 53 seconds 160
Media 7.1 Cyberdream GearVR demonstration video, 4 minutes
57 seconds and software 174
Media 7.2 Cyberdream Oculus Quest demonstration video, 4
minutes 40 seconds and software 182
 1
Introduction

Imagine a trickling sensation at the back of the head, and a series of

yawns, as if waking into a dream. The grain of the wood floorboards
begins to move, flowing like water in one moment, fading back into place
in the next. The shelves of a bookcase begin to resemble a grinning face.
As water flows down the drain in the bathroom, it seems to take on a
vocal quality, as if saying something in a recognisable, slightly humorous
accent. Listening to music, the sound stage opens up—instruments seem
more spatially separated and have a sparkling, high fidelity quality. Upon
closing your eyes, you begin to see multicoloured geometric funnels,
racing webs of repeating patterns, and animated caricatures that flicker
and dance to the music. In one instance, these are like detailed pencil
portraits, which morph into doves and take flight, before assembling
into a gateway of skulls leading down into an underworld. Moments
later cartoon dogs made of red, white, and blue electricity pick their
noses and DJ, scratching records rhythmically to the beat. Now waves of
intricate luminous patterns emerge from the doors of a cupboard. Like
Persian rugs rendered in 3D, they cycle through complex iterative varia-
tions as they flow across the room, one after the other. Cryptic messages
resembling a sixteen-segment LED display scroll across the carpet, while
© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 1
Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021
J. Weinel, Explosions in the Mind, Palgrave Studies in Sound,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-4055-1_1
2 J. Weinel

blocky angular robots and circuit boards gyrate in mid-air. Gradually

these impressions fade into soft flickering traces, as the distant sounds of
farmyard animals and fresh countryside air punctuate the room in the
first rays of the morning light.
Episodes of hallucination such as these can be precipitated by psilo-
cybin mushrooms, such as the ‘liberty caps’ (Psilocybe semilanceata),
which can be found throughout the British Isles in the misty weeks of
September before the frost sets in (Cooper 1977, pp. 16–17; Phillips
2006, p. 251).1 During such episodes, one may experience auditory or
visual hallucinations. When visual hallucinations are formed in response
to music, they can be understood as a form of synaesthesia, since the
auditory sense acts as a stimulus for the visual impressions. It has often
seemed to me that these ‘explosions in the mind’, in which the human
psyche unfurls intricate webs of neon geometry, rapidly cycling anima-
tions, and cavalcades of absurd caricatures, would provide an excellent
basis for the design of art and music. Furthermore, as a child of the
1980s raised on Atari STs and Betamax video cassettes, it is my view that
the intense glow of computer pixels and crisp digital audio provides the
ideal medium in which to sculpt such psychedelic sounds and visualisa-
tions. These technologies offer flexibility, whereby in principle, any visual
or sonic impression, real or imaginary, can be designed, so long as one
is able to translate it into a concrete form. How this can be achieved is
the subject of Explosions in the Mind: Composing Psychedelic Sounds and
Visualisations.
The idea of representing psychedelic hallucinations became the seed
for over a decade of creative practice, which I undertook across multiple
areas, ranging from electroacoustic music to various areas of audio-
visual composition, including video jockey (VJ) performances, interac-
tive projects, and virtual reality (VR) applications. These works, and how
they were realised, are the main focus of this book. In these pages, I
will discuss compositional strategies for translating auditory and visual
hallucinations into sound, and designing synaesthetic visual materials in
correspondence with sound. These strategies are by no means trivial—
after all, how exactly does one begin to design sounds or audio-visual
materials that represent ephemeral subjective states, such as psychedelic
experiences of synaesthesia? Visual and aural impressions that one sees
 1 Introduction 3

and hears from a first-person perspective can be approximately repre-

sented using cameras and microphones, which may be used to capture
similar patterns of light and sound to those that stimulate the senses.
However, this approach cannot easily be used to represent hallucinations,
where seemingly, the visual and aural perceptions one has do not origi-
nate in the surrounding physical environment. There is no ‘video capture
device’ for the mind’s eye, yet, with an idea of what may typically be seen
or heard in a hallucination, one can attempt to design sounds and images
that represent these perceptual experiences. How this can be practically
approached through electronic music and audio-visual composition will
be explored in Explosions in the Mind. Through the course of the book,
I will uncover a set of design frameworks that can be used for repre-
senting psychedelic states, ultimately revealing how one may compose
psychedelic visualisations of sound across a variety of media. In doing
so, my aim is to provide a useful resource for creative practitioners and
researchers, especially those working in fields such as electronic music
composition, sound design, audio-visual composition, video games, and
VR development.
To begin, in this chapter I will first provide a discussion of
altered states of consciousness (ASCs), focusing in particular on the
phenomenon of psychedelic hallucinations and experiences of synaes-
thesia that occur in response to sound. Following this, I will provide an
overview of existing works of art and music that seek to either represent
or induce psychedelic states in a variety of ways, thereby providing the
backdrop and wider context for the compositional practices discussed
throughout the book.2 Specific attention will also be directed towards
existing psychedelic visualisations, which can be found in various forms
of experimental film, VJ performance, music visualisations, video games,
and VR applications. I will then proceed to outline the areas of elec-
tronic music and audio-visual composition that I have undertaken as
practice-led research, which will be discussed in the upcoming chapters.
4 J. Weinel

Psychedelic Experiences
Psychedelic experiences, such as those elicited by hallucinogenic mush-
rooms, can be understood as a specific form of ‘altered state of conscious-
ness’ (ASC). The term ASC was coined in the 1960s and describes a
range of perceptual or experiential states such as dreams, hallucinations,
meditations, trances, or hypnotic states (Ludwig 1969). It can be diffi-
cult to define precisely what qualifies as an ASC, since we may presume
that our conscious experience fluctuates constantly throughout the day,
and also varies between individuals. Accepting these limitations, the ASC
term is nonetheless useful as a general description that allows us to
talk about points of significant divergence from a commonly accepted
‘normal-waking consciousness’. The caffeine in your morning cup of
coffee probably induces something we might consider a very mild ASC,
but generally speaking, when using this term we are talking about some-
thing a bit more out of the ordinary, which is unlikely to go as well with
croissants and reading the newspaper.
These extraordinary states can be induced through various means. For
example, synthetic drugs or intoxicating plants found in nature may
induce perceptual changes such as hallucinations. However, hallucina-
tions may also occur without the use of drugs, as in cases of sensory
deprivation, which can be elicited with sensory isolation tanks, which
suspend the body in complete darkness. While reducing the senses in this
way seems to elicit hallucinations, overloading them may also provide an
alternative route for inducing ASCs. We see this in the various indige-
nous trance ceremonies found across the globe, where music, dance, and
the spraying of liquids induce states of sensory overload in which partici-
pants believe they are possessed by spirits (Rouget 1985). Hallucinations
can even occur due to extreme forms of hunger or fasting, such as may
be experienced by explorers low on supplies in perilous environments in
the extremities of the desert or Antarctic. While these are roads seldom
travelled by most people, perhaps more familiar to the reader will be
experiences of dreaming, which can also be viewed as a form of ASC anal-
ogous to a hallucination that occurs during sleep (Hobson 2003). Lucid
dreams, in which one is aware that they are dreaming, can have partic-
ularly intense, hallucinatory qualities; while on the threshold of sleep it
 1 Introduction 5

is also possible to have hypnogogic hallucinations, as in cases of ‘sleep

paralysis’, where one may perceive strange terrifying beings or daemons
(Hufford 1989).
ASCs may be characterised by a range of effects. While these may
vary between types, ‘ASC features’ may include disruptions to thought
patterns and awareness, or distortions to time perception, in which
moments may seem to pass more quickly or slowly than usual. The
hippie on a deep, spiritual acid trip knows this at the peak of the experi-
ence, where the cosmic enormity of the pulsating universe weighs heavily
and time dilates. In such experiences, one can expect visual halluci-
nations, as intricate geometric patterns unfold on the backs of closed
eyelids. Though less common, auditory hallucinations or other sensory
distortions to smell or taste may also be experienced. An altered sense
of self may be described during some ASCs, so that one feels as though
they have been overtaken by mystical forces, as in the case of posses-
sion trances in Haitian Vodou ceremonies, where spirits are believed to
enter the dancing body of the trancer. Heightened emotions are often
desired, and it is these that are sought by the raver, who hands over
crumbled bank notes for some MDMA (3,4-methylenedioxymetham-
phetamine), so they can spend a few fleeting hours chasing waves of
euphoria and ecstatic bliss, dancing to pounding techno music with
saucer-wide pupils, until the inevitable crash the following morning.
During some ASCs, the feeling of body weight may change, and this
is something the psychonaut3 may try to engineer by combining their
psychedelic trip with other drugs such as nitrous oxide, which have disso-
ciative anaesthetic properties. In sleep states such as lucid dreaming,
or hypnogogic hallucinations, it is even possible for one to experience
weightlessness, levitation, or flight. Indeed, there is even suggestion that
the legend of witches flying on broomsticks may be related to the effects
of psychoactive compounds used in European witchcraft (Harner 1973).
In general, ASCs can be varied and highly subjective, but there are often
commonalities between experiences of a given type, which emerge from
the many reports available in the surrounding literature.4
Various systems have been devised that allow us to classify different
types of ASCs. For example, Fischer’s (1971) ‘cartography of ecstatic
and meditative states’, provides a continuum ranging from ‘ergotropic’
6 J. Weinel

(promoting energy expenditure) to ‘trophotropic’ (promoting energy

conservation) states. This model allows us to consider the energetic
properties of ASCs, where deviation from normal-waking conscious-
ness corresponds with points of extreme high or low activation. By
focusing on energy levels, Fischer’s cartography has some similarities with
Russell’s (1980) ‘circumplex model of affect’, a two-dimensional model
of emotion often used in contemporary cognitive psychology, in which
the x axis describes ‘valance’, ranging from pleasant to unpleasant; and
the y axis describes ‘arousal’, ranging from high- to low-energy states.
Fischer’s model also informed Rouget’s classic study Music and Trance:
A Theory of the Relations Between Music and Possession (1985), in which
the author investigated various global cultures where music was being
used in shamanic or possession trance rituals. Here, Rouget proposed
that music may be involved in the production of low-energy ‘ecstatic’
states (similar to meditation in his usage5 ), which are typically expe-
rienced in quietness and solitude; or high-energy ‘trance’ states, which
may occur in situations of sensory overload where the various senses are
bombarded through music, dance, and the spraying of liquids.
Expanding on this topic, Fachner (2011) suggests that music can be
used to structure the temporal experience of rituals that produce states
such as trance. For example, in Haitian Vodou rituals, percussive drum-
ming may contribute towards states of sensory overload, inducing trance
states; while in Amazonian shamanism, sound-making instruments may
focus the attention, or invoke spiritual symbols that shape the experi-
ence. These debates emphasise music as a signalling force that is used in
specific cultural contexts, which according to Becker’s (2004) analysis,
may trigger trance states in particularly susceptible individuals, whom
she terms ‘deep listeners’. Rouget also recognises a general association
between quickening tempos and states of trance , which corresponds
with Gabrielsson and Lindstrom’s (2012) later meta-study of music and
emotion, in which they found that quick tempos and percussive music
were often associated with high arousal states, while slower tempos and
sparse percussion were associated with low arousal. All of this points
towards the idea that music can be designed in certain ways in order
to promote high- or low-energy experiences, and this is an idea that will
be discussed later on in Explosions in the Mind.
 1 Introduction 7

Also of interest for our discussion in this book is Hobson’s (2003)

‘state-space’ concept of consciousness, which uses a neurologically based
‘activation, input, modulation’ model. According to this model, ‘acti-
vation’ describes states of high or low brain activity; ‘input’ relates to
different sources of sensory experience, which may originate in the
external environment, or arise internally in the brain; and ‘modulation’
describes how events are recorded to memory. According to this model,
during a typical 24-hour cycle, a person undergoes various changes to
activation, input, and modulation, and moves between different points
on the model. For example, in normal-waking consciousness, activa-
tion may be high; input may arise predominantly from the ‘external’
surroundings; and events may be recorded to memory. In contrast,
during sleep states, activation levels may vary; input is predominantly
‘internal’ while dreaming; and much of what is experienced is not
recorded to memory and will be quickly forgotten.
Throughout Explosions in the Mind , Hobson’s (2003) distinction
between ‘internal’ and ‘external’ inputs will be particularly useful,
because these terms allow us to distinguish between the unreality of
dreams and hallucinations that arise ‘internally’, and sensory stimuli that
originates in a real, ‘external’ physical environment. Some additional
clarity will be useful here, since prima facie consciousness would seem
to always involve processes of cognition internal to the individual. If we
follow an enactive view of consciousness (Maturana and Varela 1998), an
organism is systemically arranged with respect to its surrounding envi-
ronment, and thus the internal must always be negotiated in relation to
an external. From this perspective, even sounds heard in dreams or hallu-
cinations might find their basis in an ‘external’ environment, for instance,
if they are related to memories of past experiences. What is important
to emphasise here, however, is that the ‘internal’ and ‘external’ labels
refer only to the current inputs of the sensory information, and these
will always be subject to further processing within the perceptual system.
When understood in these terms, the ‘internal’ and ‘external’ classifica-
tions provide a useful means for distinguishing between the respective
channels from which sensory experience emerges at a given point in time.
For our purposes in this book, normal-waking consciousness is typically
oriented towards ‘external’ sensory inputs that originate from patterns
8 J. Weinel

of light and sound in a person’s immediate physical surroundings, while

dreams or hallucinations predominantly emerge from ‘internal’ sensory
inputs that arise from memories and the imaginative faculties of the
mind. These are not binary distinctions, so while sensory experience may
emphasise one or the other at a particular point in time, there will usually
be some form of negotiation happening between the two.
While ASCs cover a variety of possible perceptual states, of partic-
ular relevance for many of the compositions discussed in this book
are the psychedelic states produced by hallucinogenic substances such
as LSD (Lysergic acid diethylamide), psilocybin mushrooms, or DMT
(N,N-dimethyltryptamine). Although psychedelic experiences produce
varied effects depending on the mind-set and situation of the individual
(or, ‘set and setting’, to use the phrase popularised by Timothy Leary
in the 1960s), there is some commonality with regard to the form of
these experiences, which may be comparable between individuals. For
example, psychologist Heinrich Klüver (1971, p. 66) carried out partic-
ipant studies to investigate the effects of mescaline, a hallucinogenic
compound that occurs naturally in cacti such as peyote (Lophophora
williamsii), which can also be produced synthetically. Klüver described
‘form constants’: honeycomb, cobweb, funnel, and spiral forms, which
were commonly perceived by his participants. According to his study,
in the earlier stages of hallucination, one will see patterns related to the
form constants, while later these may give way to figurative hallucina-
tions of places, people, or animals. In later stages, as the effects wear
off, one may also see visual impressions related to the form constants.
Similar visual patterns were also reported in Strassman’s (2001) studies
of DMT, in which his participants often described geometric patterns in
the earlier stages of intoxication, before subsequently ‘breaking through’
to encounter hallucinations of strange beings, entities, and environ-
ments. During these episodes, auditory hallucinations were relatively less
common, but are also sometimes described, and may include various
forms of music, oscillating noises, high-frequency tones, or voices. For
example, one participant in Strassman’s DMT studies referred to ‘high
pitched’, ‘whining and whirring’, ‘chattering’, ‘crinkling and crunching’
sounds (p. 148).6
 1 Introduction 9

Psychedelic hallucinations seem to promote experiences of synaes-

thesia, a phenomenon in which blurring across the sensory modalities
occurs; for example, sounds may have a smell, or colours may have a
taste (Cytowic 1989). There is a particular phenomenon, which is often
reported during psychedelic experiences, of ‘sound-to-image’ hallucina-
tions, in which sound triggers corresponding visual hallucinations (Bliss
and Clark 1962, p. 97). This effect may be partly explained by recent
neurological research, which suggests that psychedelic drugs such as LSD
precipitate heightened states of interconnectivity in the brain, causing
stronger associations between regions than would normally be present
(Carhart-Harris et al. 2016). In normal-waking consciousness, sound
may trigger associative memories, visual images, or emotions.7 We know
this from research in sound and multimodality, which confirms that the
auditory cortex provides various forms of multimodal integration (Purves
et al. 2001). For example, the ‘McGurk effect’ (McGurk and MacDonald
1976), showed that seeing different mouth movements caused partici-
pants to hear different phonemes from the same acoustic stimuli; and
various other studies have also shown that activity in the visual cortex
can stimulate the auditory cortex (e.g. Calvert et al. 1997; Callan et al.
2003). In a psychedelic state, heightened interconnectivity in the brain
may provide an increased sensitivity to these multimodal effects, so that
associative properties of sound are manifested as visual impressions.
The experience of psychedelic visual hallucinations in response to
sound is a pivotal theme of this book, around which much of my compo-
sitional practice revolves. As we shall see through subsequent chapters,
many of my earlier works such as electroacoustic compositions are explic-
itly based on the idea of representing visual or auditory hallucinations.
These works use typical ‘ASC features’ described in the literature to
inform the design of the compositions. Later however, the connection
with psychedelic states becomes more implicit. For these works, I utilise a
process in which the design of visual materials is related to the associative
properties of sound, thereby adopting a similar mechanism to that which
occurs in sound-to-image hallucinations, without necessarily referencing
specific accounts of psychedelic states directly. While the design of these
works depends less overtly on the idea of ASCs, they can be considered
10 J. Weinel

as ‘psychedelic visualisations of sound’, because they imitate the mech-

anism that occurs during psychedelic experiences of synaesthesia, where
the manifestation of visual sensations occurs in response to sound.

Psychedelic Art and Music

While elsewhere I have provided an extensive, wide-ranging analysis
of art and music related to ASCs (Weinel 2018a), before we begin
discussing compositional strategies, it will be useful to provide a brief
tour through the wider cultural context for psychedelic art and music.
ASCs have been present in human culture for thousands of years. For
instance, Lewis-Williams and Dowson (1988) suggested that prehistoric
shamanic rock art designs represented honeycomb, cobweb, funnel, and
spiral patterns similar to the form constants described by Klüver (1971).
Although this theory has been contested (Lewis-Williams 2007; Dowson
2007; Luke 2010), there are various other ancient cultures where ASCs
seem to have played an important role. For example, Australian Aborig-
ines have used the stimulant pituri for thousands of years as a means
to access dreamtime (Schultes et al. 1996); the Ebers Papyrus indicates
opium use in ancient Egypt (Merlin 1984, pp. 274–275); the Rig Veda,
a sacred Aryan text of the Indus Valley, describes the ecstatic drink
‘soma’ (Wasson 1968; Flattery and Schwartz 1989; McKenna 1992,
p. 120); and a hallucinogenic drink seems to have played a central role
in the Eleusinian Mysteries, an initiation cult in Ancient Greece (Eliade
1978). For thousands of years, shamanic societies have used intoxicating
plants to access visionary states in which a shaman communicates with
a ‘spirit world’ (Eliade 1964; Vitebsky 1995). For example, Amanita
muscaria mushrooms are used in Siberian shamanism; in North America,
Native Americans use the peyote cactus in religious ceremonies; Psilo-
cybe cubensis mushrooms are used by the Huichol and Mazatec peoples
of Mexico; while the hallucinogenic brew ayahuasca (which contains
an orally active form of DMT) is used in the shamanic practices of
the Amazon rainforest. While Europe became oriented towards an alco-
holic drinking culture that survives today (Sherratt 1995), there is also
 1 Introduction 11

suggestion that intoxicating plants were once used as ‘hexing herbs’ in

witchcraft (Harner 1973).
In modern Western society, psychedelic hippie culture emerged in
the 1960s. First synthesised by Albert Hoffman in 1938, LSD was
initially used in psychotherapy trials, but soon found popularity in the
1960s counter-culture, due to its ‘consciousness expanding’ effects. These
effects struck a chord with the youth culture of the time, who in the
midst of various social, political, and sexual revolutions, were interested
in altering perception to find different ways of thinking and being that
challenged established societal norms. LSD was subsequently outlawed
in the United States, with most other Western countries following suit.
Other novel psychoactive compounds that were discovered by Alexander
Shulgin in the 1970s, such as the euphoric stimulant MDMA, and
the psychedelic drug 2C-B (2,5-dimethoxy-4-bromophenethylamine),
were similarly banned. Nonetheless, these substances became available
on the black market, and in the late 1980s, MDMA was widely used
by revellers at all-night dance parties in rave culture. Though various
substances wax and wane in their popularity over the years, underground
use of drugs, psychedelic or otherwise, is ongoing. In recent years,
however, there has also been a resurgence of interest in the therapeutic
use of psychedelics for treating posttraumatic stress disorder (Mithoefer
et al. 2010) and other conditions such as alcoholism (Bogenschutz and
Johnson 2016).
Across these various cultures of intoxication, perhaps not surprisingly,
we find a great deal of art and music that responds to ASCs, or may even
be used to induce them. Visual artefacts produced by shamanic cultures
may represent visionary states, while music may actually be used to
conduct the ritual. For example, Lewis-Williams (1996, p. 28) discusses
San rock art (of South Africa), which he says depicts circles of figures
taking part in trance rituals. Swan (1999) provides extensive documen-
tation of Native American artefacts, many of which display patterns and
spiritual symbols related to peyote rituals, in which traditional songs
are sung, sometimes with percussive accompaniment (as documented
on Harry Smith’s Kiowa Peyote Meeting, 1973). In the shamanic prac-
tices of Central America, the Huichol people create distinctive ‘yarn
12 J. Weinel

paintings’, which include colourful symbols related to visionary expe-

riences (Berrin 1978); while Mazatec mushroom rituals (as documented
on María Sabina’s Mushroom Ceremony of the Mazatec Indians of Mexico,
1957) may involve singing and clapping in which mushroom spirits are
believed to speak through the shaman (Wasson et al. 1974). Among
the Tukano people of the Amazon rainforest, zigzag, lattice, star, and
spiral designs that are rendered on the walls of buildings are related to
ayahuasca visions (Reichel-Dolmatoff 1978), in which the elders chant
and hum (as documented on Brian Moser and Donald Tayler’s The Music
of Some Indian Tribes of Colombia, 1972). Elsewhere in the Amazon,
the Shipibo people make distinctive ronin quene (snake designs), which
are based on ayahuasca visions (Gebhart-Sayer 1985, p. 162). Interest-
ingly, these are understood as ‘design medicines’, and are also translated
into songs by the shaman, in a manner that perhaps points towards the
synaesthetic qualities that are inherent in visionary experiences.
In Western culture, ASCs have provided a point of inspiration for
various forms of visual art, literature, and film. For example, John
Uri Lloyd’s Etidorhpa (1895) describes a hallucinatory journey based
on a hollow-earth theory. In the early twentieth century, drawing on
Freud’s (1899) theories of psychoanalysis, the surrealists were interested
in making films and paintings that invoked a sense of dreams or the
unconscious. A notable film from this period that remains a visceral
viewing experience to this day is Un Chien Andalou (Buñuel 1929, made
in collaboration with Salvador Dalí), which utilised shocking juxtaposi-
tions of imagery to produce an irrational experience for the viewer. In the
1940s and 1950s, avant-garde filmmakers such as Maya Deren created
films that follow protagonists undergoing dreams, rituals, or possession
trances, forming a category that Sitney (1979, p. 21) refers to as the
‘trance film’. Also around this time, Henri Michaux (2002) produced
fascinating and highly detailed ink drawings based on his experiences of
mescaline.
Following this, with the arrival of the 1960s counter-culture, there
was an explosion of psychedelic artwork, in which the effects of LSD
seem to have influenced various areas of visual culture towards brightly
coloured, mind-warping designs. Perhaps the best evidence of this can be
seen in the melting neon letters and geometric patterns of poster design
 1 Introduction 13

for psychedelic rock concerts in San Francisco and elsewhere (Grunen-

berg 2005). In the 1960s there were also numerous literary works that
described ASCs, such as Paul Bowles’s A Hundred Camels in the Court-
yard (1962), which uses a literary mosaic technique to reflect the effects
of smoking hashish; or Carlos Castaneda’s The Teachings of Don Juan: A
Yaqui Way of Knowledge (1968), in which the author describes visionary
journeys and experiences of metamorphosis. This decade saw a great
deal of experimentation in filmmaking, as seen in both mainstream
‘hippie exploitation’ films such as The Trip (Corman 1967) or Psych-
Out (Rush 1968), as well as underground productions by groups such as
USCO, which sought to overload the senses with tape effects and spin-
ning imagery, as seen on films such as Yalkut’s Turn, Turn, Turn (1968).
As documented by Rubin (2010), psychedelic stylisations echo through
various subsequent forms of visual art to the present day, and disperse
into many strands of artistic work, from the hallucinogenic graffiti of
Kenny Scharf to the visionary symbolism of Alex Grey’s paintings.
Music was at the centre of psychedelic culture in the 1960s and 1970s.
Bands of this era adapted the form of rock n’ roll by incorporating
psychedelic themes and sounds, through lyrics, tape effects, and guitar
pedals (such as flangers, wah-wahs, and fuzz boxes). In the studio, even
more experimentation was possible through production techniques using
tape loops. These techniques can be heard on recordings by ‘garage rock’
bands (such as those featured on the Nuggets: Original Artyfacts from
the First Psychedelic Era, 1965–1968 compilation, Various Artists 1972);
albums by artists such as The Jimi Hendrix Experience, The Beatles,
Pink Floyd, Cream, The Rolling Stones, The Grateful Dead; and others.
Johnson and Stax (2006) discuss these approaches, also noting the intro-
duction of exotic sonic material derived from Eastern influences, which
may support the ‘otherworldly’ quality of the music for Western audi-
ences. Psychedelic forms of rock music can be traced through the decades
that followed to the present day, via related genres such as space rock
or stoner rock. There are also various other popular music genres that
similarly incorporate hallucinatory stylisations, often through means of
tape effects or electronic processing. For example, Michael Veal (2007)
describes dub reggae as a form of ‘psychedelic Caribbean music’, and
14 J. Weinel

there are clear parallels to be found in this genre via the experimental use
of tape, echo, and reverb.
The approaches of psychedelic rock and dub were among those that
were influential on the electronic dance music culture of the 1980s and
1990s (Collin 1998; Reynolds 2008), and a myriad of other associated
genres such as drum & bass, trip-hop, ambient techno, and psy-trance.
In various ways, these electronic dance music genres wrap forms of
psychedelic sound design and sampling around energetic rhythms and
beats, providing rave music that is tinged with acidic and hallucinogenic
qualities. Electronic dance music producers do not always take drugs,
and neither do the audiences of this music, but there is a proximity to
drug use in these genres that means psychedelic themes are often close
at hand. As St. John (2009) discusses, electronic dance music may well
be used in combination with drugs, where these sounds are likely to
be complementary, but above all, it is the music that appeals to audi-
ences, and these sounds may even have the potential to elicit collective
trance-like experiences of dance.
Of special significance for this book is also those works of electroa-
coustic music,8 which connect with ideas of dreams, hallucinations, or
unreality. Electroacoustic music is not usually seen as part of psychedelic
culture, however, there are examples that relate to various concepts of
ASCs, by using electronic manipulations of sound to elicit dreamlike
aural experiences. A notable work that achieves this with striking success
is Michael McNabb’s Dreamsong (1978), which transitions between
recorded sounds that suggest a real-world location, and synthesiser
sounds that indicate a dream world. Barry Truax has also created several
significant works that traverse similar perceptual boundaries, such as
Pendlerdrøm (commuter dream) (1997), which describes a travel expe-
rience in which a commuter lapses into a dream. In this case, the work
was realised through various field recordings and computer-manipulated
sounds, which allow Truax to move the listener between representa-
tions of normal-waking consciousness and dreaming, and thereby tran-
sitioning between ‘external’ and ‘internal’ points of Hobson’s (2003)
‘input axis’. Along similar lines, Truax’s piece The Shaman Ascending
(2004–2005), takes the concept of an Inuit shamanic ritual, and uses
this to inform the organisation of sonic materials within the piece, in
 1 Introduction 15

which droning vocal sounds rapidly circle around the listener within
the spatial field. Several other composers have also explored approaches
such as these. For example, Gary Kendall’s Ikaro (2009–2010) is one of
several compositions based on Peruvian shamanism, which incorporate
soundscape materials to construct sonic experiences that are analogous
to shamanic journeys. Mining similar territories, Adrian Moore’s Drea-
marena (1996) and Åke Parmerud’s Dreaming in Darkness (2005) both
use concepts of dreaming as points of creative departure. There is then a
significant strand of electroacoustic work that explores notions of ‘reality’
and ‘unreality’ as a basis for musical composition. This area is impor-
tant to highlight, because the compositional approaches that I initially
explore in Explosions in the Mind emerge from the field of electroacoustic
composition, and so these works have special contextual relevance.

Psychedelic Visualisations
Of special importance for Explosions in the Mind are also those existing
psychedelic visualisations, which can be found in various contexts
ranging from experimental films and VJ performances to video games
and VR experiences. In this section, I will outline some of the main
examples from these areas that are particularly relevant for Explosions
in the Mind , while acknowledging this is by no means an exhaustive
account of audio-visual practices, which reflect an increasingly broad
spectrum.
‘Visual music’ is an area of visual art and experimental film in which
works are designed based on the form and structure of music (Brougher
and Mattis 2005). Early examples of visual music include ‘colour organs’,
which display lights in correspondence with sound (Moritz 1997), and
the paintings of Wassily Kandinsky, which interpret music through
abstract symbols and shapes. However, the term is now more strongly
associated with the films of artists such as Len Lye, Normal McLaren,
Oskar Fischinger, Harry Smith, John Whitney, James Whitney, and
Jordan Belson. In the mid-twentieth century, these artists created striking
short films in which shapes, patterns, and textures seem to move and
dance around the screen in a way that reflects the rhythms, timbres,
16 J. Weinel

and melodies of music. As I discuss elsewhere (Weinel 2018b, pp. 127–

129), some of these works are explicitly psychedelic, reflecting themes of
meditation and hallucination. For example, Jordan Belson’s films draw
inspiration from meditation, providing cosmic journeys that contem-
plate the inner reaches of the human psyche and the outer limits of
the galaxy. In his film LSD (1962), Belson uses various funnel patterns
suggestive of Klüver’s (1971) form constants. Belson was also involved
in a series known as the Vortex Concerts, which used multiple speakers
and projections in a planetarium to provide immersive spatial perfor-
mances (Molloghan 2015, pp. 72–74) that prefigure the audio-visual
fulldome9 performances of today. An associate of the beatniks, Harry
Smith’s work is also a particularly important reference point for Explo-
sions in the Mind (see also Chapter 4), since his visual music films were
partly inspired by experiences of synaesthesic sound-to-image hallucina-
tions precipitated by psychedelic drugs and jazz music. Arguably ahead
of his time, Smith even projected his films to live jazz performances and
could be considered as a forerunner of today’s VJs.
While visual music tends to be associated with fixed-media10 work, the
psychedelic light shows of the 1960s and 1970s provided more live and
performative approaches for visualising music. In New York the Joshua
Light Show provided colourful projections to accompany rock concerts
at venues such as the Fillmore East (Signore 2007; Zinman 2008); in
London Mark Boyles and Joan Hills provided light shows for the UFO
club (Robinson 2007); while the Manchester area was catered for by
Nova Express (see Chapter 6, pp. 147–186). These light shows utilised
technologies such as overhead projectors with glass clock faces filled with
coloured oils, inks, and other chemicals; slide projectors; and 16 mm
projectors. The groups manipulated these devices live, generating organic
psychedelic textures and visual rhythms to accompany live performances
by psychedelic rock bands of the day such as Pink Floyd.
In the 1970s and 1980s, music visualisers began to appear, which
could automatically drive light synthesis patterns in response to audio.
For example, the Atari Video Music (1976) was a piece of home elec-
tronics that could be connected to a hi-fi and TV in order to generate
analogue diamond patterns in response to an audio signal. Designed for
home computers, Jeff Minter’s light synths such as Psychedelia (1984),
 1 Introduction 17

Colourspace (1986), Trip-A-Tron (1987), and the Virtual Light Machine

(VLM 1990–2003) provided more sophisticated forms of light synthesis
that used FFT (Fast Fourier Transform) analysis (Bell 2019). Iterations
of the VLM were also featured in the Atari Jaguar and X-Box 360 video
games consoles, allowing users to insert any CD from their collection and
generate psychedelic visualisations of sound. In the early 2000s, music
visualisers like these became a common feature in home computers on
Mac and PC, via plugins such as Milkdrop, which were used with media
players such as Winamp and iTunes.
The late 1980s and 1990s saw the emergence of electronic dance
music culture, in which VJs provided a new kind of psychedelic light-
show that reflected the technological aesthetics of the music. Analogous
to the role of the DJ, who mixes records to construct continuous aural
journeys for all-night dance parties, the VJ mixes live visuals to accom-
pany DJ performances (Faulkner 2006). In the 1990s, these visuals
reflected the psychedelic imagery of electronic dance music culture, as
seen elsewhere on record sleeves and rave flyers (Savage 1996). Videos
of VJ mixes from this period include Dance in Cyberspace (Dr. Devious
and the Wiseman 1992); Global Chaos (Hex 1993); Future Shock (Frost
et al. 1993); and the X-Mix series (Studio !K7 1993–1998). Much as
electronic dance music was facilitated in part by the democratisation
of music production via low-cost home studio equipment, sequencers,
samplers, and synthesisers, VJ culture benefited from affordable video
editing technologies like the NewTek Video Toaster and ray-tracing
packages that allowed 3D animations to be created on home computers.
As I will discuss in Chapter 6, the technologies and visual aesthetics of
VJ culture are in close proximity with the ‘demo effects’ (short real-
time computer graphics demonstrations) produced in the ‘demoscene’
computer art subculture (Polgár 2005), and in some cases music visu-
alisers were also used by VJs.11
Modern VJ culture is mostly computer-based. The VJs of today will
typically use a laptop running software such as Resolume, VDMX, or
Modul8, which allows live mixing of digital videos stored on hard disk
drives. VJs can make their own video loops, rip them from any number
of online sources, or purchase packs of pre-designed visuals online.
18 J. Weinel

Alternatively, they can use generative animations written in program-

ming languages for visuals, such as Processing, Quartz Composer, or
HLSL (High-Level Shader Language). Video can be mixed in real-
time using MIDI controllers, but may also utilise audio amplitude or
frequency analysis to generate oscilloscope patterns or automate certain
visual effects. The typical function of the VJ remains the provision
of live visuals to accompany DJs in nightclubs, however, these prac-
tices now extend into a wider field of audio-visual performance and
media arts, and the boundaries between these areas are not always clearly
defined. In London, this wider sphere of activity is represented by Splice
Festival, which brings together various strands of audio-visual perfor-
mance, visual music, VJ performance, live coding, and performance art
(Weinel 2018b). Contemporary VJ work may also engage with video-
mapping technologies, using software such as Mad Mapper, which allows
visuals to be projected across complex, irregularly shaped stage sets at
music festivals. Video mapping can also be used to create VJ perfor-
mances in fulldomes,12 as was showcased at the Fulldome UK 2016
festival in Leicester, which included several psychedelic works (Weinel
2018a, pp. 131–132).
Also of relevance to Explosions in the Mind are representations of
ASCs that occur in video games. A growing number of games include
sequences in which the player character may undergo states of intoxica-
tion, psychosis, or other forms of non-ordinary sensory experience. As
seen in titles such as Silent Hill (Konami 1999) and F.E.A.R. (Monolith
2005), it has become fairly common for psychological horror games to
include representations of auditory hallucinations, as a means to support
the narrative of the game, character development, and instil a sense of
unease in the player (Demarque and Lima 2013). A more recent game
that includes representations of auditory hallucinations is Hellblade:
Seanu’s Sacrifice (Ninja Theory 2017), which used binaural recordings to
give the impression of the protagonist hearing voices. This game received
funding support from the Wellcome Trust, and these designs were
informed by advice from mental health professionals. Other games incor-
porate sequences of intoxicated drug use, which are usually portrayed
using various post-processing filters, DSP effects, and sonic atmo-
spheres. For example, the neo-noir third-person shooter game Max Payne
 1 Introduction 19

(Remedy Entertainment 2001) featured scenes in which the protago-

nist is intoxicated, wandering through the morbid corridors of his mind;
while in Far Cry 3 (Ubisoft Montreal 2012), the player character expe-
riences various sensory distortions after consuming magic mushrooms.
Other intoxicated game sequences are more whimsical or comical. Grand
Theft Auto V (Rockstar North 2013) features various humorous and
‘edgy’ representations of recreational drug use; while the ‘Lightbearer’
downloadable content for We Happy Few (Compulsion Games 2018)
delivers a narrative filled with sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll escapades
through colourful, surrealistic tongue-in-cheek portrayals of psychedelic
pill-popping. Experiences like these are now being brought into VR, as
seen in more meditative titles such as Jan Kounen’s Ayahuasca: Kosmik
Journey (2019; see also Haridy 2019), which takes the viewer on a
shamanic ayahuasca trip; or Soundself: A Technodelic (Andromeda Enter-
tainment 2020), a voice-activated VR experience in which the user must
create ‘om’ sounds that are transformed with DSP effects to embark on
a voyage through waves of kaleidoscopic visuals.
Other music-oriented video games may also include visualisations
of sound, which to varying degrees may be considered ‘psychedelic’.
The musical ‘on-rails shooter’13 Rez (United Game Artists 2001) is an
important game in this area, in which events are quantised and occur
in synchronisation with the electronic dance music soundtrack. The
game notes inspiration from the visual music painter Kandinsky, and the
updated VR version Rez Infinite (Monstars 2017) uses colourful particle
effects which develop in tandem with the music, enhancing the impres-
sion of synaesthesia. Other shoot ‘em-up games that use various forms
of psychedelic visual effects, audio reactivity, and rhythmic synchronisa-
tion include Polynomial (Lavrov 2010), Beat Hazard (Cold Beam Games
2010), and Lost Future Omega (Mebius 2018). The ‘rhythm game’ is
an expansive genre, in which players are challenged to match the beat
of the music, and these may include audio-reactive backdrops or envi-
ronments that relate to the music. The most popular current example
of this in VR is Beat Saber (Beat Games 2019). In Beat Saber, the
player stands in a minimalist tunnel environment swiping at coloured
blocks with lightsabers in time to the music. Other variations on the
rhythm game formula situate the player as the pilot of a vehicle that
20 J. Weinel

must be precisely controlled in relation to musical timing, as seen in both

Audio Surf (Fitterer 2008) and Thumper (Drool 2016), which has a VR
version. There are also a number of music visualisations that do not have
a ludic dimension, simply providing immersive audio-visual experiences
of music that can be enjoyed in VR. For instance, MelodyVR (MelodyVR
2019) uses video footage to allow the user to watch concerts in VR, while
Fantasynth (HelloEnjoy 2017) allows the user to fly through an illumi-
nated environment that pulses in time to the soundtrack. Of course,
there will always be many more works that one could mention in this
section, but for our purposes, this overview is sufficient and outlines the
wider context for the projects discussed in Explosions in the Mind.

The Chapters
Through the course of this book, I will discuss the compositional
methodologies used to realise various creative projects that represent
ASCs and provide psychedelic sounds and visualisations. This work
has been undertaken primarily as ‘practice-led research’ in an academic
context. The works discussed in earlier chapters of the book were
completed as part of my Ph.D. in music at Keele University, while many
of the other projects covered later on were undertaken as postdoctoral
research elsewhere. For readers unfamiliar with this term, ‘practice-led
research’ is based on the premise that the production of the creative works
themselves constitutes a contribution to knowledge, leading to innova-
tions that could not otherwise be obtained through alternative means
(Smith and Dean 2009). Practice feeds into the generation of theory,
which in turn, informs practice.14 This methodology is often appropriate
for academic research in areas such as sound design and music composi-
tion, because it allows researchers to gain new insights by developing new
tools or compositional strategies that expand the repertoire. Practice-led
research is also sometimes used in industry, and may be combined with
interdisciplinary approaches, for example, by using empirical methods to
test and evaluate outcomes (Weinel and Cunningham 2021). Practice-led
research is sometimes described as ‘research through design’, emphasising
the potential for innovation through the process of designing and making
 1 Introduction 21

new things in relation to specific objectives. For our purposes here, those
‘new things’ are electronic music and audio-visual compositions, which
explore possible strategies for representing ASCs and psychedelic visual-
isations of sound. These projects approach this area from various angles,
and the continuity between works represents a journey through this
subject across different media technologies. Chapters group the compo-
sitions thematically, and with a few exceptions made to accommodate
the logical grouping of works, the discussion is also chronological.
Chapter 2 begins by discussing fixed-media compositions of electroa-
coustic music composed between 2007 and 2011, which seek to repre-
sent ASCs. The initial works discussed in this chapter were composed
by taking typical features of ASCs, such as visual patterns of hallucina-
tion, or distortions to time perception, and translating them into sound.
Extending this idea, later works use the typical form of hallucinations
to inform the structural organisation of materials, so that the composi-
tion as a whole becomes analogous to what one might see or hear in a
psychedelic hallucination. The elaboration of this approach is explored
through Nausea (2011), a long-form multichannel composition, which
exhibits several distinct musical movements.
Chapter 3 takes the discussion into the realm of real-time perfor-
mances of electronic music. Several of my electroacoustic compositions
were realised with a specially designed software tool: the Atomizer Live
Patch, which facilitates the creation of sonic materials based on halluci-
nations, and can also be used for live performances. In this chapter, both
the design of this tool and its use for a live performance in New York City
are discussed. Following this, I also examine another piece of software:
Bass Drum, Saxophone and Laptop, which provides a real-time perfor-
mance system for live instrumentation and electronics, in which DSP is
automated in order to suggest the shifting perceptual changes that one
may experience during hallucinations.
Chapter 4 moves into the area of audio-visual composition. First,
I discuss Tiny Jungle (2010), a fixed-media piece, in which various
materials were designed based on the concept of visual patterns of hallu-
cination. This piece was also created with a bespoke software tool, the
Atomizer Visual. Following this, I discuss a trio of fixed-media visual
music compositions: Mezcal Animations (2013), Cenote Zaci (2014), and
22 J. Weinel

Cenote Sagrado (2014), which drew inspiration from a trip to Mexico,

and are based on different concepts of hallucination and synaesthesia.
These works incorporate hand-painted materials using direct animation
techniques and explore the digital compositing of these materials with
stop-motion animation and computer graphics.
Chapter 5 looks at ways in which to ‘simulate’ psychedelic halluci-
nations through interactive projects. An early experiment in this area,
Quake Delirium (2010), is a computer game modification, which auto-
mates game parameters, graphics, and sounds in order to represent
fluctuations in perception, such as one might experience during an
episode of hallucination. Following this project, Psych Dome (2013) is
an interactive artwork designed for presentation in a mobile fulldome,
which uses original software patches to generate visual patterns and
corresponding sounds based on Klüver’s (1971) form constants. Through
the use of a biofeedback electroencephalograph (EEG) headset, the piece
provides a connection between the brain activity of the viewer, which is
used to modulate the sounds and visualisation. Lastly, ASC Sim (2017)
is a game-engine project that provides three prototype mechanisms to
simulate auditory hallucinations.
Chapter 6 focuses on a discussion of my VJ performances from 2018
onwards under the alias Soundcat. Building on techniques described
in the earlier chapters, these performances were realised through the
construction of various hand-produced and computer-generated mate-
rials, which were then mixed together in real-time, resulting in a series of
original videos for existing music. In live performances, these videos are
then combined to provide a DJ/VJ mix. In this chapter, I will also discuss
various paintings that were completed alongside this work, which inter-
pret sound and music through abstract and symbolic forms. These works
can be understood as ‘sketches’ or companion pieces, which develop
related synaesthetic visual ideas. Three of these pieces form a series in
which augmented reality is used to bring still elements to life as VJ loops.
Chapter 7 discusses Cyberdream (2019–2020), a VR project, which
has been developed through distinct iterations for the Oculus Gear VR
and Oculus Quest devices. This project extends many of the principles
described in the earlier chapters, in order to provide a psychedelic visual-
isation of electronic music. The structure of the piece assumes the form
 1 Introduction 23

of a DJ/VJ mix, where various scenes become analogous to music tracks,

which the user moves through interactively. Cyberdream also provides
a series of audio-visual ‘sound toys’, which allow the user to interact
and creatively ‘paint with sound’, generating psychedelic visualisations
of sound.
Chapter 8 considers the various projects that have been discussed
throughout the book, summarising the conceptual approaches, theoret-
ical insights, and practical strategies used. Consolidating these outcomes,
Explosions in the Mind will present a set of three design frameworks
for composing works that represent psychedelic hallucinations and ulti-
mately provide psychedelic visualisations of sound. These frameworks
will allow the reader to consider new opportunities and approaches that
might be used in their own electronic music, audio-visual compositions,
or interactive projects, which will undoubtedly push this field of research
and creative practice yet further into exciting, uncharted territories.
For each chapter of Explosions in the Mind , supplementary materials
have been provided online (http://www.jonweinel.com/exp_media/dow
nloads.htm), which will allow the reader to listen to, watch, or exper-
iment with software tools related to many of the electronic music and
audio-visual compositions discussed. It is recommended that the reader
refers to these in order to gain a more complete understanding of the
work. For instances where the composition cannot be provided (as in
the case of live performances), demonstration recordings and videos have
been provided instead.

∗ ∗ ∗

From shamanic rituals to modern electronic dance music festivals and

psychedelic VR experiences, human culture is interwoven with ASCs.
Within this broad area, Explosions in the Mind focuses in particular
on the representation of psychedelic hallucinations, which I have used
as a basis for the design of electronic music and audio-visual compo-
sition for more than a decade. This book provides a comprehensive
documentation of these works, ultimately leading to new strategies for
composing psychedelic visualisations of sound. The journey presented
herein traverses multiple creative approaches in practice-led research,
24 J. Weinel

and these are entwined with advances in immersive technologies. By

providing a detailed account of my own compositional practices in this
area, it is my hope that others will be able to draw upon and extend this
work, allowing us to make the most of the opportunities that new audio-
visual technologies provide for immersing audiences into synaesthetic
virtual worlds of sound and image.

Notes
1. Possession of ‘magic mushrooms’ and many of the other drugs mentioned
in this chapter is illegal in most countries. Many of the ASCs discussed
in this chapter are also potentially dangerous, and are not recommended
to the reader. In contrast, psychedelic visualisations of sound are generally
safe, although some may use stroboscopic visual elements that should be
avoided by anyone with photosensitive epilepsy.
2. Related topics are also explored in my book Inner Sound: Altered States of
Consciousness in Electronic Music and Audio-Visual Media (Weinel 2018a).
While the focus of Explosions in the Mind is on my own practice-led
research in electronic music and audio-visual composition, Inner Sound
provides a wide-ranging analysis of existing works related to ASCs. For an
expanded discussion of the wider area, readers may also wish to refer to
Inner Sound , which is complementary, and could be read either before or
after Explosions in the Mind .
3. ‘Psychonaut’ is a colloquial term for a person who takes a particular interest
in exploring the nethereaches of the human psyche through means of
psychedelic drugs and other ASCs.
4. Accounts of ASC experiences are available in various books, scientific
studies, and websites. For example, Hayes (2000) provides a collection of
experience reports; Strassman (2001) documents participant studies with
DMT; while the website erowid.org has a vast database of self-reports
covering the effects of almost every known intoxicating plant or substance.
5. Rouget’s (1985) use of the term ‘ecstasy’ describes ASCs that occur
in shamanic rituals characterised by quiet stillness, and should not be
confused with those states produced by the euphoric stimulant MDMA,
commonly known as ‘ecstasy’.
6. For a further discussion of auditory hallucinations, see also Weinel et al.
(2014).
 1 Introduction 25

7. Schafer (1994, pp. 148–150) discusses the associative properties of sound,

which may give rise to psychoacoustic responses, semantics, and aesthetics.
As Schafer acknowledges, these responses are not fixed, but may vary
between individuals.
8. ‘Electroacoustic music’ is a form of Western art music originating in
the mid-twentieth century via work such as Pierre Schaeffer’s ‘musique
concrète’, and Karlheinz Stockhausen’s ‘elektronische musik’ (Manning
2004). See also Chapter 2.
9. ‘Fulldome’ is a type of immersive 360-degrees projection environment in
which a video is projected across a dome-shaped ceiling.
10. Throughout this book ‘fixed-media’ refers to musical and audio-visual
compositions created in the studio, resulting in audio or video recordings
that may be played back at concerts or festivals.
11. For example, Jeff Minter’s VLM were also used to provide the visuals for
dance bands such as The Shamen, Primal Scream, and The Orb (Minter
2005).
12. United VJs are a group who have been particularly active in this area,
having created their own Blendy Dome VJ software. They have provided
various international workshops on fulldome VJ performance (which the
author has been fortunate to attend), and were behind the video mapping
at various high-profile events such as the Rio 2016 Summer Olympics.
13. An ‘on-rails shooter’ is a type of video game in which the player must
shoot at targets while moving along a predetermined animation path.
14. The integration of theory and practice in the arts is sometimes referred to
as ‘praxis’. For a further discussion see also Liggett (2020).
 2
Psychedelic Journeys in Sound:
Electroacoustic Compositions

Put on the headphones and lower the needle on to the record, which
crackles faintly in anticipation as it makes its way into the side-A groove.
It begins with a flickering high-frequency tone. Waves of noise gradu-
ally fade into the mix with sweeping filters, above a layer of throbbing
percussive pulses, which gradually rise in amplitude. Now a brief phase of
sonic reconfiguration, with crunchy 8-bit noise, echoing electronics, and
a deep pounding bass that cuts through the mix, as fragmented hissing
sounds splash over the top like purifying electronic waves breaking onto
a shoreline of e-waste. The rhythmic pulsing shifts into a new gear, as the
intensity ramps up and icy sounds shatter over the top. If you close your
eyes, you can almost see them exploding in your mind’s eye, going off
like electric-blue fireworks rendered in sharp fragments of crisp digital
audio. Now an oscillator cycles up and down in frequency, as layer upon

Supplementary Information The online version contains supplementary material available at

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-4055-1_2.
Where the icon is shown in the chapter, the reader should refer to the supporting
media files.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 27

Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021
J. Weinel, Explosions in the Mind, Palgrave Studies in Sound,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-4055-1_2
28 J. Weinel

layer of tight rhythmic pulses are pressed on top of each other with the
cold precision of technological automation. Sonic lasers fan out across
the mix, as you are drawn deeper into a dense black sonic mass. Just as
this audio system seems on the verge of collapse, the motors power down
and the acoustic energy dissipates into the surrounding atmosphere.
Sometimes episodes of listening can have a particular potency that
stays with you. I can distinctly remember listening to ‘Il Etait… “Mag-
netique” / Une Possibilite’, by La Peste (Laurent Mialon) (2005) on
headphones one afternoon in my university halls of residence. With vivid
detail, I can recall the room I was in, the feeling of awe that came from
the composition, and having almost visual or synaesthetic sensations that
emerged from the sonic experience. Mialon described his music in terms
of ‘sonic atoms’, where each individual unit of sound had capabilities
for triggering neural impulses in the mind of the listener, giving rise to
micro-responses at any given point in time (Weinel 2007). Individual
pulses, encoded as analogue audio signals on the groove of the record
trigger tiny fluctuations in the magnetic field of the needle. Translated
into a varying electrical voltage, these pulses flow through the amplifica-
tion system, driving moving coil headphone transducers that turn the
analogue signal into acoustic sound waves. These sound waves prop-
agate the electronic pulsing into the ears, activating vibrations on the
eardrums, setting the hammer, anvil and stirrup in motion, causing the
basilar membrane to quiver inside the cochlea. Different areas of this
membrane trigger nerve impulses that stimulate the auditory cortex of
the brain. From here, the brain makes sense of the stimuli, as differ-
ences in the incoming signals in the left and right ears give rise to spatial
impressions of sound. As the brain interprets ambiguous shard-like sonic
materials, it draws upon past recollections of familiar sounds and associ-
ated events, latching on to memories of shattering glass or ceramics. This
leads to visual associations and emotions, as one imagines what the sonic
event might look or feel like. In an instant, the dark plastic of the record
transmits vivid impressions of sound, emotions, and associative images
that can almost be seen, lending the music a synaesthetic, psychedelic
potency.
Electronic music has unique capabilities for realising almost any sound
imaginable. Composers working with synthesis, sampling, and digital
 2 Psychedelic Journeys in Sound: Electroacoustic Compositions 29

signal processing (DSP) techniques can sculpt sound in a myriad of ways.

By using these techniques, the pallet of possible sounds expands beyond
those that can be achieved with acoustic instruments, to encompass all
manner of noise-based sounds.1 These ideas are utilised in electroacoustic
music, a field of music composition originating in the mid-twentieth
century, as pioneered through Pierre Schaeffer’s ‘musique concrète’, and
Karlheinz Stockhausen’s ‘elektronische musik’, in which manipulations of
tape and electronic synthesis techniques were used to create new forms
of music composition through organisations of sound (Manning 2004).
The field of electroacoustic music subsequently developed through work
at various other international studios, and new approaches made possible
by computers, leading to its modern form, which is strongly connected
with academic music departments and explored through many inter-
national concerts, festivals, and conferences dedicated to this art form.
Such events may typically include compositions for live instruments
and electronics; real-time performances created with laptops and various
controller devices; fixed-media compositions, which are ‘diffused’ in loud
speaker concerts through live mixing of the audio signal across large
multi-channel arrays of loudspeakers that surround the audience; and
audio-visual compositions, which combine sound with video elements.
In the sphere of electroacoustic music, Smalley’s (1986) concept of
‘spectromorphology’ describes how the spectrum of sound is manifested
in time. By manipulating spectromorphological properties, composers
can construct sounds that resemble acoustic phenomena that we might
encounter in the ‘external’ world around us (in terms of Hobson 2003),
but we can also try to make other sounds that have indefinite reference
points, or perhaps suggest the ‘internal’ worlds of dreams, hallucina-
tions, and the imagination. In consideration of the associative properties
of sound, Smalley’s (1997) concept of ‘source bonding’ describes the
‘natural tendency to relate sounds to supposed sources and causes, and to
relate sounds to each other because they have shared or associated origins’
(p. 110). This phenomenon may also be understood through the lens
of Schacter and Tulving’s (1994) concepts of memory, where ‘episodic
memory’ describes specific autobiographical recollections that integrate
multiple types of sensory information and emotion; while ‘semantic
memory’ provides a general store of information and factual knowledge.
30 J. Weinel

When we hear a sound, this may trigger episodic memories if they cause
us to think of a specific past event. For example, if we heard a recording
of shattering glass, this might allow us to remember a specific time when
we accidentally dropped a glass. However, more usually if we heard
such a sound, we would probably access our semantic memory, which
allows us to comprehend its associations in a more general sense. Hence,
hearing shattered glass might not make us think of any specific episode,
but rather we would grasp the significance of the sound in a more
general, semantic way from past patterns of experience.2 These recollec-
tions are often ‘multimodal’, in that they may include not only sound,
but also other modes of sensory information such as visual impressions,
or emotions. By manipulating the spectromorphological characteristics
of sound, composers can play with our experience of source bonding,
and this in turn opens up many possibilities for electroacoustic music
to trigger multimodal associations and visual images in ‘the mind’s eye’
(Taruffi and Küssner 2019; Trickett 2020). These associations might be
used to conjure impressions of real-world environments; for instance, one
could compose a soundscape3 with the sounds of buzzing insects, tall
rustling grass and distant birdcalls, and this might paint a vivid mental
image of a meadow in the height of summer. However, the illusory prop-
erties of sound may also allow the representation of imaginary or unreal
places, as in compositions such as Barry Truax’s Chalice Well (2009),
which takes the listener on a sonic journey from a well in Glastonbury
into the spaces of a mythical underworld.4
Our journey in Explosions in the Mind begins within the field of
electroacoustic music, understood from this perspective as an illusory
medium that is capable of conjuring associative multimodal journeys that
represent real or unreal places and spaces. In 2007, I began composing
works of electroacoustic music that explored ways in which to represent
altered states of consciousness (ASCs) through sound. In this chapter, I
will discuss the design of these works and the compositional method-
ologies that were used to realise them. At first, the approach that I used
was one of ‘adaptation’, in which the compositional form was modified
by designing sonic materials based on typical features of ASCs. This was
initially explored through three compositions: Night Breed (2008), Surfer
Stem (2008), and Night Dream (2008). Later, the development of this led
 2 Psychedelic Journeys in Sound: Electroacoustic Compositions 31

to a ‘structural’ approach, in which sounds are based on hallucinations,

and these are structurally organised based on concepts of how such expe-
riences might progress over time. This technique was used to compose
two pieces: Entoptic Phenomena (2009) and Swamp Process (2009), which
take the listener on a sonic journey analogous to an experience of halluci-
nation as it unfolds in time. The elaboration of this approach then led to
the composition of a longer work: Nausea (2011), which develops this
idea through several distinct movements based on ‘waves’ of hallucina-
tion. The various compositions discussed in this chapter were performed
at a variety of events on the electroacoustic circuit of international festi-
vals and conferences, and four were subsequently released on the Entoptic
Phenomena in Audio (Weinel 2014) vinyl EP. Through a discussion of the
compositional methodologies used to compose these works, this chapter
aims to outline an approach for representing visual or auditory halluci-
nations through sound, which provides a foundation for the audio-visual
and interactive works discussed later in the book.

An Adaptive Approach
The first compositions that I created utilise an ‘adaptive’ approach,
whereby the form is modified to incorporate features that are related to
ASCs. As with many of the works discussed in this book, this approach
emerged through the process of composition as a ‘bottom-up’ process.
That is, the approach was not entirely pre-conceived at the beginning,
but arose through iterative processes of composition and reflection.5
These works can be understood as ‘adaptive’, because they utilise
existing approaches for composing electroacoustic music and electronic
dance music, but modify the form of the composition to incorporate
materials that relate to aspects of ASC experiences. This process of
‘adaptation’ can be explained by considering how one might render a
watercolour painting that represents a hallway as one might see it during
an episode of hallucination. To paint a hallway as it may appear during a
state of normal-waking consciousness, we could use watercolour paints to
render the scene, indicating the contours of the architecture, the colours
and textures of the walls, floor, and ceiling. We could attempt to render
32 J. Weinel

the scene realistically, by making accurate use of perspective and appro-

priate colours. Suppose however, that we wanted to render the hallway as
someone might see it during a hallucination. We could do this by using
the familiar ‘toolkit’ of watercolour paints, but adapt the way the scene
is rendered with these, based on typical features of hallucination. For
instance, we could paint spiral patterns of dots in the scene, suggesting
visual patterns of hallucination; present the hallway with warped lines to
suggest perceptual distortions; or use stronger, brighter colours to indi-
cate an increased visual sensitivity. By using such techniques, we would
still be operating within the general domain of watercolour painting,
with the standard toolkit of brushes and paints, but we would be
adapting our approach by incorporating specific techniques related to
typical features of an ASC experience.
A similar adaptive approach can also be used in music, by working
within an existing paradigm for musical composition, and modifying
the use of this paradigm by taking ASCs into consideration. Psychedelic
garage rock from the 1960s could be considered to exemplify such an
approach.6 The songs operate within an existing framework provided by
electric blues and rock n’ roll music. Hence, the artists use the familiar
instrumentation of drums, bass, electric guitar, and vocals; verse-chorus
structures; chord progressions; and the tonalities that we would usually
expect to find in these genres of music. However, the music can be
identified as ‘psychedelic’ because of the cultural context and historic
period from which it emerges, and with this, certain psychedelic adap-
tations to the form of electric blues and rock n’ roll. For instance, the
lyrics of songs such as The Electric Prunes’ ‘I Had Too Much to Dream
(Last Night)’ (1966), Jefferson Airplane’s ‘White Rabbit’ (1967), or The
Amboy Dukes’ ‘Journey to the Center of the Mind’ (1968) suggest
themes of dreaming or hallucinating. In some cases, as heard on ‘I Had
Too Much to Dream (Last Night)’, the productions also make signifi-
cant use of effects processes such as echo, reverb, tremolo, and flanger,
lending a warped, dreamlike quality to the sound, almost as if it were
heard during an ASC. Another key work from this era, The Beatles’
‘Tomorrow Never Knows’ (1966), makes use of droning tape loops and
reversed materials, in correspondence with the theme of cyclical time
and existence in the song; while The Jimi Hendrix Experience’s ‘And the
 2 Psychedelic Journeys in Sound: Electroacoustic Compositions 33

God’s Made Love’ (1968) also uses tape recordings with variable speeds,
perhaps suggesting the distortions to time perception that may occur
during an ASC (Ludwig 1969, pp. 13–14). Across these various exam-
ples, we find that familiar musical forms are modified towards various
concepts of psychedelia. Furthermore, if we look more broadly at other
‘psychedelic’ genres of music—psychedelic folk, psy-trance, or stoner
rock, for example—we would also often find similar adaptations, where
the core approach owes a debt to established genre forms, but aspects of
production and sound design modify these and orientate them towards
tangible notions of psychedelia in cultural circulation.
The electroacoustic compositions that I discuss in this section use a
similar process of adaptation, but do so within the domain of electroa-
coustic music. These works are composed using the familiar toolkit of
synthesis, sampling, and DSP techniques, including the use of processes
such as granular synthesis, which are often used in this field of compo-
sition. However, the form of the work is adapted by designing various
sonic materials based on features of ASCs. This process can also be
understood in terms of Emmerson’s (1986) ‘mimetic discourse’, which
describes the signifying potential of sound that results from referential or
extrinsic qualities. By taking features of ASCs, such as concepts of visual
or auditory hallucinations, these can be used to inform the design of
mimetic sonic materials, which are then used to adapt the compositional
form. This is the main approach that is used in the three fixed-media
electroacoustic compositions that I discuss below.

Night Breed

Media 2.1 Night Breed , electroacoustic music, 6 minutes 23 seconds

Night Breed is the first composition that I created based on ASCs,
and was performed at various electroacoustic events including the Royal
Musical Association: Beyond the Dance (Keele University, 22 May
2008), and Energy Flash (Keele University, 5 May 2010) concerts.
This composition utilises the typical approaches of electroacoustic music
and electronic dance music,7 adapting these in accordance with various
features of ASCs, which in this case were derived from Timothy Leary’s
34 J. Weinel

(1968) concept of ‘seven levels of energy consciousness’. According to

Leary’s discussion, psychedelic drugs are able to elicit different forms
of ‘energy consciousness’, each of which also corresponds with certain
forms of art. Night Breed draws specifically on Leary’s concept of ‘cellular
consciousness’, which he says can be experienced by consuming peyote
or psilocybin mushrooms, and provides an awareness of the biological,
cellular aspects of life. In a cellular psychedelic hallucination, concepts
such as genesis, biology, evolution, and genetics might be experienced
through hallucinatory manifestations of DNA coding, visualisations of
cell structure and growth, biological processes, or evolution. Night Breed
incorporates this concept of cellular consciousness by using various
organic and morphing mimetic sonic materials.8
Following the previous discussion, Night Breed can be understood as
an adaptation that modifies the approaches of electroacoustic music and
electronic dance music towards a psychedelic aesthetic. While it is prin-
cipally an electroacoustic composition, the piece draws significantly on
forms of electronic dance music such as jungle/drum & bass, techno,
and dubstep.9 The composition incorporates some familiar traits from
these genres, but uses specific techniques to adapt the form in accordance
with psychedelic ASCs. For example, at 1:00, 4/4 bass drum rhythms
are introduced, which are similar to those used in techno music, while
the section from 2:00 to 2:30 exhibits syncopated rhythms related to
the patterns used in jungle. These are structurally organised as follows:
{intro, rhythmic section 1, breakdown, rhythmic section 2, outro}; this
is a pattern that is commonly used on many electronic dance music
records. This provides the main form and structure of Night Breed , to
which various adaptations are then applied in accordance with features
of ASCs.
As noted, the piece draws on Leary’s concept of cellular conscious-
ness. Since this concept relates to cellular forms and organic matter, I
attempt to incorporate ‘organic’ mimetic sonic materials in the piece.
The interpretation of ‘organic’ that I use focuses specifically on natural
dynamics of growth and decay, and complex variations in physical form,
which are often characteristics of organic matter. Night Breed incorpo-
rates sounds that are made with organic materials, such as percussive
sounds made by striking pieces of wood together. These sounds provide
 2 Psychedelic Journeys in Sound: Electroacoustic Compositions 35

a natural time-varying spectral form that is predictable, but also charac-

terised by complex, subtle variations in timbre, which are caused by the
interaction of the materials. The hands causing the collision of materials
are also organic matter, and thus a natural process is embedded in the
making of these sounds. A human vocal sample is also used, which can be
considered an organic sonic material due to its biological origins. These
various sounds can be heard throughout the piece from 0:45 onwards.
The composition also utilises an organic approach to the transforma-
tion of sounds as they occur over time. For instance, as heard from 4:20
to 4:50, a pitch shifting effect is applied to the bass drum, which moves
the frequency of sound up and down gradually. The design of the pitch
envelope moves in a weaving organic motion following contours that we
might find in nature if we were to view the way a river cuts through
the landscape, or a snake as it moves through the grass. Rather than
using mathematically perfect automation paths for the pitch-shift effect,
these contours were achieved by recording parameter adjustments in real-
time, thereby providing organic properties that arise from the imperfect
motion of the human hand. In this way, the transformation of materials
incorporates complex, non-linear variations that are mimetic of organic
processes.
Night Breed is also the first of many works that I will discuss in
Explosions in the Mind , which uses the concept of visual patterns of hallu-
cination as a basis for the design of mimetic sonic materials. As heard
from 0:40 to 1:10, scattered rhythmic sounds are used in this piece,
which were conceived in correspondence with visual hallucinations of
cell structures. For example, one can imagine a hallucination of plant
cells, which are scattered across the visual field as if viewed through
a microscope. In order to approximately represent this visual impres-
sion through sound, organic rhythmic materials can be organised into
a mimetic formation by using a sporadic distribution of their placement
in time.
Psychedelic hallucinations may also incorporate shifting changes to
perception, such as colours seeming to appear to morph between brighter
or duller hues, or a room seeming to grow smaller or larger at different
points in time. To incorporate this idea of ‘shifting perception’ in Night
36 J. Weinel

Breed , the piece uses various filter, EQ, reverb, convolution, and ampli-
tude envelopes to create an effect where sounds move in and out of
the listener’s awareness, or morph into different versions of themselves.
These shifting transitions can be heard from 1:50 to 2:10. In the section
from 4:50 to 5:50, these morphing transformations were designed using
organic contours, giving an aural impression of gradual submersion,
almost as if the listener is moving underwater.
In summary, Night Breed adapts typical approaches of electroacoustic
music and electronic dance music, by using various techniques that are
based on features of psychedelic ASCs. While the main form of the piece
is derived from electroacoustic music and electronic dance music, the
piece also incorporates various techniques that interpret features of hallu-
cinations, focusing particularly on organic approaches to sound design,
which are related to a cellular concept of hallucinations.

Surfer Stem

Media 2.2 Surfer Stem, electroacoustic music, 7 minutes 9 seconds

Continuing to explore Leary’s ‘seven levels of energy consciousness’,
Surfer Stem uses the concept of ‘atomic consciousness’ as a basis for
design. According to Leary, this level of consciousness is induced by
drugs such as LSD, and causes hallucinations that enable the viewer to
perceive atomic activity, such as the movement of atoms and electrons.
Leary cites electronic music as an art form that is able to express this
level. This concept speaks to the idea of electronic or digital halluci-
nations, which is something that William Gibson also describes in the
classic cyberpunk novel Neuromancer (1984). Surfer Stem draws inspira-
tion specifically from a passage of Neuromancer that describes a virtual
reality (VR) hallucination, in which the protagonist finds himself trapped
on a synthetic beach that extends to infinity. The composition itself
was performed at various concerts including Sonic Fusion (University of
Salford, 8 November 2013); the International Festival of Artistic Inno-
vation (Leeds College of Music, 14 March 2014); and was included as
part of an interactive sound installation for the Event Two exhibition of
computer art (Royal College of Art, 15–17 July 2019).
 2 Psychedelic Journeys in Sound: Electroacoustic Compositions 37

In order to develop a hallucinatory electronic aesthetic, in contrast

with the ‘organic’ approaches used for Night Breed, Surfer Stem prioritises
the use of sonic materials with digital, synthetic qualities.10 The piece
specifically draws upon the approaches of ‘flashcore’ music, a form of
speedcore techno,11 which could be considered as a form of psychedelic
cyberpunk music (Weinel 2007). In particular, I draw upon Laurent
Mialon’s concept of ‘sonic atoms’, which describes micro-percussive units
of sound. For Surfer Stem, I adapted this idea by designing rapid streams
and clouds of percussive sounds, which I consider reflect patterns of
atoms or electrons, such as one might perceive during Leary’s atomic
consciousness. These sounds can be heard from 2:04 to 2:22, and were
created through sequencing of percussive samples; granular synthesis
techniques; and a Max/MSP12 patch that selects random percussive
sounds from a bank of samples, and triggers them at random time
intervals. This approach is one that I also develop in subsequent compo-
sitions, and the Max/MSP application used here was extended to provide
the Atomizer Live Patch discussed in the next chapter.
Drones created from vocal sounds can be heard from 3:20 to 3:45, and
at various other points in Surfer Stem. These were created using samples
derived from 1960s surf rock music,13 which were then processed using
granular synthesis to create a time-stretching effect. Reverberation was
also applied to these drones. By drawing on the sonic fingerprint or
timbral characteristics of surf rock music, I intend these sounds to
conjure a feeling or visual impression related to a sublime beach scene.
Through the use of granular time-stretching, these sounds reflect a
distorted perception of time, where an individual moment seems to
extend to infinity.14 At the same time, the digital transformation of these
materials is apparent, laying bare their synthetic and unreal qualities.
Thus, the drones reflect a sonic impression of a virtual beach scene that
extends infinitely, as in the passage of Neuromancer that the piece draws
inspiration from.
Surfer Stem also uses sonic materials that reference dub reggae and
dubstep,15 as heard through the percussive guitar sound at 1:55; the
slow rhythmic bass part from 2:04 to 2:50; and the simulated tape
delay sounds from 3:01 to 3:20. I consider the echoing dub sounds as
corresponding with perceptual distortions such as the visual trail effects
38 J. Weinel

that are often experienced during hallucinations, thus adding another

psychedelic aspect to the composition.
Overall, Surfer Stem uses juxtapositions of percussive rhythmic sounds
and droning sounds to construct a sonic impression of a digital hallu-
cination. The title of the piece is an adaptation of ‘SimStims’, the
technology that William Gibson describes in Neuromancer, which broad-
casts or records sensory inputs and experiences. Likewise, I conceptualise
the piece as a sonic experience representing a digital hallucination of
an infinite beach scene in VR, which pops and glitches with atomic
visual hallucinations. The beach scene is primarily rendered with droning
sounds derived from surf rock music, while the visual hallucinations are
articulated with micro-rhythmic streams of ‘sonic atoms’.

Night Dream

Media 2.3 Night Dream, electroacoustic music, 8 minutes 0 seconds

Night Dream is the third electroacoustic composition that uses Leary’s
‘seven levels of energy consciousness’ as a basis for design. In this case,
the concept used is ‘sensory consciousness’, which describes a heightened
state of sensory awareness, as may be induced by marijuana, according
to Leary. The piece continues to explore the use of drones, which are a
primary feature, and are provided through several types of drone sounds
and low-frequency sonic materials. Drawing upon ideas of ‘bass medi-
tation’, which was popular in dubstep music at that time,16 bass is
considered not only as a means of stimulating the ears, but also as a
force with which to provide physical stimulation of the body. For Night
Dream, this feeds into an overall concept of a sensory dream. The piece
was first performed at MANTIS Festival (University of Manchester, 7
March 2009).
Droning sounds are heard throughout Night Dream. These were tech-
nically produced through various forms of time-stretching, providing
sonic textures that were then organised into layers, which fade in and
out of the mix as it progresses in time. As with Surfer Stem, drones corre-
spond with the ASC feature of distortions to time perception, and in
this case are also underscored with low-frequency sinewave tones. These
 2 Psychedelic Journeys in Sound: Electroacoustic Compositions 39

synthetic tones are intended to enhance the sense of physical stimulation,

especially when the piece is diffused at electroacoustic concerts where
subwoofers are available.
As heard from 0:20 to 1:20, the gradually evolving ‘macro’ drone
sounds are processed with reverberation effects, and are presented with
contrasting ‘micro’ rhythmic textures. The latter sounds do not have
reverb effects applied, thereby providing a juxtaposing sense of open
and closed spaces. As before, scattered rhythmic sounds are also used
from 1:30 to 2:00, which are considered as corresponding with visual
hallucinations.
Completing this series of works, Night Dream is an electroacoustic
composition based on ‘sensory consciousness’ and the idea of a dream.
The piece explores this concept primarily through drones, and in doing
so seeks to communicate distortions to time perception, while also incor-
porating sensory stimulation through the use of low-frequency materials.
These are juxtaposed with micro rhythmic textures and scattered sounds,
which are related to visual hallucinations.

In summary, Night Breed , Surfer Stem, and Night Dream form a trio
of works based upon Leary’s ‘seven levels of energy consciousness’.
These pieces develop a variety of techniques that are used to adapt
typical forms of electroacoustic composition, while also incorporating
ideas from electronic dance music genres such as dubstep and flashcore.
These forms were adapted by designing mimetic sonic materials, which
are related to features of ASC experiences. Leary’s concepts inform the
general approach that is taken for each piece: Night Breed interprets
‘cellular consciousness’ through organic sounds; Surfer Stem translates
‘atomic consciousness’ through a digital aesthetic; and Night Dream
renders ‘sensory consciousness’ through low-frequency drones. Within
these approaches, specific types of sonic materials are designed, which are
considered to correspond with features of hallucinations. For instance,
micro-rhythmic sounds are designed based on visual patterns of hallu-
cination; while drone sounds are used to represent distortions to time
perception. Various echo and reverb effects are also used to provide
40 J. Weinel

shifting perceptions of space, such as one might have during a hallu-

cination. Through these various techniques, each compositional form is
adapted towards specific notions of psychedelia.

Psychedelic Journeys in Sound

The process of adaptation described in the previous section can be
employed at various ‘micro’ and ‘macro’ levels of the composition; that
is, it can inform the design of short individual units of sound, but can
also be used to transform longer amplitude envelopes and DSP param-
eters. As a logical extension of this, we can allow ASCs to permeate
the overall structural design of the composition at the top level. There
is some precedence for this approach in works such as Barry Truax’s
The Shaman Ascending (2004–2005), in which drone sounds are organ-
ised into rotating formations, which increase in pitch and velocity, in
correspondence with the idea of an Inuit shaman ascending during a
ritual. The works discussed in this section similarly organise electroa-
coustic materials in order to represent a hallucinatory journey or trip, so
the progression of sounds in time reflects an imagination of what one
might see or hear during such an experience on an approximately equiv-
alent time frame. This can still be considered as an ‘adaptive’ approach
to composition, but now ASCs inform both individual features as well as
the overall structure. In what follows, I discuss three compositions that
utilise this ‘structural’ approach.

Entoptic Phenomena

Media 2.4 Entoptic Phenomena, electroacoustic music, 5 minutes 44

seconds
The composition Entoptic Phenomena explores ways to represent visual
patterns of hallucination through sound. The term ‘entoptic phenomena’
describes visual patterns of hallucinations that originate ‘internally’
within the visual system. According to Klüver (1971) the visual
impressions seen during mescaline hallucinations may resemble ‘form
 2 Psychedelic Journeys in Sound: Electroacoustic Compositions 41

constants’: honeycomb, cobweb, funnel, and spiral forms. As discussed

in Chapter 1 (p. 1), these geometric patterns may give rise to other
visions derived from these basic forms; for example, a geometric funnel
design could lead to impressions of tunnel environments in later stages
of hallucination. While Klüver is inconclusive as to the origin of these
forms, suggesting they occur within the eye, a subsequent study by
Bressloff et al. (2001) suggests they are actually produced by patterns of
connection between the retina and the visual cortex. The term ‘entoptic
phenomena’ is also notably used in Lewis Williams and Dowson’s (1988)
article ‘The Signs of All Times: Entoptic Phenomena in Upper Palae-
olithic Art’, in which they argue that designs similar to the form
constants indicate the presence of shamanic activity within the cultures
from which various examples of rock art emerged.
Taking the idea of visual patterns of hallucination as a point of creative
departure, my composition Entoptic Phenomena develops the concept of
a hallucinatory journey or narrative, which is used to inform the arrange-
ment of sounds. The fixed-media version of the piece was performed at a
departmental concert held at Keele University (4 November 2009), and
a sixty second extract (under the title Atomizer ) was performed interna-
tionally as part of Robert Voisey’s ‘60 × 60: Sanguine mix’ and ‘60 × 60
Dance’ projects (e.g. Stratford Circus, London, 24 July 2010; for more
information see: http://www.60x60.com).
Entoptic Phenomena is based on an imagined DMT (N,N -
dimethyltryptamine; see Strassman 2001) hallucination that occurs in a
sensory isolation tank,17 providing a conceptual narrative around which
the piece is based. The narrative begins in the ‘external’ setting of a
sensory isolation tank, in which an individual wearing a snorkel begins to
hallucinate. As the experience ‘onsets’, waves of internal visual patterns
of hallucination are experienced, which gradually increase in intensity.
Following this, a ‘breakthrough’18 occurs and the experience moves into
an intense ‘plateau’ phase of hallucination accompanied by a feeling of
timelessness, in which individual moments seem to last much longer
than usual, and the voices of strange entities are heard. Eventually, this
gives way to another wave of visual patterns of hallucination, which grad-
ually subsides as the experience ‘terminates’, returning us to the familiar
42 J. Weinel

external setting of the sensory isolation tank. As a powerful but short-

lived hallucinogen, synthetic DMT hallucinations typically last between
5 and 15 minutes, and are sometimes referred to colloquially as ‘the
businessman’s trip’. With a total duration of 5 minutes and 44 seconds,
Entoptic Phenomena follows an {onset, plateau, termination} pattern on
a roughly equivalent time frame, articulating what one might see or hear
during such an experience.
As indicated in the graphic score for Entoptic Phenomena (Fig. 2.1),
each phase of the hallucinatory narrative is represented through corre-
sponding sonic materials. In the opening, snorkel sounds suggest the
experience of being in the familiar external setting of a sensory isolation
tank. As the experience ‘onsets’, internal visual patterns of hallucination
are represented through streams of micro-rhythmic percussion sounds
(0:57–1:55). These sounds rotate in a circular motion within the stereo
field, in correspondence with the funnel dot patterns of Klüver’s (1971)
form constants, and were technically realised with The Atomizer Live
Patch, a Max/MSP application that will be discussed in more detail
in the next chapter. As heard prominently from 1:30 to 1:37, these
rotating sounds utilise a Doppler effect. From 1:45 to 1:55 a crescendo
is heard, accompanied by a whooshing sound, signalling the experience
of ‘breaking through’ towards a deeper, more intense phase of hallucina-
tion. The piece then moves into the ‘plateau’ section from 1:56 onwards,
during which droning sounds are used to suggest distortions to time

Fig. 2.1 Graphic score indicating the structure of Entoptic Phenomena

 2 Psychedelic Journeys in Sound: Electroacoustic Compositions 43

perception. Here, digitally transformed vocal materials are also used to

suggest the voices of strange entities as auditory hallucinations. Next, in
the final section of the composition, another wave of rapid percussion
sounds in heard, in correspondence with visual patterns of hallucination
(3:35–5:20), before the listener is returned once again to the familiar
external snorkel sounds of the isolation tank, signalling the ‘termination’
of the hallucination.
Entoptic Phenomena advances the previous compositional form, by
not only using ASCs to inform the design of sonic materials based on
specific features of hallucination, but also using them to inform the
overall structural organisation of the piece. The idea of an imagined
DMT hallucination that occurs in a sensory isolation tank provides
a narrative concept, which the work is based upon. This narrative is
developed through three main {onset, plateau, termination} sections
(Fig. 2.1). Each of these phases of hallucination is provided through the
use of corresponding sonic materials, taking the listener on a psychedelic
journey through sound analogous to what one might see or hear as a
hallucination unfolds.

Swamp Process

Media 2.5 Swamp Process, electroacoustic music, 7 minutes 35

seconds
John Uri Lloyd’s (1895) Etidorhpa: Or the End of the Earth is a ‘hollow
earth theory’ novel,19 in which the protagonist undergoes a journey,
traversing various caverns and underground lakes, encountering giant
mushrooms, pointing hands, cubical crystals, and a strange being. In the
story, drinking a ‘narcotic fungus’ precipitates these experiences, and so
much like Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s ‘Kubla Khan’ (1797), the work can
be read as an account of a drug-induced hallucination. Just as ‘Kubla
Khan’ was informed by Coleridge’s actual experiences of opium intox-
ication, Terrance McKenna (1991, pp. 190–196) argues that Lloyd, a
pharmacist and ethnobotanist by trade, may have drawn inspiration
directly from his own experiences of psilocybin mushrooms. Whether by
means of hallucination or imagination, Etidorhpa certainly emerges from
44 J. Weinel

the interior spaces of Lloyd’s psyche, providing an account of a halluci-

natory journey, and in this regard it provides a point of inspiration for
the next electroacoustic composition I will discuss: Swamp Process.
Swamp Process is based on an imaginary hallucination that takes place
in a gloomy swamp, within a cave environment. While primarily an elec-
troacoustic composition, the piece also incorporates some approaches
related to dub reggae and dubstep music, through subtle dancehall
rhythms and basslines.20 The piece also utilises a subtractive approach
similar to that used in dub music, where elements are composed, then
subtracted, and brought fleetingly in and out of the mix. The fixed-
media version of Swamp Process was first presented at the 2012 edition
of the International Computer Music Conference in Ljubljana, Slovenia
(Institute for Sonic Arts Research [IRZU], 9–15 September 2012).
Swamp Process develops a narrative concept where hallucinatory crea-
tures lurk and emerge from the darkness of the cavernous swamp,
spiralling around the listener, and retreating, before eventually engulfing
us. These creatures are developed using an organic approach to sound
design, as described earlier. According to Lewis-Williams and Dowson’s
discussion, shamanic rock art renders animals seen in visionary experi-
ences in dot formations that derive from Klüver’s (1971) form constants.
Taking the idea of animals depicted through clusters of dots, Swamp
Process uses clouds of percussive sounds to represent auditory ‘crea-
tures’, which weave their way in and out of the mix, emerging and then
retracting into the darkness of the cave. These sounds are first heard from
0:28 to 0:35, and occur repeatedly throughout the composition, even-
tually building towards a climax from 6:39 to 7:05, when the creatures
engulf the spatial field completely. The composition also uses bass motifs,
as heard from 1:12 to 1:44, which are associated with physical, bodily
sensations of unease which may occur during hallucinations,21 devel-
oping the idea of low-frequency materials as a physical, sensory stimulus,
as discussed in Night Dream. Similarly, Swamp Process also uses drones
to suggest distortions to time perception from 1:25 to 1:46.
In summary, Swamp Process continues to explore the idea of a halluci-
natory narrative through the form of an electroacoustic composition with
elements of dub music. The composition is based on the idea of a halluci-
nation of a cavernous swamp environment inhabited by sonic creatures,
 2 Psychedelic Journeys in Sound: Electroacoustic Compositions 45

comprised of dot patterns related to Klüver’s (1971) form constants.

These creatures are articulated with clusters of percussive sounds that
move in and out of the auditory field, eventually engulfing the listener.

Nausea

Media 2.6 Nausea, electroacoustic music, 19 minutes 11 seconds

In a passage of Sartre’s (1938, pp. 182–183) novel Nausea, the protag-
onist Roquentin describes the onset of a strange experience, in which
‘existence… suddenly unveiled itself ’ (p. 183). His usual perception of
the world is shattered. Things around him that were once innocuous now
become terrifying. The way he perceives the roots of a tree, their form,
and their usual meaning has ‘melted, leaving soft, monstrous masses, in
disorder—naked with a frightening obscene nakedness’ (p. 183). In this
passage Roquentin is experiencing an ASC comparable to the psychotic
experiences of people with schizophrenia, or those under the influence
of hallucinogens such as LSD22 In 1935 Sartre experimented with the
drug mescaline, and this description is likely to have been based on his
own experiences. Although the effects of this drug usually only last for a
few hours, Sartre experienced further episodes for weeks afterwards and
fell into a depression that lasted for six months (Drake 2005, p. 36).
This literary passage informs the conceptual theme of the last compo-
sition that I will discuss in this chapter: Nausea. Realised in 5.1 surround
sound, Nausea was included in the programme of the Internet Technolo-
gies and Applications 2013: Art Expo (Wrexham Glyndŵr University,
11 September 2013), and an alternative version was included on the
Mutable Audio compilation released on Anti Narcose Records (Various
Artists 2018). The composition expands the ‘structural’ approach devel-
oped through Entoptic Phenomena and Swamp Process in order to provide
a long-form composition with multiple movements.
Nausea takes the idea of an ASC that occurs over a longer dura-
tion, and includes multiple ‘waves’ of hallucination. Each wave includes
various combinations of visual hallucinations, distortions to time-
perception, feelings of euphoria, anxiety, and physical sensations of
unease or nausea. As with the previous compositions, sonic materials are
46 J. Weinel

designed in correspondence with various ASC features. Visual hallucina-

tions are suggested through clusters of rhythmic sounds that rotate in the
spatial field, in this case making use of the 5.1 surround sound format.
Distortions to time perception are indicated through drones. Introducing
a new idea, the concepts of euphoria and anxiety are suggested through
‘light’ and ‘dark’ sonic materials, respectively. Here, ‘light’ sounds refer
to materials with a high spectral centroid, harmonic content, and slower
attack and decay envelopes (e.g. 0:20–0:50); while ‘dark’ sounds refer
to combinations of sonic material with fast attack and decay envelopes,
and low spectral centroid, often processed with distortion effects (e.g.
16:30–16:50). The idea of physical discontent is indicated through dark,
low-frequency bass materials, once again developing the idea of bass as a
physical, sensory stimulus.
The structure of Nausea is shown in Fig. 2.2. As with Entoptic
Phenomena, the composition follows an {onset, plateau, termination}
pattern, but this is now subdivided into six ‘waves’, which are expressed
through corresponding musical sections or movements. The progression
of these waves provides the overall structure and hallucinatory narrative
of Nausea as follows:
Wave 1 imagines a relaxed, euphoric phase of a psychedelic ASC.
This begins with an initial breakthrough, signalling the onset of hallu-
cination (0:02–0:12). Following this, from 0:10 to 1:45 we hear ‘light’,
gently rotating ‘entoptic sounds’ (streams of rhythmic percussion based
on visual patterns of hallucination), which gradually darken through
means of pitch-shifting and filtering of the higher frequency content.
Wave 2 moves into a darker, more uneasy phase of hallucination.
From 1:40to 2:06, we hear reverberating metallic sounds and whispering
voices, suggestive of perceptual distortions and auditory hallucinations.
Reverberation suggests a large, cavernous space. From 2:06 to 3:25, bass
sounds are introduced, corresponding with physical sensations, and a
droning vocal sound is heard.
Wave 3 begins at 3:25. We hear similar reverberating materials and
entoptic sounds, which gradually increase in amplitude until a ‘break-
through’ occurs at 4:26. Following this, sensory bass materials are used,
and ‘dark’ rhythmic entoptic sounds are heard (e.g. 5:12), rotating with a
 Onset Plateau

Wave 1 Wave 2 Wave 3 Wave 4 Wave 5 Wave 6

Yell Female Dissonant Yell Female

Female drone drone drone
drone drone drone

Whispers Whispers Whispers

Light Dark L
Light
ent
sounds sounds so
sounds

Sensory Sensory Sensory Sensory Sensory

bass bass bass bass bass

Breakthrough Breakthrough Breakthrough

2 Psychedelic Journeys in Sound: Electroacoustic Compositions

Fig. 2.2 Diagram indicating the compositional structure of Nausea

47
48 J. Weinel

higher velocity than before, reflecting intense visual patterns of hallucina-

tion. These sounds are processed without reverb, to indicate close visual
proximity, and morph through successive layers using different frequency
transformations, reflecting perceptual shifts. At 6:00, the mood turns
towards euphoric sensations through the use of ‘light’ sonic materials.
Sensory bass sounds are heard from 6:50 to 7:00, followed by entoptic
sounds from 7:00 to 8:35.
Wave 4 commences as the entoptic sounds of the previous wave
subside, and we move into the plateau phase of hallucination, during
which the listener is transported into strange, mystical planes of expe-
rience. Here the plateau is expressed through various reverberating
materials, suggesting a vast unreal cavern (9:17), inhabited by whispering
entities (9:28). Entoptic sounds are heard (e.g. 9:44), but now appear
fleetingly as a subtle background feature. From 10:00 onwards, a vocal
drone is heard, accompanied by sensory bass materials.
Wave 5 indicates a rising sense of unease, as the plateau has passed
and a sense of nausea is now growing (11:20–12:54). Here, dissonant
droning sounds are heard, which gradually increase in amplitude and
pitch.
Wave 6 represents the last phase of hallucination and its final termina-
tion (12:54–19:12). A tearing sound is heard at 12:54, initiating another
‘breakthrough’, as successive layers of ‘dark’ entoptic sounds and drones
are heard, which grow in intensity, peaking at 16:28. Rapid rhythmic
sounds circle the listener furiously, with high amplitude levels, signalling
intense visual hallucinations, accompanied again by sensory bass. This
wave reflects an overwhelming experience of psychedelic nausea, but
gradually the effects begin to subside; entoptic sounds are filtered to
suggest their gradual dissipation from 18:10 to 18:28. Finally, we hear
further bass sounds, corresponding with lingering physical sensations as
the sonic hallucination draws to a close.
In summary, Nausea develops the concept of a hallucinatory journey
through sound, this time taking the idea of a powerful, quite unpleasant
psychedelic experience, and using this to inform a longer piece which
is structured through six waves of hallucination. These waves take us
 2 Psychedelic Journeys in Sound: Electroacoustic Compositions 49

through various intense phases of visual hallucinations, timelessness, and

auditory hallucinations, before it all gradually subsides. One of the main
innovations of this piece is the use of 5.1 surround sound for spatialising
the rotating entoptic sounds, thereby exceeding the spatial possibilities
of the earlier stereo compositions. Nausea also develops the idea of a
psychedelic journey through a longer multi-movement work, providing
19 minutes and 11 seconds of nauseous psychedelia.

The three compositions Entoptic Phenomena, Swamp Process, and

Nausea adapt electroacoustic compositional forms towards notions of
psychedelia. Extending the approaches used earlier, ASC features inform
the design of corresponding sonic materials. Visual patterns of halluci-
nation are interpreted through streams of percussive sound; drones are
used to suggest distortions to time-perception; euphoria and anxiety
are indicated through contrasting light and dark sonic materials; phys-
ical bodily sensations are depicted with bass sounds; and encounters
with strange entities are rendered as vocal sounds or whispering voices,
suggesting auditory hallucinations, as if the listener is hearing myste-
rious beings. However, the main development of these three pieces is the
structural organisation of materials to construct imagined hallucinatory
narratives. By organising sonic materials in correspondence with what
one might see or hear during a hallucination, it is possible to create an
ASC journey through electroacoustic music. These hallucinatory narra-
tives derive inspiration from various literary sources, leading to three
compositions that provide distinct psychedelic journeys through sound.

∗ ∗ ∗

In this chapter we have seen how electroacoustic music can be composed

based on different concepts of psychedelia. Fundamentally, all the
compositions discussed in this chapter utilise what I refer to as an ‘adap-
tive’ principle for composition. Using this approach, the standard toolkit
of electroacoustic music, including synthesis, sampling, and digital trans-
formations, is utilised to compose a sonic artwork. The first three
works (Night Breed, Surfer Stem, and Night Dream) discussed in this
chapter adapt the form of electroacoustic music by designing mimetic
50 J. Weinel

sonic materials based on specific features of hallucination, while also

borrowing from other genres such as electronic dance music. The last
three compositions (Entoptic Phenomena in Audio, Swamp Process and
Nausea) then extend this idea by organising these materials to form hallu-
cinatory narratives in sound, so that the composition as a whole, and its
progress in time, becomes analogous to what one might see or hear in a
hallucination.
Before this chapter undergoes its own ‘termination’, and we move
onto the next phase of Explosions in the Mind , there is one final wave
of hallucination for us to discuss. As I will explore in later chapters, my
work often traverses the boundaries of visual and sonic art, and when I
compose music, these may be developed through ideas that are sketched
visually, or vice versa. To provide an initial taste of this, the painting
shown in Fig. 2.3 gives a visual impression of entoptic phenomena, corre-
sponding with how I imagine it in these electroacoustic compositions.
Circular funnel patterns are rendered in colourful ‘organic’ dots, which
are suggestive of Klüver’s (1971) form constants. This image was used as
the label artwork for the Entoptic Phenomena in Audio vinyl EP (Weinel
2014), which included Night Breed, Surfer Stem, Entoptic Phenomena,
and Swamp Process, and was sold through Toolbox Records in Paris, an
important record shop and distributor of underground electronic music.
While the compositions on this record translate psychedelic visual hallu-
cinations into sound, this painting translates those sounds back into a
visual image.

Notes
1. The call for music made from noise-based sounds was made in the Futurist
manifesto The Art of Noises (Russolo 1913), which is widely regarded
as an important precursor to electroacoustic music. In this manifesto,
Luigi Russolo famously proposed that “we must break at all cost from
this restrictive circle of pure sounds and conquer the infinite variety of
noise-sounds”.
 2 Psychedelic Journeys in Sound: Electroacoustic Compositions 51

Fig. 2.3 Painting representing visual patterns of hallucination, as used for the
label artwork of the Entoptic Phenomena in Audio vinyl EP

2. Also of relevance to this discussion is DeNora’s (2010, pp. 21–45) discus-

sion of how music may ‘afford’ certain interpretations, which are not fixed,
but are established and reinforced over time through patterns of use.
3. Soundscape composition is a form of electroacoustic music, which priori-
tises the representation of recognisable sounds and places. For a further
discussion, see Schafer (1994).
4. Truax (2002) describes his work in terms of ‘imaginary soundscapes’,
which may explore or traverse the boundaries between recognisable sonic
environments and unreal, dreamlike, or mythical spaces.
5. ‘Bottom up’ approaches to electroacoustic composition were discussed by
Berezan (2010) in a lecture and concert at Keele University, who refers to
Harrison (1999).
6. For an introduction to psychedelic garage rock, see the compilation by
Various Artists—Nuggets: Original Artyfacts from the First Psychedelic Era,
52 J. Weinel

1965–1968 (1972). For a further discussion see also Hicks (2000) and
Weinel (2018).
7. Hybrid combinations of electroacoustic music with various popular music
and electronic dance music forms were also explored by several other
composers working in the Keele University music studios at this time,
for example see also Shave (2008, 2013) and Ratcliffe (2012).
8. Cellular and organic forms are explored elsewhere in various forms of
computer art. For example, see the morphogenetic 3D sculptures of Andy
Lomas (2020); or the evolutionary computer graphics art of Stephen Todd
and William Latham (1992).
9. For an expanded discussion of electronic dance music genres such as jungle
and techno, see Reynolds (2008). ‘Dubstep’ here refers to the genre of elec-
tronic dance music popularised by South London artists such as Skream,
Loefah, Burial, and Digital Mystikz in the 2000s; see Walmsley (2009).
10. In contrast with the ‘organic sounds’ of Night Breed , with Surfer Stem
I wanted to achieve a more futuristic, digital sounding composition to
express Leary’s atomic electronic level of energy consciousness. ‘Digital
sounds’ can be achieved through various means such as emphasising the
use of linear or stepped envelopes (as is possible with synthetic sound
sources), and quantisation.
11. ‘Speedcore techno’ is a form of techno music that uses fast tempos, typi-
cally above 200 bpm. ‘Flashcore’ is the term used by Laurent Mialon to
describe work released on his label Hangars Liquides, particularly his own
music as La Peste, which uses fast and irregular tempos, and dense waves
of percussive electronic sounds. Flashcore extends the approaches of speed-
core techno, while also taking influences from electroacoustic music. The
term has since been adopted by other underground techno artists who
have taken inspiration from these approaches; for instance, a search of
the term on Toolbox Records (http://www.toolboxrecords.com/) will yield
many results. For a further discussion of flashcore and Mialon’s music, see
also Weinel (2007) and Migliorati (2016).
12. Max/MSP is a visual programming language for sound and music.
13. Surf rock is a specific genre of (often instrumental) rock n’ roll music that
was popular in the 1960s; for a further discussion see Crowley (2011).
14. This use of time-stretching can be understood in terms of Smalley’s (1986)
discussion of continuant phases of sound, which can achieve dissociation
from temporal notions of onset and termination.
15. As discussed in Chapter 1 with reference to Veal (2007, pp. 209–210), dub
reggae can be understood as a form of ‘psychedelic Caribbean’ music. In
 2 Psychedelic Journeys in Sound: Electroacoustic Compositions 53

some ways drawing parallels with electroacoustic music, dub uses exper-
imentation with tape, audio effects, and other music technologies. As
discussed by Jones (2017), reggae music is interwoven with multi-cultural
British music culture, and signature traits from genres such as dub are
often found in electronic dance music genres such as jungle/drum & bass
(Belle-Fortune 2005) and dubstep.
16. In the 2000s, dubstep music was often associated with the idea of ‘bass
meditation’. For example, the DMZ club night was advertised with the
phrase “come meditate on bass weight”, and the ‘bass meditation’ trope
was used by various MCs and producers at this time.
17. Sensory isolation tanks were used in combination with psychedelic drugs
as a means to elicit hallucinations in the work of John Lilly (1972). This
provided the inspiration for the movie Altered States (Russell 1980), and
more recently, the character of Dr. Martin Brenner in the Netflix series
Stranger Things (Duffer and Duffer 2016–present), which depicts various
hallucinations in sensory isolation tanks.
18. Various ‘breakthrough’ experiences are described by participants in
Strassman’s (2001) DMT studies (e.g. pp. 179, 213), in which the halluci-
nations move beyond visual patterns and various encounters with entities
may be experienced.
19. ‘Hollow earth theory’ presumes that the earth contains substantial inte-
rior space. The theory has been used as a source of inspiration for many
fictional novels, most famously Jules Verne, Journey to the Centre of the
Earth (1864); and also films such as The Core (Amiel 2003) and Journey
to the Center of the Earth (Brevig 2008).
20. One of the main points of inspiration here is The Bug’s Pressure (2003)
album, which uses syncopated dancehall rhythms throughout, and can also
be linked with the emerging form of dubstep music in the early 2000s.
21. For example, hallucinogens such as the peyote cactus or yagé (the hallu-
cinogenic brew containing DMT, which is used in shamanic ceremonies of
the Amazon rainforest) are known to cause physical discomfort and nausea.
Bodily sensations in general may also be heightened during episodes of
hallucination.
22. Although psychotic experiences and LSD hallucinations are distinct forms
of ASC, it is possible to draw some comparisons between the form of these
experiences. For further discussion see Adams (1994), Hobson (2003,
pp. 5–6), and Blackmore (2003, pp. 307–308).
 3
Melting in the Mind’s Eye: Real-Time
Performances

In the well-worn concert hall of the Camden Centre, in King’s Cross,

London, a figure in black kneels before a huge bass drum hanging from
a frame. Around it, various hand-made gongs and percussion constructed
from pieces of metal are similarly suspended from frames. The audi-
ence sits attentively, as a ritual of trance-like drumming commences.
With powerful precision, the drummer releases rhythmic streams of
percussion, at once hypnotic, yet spontaneous and organic. Each pulse
stimulates the auditory systems of those in attendance, inducing an
almost dizzying energy that measures out, subdivides, and transforms
their experience of time. The bass drum sways gently as the beaters strike
it repeatedly, yet it remains under careful control. In combination with
the large acoustic space, the drum emits deep reverberations, the sonic
reflections seeming to activate every surface of the hall. You can feel the

Supplementary Information The online version contains supplementary material available at

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-4055-1_3.
Where the icon is shown in the chapter, the reader should refer to the supporting
media files.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 55

Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021
J. Weinel, Explosions in the Mind, Palgrave Studies in Sound,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-4055-1_3
56 J. Weinel

floorboards begin to vibrate as the room gradually accumulates acoustic

energy. The percussionist seems to tune these effects to the characteris-
tics of the acoustic space, manipulating the low-frequency vibrations to
provide a deeper layer of sound that stimulates the whole body, not just
the ears.
Every so often one may attend a concert that transcends the everyday.
Such was the case with this particular performance by Z’EV, and his
collaboration later that day with John Zorn at the Equinox Festival of
occult music and culture (London, 12–14 June 2009). Z’EVs trance-
like rhythms demonstrated the potency that a live performance can have,
and inspired me to make a percussion-based real-time performance of my
own,1 which I will discuss later in this chapter. Various other parts of the
Equinox Festival programme also turned out to be formative, since the
festival featured films by Harry Smith, whose work I will discuss in the
next chapter; and a performance by James Ferraro, who is often credited
with pioneering the genre that became known as vaporwave2,3 which I
explore in Chapter 7.
The main focus of this chapter is on live performances—or rather,
‘real-time performances’, as they are often called in the domain of elec-
tronic music, where works may be performed using real-time audio
mixing, synthesis, and sample triggering.4 Though rehearsed and pre-
recorded sound elements may still be included, real-time approaches can
allow electronic music to be realised less predictably in live situations,
allowing the performer to respond to the venue and the audience, much
as Z’EV tailored his performance at Equinox Festival.
In this chapter I will begin by discussing a software application: the
Atomizer Live Patch, which I designed in Max/MSP to design sounds
for various fixed-media compositions such as Entoptic Phenomena, which
I discussed in the previous chapter. While this application was originally
used for creating sonic materials for fixed-media works, I later expanded
it to facilitate real-time performances of those compositions. The culmi-
nation of this was a laptop performance: Entoptic Phenomena in Audio,
which I presented at the ISSUE Project Room in New York City (31
May 2010). In this chapter I will discuss the design of both the soft-
ware, and its use for this performance. Following this, we will look at
a subsequent piece of software: Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop, an
 3 Melting in the Mind’s Eye: Real-Time Performances 57

automated real-time performance system that I designed to integrate

psychedelic electroacoustic approaches with an instrumental composi-
tion. I will explain both the design of the software itself, and its use
for three example recordings. Through the course of this chapter and
supporting media examples, we will see how approaches for representing
altered states of consciousness (ASCs) can be utilised for real-time perfor-
mances, and how software can yield new forms of real-time psychedelic
composition and performance.

Software: Atomizer Live Patch

Media 3.1 Atomizer Live Patch, Max/MSP software
The Atomizer Live Patch is a Max/MSP application that I originally
designed in order to create sonic materials in correspondence with the
visual patterns of hallucination described in Klüver’s (1971) mescaline
studies. As shown in Fig. 3.1, we can readily design visual images and
animations that correspond with Klüver’s form constants.5 However,
for my electroacoustic compositions, I wanted to interpret these visual
patterns of hallucination through sound. To do this, I drew partly on
the approaches of La Peste’s concept of ‘sonic atoms’ (as discussed in the
previous chapter), adapting this idea to imagine funnels of dot patterns
as circular, rotating arrangements of rhythmic pulses. Each rhythmic
pulse is imagined as a visual point of light, and by rotating these in
the spatial auditory field, one can conceive of a formation in sound that
corresponds with visual patterns of hallucination. A spiralling vortex of

Fig. 3.1 Author’s sketches of Klüver’s (1971) form constants

58 J. Weinel

visual points becomes a spinning matrix of percussive pulses, thereby

translating psychedelic visualisations into sound.
The Atomizer Live Patch is the software that I designed to facilitate the
creation of these sounds, and later I expanded it to include several other
types of sound generation, so it could be used for making drones and
triggering samples in real-time performances. The first main iteration of
the software was designed for use with the Novation Nocturn and Korg
NanoKontrol MIDI controllers, and this version was used for several of
the compositions discussed in the previous chapter.6 However later on I
adapted the software for use with a CME Bitstream 3X MIDI controller,
providing real-time 5.1 spatialisation and a more focused user interface.
My discussion here will focus on this later version, which was used for
my live performance in New York City. In what follows, I will describe
the main functions of the Atomizer Live Patch.

Atomizer

As seen in the top-left corner of the user interface (Fig. 3.2), the ‘atom-
iser’ is the main sound generation module of the software, which creates
streams of micro-rhythmic sounds based on visual patterns of hallucina-
tion. The module provides sample banks of 10 short percussive sounds,
which can be selected from a list of presets, or by loading other samples
using the ‘custom’ button, which opens a sub-panel of the interface.
These sample banks store variations of electronic pulses, organic sounds,
metallic percussion, recordings of pieces of wood being struck, and cactus
spines being plucked. When the module is triggered, either a specific or
randomly selected sound is played. Sounds can be played as polyphonic
‘one-shots’, or as monophonic loops.
The module can be triggered at random intervals by using the ‘random
speed’ slider from the bank of controls directly beneath the module.
Increasing this slider from the zero position activates triggers at random
intervals with increasing regularity. This enables the streams of percussive
sounds to be organised irregularly in time.
Alternatively, the module can be triggered with a matrix sequencer.
This is activated using the ‘sequence’ switch on the module, while
 3 Melting in the Mind’s Eye: Real-Time Performances 59

Fig. 3.2 Atomizer Live Patch, main user interface

the ‘matrix’ button opens a sub-panel of the interface with a 128-step

sequencer. This matrix allows rhythmic patterns to be designed that
trigger any sample in the bank being used, specifically or at random.
This sub-panel allows the user to select the BPM and also the number
of ‘ticks’ (sequencer steps7 ) per beat. Patterns can be stored and recalled
with a preset system, and on the main module, the ‘#’ button allows
a pattern preset to be selected at random. Both the sequencer and the
‘random speed’ trigger can be used concurrently, interlacing regular and
irregular triggers to form complex rhythmic patterns.
60 J. Weinel

The panel of controls beneath the atomiser module on the user inter-
face provides various dials and sliders for manipulating the sound. A
‘loop point’ dial adjusts the end point of the loop, when the looping
mode is switched on. ‘BPM’ changes the speed of the sequencer when
active. ‘L/R’ pans the signal from left to right, while ‘F/B’ moves it from
front to back in 5.1. These are applied additively with a Doppler shift
based on a design by Rajmil Fischman, which provides a rotating effect.
Using the ‘Doppler width’ and ‘Doppler pitch’ controls, the width and
speed of rotation can be adjusted to elicit various circular and spiral
spatialisation patterns that can be applied to the streams of percus-
sive sound, thereby generating patterns that correspond with the form
constants. A ‘deform’ control transforms the sound with a semi-random
pitch bend effect based on the random interpolation of two internal
breakpoint graphs. The ‘deform’ control adjusts the amount by which
this value affects the pitch of the sample being played. The ‘speed’ control
also affects the overall speed at which the sample is played, changing the
pitch.
The ‘atoms volume’ slider changes the amplitude of the samples, while
the remaining dials and sliders provide controls for various effects: distor-
tion, ring modulator, delay, reverb, and filter, which allow the rhythmic
streams to be coloured in various ways. ‘A’ and ‘B’ buttons are also
provided to quickly switch between preset effects configurations.

Atomizer Joystick/Ribbon

The ‘atomiser joystick/ribbon’ (seen on the right-hand side of Fig. 3.2),

provides a second atomiser module. This has a reduced set of controls,
but allows the module to be manipulated with the x /y joystick and
ribbon controllers of the CME Bitstream 3X. Touching the ribbon trig-
gers the samples, allowing gestural bursts of sound to be produced.
Meanwhile, the x /y joystick controller is mapped to affect various
effect parameters, so moving the axis horizontally or vertically colours
the sound in various ways. The joystick also allows these sounds to
be spatialised in 5.1, where moving the joystick horizontally affects
the left/right positioning, while moving it up and down affects the
 3 Melting in the Mind’s Eye: Real-Time Performances 61

front/back location of the sounds. This is particularly effective for live

multi-channel performances, where touching the ribbon while moving
the joystick in a circular motion allows spiral formations of rhythmic
sounds to be constructed ‘manually’ in real-time. This module also
includes options for triggering sounds based on the matrix sequencer;
switching looping on and off; and adjusting the reverb, distortion, and
amplitude.

Drone Machine

The ‘drone machine’ module (seen at the centre-top of Fig. 3.2) provides
facilities for making drones, which correspond with distortions to time-
perception (as discussed in Chapter 2). The module provides a granular
synthesiser, which is configured specifically for making drones by means
of granular time-stretching. A source sound can be loaded, from which
the grains are extracted. The time value changes the point in the source
sound that the grains are taken from, and moving this value slowly back
and forth when using a continuous source such as a vocal sample, creates
droning sounds that retain the sonic characteristics of the source. The
‘scrub’ slider on the control panel beneath the ‘drone machine’ allows
this value to be controlled via MIDI, while the ‘scrub speed’ dial directly
above modifies the rate at which this parameter changes. The ‘grain size’
dial changes the size of the grains, while ‘width’ adjusts their left/right
spatial distribution. The ‘grain volume’ slider changes the overall ampli-
tude of the drone, and the dials above provide spatialisation controls
to pan the sounds between left/right and front/back positions. A reverb
control is used to apply a plate reverb effect.
Lastly, as discussed in the previous chapter, several of my composi-
tions use low-frequency bass tones. These sounds can be generated with
the sine-wave oscillator on this module, using the ‘bass’ (amplitude) and
‘frequency’ dials. This feature was partly inspired by Z’EV’s manipulation
of low-frequency sounds with respect to the acoustic and resonant prop-
erties of the concert venue, as described in the opening of this chapter. By
providing a sine-wave oscillator, it is possible to create droning sub-bass
sounds that can be tuned to the performance space in live situations.
62 J. Weinel

DJ Mixer

The ‘DJ mixer’ at the bottom-right corner of the user interface (Fig. 3.2)
allows pre-planned sound materials to be triggered and mixed sponta-
neously, in the style of a continuous DJ mix. This provides two playback
modules, ‘deck A’ and ‘deck B’, which are analogous to the two turnta-
bles of a typical DJ setup. Each ‘deck’ provides 3 sound file players,
which allow several audio files to be triggered simultaneously. These are
intended for use with either long pre-composed sections of music or
short gestural sounds. Using the crossfader it is possible to fade between
the sounds from ‘deck A’ and ‘deck B’. A ‘fade angle’ is provided, which
provides different crossfade envelopes.8 In summary, drawing on my
background as a DJ,9 the ‘DJ mixer’ module allows for the spontaneous
live mixing of pre-composed sections of music, while various comple-
mentary drones and streams of rhythmic sounds can be improvised
alongside these using the other modules.

Audio Output

Finally, the ‘audio output’ module (visible in the top-right of Fig. 3.2)
provides essential functions for selecting the soundcard, digital signal
processing (DSP) status, and output levels. Amplitude meters are
provided for 5.1 configurations. A ‘record’ module opens a sub-panel of
the user interface, allowing the output to be recorded in real-time. This
can be used to record whole performances; or improvised ‘jam sessions’,
which may be used to generate sounds that are later edited for further use
in fixed-media compositions. The former approach was used to make the
recording discussed in the next section of this chapter, while the latter
was used for many of the compositions discussed in Chapter 2.

In summary, the Atomizer Live Patch is a bespoke Max/MSP appli-

cation, which was designed to facilitate the production of sonic mate-
rials for fixed-media compositions, and for longer real-time perfor-
mances related to these. Various sound generation modules are provided,
enabling complex streams of rhythmic sounds, which rotate in the spatial
 3 Melting in the Mind’s Eye: Real-Time Performances 63

field in correspondence with visual patterns of hallucination; and drones,

which relate to the distortions of time-perception that may be experi-
enced during ASCs. In real-time performance situations, these sounds
can be combined with various pre-recorded sounds, which are mixed
in a manner analogous to a DJ set. The software can be used with 5.1
multi-channel sound systems, and the output can be recorded. In the
next section, I will discuss in further detail how all these features were
used for a real-time performance in New York City.

Live in New York City

In 2010, I performed a real-time set of my electroacoustic music at the
Analogous Interactions concert at the ISSUE Project Room in New York
City (31 May 2010), held as part of the International Computer Music
Conference. The performance: Entoptic Phenomena in Audio, extends
the concept of hallucination that occurs in a sensory isolation tank,
using the Atomizer Live Patch to reconfigure multiple electroacoustic
compositions as real-time ‘versions’.10 In this section, I will discuss this
performance with reference to a recording of a rehearsal.11

Entoptic Phenomena in Audio

Media 3.2 Entoptic Phenomena in Audio (NYC 2010), recording of a

real-time electroacoustic performance, 19 minutes 53 seconds
Entoptic Phenomena in Audio combines elements from Night Breed,
Surfer Stem, Night Dream, Entoptic Phenomena, and Swamp Process,
which were discussed in Chapter 2; and the audio track from Tiny Jungle
(an audio-visual composition that will be discussed in the next chapter).
Some pre-recorded saxophone sounds are also used, which were taken
from the Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop (2010) project discussed later
in this chapter. The overall performance was approximately 20 minutes
in length, and this is similarly reflected in the rehearsal recording (Media
3.2).
64 J. Weinel

The overall structure of Entoptic Phenomena in Audio is based on

an extended version of Entoptic Phenomena, following a similar {onset,
plateau, termination} pattern. The piece imagines a hallucination that
occurs in a sensory isolation tank, using the ‘onset’ and ‘termination’
sections from Entoptic Phenomena to ‘bookend’ the performance. Using
this approach, the piece begins and ends with the snorkel sounds of a
sensory isolation tank, and everything that happens in between during
the performance is conceptualised as an extended sonic hallucination.
This hallucination is constructed from various ‘waves’ made up of mate-
rials derived from Night Breed, Surfer Stem, Night Dream, Entoptic
Phenomena, Swamp Process, Tiny Jungle, and Bass Drum, Saxophone &
Laptop.
The Atomizer Live Patch allows for the flexible organisation of mate-
rials at the ‘macro’ structural level, and so I was able to experiment
with different arrangements through my rehearsals. Figure 3.3 has been
redrawn from my rough notes, and indicates the approximate structure
of the performance. The ‘Drone Machine’ row details the type of source
sounds to be used for creating drones with the corresponding module of
the Atomizer Live Patch. ‘Sax’ indicates drone materials from Bass Drum,
Saxophone & Laptop; ‘Breed’ drones are from Night Breed ; and ‘Surf ’
drones are from Surfer Stem. The ‘DJ Mixer’ row shows elliptical shapes
specifying pre-recorded sections of music to play with this module. These
pre-recorded sections were taken from the fixed-media versions of the
compositions, however some material such as drones and streams of
percussion were removed, so that these sounds could instead be impro-
vised in real-time with the ‘drone machine’ and ‘atomiser’ modules of
the Atomizer Live Patch. ‘Ent01’, ‘Ent02’, and ‘Ent03’ are sections from
Entoptic Phenomena; ‘Swamp01’ is from Swamp Process; ‘Breed01’ is from
Night Breed ; ‘Tiny02’ and ‘Tiny03’ are from Tiny Jungle. It should be
noted that the performance notes do not list everything that will be used,
and some shorter sounds may also be triggered spontaneously during
performances. The next two rows of the performance notes show which
sample banks to use with the ‘Atomizer’ and ‘Atomizer Joystick’ modules.
Here ‘Ent’ and ‘Blip Ent’ reference banks of electronic pulses used in
Entoptic Phenomena; ‘Sax’ is a short bank of one-shot saxophone sounds
from Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop; ‘Wood’ and ‘Bath’ are banks of
 Drone Machine Sax Sax Breed Sax Sax Surf Sax

Swamp Breed
DJ Mixer Ent01 Ent02 Tiny01 Tiny03 Ent02 Ent03
01 01

Atomizer Ent Sax Wood Sax Metal (Loop) Blip Ent Blip Ent

Metal Cactus Bath Cactus Bath Bath

Fig. 3.3 Performance notes indicating the structure of Entoptic Phenomena in Audio
3 Melting in the Mind’s Eye: Real-Time Performances
65
66 J. Weinel

percussion used in Night Breed and others; ‘Metal’ is a bank of metallic

sounds used in Night Dream and others; and ‘Cactus’ is the bank of
cactus spines being plucked, as used in Tiny Jungle. As the performance
notes indicate, the arrangement mixes sounds from multiple compo-
sitions concurrently and these flow into each other, forming a greater
whole.
We may now turn to consider how this plays out on the rehearsal
recording (Media 3.2). At the beginning we hear the opening section of
Entoptic Phenomena, with snorkel sounds indicating the ‘external’ setting
of a sensory isolation tank. Following this, we gradually transition into
‘internal’ sounds suggestive of hallucinations, as various ‘entoptic sounds’
are introduced, signalling the onset of visual patterns of hallucination,
which gradually engulf the senses (0:30–2:00). At 2:00, a breakthrough
is heard and we move to the next ‘wave’ of hallucination.
From 2:00 to 5:25, we hear various droning sounds, some from
Entoptic Phenomena, others made using saxophone sounds, and percus-
sive streams. This section transitions into source materials from Swamp
Process, during which organic cactus sounds and maniacal-sounding
saxophone pulses are heard.12
At 5:25, a new ‘wave’ of hallucination begins, based on the rhythmic
section of Night Breed . Here, the various entoptic sounds and drones
are improvised with the Atomizer Live Patch, thereby creating a unique
variation of this composition, while retaining recognisable characteristics.
At around 8:15 the music diverges from Night Breed , and transitions
into another drone section, recapitulating the saxophone materials heard
earlier in the performance.
Beginning at 9:12, we break through into a different ‘wave’ of halluci-
nation, as the rhythmic track from Tiny Jungle begins. Metallic entoptic
sounds are heard, some of which are created by switching to the ‘loop’
mode of the Atomizer Live Patch, as indicated in the performance notes
(Fig. 3.3). The recurring saxophone drone is also heard at points during
this section.
At 11:28, a clicking sound signals a transition to the next ‘wave’ of
hallucination. Entoptic sounds corresponding with visual patterns of
hallucination give way to the emotive droning sounds from Surfer Stem,
which represent a vision of a beach (as discussed in the previous chapter).
 3 Melting in the Mind’s Eye: Real-Time Performances 67

This is the ‘eye of the storm’; a calm phase during the central ‘plateau’
of the hallucination. In terms of the performance techniques, here the
drone sound is created by ‘scrubbing’ back and forth slowly with the
1960s surf rock vocal source sound from Surfer Stem, in such a way that
the drone alternates between two notes, so that this single moment seems
to trail on indefinitely. Beneath the drone, a throbbing low-frequency
sub-bass from Tiny Jungle can be heard.
At around 15:00 the beach vision begins to tumble away, as rapid
pulsing sounds begin to overtake the spatial auditory field. An intense
wave of sounds suggestive of visual patterns of hallucinations circle and
spiral around the listener, created using the various ‘atomiser’ modules of
the Atomizer Live Patch, while drones persist in the background. This
section is essentially a reconfiguration of the closing section of Entoptic
Phenomena, and also includes pre-recorded source materials from this
composition. As in the fixed-media version of this composition, from
19:20 onwards, the hallucinations melt away, returning the listener from
the ‘internal’ world of hallucinations to the familiar ‘external’ world of
the sensory isolation tank as the experience ‘terminates’.

The actual performance of Entopic Phenomena in Audio at the ISSUE

Project Room was deeply satisfying, and benefitted from a loud P.A.
system, powerful subwoofers, and the venue’s 15-channel hemispherical
‘floating points’ sound system.13 The 5.1 surround sound output of the
Atomizer Live Patch was mapped across these channels, providing effec-
tive spatialisation of the circular and spiral rhythmic sounds, in a manner
ideally suited to the piece. Likewise, the subwoofers enabled the sine-
wave bass drone oscillator to sit beneath the mix in key sections, and this
could be tuned to resonate with different parts of the room in the live
context as intended, by adjusting the frequency dial with the BitStream
3X MIDI controller. The performance seemed to be well received by
the local Brooklynites in attendance, who expressed their gratitude with
offerings of liquor and after parties!
68 J. Weinel

Software: Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop

Media 3.3 Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop, Max/MSP software
We may now turn to consider BassDrum, Saxophone & Laptop, a piece
for live instruments and electronics. Drawing inspiration partly from
Z’EV, the piece grew out of regular improvised14 jamming sessions
with Sol Nte, in which I played a 26” marching band bass drum
hung from a gong stand, and Sol played saxophone. For several years
we explored variations of this setup through regular jamming sessions
at Keele University. I decided to explore the augmentation of these
performances through the design of another Max/MSP application:
Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop. The software enhanced our instru-
mental improvisations by providing real-time triggering of sounds, and
DSP effects, which responded organically to our performances, thereby
eliciting psychedelically enhanced versions of them.
The design of the Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop application adapts
various modules from the Atomizer Live Patch for use in a performance
for live instruments and electronics. As before, the design of the soft-
ware was based on concepts of ASCs and features that may typically
occur in these experiences. In particular, the software takes the idea of
ASCs as providing temporal shifts in perception, where colours fade
between lighter or darker hues, or may seem to morph over time. In
a psychedelic ASC experience, such as one might have after consuming
psilocybin mushrooms, if one were to gaze over a terracotta pot while
hallucinating, the pink shades of the terracotta might be more noticeable
in one moment, while the orange shades might become more prominent
in the next. Colours may seem to glow with unusual high-contrast inten-
sity in one instance, before fading to a dull, almost grey colour in the
next, gradually changing and morphing over time. These effects can be
interpreted in sound by changing spectral characteristics, ‘colouring’ the
frequency properties through the use of DSP effects such as filters or ring
modulators, and gradually modifying parameter envelopes in time.
We can also think of these shifting perceptual changes in terms of
space. Just as Alice, in her adventures in Wonderland (Carroll 1865–
1871), had experiences of growing and shrinking; during an episode of
 3 Melting in the Mind’s Eye: Real-Time Performances 69

hallucination, a room may seem to expand in one moment and contract

in the next. Of course, neither the size of the room or the individual
really changes, but the perceptual system seems to become attuned to the
‘open’ and ‘closed’ aspects of space at different points in time. In sound,
we can create corresponding sonic representations of this through means
of spatial processes such as reverb, which allow us to transform sounds so
that they appear as if heard in large spaces in one moment, and in close,
compact spaces in the next.
These concepts are particularly important for Bass Drum, Saxo-
phone & Laptop, which facilitates these gradual shifting perceptual
effects through automated DSP processes. Continuing to build on earlier
approaches, the software also provides triggering of rhythmic sounds
that relate to visual patterns of hallucination; delay effects that corre-
spond with visual trail effects; and sensory derangement through rotating
Doppler effects, which allow sounds to move erratically in the spatial
field. These various processes are applied to audio signals from the bass
drum and saxophone, which are captured through microphones. In what
follows, I will describe the operation of each module of the software.
In support of this discussion, Fig. 3.4 shows the user interface of the
software.

Main Patch Controls/Presets

At the top-left corner of the user interface we can see the main patch
input controls and presets panel. This provides options for selecting the
audio device, a bank of presets, and an ‘info’ button which opens an
instruction manual. Much as one would find on any good keyboard,
there is a ‘demo song’ button, which triggers pre-made recordings of a
bass drum and saxophone, which are then processed in real-time, thereby
demonstrating the patch in action for testing purposes. This panel also
features a red light to indicate when the output is being recorded.
 70
J. Weinel

Fig. 3.4 User interface for the Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop Max/MSP application
 3 Melting in the Mind’s Eye: Real-Time Performances 71

Sax Input and Trigger/Drum Input and Trigger

Moving right from the top-corner, the top two rows provide various
modules related to the saxophone and bass drum instruments, respec-
tively. The ‘sax input and trigger’, and ‘drum input and trigger’ modules
receive microphone inputs from the respective instruments, which the
patch will process with various DSP effects, and use to generate trigger
messages. These modules allow the correct input channels of the sound-
card to be selected and the amplitude of the incoming signals from the
microphones to be adjusted. These modules activate triggers when the
input signal reaches a certain level, which can be set with the ‘trigger
level’ control. When a trigger is activated, it cannot be triggered again
until the module reaches the ‘retrigger delay’ threshold in milliseconds.
These modules also allow pre-recorded sound files to be loaded and used,
instead of live microphone signals.

Sax Effects Rack/Drum Effects Rack

The ‘sax effects rack’ and ‘drum effects rack’ modules provide various
DSP effects, which are similar to those used in the Atomizer Live Patch.
These include a rotating Doppler effect, distortion, ring modulator,
delay, and a plate reverb unit. Various parameters and bypass options are
available for each effect. These parameters can be set manually, however
the patch also provides the option to automate these using control data
from various other modules, received via the ‘patch bay’.

Sax Trigger Envelope/Drum Trigger Envelope

The ‘sax trigger envelope’ and ‘drum trigger envelope’ modules receive
trigger messages from the ‘sax input and trigger’ and ‘drum input and
trigger’ modules. Here, these messages are used to trigger three different
envelope generators. When a trigger message is received, three new
envelopes are generated with different attack and decay properties. These
can then be used as control envelopes, as selected with the ‘patch bay’
72 J. Weinel

module, so (for example) sounding the bass drum can be used to

automate effects parameters of the saxophone, and vice versa.

Sax Scatter Envelope/Drum Scatter Envelope

Along similar lines, the ‘sax scatter envelope’ and ‘drum scatter envelope’
modules provide another means of generating control envelopes that can
be used to automate DSP parameters elsewhere in the patch, via the
‘patch bay’. When this module receives a trigger, it generates an envelope
using an array of 50 slider values that can be manually adjusted. These
slider values set where peaks of the envelope will occur in time; so each
non-zero value will generate a new peak, thereby providing a complex
envelope with multiple ‘scattered’ peaks each time a trigger is received.
The overall time distribution of these peaks in milliseconds is effected
by the ‘total scatter time’ parameter. These modules include options for
‘attack’ and ‘decay’ of the scattered envelopes; a ‘combine’ option that
generates the scattered envelopes additively; and an ‘invert’ option which
allows the peaks to be subtracted from a maximum value.

Sax Sustained Playing Envelope/Drum Sustained

Playing Envelope

Moving along to the right on the user interface panel, we find the
‘sax sustained playing envelope’ and ‘drum sustained playing envelope’
modules. These modules trigger envelopes only when sustained playing
on the corresponding instrument is detected. This detection system
works by receiving triggers from the input trigger modules. If the target
number of triggers (x ) is reached within a specified period of time (y),
then a ‘sustained playing envelope’ is activated. This sustained playing
envelope remains active until a specified period of time (z ) passes without
any triggers being heard. These modules provide an effective means of
differentiating shorter bursts of sound from sustained playing, generating
control envelopes that can be routed via the ‘patch bay’ module.
 3 Melting in the Mind’s Eye: Real-Time Performances 73

LFO Bank/LFO Bank 2

While the various saxophone and drum envelope modules allow control
envelopes to be generated based on the input signals from the corre-
sponding instruments, the ‘LFO bank’ and ‘LFO bank 2’ modules each
provide two low-frequency oscillators (LFOs), which operate indepen-
dently. Different waveforms, frequency, amplitude, and offset properties
can be selected for each LFO. The LFOs can also be routed via the ‘patch
bay’ to control other parts of the patch.

Drunk Bank/Drunk Bank 2

The ‘drunk bank’ and ‘drunk bank 2’ modules each provide further
means of generating two envelopes independently of the input signals.
These modules generate randomised envelopes that wander ‘drunkenly’
between values. Parameters for ‘speed’, ‘range’, ‘set’, and ‘offset’ affect
how these envelopes are generated. As before, each control envelope can
be routed via the ‘patch bay’ module.

Atomiser

Located at the bottom left of the user interface, the ‘atomiser’ module
is an adaptation of the same module described earlier in the Atomizer
Live Patch. This module triggers streams of sound in correspondence
with visual patterns of hallucination. As before, this module can be used
with various selectable sound banks, each of which contains 10 percus-
sive samples. The module receives a trigger, either from the saxophone
or the bass drum, which then triggers one of the percussive samples
from the bank at random. Whereas the Atomizer Live Patch provided
a ‘random speed’ slider, which triggered the module at random intervals,
Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop replaces this with a ‘scatter’ func-
tion, which initiates a series of retriggers according to a pattern selected
by the user (using a similar interface to the ‘sax/drum scatter envelope’
modules). When this option is selected, the module initiates a series of
‘scattered’ percussive sounds from a single trigger.
74 J. Weinel

This module also provides various other control parameters, which

are similar to those found on the ‘atomiser’ module of the Atomizer Live
Patch. Thus we have options for sample volume, panning, speed, pitch
deformation, and a looping mode. Moving along the panel, we then
also find DSP effects identical to those found on the ‘sax/drum effect
rack’ modules, with Doppler, distortion, ring modulator, filter, delay, and
reverb. Critically, as with the ‘sax/drum effect rack’ modules, all of these
parameters can be exposed in the ‘patch bay’, so that the various control
modules can be routed in a myriad of ways to automate the values.

Patch Bay

Moving rightwards along the bottom of the user interface, the ‘patch
bay’ module provides a modular system, which allows complex routing
of data between modules. Input control envelopes can be selected from
the various modules of the patch, and assigned to an output such as a
DSP parameter on the saxophone, bass drum, or atomiser effects racks.
This allows for many possible configurations of the patch, which produce
different results during performances, whereby sounds of the saxophone
can transform the bass drum and vice versa; or the various LFO and
drunk modules can be used to change parameters independently of either
instrument. This opens up many possibilities for organic, gradual trans-
formations of sound, as effects morph between different settings which
colour the sound, while spatial properties of reverb open and close on
an on-going basis, thereby reflecting concepts of shifting perception
in psychedelic experiences. Once effective patching configurations have
been found, these can be saved using the ‘presets’ module.

Mixer & Audio Output

Lastly, in the bottom-right corner of the user interface, the ‘mixer and
audio output’ module provides a mixing desk, allowing levels to be
balanced between the wet and dry signals from the saxophone, bass
drum, and atomiser modules. An overall master output fader is provided,
 3 Melting in the Mind’s Eye: Real-Time Performances 75

as are options for recording the output of the software in stereo or 5.1
multi-channel.

At its core, the Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop application is a highly
specialised multi-effects unit, providing various options for processing
the sounds of live instrumental performances with DSP effects, while
also triggering additional streams of percussive sound. In this way, the
software continues to develop the electroacoustic approaches discussed
earlier, adapting these for use in real-time performances. Using the patch,
streams of percussive sound related to visual patterns of hallucination can
be triggered by live instruments. Where before drones and sensory bass
sounds were provided by the ‘drone machine’ module of the Atomizer
Live Patch, these could now be performed using the bass drum and saxo-
phone instruments. In particular, hanging the bass drum from a gong
stand increases the acoustic resonance of the instrument, so that thun-
derous bass drones can be performed live; while the long notes performed
on the saxophone can be extended with the delay, reverb, and feedback
effects. The patching capabilities of the software allow various proper-
ties to be routed between instruments, so that the system seems to take
on a life of its own. The laptop becomes an autonomous agent15 that
initiates gradual shifting frequencies and spatial properties, in correspon-
dence with experiences of shifting and morphing perception that may
occur during psychedelic ASCs. Overall then, the software facilitates the
psychedelic adaptation of live instrumental performances, and though
conceived for bass drum and saxophone, it can potentially be used with
one or two instruments of any type.16

Live at Keele University

Having outlined the functionality of the Bass Drum, Saxophone &
Laptop application, we can now discuss its specific use for live perfor-
mance. Using a ‘bottom-up’ approach to composition and software
design, Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop was designed through an
iterative process of coding and performance.17 Once the software
76 J. Weinel

was complete, this shifted towards experimenting with different patch

settings, so that performances could be based around these. In this way,
the patch provides an organic, mutating sonic context within which
psychedelic free improvisation can take place, where the software itself
is inextricably linked with how the performers play their instruments,
as they respond to the conditions of the patch and vice versa. The first
live performance of Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop was carried out
at the AutoPlay concert (Keele University, 29 September 2010). Since
a recording of this concert is not available, in order to discuss the use
of the software in practice, here I will refer to a recording of a practice
jam session and two short demonstration extracts, which illustrate how
the performance sounds when using different preset configurations. All
examples were performed with myself on bass drum, and Sol Nte on
saxophone.

Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop: 23 February 2010

Jam Session

Media 3.4 Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop (23 February 2010, Session
1), instrumental performance with live electronics, 11 minutes 5 seconds
The audio example (Media 3.4) provides a general illustration of the
performance system in action, and is the best available recording from
this period. In the opening of the recording we hear the bass drum,
processed with a ring modulator sound, while the saxophone signal fluc-
tuates in pitch via use of the Doppler effect. The ‘atomiser’ module is
heard being triggered at 0.47 and 1:15, as the drum hits the target level,
activating the scattered rhythmic sounds. For most of this section the
drum is deliberately played beneath the trigger level, so activation of
these sounds can be controlled, introducing the rhythmic sounds only
when the performer intends. As before, these sounds are conceptualised
in relation to visual patterns of hallucination, so as the performance level
gradually increases, waves of rhythmic sounds engulf the auditory field,
in correspondence with the ‘onset’ of a hallucination.
 3 Melting in the Mind’s Eye: Real-Time Performances 77

From 1:26 to 2:35, it is possible to hear the ‘drum sustained playing

envelope’ module being activated and used to control various param-
eters of the ‘sax effects rack’ module. As the dynamics of the drum
performance increase in intensity, the ‘drum sustained playing envelope’
module comes into effect, increasing various effect parameters on the
sax such as the amount of delay. The bass drum control envelopes are
also shaping the saxophone reverb and Doppler speed in this section.
As discussed earlier, the introduction of these effects can be understood
in correspondence with ideas of shifting colour and spatial perception,
giving the impression of hearing the saxophone as if in a warped or
disorientated state of sensorial derangement. The composition builds
dynamically, reaching various peaks in intensity, with the most signifi-
cant one occurring from 9:00 to 10:00, where we hear various rhythmic
entoptic sounds, as if in an intense phase of hallucination.
Throughout the performance, the bass drum generates droning
sounds, reflecting the concept of distortions to time perception. These
drone sounds are produced through the combination of the resonant
properties of the bass drum itself, and the tuning of the ring modu-
lator patch on this particular preset (which does not change). At various
points, the drum is played to provide repetitious hypnotic rhythms,
building towards peaks and troughs of intensity in terms of loudness and
tempo.

Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop: Extract 1

Media 3.5 Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop: Extract 1, instrumental

performance with live electronics, 1 minute 0 seconds
In this audio extract, we hear some of the different sounds that can
be obtained with the bass drum, where distortion, ring modulator, and
reverb effects are applied. Using this patch configuration, the ring modu-
lator frequency of the bass drum is primarily controlled from envelopes
generated with the saxophone. As this effect parameters changes, we hear
the pitch of the bass drum rising and falling, in a striking manner slightly
reminiscent of a didgeridoo. The complex interaction between the two
78 J. Weinel

instruments thereby produces fluctuations in pitch following organic

contours.

Bass Drum, Saxophone, & Laptop: Extract 2

Media 3.6 Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop: Extract 2, instrumental

performance with live electronics, 1 minute 0 seconds
In this extract, we can hear how delay parameters of the saxophone
are controlled using the internal ‘LFO bank’ and ‘drunk bank’ automa-
tion modules of the software. In this section, we can hear constantly
shifting sound parameters, which are not dependent on what is being
played on either instrument at that point in time. Although I consider
the complex, organic interactions between the instruments and the
patch as largely desirable characteristics, there are situations where these
interactions become limited, as long sections of performance at high
amplitude levels can ‘max out’ many of the modules, thereby reducing
the amount of variation. The internal ‘LFO bank’ and ‘drunk bank’
automation modules can help to overcome this, since they are generated
independently, producing constant variations, as heard in this extract.

Taking Z’EV’s performance at Equinox festival as an inspiration, the

Bass Drum, Saxophone & Laptop software develops the concept of
psychedelic journeys in sound that was explored in the electroacoustic
compositions, but here incorporates some of those ideas for a live instru-
mental performance, which is augmented by electronics. By running
autonomously, the laptop becomes a third agent in the performance,
creating a set of sonic conditions, around which the performers must
construct an improvisation, where shifting DSP effects suggest percep-
tual distortions, while streams of rhythmic sound correspond with visual
patterns of hallucination.

∗ ∗ ∗

Through the course of this chapter we have seen how the psychedelic
approaches to electroacoustic composition discussed in the previous
 3 Melting in the Mind’s Eye: Real-Time Performances 79

chapter were adapted in order to construct live performances. As Z’EV’s

performance discussed in the opening of this chapter highlights, live
performance can be exciting for both performers and audiences, offering
something different from fixed-media compositions. With the aid of
modern computers, real-time electroacoustic performances are pushing
the art form into new and exciting places. For psychedelic music, the
implications are significant, because in the past, producers have often had
to rely on studio production techniques to warp and twist the sounds in
interesting, disorientating ways. Where before these processes could not
necessarily be used live, now there is much more that can be achieved
with real-time DSP on the average laptop. With this comes not only the
potential to recreate the psychedelic techniques of the recording studio,
but also to go beyond them. In the future, I hope to see some of the
tentative explorations discussed here expanded by others into psychedelic
sonic territories as yet uncharted.

Notes
1. Z’EV kindly provided me with constructive feedback on the composi-
tion Bass Drum, Saxophone, and Laptop discussed in this chapter, and
shared some of his writings on music and animism. Animism is the belief
often held in shamanic societies, that forces and entities within nature
have a soul (for example, see Eliade 1964; Vitebsky 1995). Z’EV’s writ-
ings discussed his practices making music and constructing percussive
instruments using various ritualistic, animist practices.
2. As discussed by Tanner (2016), vaporwave is an Internet-based music genre
and visual art style originating in the early 2010s, which remixes sound
sources such as 1980s pop, elevator music and late night TV commer-
cials, looping and slowing does these sounds ad infinitum. James Ferraro
is often credited as one of the originators of the style; for example, see
Kalev (2018).
3. The extent to which electronic music using pre-recorded sounds can be
considered ‘live’ has been a subject of much debate; for example, see
Sanden (2013). For our purposes here, it will be sufficient to acknowledge
that ‘liveness’ in electronic music performances is often distinct from that
of instrumental performances, but offers its own valid set of approaches.
4. For further visual representations and discussion of visual patterns of
hallucination, see also Bressloff et al. (2001).
80 J. Weinel

5. Video evidence of these prototypes is available online: see Weinel (2009a,

b).
6. The term ‘tick’ here is borrowed from music trackers to describe the
smallest available unit of time in a sequence. A music tracker is a type
of digital audio workstation, which reads music sequences from vertically
scrolling lists of data (often using hexadecimal values), where each line is
one ‘tick’.
7. DJ mixers, particularly those used by scratch DJs and turntablists often
provide selectable crossfader angles, allowing the user to chose between
various linear, high-shelf, or low-shelf amplitude envelopes.
8. In the 2000s I mixed DJ sets incorporating various styles of underground
techno, performing sets at student nights; underground sound system ‘free
parties’; and other events such as the Sonic Arts Network: Expo Plymouth
in 2007.
9. Use of the term ‘version’ here, and later in this chapter, is a reference to the
practice of making ‘dub versions’ (alternative mixes, often with elements
subtracted), as used in dub reggae music. For a further discussion see
Bradley (2001, p. 312) and Veal (2007).
10. Though it is possible to record the actual concert performances themselves
with the software, I have usually avoided this to preserve the stability of
the software, since recording places more demands on the resources of the
laptop.
11. I find the pitched saxophone sounds here recall the opening of Geinoh
Yamashirogumi’s ‘Dolls’ Polyphony’ (1993), from the Akira (Ôtomo 1988)
movie soundtrack. In the movie sequence of Akira, pitched vocal sounds
are heard with the onset of a delirious hallucination. In this sequence, the
bizarre saxophone sounds communicate a sense of irrational madness.
12. The ‘floating points’ sound system consists of 15 speakers suspended from
the ceiling of the concert venue. For more information see: ISSUE Project
Room (2020).
13. The approach to improvisation discussed in this section can be associated
with Derek Bailey’s (1993) ideas regarding ‘free improvisation’.
14. Autonomous agents in music are also notably explored in the work of Arne
Eigenfeldt (e.g. 2017), who also performed at the Analogous Interactions
concert at the ISSUE Project Room in New York (31 May 2010).
15. For example, to provide portable demonstrations to my students, I have
often demonstrated the software with a melodica.
16. For an alternative discussion of processes where coding is interwoven with
creative practices in digital painting, see Batchelor (2019).
 4
Tune in, Turn Up, and Trip Out: Audio-Visual
Compositions

At first you see a flickering noise pattern, which crackles with bril-
liant shades of red and green. Shapes begin to form and emerge from
the chaos with increasing rapidity. First cell-like structures with nuclei
that multiply, coalesce, and melt away before your eyes; then strobo-
scopic rectangles that engulf the visual field and dilating circular patterns.
Nothing is static, everything is shifting and evolving, as colours and
shapes distort, fade into each other, and fall apart. What you hear is
jazz music. Hot saxophones flutter through the mix, dripping in sweat
as punchy drum sounds bounce along amicably with a throbbing bass
and percussive high-hats that mark out a quickening groove. Everything
is playing and rolling together in sync. A cluster of notes explodes before
you and suddenly there are circles everywhere; now angular rectangles

Supplementary Information The online version contains supplementary material available at

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-4055-1_4.
Where the icon is shown in the chapter, the reader should refer to the supporting
media files.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 81

Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021
J. Weinel, Explosions in the Mind, Palgrave Studies in Sound,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-4055-1_4
82 J. Weinel

that alternate in colour wildly as a drum break clatters through. A bril-

liant ball in burnt orange floats across a horizon, rising and setting like
the sun, over and over again. It’s almost as though time itself has acceler-
ated, but simultaneously there is a profound sense of eternity, as you are
suddenly gripped by the gravity of the earth’s endless orbits and position
as little more than a fleck of dust in the brief sneeze that is the universe.
This is a description of Harry Smith’s experimental films (Early
Abstractions, 1939–1957), though it might otherwise relate an experience
of listening to some good jazz music on hallucinogens, where closing
the eyes triggers wave after wave of intense synaesthetic visual halluci-
nations—forms emerging and dissipating from patterns of noise in the
mind’s eye, in perfect synchronisation with sound. In the mid-twentieth-
century Smith painstakingly created a series of experimental films using
a technique called ‘direct animation’, whereby the artist paints, stencils,
and draws directly on to celluloid film in order to construct animations.
The process is labour-intensive because the artist must render every single
frame of animation on the tiny surface area of 16 mm film stock. The
results create an effect that has a marked visual rawness. Shapes and
colours can be designed to provide continuous animations, but the size
at which the artist must work makes precision difficult, so the movement
invariably ends up being abrupt and frenetic. Dust and paint particles are
magnified during projection, so that there is always a background layer
of noise that recalls the visual static (or ‘visual snow’) that some people
may see when looking up at the night sky (Schankin et al. 2014). The
manner in which Smith’s shapes emerge from these noise patterns and
move across the screen like organic cells or cosmic bodies lends the films a
definite psychedelic quality—they actually resemble the impressions one
might see during an episode of psychedelic hallucination.
Harry Smith’s work was partly inspired by the ‘visual music’ films of
Oskar Fischinger. As discussed in the Introduction, ‘visual music’ is a
term that was coined in the early twentieth century to describe paint-
ings such as those by Wassily Kandsinky, in which visual forms were
designed in correspondence with music (Brougher and Mattis 2005).
Oskar Fischinger was among those who developed this form through
films such as An Optical Poem (1938), where abstract visual shapes are
 4 Tune in, Turn Up, and Trip Out: Audio-Visual Compositions 83

animated and move to music. Smith created his own visual music paint-
ings and films, and his Early Abstractions (1939–1957) series clearly owes
a debt to Fischinger’s work. Yet as discussed in the film American Magus
(Igliori 2002), Smith’s work also drew inspiration from other sources
such as the occult, and American folk traditions.1 In discussing his films,
he interestingly claims they were inspired by experiences of sleep depri-
vation, intoxicated hallucinations (Sitney 1979, p. 233), and a Dizzy
Gillespie concert, where he ‘had gone… very high, and… experienced all
kinds of colored flashes’ in response to music (Sitney 1965, p. 270). His
films can therefore be understood as psychedelic visualisations of sound,
and were projected with jazz music2 as a soundtrack.
The idea of creating films that represent the synaesthetic visuals
that one might see during a hallucination is the main focus of this
chapter. My work in this area falls under the category of ‘audio-visual
composition’, a branch of electroacoustic composition closely related
to visual music, where sonic artworks are designed with corresponding
images or video elements.3 In what follows, I will explore strategies
for composing fixed-media audio-visual works based on altered states
of consciousness (ASCs) and psychedelic hallucinations. First, I discuss
the Atomizer Visual, a Max/MSP/Jitter4 application designed for gener-
ating stroboscopic visual materials. I will describe how this was used to
create Tiny Jungle (2010), in which electronic music is used in combi-
nation with hand-drawn materials and computer graphics to paint a
psychedelic journey in sound and image. Following this, I will examine
a series of three audio-visual compositions that were inspired by a trip
to Mexico: Mezcal Animations (2013), Cenote Zaci (2014), and Cenote
Sagrado (2014). Using direct animation, these compositions are visual
music works with electroacoustic sound, which were also developed
in relation to concepts of hallucination. These pieces were composed
using various combinations of analogue and digital materials, including
some elements made using Processing, a programming language for
visual design. Through the discussion of these fixed-media audio-visual
works, this chapter will explore possible methodologies for composing
psychedelic sounds and visualisations.
84 J. Weinel

Tropical Hallucinations
Extending the approaches developed through my electroacoustic compo-
sitions and transferring them into the audio-visual domain, Tiny Jungle
was based on the idea of a psychedelic journey realised in sound and
image. This audio-visual composition was performed at NoiseFloor
festival (Staffordshire University, 20–22 September 2011), where the
sound was spatialised via live diffusion on a multi-channel system. Soni-
cally, the piece explores a similar ‘adaptive’ approach as was described in
Chapter 2, where electroacoustic music and electronic dance music forms
are modified to incorporate approaches based on features of ASCs. Visu-
ally, the work uses hand-painted materials in order to elicit organic and
atomic forms and a journey through a forest-like environment, thereby
representing visual hallucinations according to the concepts explored in
the previous chapters. As with the electroacoustic compositions and real-
time performances discussed earlier, the artistic process is interwoven
with coding, and in this case some materials were designed using a
bespoke software application: the Atomizer Visual.

Software: Atomizer Visual

Media 4.1 Atomizer Visual, Max/MSP/Jitter software

The Atomizer Visual (Media 4.1) is a Max/MSP/Jitter application that
was used to design stroboscopic visual materials for Tiny Jungle in real-
time. These materials were conceived in correspondence with the concept
of sensory overload and trance states, while also drawing inspiration from
VJ performances and the rapidly flickering animations of rave music
visuals such as Humanoid’s Stakker Humanoid (1988) music video. By
generating stroboscopic visual materials, the software provides a means
to stimulate the viewer and create disorienting visual rhythms.
The user interface for the Atomizer Visual is shown in Fig. 4.1. The
software has four video channels, which can be controlled independently
with the four sets of channel controls seen at the top of the user inter-
face, or together using the ‘all channels’ panel. Each channel can receive
a short video clip or still image as an input, which can be loaded via
 4 Tune in, Turn Up, and Trip Out: Audio-Visual Compositions 85

Fig. 4.1 User interface and example visual noise output of the Atomizer Visual
Max/MSP/Jitter application

the ‘drop file’ area of the patch. The four channels are mixed together
to form a single video output. Each channel triggers a strobe effect by
modifying the opacity of the source materials, which flicker rapidly at a
tempo set by using the metronome controls. Images fade out when they
disappear, according to specified time durations in milliseconds, which
can be controlled using the ‘decay’ values. The blending of channels is
defined using various mathematical expressions (e.g. addition, subtrac-
tion, multiplication, and division), which are selectable using the ‘exp’
menus beneath the channels. Depending on the source materials and
combination settings, ‘visual noise’ effects can be produced (see Fig. 4.1).
The video output of the software can be recorded using the controls at
the bottom-right of the patch, and instructions are provided on the main
user interface panel.
The Atomizer Visual is a relatively simple Max/MSP/Jitter patch that
was conceived as a tool for generating stroboscopic visual materials in
real-time. While working in real-time comes with some constraints with
regard to image quality,5 it also provides a more improvisational, perfor-
mative workflow, and allows organic spontaneity to be incorporated in
the design of the work.
86 J. Weinel

Tiny Jungle

Media 4.2 Tiny Jungle, audio-visual composition, 7 minutes 10

seconds
Tiny Jungle (Media 4.2) is based on the idea of a psychedelic vision of a
flight through an imaginary forest. Figure 4.2 shows a graphic score of
the piece. Musically the composition adapts electroacoustic music and
jungle/drum & bass, interpreting the jungle visual associations of this
genre to form a synaesthetic journey through a tropical environment. As
indicated by the score, this journey takes us through visions of rocky
landscapes, entopic phenomena, and a flight through a miniature forest
to encounter various bizarre or mysterious forms.
Considering first the sound design, Tiny Jungle is an electroacoustic
composition that incorporates aspects of jungle/drum & bass, drawing in
particular on the late 1990s output of labels such as Reinforced Records
and Metalheadz.6 The piece utilises rhythmic patterns and structures that
are typical of these genres, as heard in the long introduction section from
0:10 to 1:30; the syncopated rhythmic patterns that follow from 1:33 to
2:05; and bass sounds with pitch bend effects, which are first introduced
at 2:26.

Fig. 4.2 Graphic score indicating the structure of Tiny Jungle

 4 Tune in, Turn Up, and Trip Out: Audio-Visual Compositions 87

While these forms are borrowed from jungle/drum & bass, Tiny
Jungle adapts their presentation based on the ASC concepts discussed
in Chapter 2. For example, the long introduction section from 0:10
to 1:30 would usually be designed using synthesiser pads, but in this
case it was realised using granular synthesis techniques that correspond
with distortions to time perception. Along similar lines, the rhythms
heard from 1:33 to 2:05 were constructed from organic source materials
such as wood sounds, rather than using the sampled breakbeat7 loops
that would be more common in jungle/drum & bass. The composition
also uses sounds reminiscent of birdcalls, which emphasise the tropical
theme. These birdcall sounds can be heard at 0:02–0:10, 1:21–1:31, and
throughout. They were made by experimenting with pitch transforma-
tions (they are not actually recordings of birds), and were arranged into
rhythm patterns, as heard from 2:00 to 2:20, where they fade into a wave
of entoptic rhythmic sounds based on visual patterns of hallucination.
These entopic sounds are also heard later in the piece at 4:45–5:00.
Structurally the music of Tiny Jungle is based on concepts of energy
levels, which relate to Fischer’s (1971) ‘cartography of ecstatic and medi-
tative states’. As noted in Chapter 1 (p.1), Fischer describes ‘ergotropic’
states of energy expenditure and ‘trophotropic’ states of energy conser-
vation, which in Rouget’s (1985) discussion correspond with states
of trance and meditation, respectively. As indicated in Fig. 4.2, these
concepts inform two distinct phases in the composition. The section
from 1:33 to 3:47 uses fast, syncopated rhythms, which relate to
ergotropic states of trance, while the section from 3:48 to 6:10 slows the
tempo of the music to a throbbing bass groove, reflecting a trophotropic
state of ‘bass meditation’. In this way the structure corresponds with
the concept of an ASC that moves between ergotropic and trophotropic
states, and this idea is also developed through the visual materials of the
piece.
We may now turn to consider the visual design of Tiny Jungle. The
opening of the piece ‘onsets’ with a ‘landscape flight’ over rocky hills
(0:00–1:00). During this section, the sky is depicted using digitally
transformed footage of ink droplets falling into water, creating organic
turbulence patterns. In the sky we see orbiting spheres reminiscent
of Harry Smith’s Early Abstractions (1939–1957) suggesting planetary
88 J. Weinel

motion (0:25). During this section there are also faint traces of visual dot
patterns suggestive of ‘entopic phenomena’, which were made by digi-
tally scanning hand-drawn still images, and then processing them with
the Atomizer Visual software.
At 1:00 these effects begin to intensify, until 1:34 where a ‘break-
through’ occurs and we move into a phase that is characterised by many
dots representing visual patterns of hallucination. These were similarly
created by processing hand-drawn images with the Atomizer Visual and
combining multiple layers to form composites. This section includes
mysterious hallucinatory forms such as an animated head, which appears
from 1:33 to 1:55; three phallic or mushroom-like ‘weird sticks’, which
emerge at 2:00; lizard-like creatures which crawl across the screen from
2:02; and flickering green triangle patterns which scroll vertically across
the screen from 2:14.
At 2:25 another transition occurs and a gyrating 3D atom appears.
At 2:36, we fly through tunnels of spheres suggestive of Klüver’s (1971)
form constants, this time rendered in 3D. We then see more atomic
patterns (2:51) and various flickering visual strobe effects created with
the Atomizer Visual, including fleeting impressions of a landscape with a
forest in the distance (3:04). From 3:08 to 3:30, we then move into the
‘forest flight’ section, as various trees and a disorienting mass of branches
whizz past us. Further hallucinatory patterns and forms are then seen,
until a ‘breakthrough’ occurs at 3:47.
With a clicking sound, at 3:47 we pop out of the previous wave
of hallucination and the pace of the music changes, signalling a brief
‘plateau’ and the beginning of the ‘trophotropic’ section of the composi-
tion. In this section we see more ‘bizarre/mysterious forms’ suggestive of
hallucinations. First, there is a strange rotating shape covered in spikes,
which has four bone-like spokes. Then at 4:04 we move inside one of
the spokes, entering an interior space with melting oily columns, before
moving out again at 4:36. At 4:54 we drop through another of the
spokes, where we see yet more visual patterns of hallucination (made with
the Atomizer Visual) and 3D spheres (Fig. 4.3). A throbbing, trance-like
bass sound is heard as a capsule floats past (5:12); discs pulse around a
sun (5:21); and the orbiting spheres we saw at the beginning move across
the screen (5:36).
 4 Tune in, Turn Up, and Trip Out: Audio-Visual Compositions 89

Fig. 4.3 Still image from Tiny Jungle representing visual patterns of hallucina-
tion

Finally from 6:11, we once again find ourselves in a ‘landscape flight’

above the reddish rocks that we saw at the beginning of the piece. The sky
is now filled with entoptic visual hallucinations, while orbiting spheres
fly from left to right, and a luminous organism is born above us (6:43).
The vision then melts away as the trip ‘terminates’ (6:48–7:10).

Realised with the aid of the Atomizer Visual software, Tiny Jungle
combines hand-drawn materials, computer graphics, and an organic
electroacoustic soundtrack with jungle/drum & bass elements. These
materials are structurally organised to provide an audio-visual experi-
ence analogous to a mystical flight through a hallucinatory forest. The
theme of this composition relates to descriptions of visionary experi-
ences that include extreme macro and micro perspectives. For example,
one might have an experience of flight above a forest (macro perspec-
tive), or visualise cells or atoms (micro perspective).8 Extending the idea
of psychedelic journeys in sound, Tiny Jungle provides a hallucinatory
audio-visual journey that traverses these macro and micro perspectives.
90 J. Weinel

Synaesthetic Underworlds
Continuing my explorations in the use of hand-drawn materials, I subse-
quently began making my own direct animation films in order to access
the unique organic visual qualities that this technique provides. Direct
animation was used not only by Harry Smith, but also various other
visual music filmmakers. An early work of this type was Len Lye’s A
Colour Box (1935), which was commissioned by the General Post Office
Film Unit (Russet and Starr 1976, p. 65). On this film Lye used Dufay-
color (a film dying process) to apply various coloured patterns on to
sections of film, which were then matched to ‘La Belle Creole’ by Don
Baretto and his Cuban Orchestra (Horrocks 2001, p. 137), a dance
piece popular in Paris at that time. Other films by Lye such as Kalei-
doscope (1935), Trade Tattoo (1937), and Musical Poster #1 (1940) also
utilise camera-less animation techniques. In a later work: Free Radicals
(1958, 1979), rather than dying the film Lye scratched images on to
black 16 mm leader film, producing abstract moving figures that dance
to tribal drums in a manner perhaps suggestive of trance rituals (Lux
2020). Free Radicals was screened at the 1958 Brussels World’s Fair (Expo
58) where it won second prize in the International Experimental Film
Competition (Len Lye Foundation 2020).
In the 1940s, Norman McLaren also utilised direct animation to
compose films such as Dots (1940) and Begone Dull Care (McLaren and
Lambart 1949) (Russet and Starr 1976, pp. 116–128). These films both
provide striking, close synchronisation between sound and image, so that
visual animations express the timing of music, while different patterns,
shapes, and colours also correspond with pitch and timbre. In the case of
Dots, McLaren achieves these results in audio by drawing on to an optical
sound strip (Peters 1951), thereby translating visual images directly into
sound.
Stan Brakhage is also well known for his direct animation work. His
film Mothlight (1963) was made by attaching moths and various other
debris gathered from a moth trap to 16 mm film stock. Though this piece
is silent, Brakhage considered the piece to have various ‘musical’ aspects
to its composition (Ganguly 1994), and thus it is an example of visual
music where sound and musical qualities inform visual design, but are
 4 Tune in, Turn Up, and Trip Out: Audio-Visual Compositions 91

not expressed acoustically. This piece exploits two significant functions

of direct animation. First, the magnification of microscopic materials,
since the moth wings, grass, and other debris are scaled-up when the
film is projected; and second, the discontinuous progression in time that
arises from successive frames containing completely different visual mate-
rials, which lack the smooth flow of motion that is possible with other
techniques such as cel animation or computer graphics.
In other works such as Persian Series (1999) Brakhage used
hand-painted direct animation, yielding fantastic colourful results. As
evidenced by this series, an appealing aspect of hand-painted direct
animation is the way in which the magnification of paint amplifies the
imperfections and textural properties of the materials. Every bubble,
crack, or dust particle in the paint becomes visible. These imperfec-
tions are seen briefly while each frame plays for approximately 20–40
milliseconds (depending on the rate of projection). Similar features may
be visible in the next frame, but will usually be seen in different places on
the frame, so that there may be a general continuity in terms of colours
or types of materials, but there is also a seemingly random, discontinuous
placement of these imperfections.
Through my own explorations of direct animation on 8 mm film,
I have found that these magnified, discontinuous imperfections can
produce moving patterns of visual noise. If one stares at blank film
stock covered in dust particles, after a while these noise patterns begin
to play tricks on the mind, which seeks to organise the visual noise into
recognisable shapes, patterns, or faces. In psychology this effect is called
pareidolia, and it is known to occur when looking at visual noise such as
that produced by TV static (Barik et al. 2019). This might be an inter-
esting technique in itself for artists interested in simulating psychedelic
visual impressions to explore, however in my own work I am more inter-
ested in representing hallucinations, and so I compose visual forms that
emerge from the noise.
In this section I will discuss three audio-visual compositions that were
created using direct animation. Unlike the analogue visual music films
discussed above, my work combines direct animation on 8 mm film
with digital methods of editing and compositing, allowing other types
of visual materials to be introduced. Therefore, the final artefacts are
92 J. Weinel

not analogue celluloid films (though 8 mm films of the direct animation

materials do exist), but rather digital video files. The three compositions:
Mezcal Animations, Cenote Zaci, and Cenote Sagrado were all inspired
by a trip to Mexico in 2012. Mezcal Animations imagines a halluci-
natory state of alcohol-induced intoxication inspired by Oaxaca’s Feria
Internacional del Mezcal (International Mezcal Festival)9 ; Cenote Zaci
is based on my experiences swimming in a cenote (natural sinkhole)
in Valladolid; while Cenote Sagrado (‘sacred well’ or ‘well of sacrifice’),
is based on the cenote of the same name at the Chichen Itza archaeo-
logical site, which was a site of ritual Mayan sacrifice and a gateway to
the underworld. Each piece interprets the given concept as a psychedelic
audio-visual journey, building on the approaches discussed so far. These
audio-visual compositions have been widely screened at various concerts
and festivals including Seeing Sound (Bath Spa University, 23 November
2013; 10 April 2016); Sweet Thunder Festival (San Francisco, 27 April
2014), the joint International Computer Music Conference/Sound &
Music Computing (University of Athens, 14–20 September 2014); the
International Festival of Artistic Innovation (Leeds College of Music, 12–
13 March 2015); the High-Frequency concert at the The Yard theatre in
Hackney (London, 18 January 2016); the Carbon Meets Silicon group
exhibitions (Wrexham Glyndŵr University, 8–11 September 2015; 11
September–8 December 2017); Daegu International Computer Music
Festival (Daegu, 2018, 2019); and others.

Mezcal Animations

Media 4.3 Mezcal Animations, audio-visual composition, 4 minutes 0

seconds
Oaxaca’s Feria Internacional del Mezcal (International Mezcal Festival)
is a celebration of mezcal, the distilled alcoholic beverage made from
agave, which is traditionally made in Oaxaca, Mexico. In the city centre
rows of stalls, many by family-run local businesses, provide samples and
sell bottles of mezcal. Every kind of mezcal is covered, ranging from
clear varieties to the flavoured ‘crema de mezcal’, as well as the ‘sal
de gusano’ (worm salt, a spicy salt made from ground mezcal worms)
 4 Tune in, Turn Up, and Trip Out: Audio-Visual Compositions 93

that complements the drinking of mezcal. The festival also includes

various live music and performances. Taking the festival and the mezcal I
purchased there as a point of creative departure, my audio-visual compo-
sition Mezcal Animations (Media 4.3) is a synaesthetic piece of visual
music loosely based on the idea of a mezcal-induced hallucination. In
relation to this theme, I also drew inspiration from the novel Under
the Volcano by Malcolm Lowry (1947), which includes descriptions of
mezcal, alcoholic delirium, and Oaxaca.
Mezcal Animations was created using direct animation on 8 mm film
stock, which was first bleached in a bucket in order to remove the emul-
sion.10 Once bleached, washed, and dried, the clear 8 mm film provides
a blank canvas upon which paint or other materials can be applied in
order to colour the film. For Mezcal Animations, I used various combi-
nations of inks, marker pen, nail polish, and oil paint, in a variety of
colours. As shown in Fig. 4.4, inks can be combined so that they flow
into each other (a), brushes or other implements such as wooden sticks
can be used to scratch patterns into paint (b), or designs may be drawn
in pen (c), Hairs, particles or other debris may be attached to the film11
(d), and bubbles may form in the paint (e), adding visual noise. In some
cases there may be sections of the film where parts of the emulsion are
not fully removed by the bleach, leaving traces of the original footage (f ),
Cracks in the paint (g), or newspaper (h), may also provide interesting
textures.
Once the paints and other materials have fully dried, the film can be
projected. For this project I used a Eumig P8 standard 8 mm projector.
Projecting direct animation films can be a laborious process since coat-
ings on the film reduce the ease with which it will move through the
projector mechanism. As a result, it will often get stuck, at which point
the projector must be quickly switched off to prevent the film from
melting under the heat of the bulb or causing a fire hazard. The process
of projecting direct animation films changes them with each playback, as
the heat from the bulb and movement of the film through the projector
causes cracks in the paint, and the reels attract more dust particles. The
process as a whole embeds a level of instability, amplifying the unpre-
dictable, organic nature of the visual materials and generating various
forms of visual noise. Like jazz improvisation, films made in this manner
94 J. Weinel

Fig. 4.4 Various frames of animation showing visual artefacts and textures
produced by direct animation on 8 mm film

are unique in each performance and run the risk of failure at any
moment. Even the speed of projection is unpredictable, as the film moves
more slowly or quickly through the projector at different points in time.
The results produced by projecting these reels can be incredibly exciting.
Rapid bursts of colour, visual noise, and textures flash upon the screen
 4 Tune in, Turn Up, and Trip Out: Audio-Visual Compositions 95

in quick succession, producing intense visual projections that acquire a

luminous, hallucinatory quality.
Once the 8 mm direct animation reels for Mezcal Animations had been
completed and tested, they were then digitised. Digitisation allows the
visual materials to be captured, after which an electronic soundtrack can
be added, and the visuals can be subjected to further digital manipula-
tion using modern video editing and compositing packages. The digitised
version of the film loses some of the intense immediacy that the original
projection reels have, but this is outweighed by the gains in stability and
practical utility that a digital copy provides. While there are various solu-
tions for digitising direct animation films, in this case a digital single lens
reflex (DSLR) camera was used to make a video recording of the film
as it was projected. Though higher quality results could be produced
with more expensive equipment, this provided a simple, convenient, and
inexpensive solution.12 A DSLR camera with a prime lens was used to
record 1080p video in a dark attic space, with the camera located on a
stand near the projector, slightly below the arc of projection. For Mezcal
Animations the camera viewing angle crops the video to a 16:9 aspect
ratio at the point of filming, though for other films I have often left a
border to preserve the original aspect ratio of the film.
The soundtrack for Mezcal Animations extends some of the compo-
sitional principles that were discussed in Chapter 2. As heard from
0:22 onwards, rotating streams of rhythmic sound were created, which
were made by tapping various objects such as empty beer cans and
a mezcal bottle procured from the aforementioned festival in Oaxaca.
The streams of percussive noise made with these objects were captured
with a condenser microphone, processed with an analogue delay, and
then spatialised using the PANcho beta software by Rajmil Fischman.
Figure 4.5 shows the animated spatialisation path that was designed
using PANcho, which follows a spiral figure similar to one of Klüver’s
(1971) form constants. The rhythmic rattling sounds correspond with
rotating visual patterns of hallucination, and lend the piece a ritualistic
quality that can be associated with the percussive music used in trance
rituals to induce states of sensory overload. The droning sounds first
heard at 0:44 were also made using transformations of electric guitar
sounds, while the rhythmic bass pulses that are particularly prominent
96 J. Weinel

Fig. 4.5 Spiral spatialisation patterns produced with PANcho

around 2:34 were made using synthetic bass drum sounds processed with
a guitar distortion pedal. As heard at the beginning (0:15), the visual
noise arising from dust particles on the film is also matched with sounds
of surface noise recorded from the run-in groove of a vinyl record.
The audio-visual composition of Mezcal Animations organises the
sonic materials in relation to the digitised direct animation footage. The
video has three distinct movements, as follows: {I. Mezcal Reposado
/ Pensamiento; II. Mezcal Tobala / El Golpe; III. Sal de Gusano}. In
the first movement (0:13–2:30) we hear the gradual onset of percussive
patterns and drones, while corresponding visual textures and patterns
unfold. The second movement (2:30–3:44) increases the intensity of
sounds and visuals, and here various figurative images emerge from the
visual noise, including mysterious symbols, geometric shapes, an eye, and
a skull (3:14, Fig. 4.6). The final movement ‘Sal de Gusano’ (3:44–3:53),
features short, shard-like audio-visual forms that relate to the sharp, spicy
taste of worm salt, which is often consumed with a piece of citrus fruit
after drinking mezcal.
 4 Tune in, Turn Up, and Trip Out: Audio-Visual Compositions 97

Fig. 4.6 A skull figure in Mezcal Animations

Through the combination of digitised direct animation and elec-

troacoustic music, Mezcal Animations places visual noise, colours, and
textures in relation to sounds, forming an abstract synaesthetic whole.
This collective whole is related to the concept of an intoxicated mezcal
delirium, where sounds and images suggest hallucinations, reflecting the
intense tastes and smells of mezcal, and more broadly, the hot, humid
climate and pallet of burnt oranges, browns, and tropical shades of
Oaxaca as a city.

Cenote Zaci

Media 4.4 Cenote Zaci, audio-visual composition, 4 minutes 5

seconds
If you take a walk on a summer’s afternoon down the dusty streets
and baking hot pavements of Valladolid, Mexico, you may find Cenote
Zaci slightly beyond the town centre—Valladolid’s answer to an outdoor
swimming bath. For thirty pesos, you can purchase a paper ticket and
find some relief from the heat in cool waters. As you punch a hole in the
ticket and make your way down towards the swimming area, the faint
98 J. Weinel

echoes of splashing and excited children grow louder, until you turn a
corner and see a vast hole in the rock filled with deep turquoise waters.
A path around the outside meanders its way down towards the basin, the
moist stone glistening in a deep brownish grey colour. Queues of chil-
dren line up to jump in from a great height, dropping from the ledge one
after the other, pausing only occasionally when a more tentative child has
second thoughts. The line momentarily stalls, until finally, egged on by
his friends, he too leaps into the deep cool waters below, with a loud
splash that sends water cascading in all directions amidst cries of jubila-
tion. For everyone else, dipping into the water happens at the bottom of
the path, where one can slip gently from the edge of the rocks into the
refreshing pool that is shared with the ‘lub’ (eyeless, charcoal-coloured
fish).
Taking this cenote as a source of inspiration, Cenote Zaci (Media 4.4)
is an audio-visual composition based on the idea of an aquatic dream
or hallucination of the cenote. Visually, the piece was made using a
similar method of direct animation as that described for Mezcal Anima-
tions, where 8 mm film was first bleached and then painted with various
inks. Rather than the orange tones of the former film, this piece uses
predominantly green and turquoise shades, reflecting the deep waters of
the cenote.
From 0:27 and throughout the piece various fish are seen, rendered
in a bright red colour. These were created by cutting out shapes of
fish, which were then photographed in various positions over a lightbox
to make stop-motion animation clips. These animation clips were then
superimposed over the digitised direct animation footage. This method
preserves the organic, textural qualities of the stop-motion animation,
while adding other moving shapes that would be difficult to draw directly
on 8 mm film with the same level of control.
Along similar lines, Cenote Zaci also uses computer-generated anima-
tions, which were programmed in Processing. As first seen at 0:29, waves
of triangle patterns scroll across the screen, which are reminiscent of the
scrolling triangles used in Tiny Jungle, and similarly reflect visual hallu-
cinations. Elsewhere (e.g. 0:40), a hypnotic diamond tunnel effect is
produced in a similar way, which once again relates to Klüver’s (1971)
form constants. In Processing, the code used to draw these shapes utilises
 4 Tune in, Turn Up, and Trip Out: Audio-Visual Compositions 99

an animated colour, which is generated by assigning oscillating sine-

waves to the red, green, and blue values. Sine functions were also used
to arrange the triangles into wave formations. This simple programming
technique, where oscillating values are used to animate properties, is also
used in many other projects discussed later in this book.
The audio track for Cenote Zaci was made using a Novation Super
Bass Station monophonic synthesiser, running through a guitar distor-
tion pedal; a bamboo flute, processed with a delay effect; and noise
sounds created with an empty mezcal bottle. As with Mezcal Animations,
these mostly analogue sonic approaches seemed appropriate as a means to
complement the predominantly analogue visual materials. Sonically the
composition aims to provide a hypnotic wall of pulsing electronic noise,
which gradually builds in intensity. Popping out of the greenish visual
noise, groups of fish dart back and forth, while brightly pulsing geometry
engulfs the screen, reflecting visual hallucinations (Fig. 4.7). From 0:27
to 2:08 the composition builds in audio-visual intensity, by increasing
the density of these various hallucinatory images, while also increasing
filter cut-off frequencies on the synthesisers. At 2:08 there is then a brief
pause in the composition, following which the final wave commences at
2:25, building intensity through rapid impressions of imagery and filters

Fig. 4.7 Waves of triangles and fish in Cenote Zaci

100 J. Weinel

that rise and fall in pitch, as formations of fish circle and dive on and off
screen. Lastly at 3:56, the piece ends abruptly with a sweeping noise.
In summary, Cenote Zaci is a direct animation composition that imag-
ines a dream or hallucination of a cenote inhabited by various fish.
This idea provides a point of creative departure leading to an abstract
audio-visual composition that combines hand-painted materials, with
colours characteristic of the cenote; stop-motion animations of fish;
oscillating geometric patterns; and a pulsing electronic noise soundtrack
that provides peaks and troughs in sonic intensity, lending the piece its
structure.

Cenote Sagrado

Media 4.5 Cenote Sagrado, audio-visual composition, 5 minutes 37

seconds
The final work in this series of Mexico-inspired audio-visual compo-
sitions is entitled Cenote Sagrado (Media 4.5), after the sacred cenote
of the Chichen Itza archaeological site in the Yucatán. The Chichen
Itza site is most famous for El Castillo (the Temple of Kukulcan), a
stepped pyramid notable for its transfiguration during the spring and
autumn equinoxes, when shadows from the sun create the illusion of
a serpent crawling down the side of the pyramid. A popular theory
suggests that the acoustic reflections of the pyramid produce a ‘chirped
echo’ sound, which resembles that of the sacred quetzal bird (Lubman
1998). If correct, we may consider that the architectural construction
of the pyramid creates intricate illusions of sound and light that would
have had spiritual significance for the Mayans. Experts in modern illu-
sory computer technologies such as augmented reality and mixed reality
take note—the Mayans beat you to it hundreds of years earlier! While
the image of El Castillo frequently appears in the visual culture asso-
ciated with psychedelic music,13 for Cenote Sagrado I looked instead
towards the nearby cenote of the same name for inspiration. It is thought
that Cenote Sagrado was once a site of ritual sacrifice that the Mayans
believed was a gateway to the underworld, and into which humans, gold,
and other treasures were cast (Phillips 2007, p. 101).
 4 Tune in, Turn Up, and Trip Out: Audio-Visual Compositions 101

Drawing inspiration from my visit to Chichen Itza, Cenote Sagrado is

an audio-visual composition based on the idea of a hallucinatory vision
of a Mayan underworld in the dark depths of the cenote. Technically this
piece continues to explore combinations of hand-painted direct anima-
tion on 8 mm film, stop-motion, and electronic sounds. Digitised direct
animation materials were created using watery greens, blues, and blood
red. Stop-motion footage, made using hand-painted frames and cut-out
shapes, was overlaid on top of these visual textures. These include a
Mayan face (0:11); blinking eyes that move around the edge of the frame
(1:09); waves of triangles (1:34); and several long sections that feature
moving cubes, rectangles, triangles, bats, and skulls, which dance around
the screen (2:39–3:47). These sections were conceived as visual halluci-
nations of shapes performing mystical conjuring tricks, with candles and
skulls symbolising the dead souls of human sacrifices14 (Fig. 4.8).
Sonically the piece once again uses hypnotic electronic rhythms to
provide a distorted, noise-based soundtrack that reflects ‘ergotropic’
states of trance-like sensory overload. The soundtrack was composed
in the music tracker Renoise, using various electronic instruments and
effects chains to provide rhythmic pulsing, percussion, and a noise track,
which were then remixed in real-time to match the video using the

Fig. 4.8 Skulls transfigure into candles in Cenote Sagrado

102 J. Weinel

CME Bitstream 3X MIDI controller. The soundtrack therefore explores

spontaneous, improvisational approaches in the studio.
Turning now to consider the structure of the piece, at the ‘onset’ of
Cenote Sagrado an explosion of triangles in the mind’s eye gives way to
a Mayan face, which emerges from the visual noise at 0:11 and sticks its
tongue out in thirst for human blood, as throbbing waves of percussion
increase in amplitude. At 0:45, a family of cubes playfully bounces back
and forth, magically disappearing and reappearing in different places.
With another explosion of triangles, at 1:08 we see blinking eyes circle
the screen ominously, and a wall of sonic noise erupts at 1:18. From 1:25
onwards, various geometric shapes pop across the screen, performing
conjuring tricks and transfigurations, while oscillating bass tones are
heard in the lower frequency range. At 3:18 bats descend, and three skulls
dance around the screen while the rhythms cease and the soundtrack
emits a piercing clicking sound—this section is the ‘plateau’, representing
encounters with dead souls. Various hallucinatory dances and metamor-
phoses take place in this section, as the skulls become the flames of
candles. From 3:43, the pounding bass drum sounds are reintroduced,
but these now form a more hypnotic organisation, drifting repetitiously
onwards for increasing lengths of time. At 4:42 the Mayan face greets
us once again, pointing its tongue out. Finally, at 5:18, the tension of
the hypnotic drum variations is released, as the familiar drum pattern
from earlier in the piece resumes before the psychedelic journey abruptly
‘terminates’.
Cenote Sacrado concludes this series of works by taking us on an audio-
visual trip to a Mayan underworld, which is constructed through means
of direct animation, stop-motion animation, and a pulsing electronic
noise soundtrack. While the music is improvised, compositionally the
piece continues to approximate the {onset, plateau, termination} pattern
of earlier works, utilising percussion in correspondence with trance-like
states of sensory overload. From the audio-visual noise various hallucina-
tory forms emerge, suggesting occult rituals and mystical encounters with
 4 Tune in, Turn Up, and Trip Out: Audio-Visual Compositions 103

the dead souls of the Mayan underworld, who rest in the dark waters at
the bottom of Cenote Sagrado.

The three compositions discussed in this section form a series of works

that construct synaesthetic, hallucinatory impressions in homage to
Mexico. These pieces continue to explore many of the compositional
approaches discussed in Explosions in the Mind so far. For example,
materials are designed based on features of hallucination, and these are
organised to form psychedelic journeys. As with Tiny Jungle, the designs
are related to visual patterns of hallucination, and some similar motifs are
used such as waves of triangles, mysterious forms, and encounters with
strange entities and faces. Most significantly of course, Mezcal Anima-
tions, Cenote Zaci, and Cenote Sagrado are united by the use of direct
animation, which in combination with digital techniques, allows the
production of organic visual noise from which the hallucinatory designs
can emerge.

∗ ∗ ∗

In this chapter we have seen how audio-visual compositions can be

designed based on concepts of hallucinations. The four works discussed
in this chapter can be seen as representations of synaesthetic sound-
to-image hallucinations. While the electroacoustic compositions of the
previous two chapters construct psychedelic journeys on a purely sonic
basis, the addition of visuals provides the possibility to represent what
one might see during a hallucination. Visual materials like these can
potentially be produced with almost anything at the composer’s disposal,
and here we have seen how they may be designed using hand-made
art, and computers graphics, with the aid of simple creative coding
applications made in Max/MSP/Jitter and Processing. In these compo-
sitions, the role of sound shifts towards establishing energy levels of
varying intensity, thereby providing affective journeys that are informed
by concepts of trance and sensory overload. What we hear is electronic
music, adapted towards various notions of psychedelia and trance. But
what we see is a psychedelic visual journey, carefully interwoven with
sound. The end-result is that we can begin to imagine that these works
104 J. Weinel

resemble the type of synaesthetic imagery that one might see exploding
in the mind’s eye, as a psychedelic visualisation of sound.

Notes
1. For more information on Harry Smith including his visual music artworks
and involvement with folk music, see also Perchuk (2010).
2. Harry Smith’s films were screened with various soundtracks (Singh 2010),
and seem to reflect mutable relationships with music. In this regard his
films might perhaps be understood as exploiting what Chion (1994)
describes as ‘synchresis’, the natural tendency of the brain to integrate
sounds and cinematic images.
3. For a further discussion of connections between electroacoustic music and
visual music, see Garro (2012).
4. Max/MSP/Jitter is a visual programming language for sound and audio-
visual design.
5. The output resolution of the Atomizer Visual software is 320 × 240 pixels.
This is very low by modern standards, but reflects the capabilities of real-
time video processing using Max/MSP/Jitter on a laptop with average
specification in 2010.
6. For indicative examples of late 1990s drum & bass, see the Metalheadz
compilation Platinum Breakz (Various Artists 1996), Arcon 2’s self-titled
album (1997), and Alpha Omega’s Journey to the 9th Level (1999).
7. Jungle/drum & bass music typically makes use of sampled drum breaks
taken from funk tracks by artists such as James Brown, Lyn Collins, or
The Winstons, whose track ‘Amen Brother’ (1969) is the source of the
famous ‘amen’ drum break used on countless tracks (Harrison 2004). The
tempo of these breakbeats is usually increased to 160 bpm or higher, and
they are often sliced, rearranged, and treated with various digital effects in
order to construct complex rhythmic syncopations.
8. For example, in Jeremy Narby’s (1999) The Cosmic Serpent: DNA and the
Origins of Knowledge the author describes visualisations of DNA structures
while under the influence of ayahuasca.
9. More information about Internacional del Mezcal (International Mezcal
Festival) is available online (https://www.oaxaca-mio.com/fiestas/feriadelm
ezcal.htm). For a colourful, descriptive account see also Lizotte (2014).
 4 Tune in, Turn Up, and Trip Out: Audio-Visual Compositions 105

10. This was accomplished using household bleach, following appropriate

safety precautions. It is also possible to use clear leader film, but this is
less readily available and tends to be more expensive.
11. Debris may become attached to the film accidentally or may be deliberated
applied. For Mezcal Animations, I sprinkled dried coffee granules over the
film to increase the amount of particle noise.
12. The process of digitization could alternatively be undertaken using profes-
sional digitization equipment such as an optical printer, allowing each
frame to be photographed individually. For an expanded discussion of
the processes for digitizing direct animation films, see also Weinel and
Cunningham (2014).
13. For example, images of Mayan pyramids can be found on the cover of
the psychedelic rock band Gong’s album You (1974), or more recently
on artwork for the Mexican psy-trance compilation Mayan Loop (Various
Artists 2013).
14. For other examples of ghostly and occult themes in visual music films, see
also Harry Smith’s Early Abstractions (1939–1957) or Mary Ellen Bute’s
Spook Sport (Bute et al. 1940).
 5
Sensorial Apparatus: Interactive Projects

Imagine a device that allows you to play, record, and share sensory expe-
riences. Placing a cap of wires and sensors on your head, suddenly your
visual and auditory field changes to the sights and sounds of a deep
canyon that you once visited. However, this is not like looking at a
photograph, or watching a video recording—rather, it is a digital hallu-
cination that makes you feel as though you are actually there. You can
look and see the deep turquoise waters around you; hear birdcalls above
and water lapping onto the rocks; and sense a gentle breeze and the sun
beating down on your skin. Not only are your senses engulfed, but you
can also feel the emotions you once felt on that day, a sense of quiet
ecstasy and calm. Or perhaps, instead of the canyon trip, you could
download something you’ve never experienced before, like taking a walk
on the moon, or diving a sunken wreck forty fathoms deep. This device

Supplementary Information The online version contains supplementary material available at

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-4055-1_5.
Where the icon is shown in the chapter, the reader should refer to the supporting
media files.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 107

Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021
J. Weinel, Explosions in the Mind, Palgrave Studies in Sound,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-4055-1_5
108 J. Weinel

would not merely replicate the patterns of light and sound that would
enter the eye during these episodes, but would also be capable of repro-
ducing subjective sensory experiences and emotions. So if you fancied
something really exotic, how about a shamanic peyote trip on a desert
cliff-top? You could watch the mountains melt into black and white
chessboards before your eyes, while the night sky above reorganises into
a vortex of stars from which animals rendered in luminescent, pin-point
dots emerge and whisper the secrets of the universe.
Devices like this are depicted in various works of science fiction from
the cyberpunk genre. In the movie Brain Storm (Trumbull 1983), scien-
tists have invented a brain-computer interface (BCI) that can play and
record experiences, which they demonstrate with a first-person perspec-
tive recording of someone rushing down a water slide. Elsewhere, in
William Gibson’s Neuromancer (1984), the ‘SimStim’ is a sensorial appa-
ratus that records and broadcasts a person’s sensory input, much like a
video recorder, but for experiences. A similar device, the SQUID, was
also depicted in the movie Strange Days (Bigelow 1995). Consisting of a
network of sensors that fits on the head, the SQUID allows the wearer
to play and record sensory experiences and physical sensations stored on
minidisc. In the film, the device is used to do ‘playback’: street slang
for illicit, addictive, virtual thrills, which leave people strung out with
their brains fried from sensory overload. In the story, an underground
economy has sprung up around the SQUID, in which crimes are being
committed to record rushes of adrenaline, which can then be sold to
addicts looking for their next vicarious fix. While the SQUID is used
to capture normal-waking consciousness, elsewhere in the anime film
Paprika (Kon 2006), a BCI called the DC Mini allows dreams to be
recorded and played back on a laptop computer, providing a different
take on a similar idea.
These cyberpunk works highlight the ethical risks that the specula-
tive sensorial technologies could bring. Yet fictional sensory recorders
like the SimStim or the SQUID are logical extensions of what was
already becoming possible with video technologies in the late twentieth
century. For McLuhan (1964), television and video were extensions of
the human nervous system, which allowed us to tap into hallucina-
tory global networks of sensory experience. Fictional sensory recording
 5 Sensorial Apparatus: Interactive Projects 109

devices simply extend these possibilities, imagining what would happen if

they were enhanced, so that video is no longer viewed through the rectan-
gular screen of a cathode-ray tube television, but completely engulfs the
senses, allowing users to jack into different conscious experiences. Cyber-
punk works like Neuromancer or Strange Days paint a worrying picture of
the dangers that such technologies might bring, but in doing so they also
reflect the inherent dangers of the video technologies we already have,
which are being used by some for various illicit purposes, surveillance,
and control. Bleak, near-future cyberpunk dystopias resonate with audi-
ences because they amplify the negative, emerging traits of present-day
techno-capitalist societies, and warn us of the dark futures we may be
heading towards.1
Though cyberpunk warns us about the dangers of these sensorial
devices, the possibility to play and record experiences remains a tanta-
lising possibility, and one that could also bring a variety of societal
benefits. For instance, imagine the mental health benefits that could be
produced if one were instantaneously able to induce states of complete
relaxation; the educational possibilities of actually seeing and hearing
what goes on in an operating theatre; or the sheer entertainment value
that could be provided by being front row, watching that seminal perfor-
mance by a rock n’ roll band that have long since disbanded. If such
a device could simulate altered states of consciousness (ASCs), this too
could have many benefits, perhaps by delivering rich cultural experiences,
or even by providing new ways to access carefully designed psychedelic
therapies.2
Though the sensorial apparatus described here may be speculative,
such technologies could be available in the not-so-distant future. While
the virtual reality (VR) of the 1980s and 1990s was somewhat limited
by cumbersome hardware and relatively basic computer graphics, more
recent technologies such as the Oculus Rift offer significantly improved
possibilities for designing immersive experiences. One needs only to try
Valve’s Half Life: Alyx (2020) for an hour or so to see the impressive
graphical capabilities of current immersive technologies. Through VR,
we can begin to conceive of experiences that allow us to see or hear
what another person sees from a first-person perspective.3 Of course,
replicating similar patterns of light and sound that one might sense in a
110 J. Weinel

given situation is not the same as simulating subjective perceptual expe-

riences. Clearly, far more sophisticated technologies would be needed
to do that.4 However, it is not beyond the realm of possibility for us
to conceive of ways in which loudspeakers and video displays could be
used to deliver virtual environments in such a way that they begin to
resemble some subjective aspects of sensory experience. ASCs actually
provide an interesting basis for this, due to the way in which they mani-
fest ‘internal’ visual or auditory hallucinations, which are distinct from
‘external’ sensory inputs. As explored over the last few chapters, there
are ways in which hallucinations might be represented through sound
and computer graphics. If these audio-visual experiences are then created
using interactive systems such as those provided by video game engines,
we can begin to make immersive experiences that simulate the sensory
inputs that one might have during an ASC.
The main purpose of this chapter is to explore how interactive audio-
visual systems can be used to represent psychedelic experiences. First, we
will examine Quake Delirium (2010), a software-based project, which
adapts the video game Quake (id Software 1996), modifying various
graphical and game parameters in order to represent a delirious or hallu-
cinatory state. This project was an early investigation into the use of game
engines for providing interactive experiences that represent ASCs, and
was realised through various scripts and an original Max/MSP patch,
which allowed properties of the game to be remixed in real-time, while
also generating a corresponding soundtrack. In a later project, Psych
Dome (2013), I explored some related ideas, this time by generating
psychedelic sounds and animations in an immersive fulldome environ-
ment. In this case, the audio-visualisation produced by the system was
generated with Max/MSP and Processing, and could also be linked
to the brain activity of a person inside the dome wearing an elec-
troencephalograph (EEG) headset. Lastly, this chapter will also discuss
ASC Sim (2017), a project created in the Unity game engine, which
explored several possible interactive systems for representing auditory
hallucinations in virtual environments. In different ways, each of these
proof-of-concept projects illuminates possible approaches for designing
interactive audio-visual experiences that represent subjective perceptual
experiences such as psychedelic hallucinations.
 5 Sensorial Apparatus: Interactive Projects 111

Delirious Hellscapes
In the 1990s, video games were rapidly advancing. In a short period
of time, the pseudo 3D graphics of first-person shooter (FPS) games
like id Software’s Doom (1993) were quickly replaced by the true 3D of
Quake (1996). Graphics accelerators like the 3dfx Voodoo Graphics card
became essential hardware for anyone using a PC to play video games.
3D hellscapes could be rendered in exquisite detail like never before.
Slotting a Voodoo Graphics—or better yet, two Voodoo2 cards in an
SLI (Scan-Line Interleave) configuration—would allow the performance
of games to skyrocket, while also unlocking a variety of enhance-
ments including higher resolutions and OpenGL effects such as texture
smoothing, transparent water, fog, and coloured lighting. When the first
Unreal (Epic MegaGames and Digital Extremes 1998) game hit the
shelves, it harnessed many of these possibilities in exciting new ways. I
distinctly remember playing this game for the first time. In the opening
sequence, your character (prisoner 849) must make their way out of a
crash-landed prison-spacecraft. On the way out, you crawl through an
air duct, which is filled with smoke and bathed in green light. What
struck me most was the way in which you could almost smell and taste
the smoke in this scene. Somehow the graphical effects, together with the
immersive audio in this sequence, seemed to activate the multimodality
of your senses, invoking past experiences of smoke. For me, the taste
was synthetic smoke of the kind produced by fog machines, which I
had probably encountered before at school discos or playing Quasar (a
form of laser-tag) in Bournemouth. This is the real power of video game
engines, and a big part of what makes 3D games appealing. With just
a few textures, polygons, sounds, and visual effects, designers can paint
rich, immersive worlds that activate the senses. Our multimodal interpre-
tation of these environments completes the picture, filling in the blanks
as we make sense of them in relation to our past interactions and memo-
ries of the real world. The environments may be virtual, but in some
ways, we can experience forms of presence and embodiment that make
us feel as though we are really there. Today, titles like Half Life: Alyx
extend these ideas in VR, providing uncanny hyper-realistic audio-visual
environments that one can almost taste, touch, smell, and feel.
112 J. Weinel

In order to explore ways in which video game engines can be used to

represent ASCs, in the late 2000s, I began experimenting with the video
game Quake. Quake is an FPS game set in a hellish world overrun with
demons and experimental teleporters known as ‘slipgates’. The player
must fight their way through various gothic caves and dungeons to save
humanity. When I began this project Quake was already an old game,
however, for many years it remained one of the most readily customis-
able FPS games, which made it an appropriate choice for modification
work. The idea of the Quake Delirium project was to create a psychedelic
‘adaptation’ or remix of Quake, taking the existing game and changing
various aspects of it in accordance with features of ASCs. The concept of
remixing a video game in this way was partly inspired by other existing
projects at this time, such as Street Fighter (an improvisational ballet),
which hacked the video feed of Street Fighter II (Capcom 1992), gener-
ating original audio using a Max/MSP/Jitter patch to create an audio-
visual artwork (Niv et al. 2006); or q3apd, which used Quake III Arena
(id Software 1999) to synthesise audio in Pure Data5 based on spatial
data from the game (Pickles and Oliver 2003).6 Along similar lines,
Quake Delirium used a Max/MSP/Jitter patch to provide a psychedelic
modification of Quake, which places various graphical and game param-
eters in a state of flux, while also generating a corresponding soundtrack.
As we shall see, the result is still Quake, but it is adapted towards a more
hallucinatory, delirious aesthetic, and this was later extended with the
addition of a biofeedback device.

Quake Delirium

Media 5.1 Quake Delirium demonstration video, 6 minutes 0 seconds

The Quake Delirium project was realised with a Max/MSP application
(Quake Delirium), which provides facilities for adjusting various graph-
ical and game parameters, and generates a corresponding soundtrack
in real-time. Figure 5.1 shows the system design including the flow of
data and audio signals in relation to the game software. The system
 5 Sensorial Apparatus: Interactive Projects 113

Keyboard and
mouse control MIDI
input controller

Game control MIDI control

input data

Quake with Control data Quake Delirium

Fitzquake mod and
QuakeC scripts Log file

Game Altered
audio graphics

Audio output Display output

Fig. 5.1 Quake Delirium system diagram

is based around a version of Quake running the Fitzquake modifica-

tion and custom QuakeC scripts.7 The game is controlled using the
typical keyboard and mouse combination used by PC-based FPS games.
A two-way flow of information is provided between the game and the
Quake Delirium Max/MSP application. The game writes messages to a
log file based on events (e.g. when the player enters a level, picks up a
health box, or collects ammo), and this is read by the Max/MSP applica-
tion, allowing the patch to react to events in the game. Conversely, the
Max/MSP patch sends control data to the game via virtual keystrokes,
which are mapped to ‘cvar’ bindings specified in a QuakeC script. These
keystrokes allow the following graphical and game parameters to be
adjusted in real-time:

• FOV (field of vision)

• Drunk mode (causes the camera to sway drunkenly)
• Fog density and colour
• Game speed
114 J. Weinel

• Stereo vision (a red and blue stereoscopic effect)

• Gamma
• Red hue.

Using these graphical and game parameters, the Quake Delirium

Max/MSP application makes adjustments while the game is played,
thereby warping colours, perspective, and other properties of the game.
These constantly changing effects reflect the shifting perception that may
occur during an ASC. The parameters can be remixed in real-time using
a Korg NanoKontrol MIDI controller, with the patch providing facil-
ities to play and record automation paths. This allows different preset
automation paths to be designed, or for one person to remix the game
live while another person plays it. The patch also plays back a pre-
recorded electroacoustic music soundtrack, which incorporates various
digital signal processing (DSP) effects. These were controlled using the
same automation paths that modify the graphical and game parameters,
thereby linking sound and image, so that the sonic and visual effects can
be increased or reduced in correspondence with each other. The graphics
output from the game via the display device, while sound from both the
game and the Max/MSP application is routed to the audio output device.
Media 5.1 demonstrates the Quake Delirium project in action using a
preset automation path and soundtrack, which are included in the patch.
In the video we see The Necropolis level of Quake (Episode 1: Dimen-
sion of the Doomed) being played with the software enhancements. On
the audio track, we hear the normal sound effects of the game, while
entoptic sounds are gradually introduced on the electroacoustic sound-
track. From 0:17 onwards we begin to see the ‘onset’ of shifting graphical
effects, as the red and blue stereo vision effect blurs the image; purple
fog fades in and out of the scene; and droning sounds are heard. As the
droning sounds increase in amplitude, various graphical effects warp the
colours between shades of red, blue, and purple (0:30–1:10). As promi-
nently seen from 1:24 to 2:06, the game begins to speed up and slow
down at points, reflecting distortions to time perception. During this
phase the FOV shifts, gradually changing the perspective, as seen at 2:40.
Throughout the video, all changes to visual properties correspond with
DSP effects such as filter, echo, and reverb, so that the representation of
 5 Sensorial Apparatus: Interactive Projects 115

a delirious state morphs organically as it unfolds in time. From 3:42 to

5:20, the visual and auditory effects reach a ‘plateau’ of intensity and we
see bright colours, blurred with the stereo vision effect, while the FOV
perspective is warped; time passes slowly; the camera sways drunkenly;
and various entoptic and droning sounds are heard (Fig. 5.2). Finally, the
psychedelic effects of Quake Delirium subside, ‘terminating’ at 5:30.
While the demonstration video shows only one game level, Quake
Delirium can be experienced with any section of the game. The log
file reader triggers the various hallucinatory effects when the player first
enters the level. The software also has an optional feature that allows the
hallucinatory effects of the game to be cancelled out each time the player
collects a health box. When this is enabled, the player can stave off hallu-
cinations by collecting health, or seek more intense states of delirium by
avoiding them! While at points the psychedelic adaptations make the
game more difficult by obscuring what is happening on screen, at other
times reductions in game speed give the player an advantage by providing
more time to react. Negotiating the hallucinatory effects thereby adds a
novel ludic dimension to the game, and allows the player to sculpt their
experience of the delirious hellscape to their liking.

Fig. 5.2 Quake Delirium in operation, with various graphical distortions repre-
senting a hallucinatory perceptual state
116 J. Weinel

Quake Delirium EEG

Media 5.2 Quake Delirium EEG demonstration video, 2 minutes 36

seconds
A subsequent adaptation of the Quake Delirium project, Quake Delirium
EEG , modifies the experience by replacing some of the automation
paths with control data from a NeuroSky Mindwave consumer-grade
EEG headset (Media 5.2). In this version, the values for red hue, fog
density, fog colour, and gamma are controlled by the interpreted values
for ‘attention’, ‘meditation’, ‘delta’, and ‘theta’ that the device provides;
while field of vision, drunk mode, stereo vision, and game speed are
controlled by the usual automation paths.8 In this way, the project links
shifting psychedelic audio-visual effects to the brain activity of the person
playing the game. As suggested through a complementary experimental
study (Weinel et al. 2015a), the player does not have any significant voli-
tional control over these parameters, but does gain a sense of ‘passive’9
connection between the simulation and the biofeedback signals, which
is conceptually appealing since it links brain activity to the psychedelic
effects.

In summary, Quake Delirium and the subsequent Quake Delirium EEG

extension sought to adapt an existing video game (Quake) towards
various concepts of ASCs. This was achieved by using automated prop-
erties that allowed colours, perspective, and the speed of the game to
shift over time extending the ideas of ‘shifting perception’ discussed
in Chapter 3. The complementary soundtrack also integrated drones
and sounds suggestive of hallucinations, utilising the electroacoustic
approaches discussed in Chapter 2. The project was very much an exper-
imental hack and lacked stability; however, it succeeded in providing
an early proof-of-concept that allows us to think about how interactive
game experiences might represent psychedelic experiences. An increasing
number of video games would later use similar approaches to those I
have described here. For example, the magic mushrooms sequence in Far
Cry 3 (Ubisoft Montreal 2012), and the various visionary sequences of
 5 Sensorial Apparatus: Interactive Projects 117

Hellblade: Seanu’s Sacrifice (Ninja Theory 2017) are just two examples of
games that represent hallucinations through morphing graphical effects
and corresponding sounds. Both these games use similar ideas to those
outlined here, but do so with more sophisticated game engines, providing
more polished results that readers interested in these techniques should
experience. Certainly, there is a utility to these approaches then, which
can allow games designers to enrich storylines through depictions of
hallucinations and ASCs. In the case of Quake Delirium EEG, the use
of biofeedback may also indicate exciting new ways to experience these
psychedelic simulations interactively, and perhaps we will see developers
exploring these ideas in the future too.

Psychedelic Apparatus
Go to bed wearing an elegant headband, and in the morning wake
up and access a video recording of your dreams, playing back any
section you wish with transport facilities for play, pause, rewind, and fast
forward. This is the alluring possibility suggested by the DC Mini in the
anime movie Paprika (Kon 2006), a fictional BCI that records a person’s
dreams. The concept of capturing such ephemeral experiences is an inter-
esting one, since dreams are otherwise hard to recollect and explain or
share with others. Yet it is not inconceivable that such a technology could
one day allow this by using some form of neuroimaging, generating a
visualisation from the data. With such a device, perhaps we could also
record the visual and auditory components of sensory experience during
ASCs, thereby generating visualisations that begin to resemble what one
might see or hear during hallucinations. Taking inspiration from the
DC Mini, Psych Dome is an interactive audio-visual project that uses a
consumer-grade EEG headset to control a psychedelic visualisation with
a corresponding soundtrack. The project was first presented in a mobile
fulldome at Wrexham Glyndŵr University (16 October 2013).
118 J. Weinel

Psych Dome

Media 5.3 Psych Dome composition example, 2 minutes 4 seconds;

and documentation video, 1 minute 36 seconds
The Psych Dome project continues to develop various approaches for
the design of audio-visual materials based on concepts of psychedelia,
focusing in particular on Klüver’s (1971) form constants, which can
be generated interactively using an EEG headset in a mobile fulldome.
As indicated in Fig. 5.3, the project utilises various software running
on a laptop inside the dome. The laptop receives input data from a
Neurosky Mindwave EEG headset, which is interpreted as Open Sound
Control (OSC)10 data using BrainWaveOSC by Trent Brooks.11The
EEG headset provides filtered readings for alpha, beta, gamma, and delta
brainwaves, and interpreted ‘attention’ and ‘meditation’ values.12 The
OSC messages are then sent to a Max/MSP application, which uses
the scaled values to control various sound generating processes based
on ASCs, such as drones and rotating percussive sounds. These sounds
are provided by an additive synthesiser; playback of various pre-recorded
samples; and a range of DSP effects similar to those used in the Atomizer
Live Patch (see Chapter 3), such as filter, delay, reverb, ring modulator
and a rotating Doppler shift effect. The Max/MSP application passes
the OSC messages to a Processing application, which generates real-
time visualisations such as spiral dot patterns based on visual patterns
of hallucination. Sound outputs to stereo loudspeakers via the audio

Processing

EEG signals
OSC

BrainWave OSC
OS

Sou
C

nd

Max/MSP

Fig. 5.3 Psych Dome system diagram

 5 Sensorial Apparatus: Interactive Projects 119

device, while video outputs to a projector via the display adapter. For
this project, an inflatable mobile fulldome was used, in which a single
projector was directed at a convex mirror that reflected light onto a
hemispherical projection screen inside the dome.13
The sounds and visuals generated by the respective Max/MSP and
Processing applications follow a pre-determined structure. Each time the
project runs, sounds and images are produced for 1 minute 40 seconds
using a generative system, where the resulting audio-visual materials
change based on the real-time input data from the EEG headset. Media
5.3 provides an example of the audio-visual materials that the project
generates, and visual evidence of the project running in the mobile full-
dome. Table 5.1 shows the compositional structure of the piece. From
0:00 to 0:24,14 we see the onset of spiral patterns based on Klüver’s
form constants, while high-frequency rhythmic sounds are heard. Next,
from 0:24 to 0:31, a tunnel of lines is seen, while we hear a bass tone
and drone. From 0:31 to 0:41, the visualisation provides a different
spiral pattern, accompanied by high-frequency percussive sounds. This
is followed from 0:41 to 0:58 by another spiral variation and mandala,
while rhythmic sounds and filtered noises are generated (Fig. 5.4). At
0:58–1:15, a tunnel of triangles is accompanied by a bass tone and
drone; then at 1:15–1:40, there is a further spiral, and high-frequency
rhythmic sounds, before the piece terminates. While the timing of each
of these sections remains consistent between performances of the piece,
EEG modulates aspects of the sounds and visualisations that are gener-
ated. Hence, the EEG signals affect oscillator frequencies and various
DSP properties, while also transforming the visualisations by causing
temporal shifts in colour, transparency, form, and size attributes of shapes

Table 5.1 Psych Dome compositional structure

Time Visual material Sonic material
0:00–0:24 Spiral Rhythmic high frequency
0:24–0:31 Lines tunnel Bass tone/drone
0:31–0:41 Spiral Rhythmic high frequency
0:41–0:58 Spiral + mandala Rhythmic high frequency + filtered noise
0:58–1:15 Triangle tunnel Bass tone/drone
1:15–1:40 Spiral Rhythmic high frequency
120 J. Weinel

Fig. 5.4 Spiral animations based on visual patterns of hallucination and EEG
signals in Psych Dome

and lines. As before, these gradual changes reflect the shifting perception
that one may experience during an ASC, and so Psych Dome provides
an interactive, biofeedback-driven audio-visual experience that visualises
psychedelic hallucinations with a corresponding synaesthetic audio track.

Psych Dome advances the approaches discussed so far in Explosions

in the Mind, by demonstrating how an interactive audio-visualisation
using consumer-grade EEG can drive an immersive experience based on
psychedelic visual hallucinations. As part of this project, the Affective
Audio research team at Wrexham Glyndŵr University also carried out an
experimental study to investigate how users experienced the system, and
the extent to which they were connected to the work or able to volition-
ally affect the artwork.15 As with Quake Delirium EEG, the outcomes
of the study suggested that the EEG headset provides a ‘passive’ form of
interaction in which the user feels connected to the artwork through their
biofeedback signals, but does not have a strong sense of voluntary control
over the visualisation. In this regard, Psych Dome does not record an ASC
experience in the manner of the fictional DC Mini of Paprika, but rather
 5 Sensorial Apparatus: Interactive Projects 121

it provides an audio-visualisation that is conceptually related to halluci-

nations, which is modulated by brain activity. The system may point
towards some new ideas for using biofeedback to design psychedelic
visualisations of sound that others may extend in the future. These exten-
sions could be carried out by building directly on the system, as when
Psych Dome was adapted by the Australian group Sacred Resonance for
Noosphere: A Vision Quest at Adelaide Fringe festival (4–6 March 2016,
Adelaide Planetarium),16 or by composing completely new works.

Altered Simulations
The final interactive project that will be discussed in this chapter is ASC
Sim, a prototype made with the Unity game engine, which explores
approaches for representing auditory hallucinations through sound. The
project was informed by the outcomes of an earlier empirical study
carried out in the context of the Affective Audio research group at
Wrexham Glyndŵr University, in which nearly 2000 qualitative self-
reports of intoxication were analysed in order to collect experiential
accounts of auditory hallucinations (Weinel et al. 2014b; Weinel and
Cunningham 2017). Using this dataset, ASC Sim takes three features
of auditory hallucination described in these experience reports, and
provides interactive designs based on these. In doing so, the project
shows how collaborative, interdisciplinary work involving empirical
studies may feed into the design of interactive systems that simulate
psychedelic ASCs.

Three Features of Auditory Hallucinations

ASCs can vary in their intensity, and the concept of structural dynamics
that move through phases of onset, plateau, and termination (see
Chapter 2) were utilised in many of the projects discussed so far. The
Quake Delirium and Psych Dome projects utilised this idea as an under-
lying design principle, so that representations of hallucination onset
gradually, increasing in intensity over time; reach some form of plateau
122 J. Weinel

or peak; and then gradually subside, eventually terminating. In terms of

Hobson’s state-space concept of consciousness, these representations also
traverse points from ‘external’ to ‘internal’ sensory input and back again.
Within this framework, representations of psychedelic states may also
correspond with a variety of features based on ASCs, which were derived
from the studies discussed earlier, such as Leary (1968), Klüver (1971),
Strassman (2001), and others. The ASC Sim project does not attempt to
represent all of the features discussed in these studies, but instead focuses
in particular on three specific features that emerged from the empirical
study carried out by the Affective Audio research group:

• Selective auditory attention

• Enhanced sonic perception
• Spatial disruption of sound.

‘Selective auditory attention’ describes a common feature in the reports

of intoxicated auditory hallucinations, whereby attention to sound seems
to be disrupted. Selective auditory attention already takes place during
normal-waking consciousness; for example, cognitive psychology studies
by Broadbent (1958) and Treisman (1960) suggest that our attention
system filters our perception of sound. During auditory hallucinations,
some reports seem to suggest that individuals become particularly suscep-
tible to prolonged absorption in a particular sound source, or conversely
may feel as though they have a broadened perceptual awareness of
multiple sound sources at different points in time.
‘Enhanced sonic perception’ describes experiences where the indi-
vidual perceives sound as seeming more interesting, detailed, or enjoyable
than usual. Perhaps due to the euphoric effects of various intoxicating
substances, reports describe experiences of sound and music which are
enhanced, almost as though the spectrum has been modified, so that
high- or low-frequency bands are more pronounced than usual, as if
one were using higher quality audio equipment. Conversely, in other
instances, reports describe the opposite, whereby sound is perceived as
dull, almost as if frequency bands have been suppressed or played back
on lower quality audio equipment.
 5 Sensorial Apparatus: Interactive Projects 123

‘Spatial disruption of sound’ describes aural experiences where various

spatial features of sound may be perceived differently during a hallucina-
tion. Sounds may seem as if they are either closer or more distant than
usual. For instance, the sound of a car further down the street may be
heard as if it is nearby, or vice versa. Alternatively, a person may become
confused about the direction that sounds are coming from. In some cases,
the acoustic properties of the environment one is in may seem to change,
so that sound echoes in a way one would not expect in that context.
These three features were not the only ones described, but were chosen
selectively to explore in the ASC Sim project. In general, the experience
reports suggested varying degrees of intensity in auditory hallucinations,
which seemed to range from mild enhancements; to moderate distor-
tions; and total hallucinations, in which one hears things that seemingly
have no acoustic basis in the surrounding environment. The latter may
consist of hallucinated noises, music, voices, or even silence, where
expected experiences of sound seem to be absent. In the next section,
I will describe how the three features of auditory hallucination outlined
were used as a basis for interactive sound design in the ASC Sim project.

Software: ASC Sim

Media 5.4 ASC Sim software and demonstration video, 3 minutes 5

seconds
The three features of auditory hallucinations described in the section
above provide the basis for ASC Sim. Using the Unity game engine, ASC
Sim provides a basic first-person perspective configuration, consisting of
a flat grassy plane, three coloured cubes, and a sky background (Fig. 5.5).
Each cube emits unique droning and pulsing sounds, which are spatially
located as 3D sound sources.17 In the virtual environment, the user
operates a first-person player controller using the keyboard and mouse,
which can be used to walk around, viewing and hearing the scene
from different locations. This provides a deliberately simplistic setup,
which is sufficient as a test bed for exploring three interactive sound
design mechanisms based on selective auditory attention, enhanced sonic
perception, and spatial disruption of sound. I will now describe each of
124 J. Weinel

Fig. 5.5 Screenshot from the ASC Sim project. Coloured boxes in a simple game
scene provide sound sources located in 3D space for testing purposes. Metres
for ‘attention’ and ‘enhancement’ (top-left) indicate the current values of these
properties

these mechanisms, which are also demonstrated in operation by Media

5.4.
‘Selective auditory attention’ is represented in the project by first iden-
tifying an object that the user is paying attention to. In the project,
‘attention’ is based on which of the coloured cubes the player is currently
looking at.18 When looking at one of the cubes, an ‘attention level’
numerical float value gradually increases from 0.0 to 1.0, as represented
with an ‘attention’ metre on the user interface (Fig. 5.5). As the attention
value increases, the amplitude of all unattended sound sources decreases,
so that the user hears only the object that is currently the focus of
attention (Fig. 5.6). When the player is no longer paying attention to
the object, the ‘attention level’ decreases, and the sound levels of the
unattended cubes return to normal. In this way, the project simulates a
narrowing of attention on a particular sound source, such as may occur
in a more pronounced way during an auditory hallucination.
‘Enhanced sonic perception’ is modelled in ASC Sim by modifying
the frequency properties of all sounds in the virtual environment. This
is technically accomplished using an ‘enhance level’ numerical float
 5 Sensorial Apparatus: Interactive Projects 125

Fig. 5.6 Diagram showing the ‘selective auditory attention’ mechanism. When
the player attends an object, all unattended sound sources fade out

value, which ranges from 0.0 to 1.0. ‘Enhance level’ is also represented
with a metre on the user interface (Fig. 5.5). As indicated in Fig. 5.7,
increasing the ‘enhance level’ causes the sound to crossfade between three
different pre-recorded versions of the source sound. These provide ‘dull’,
‘medium’, and ‘bright’ variations, for which graphic equaliser DSP effects
have been used to reduce or enhance the frequency content of the orig-
inal source sound. Increasing the ‘enhance level’ crossfades between these,
so the same sound source is heard, but it becomes much brighter, with
more high-frequency content as the value approaches 1.0. This mech-
anism simulates the subjective experience of sounds being enhanced
through a more detailed frequency spectrum.
‘Spatial disruption of sound’ is reflected in the virtual environment by
manipulating the spatial location of sounds. This is achieved by using

Fig. 5.7 Diagram showing the ‘enhanced sonic perception’ mechanism. As

the enhancement value increases, sounds fade between ‘dull’, ‘medium’, and
‘bright’ versions of the source material
126 J. Weinel

Fig. 5.8 Diagram showing the ‘spatial disruption of sound’ mechanism. Each
sound source moves in oscillating spatial patterns around the object with which
it is associated

oscillating sine-wave values, which change the location of the sound

sources. As shown in Fig. 5.8, the sound source moves around the
object it is associated with in an oscillating pattern.19 When the user
is inspecting a sound cube with this effect applied, the cube remains in
a static location, but the associated sound source is animated in oscil-
lating patterns around the cube, thereby producing a disorienting aural
experience. In this way, the mechanism represents experiences of audi-
tory hallucination where sound sources may seem spatially disassociated
from the emitting object.
The three mechanisms described exemplify ways in which we can
think about representing these specific features of auditory hallucina-
tions. As can be seen in the game object hierarchy of the Unity editor
in Media 5.4, these mechanisms were made using C# scripts,20 which
provide an ‘ASC engine’, as part of the group of ‘first person controller’
objects that make up the player avatar. This structurally locates the code
as part of the player avatar, in recognition that these features mediate
the way the avatar represents the virtual environment to the player.
 5 Sensorial Apparatus: Interactive Projects 127

An expansion of this ‘ASC engine’ could include other features for

representing auditory or visual hallucinations using sound and graphics.

In summary, the ASC Sim project provides a game-engine prototype

that explores ways in which auditory hallucinations can be represented
through interactive audio. The project was informed by a large-scale
empirical study, which provided various accounts of auditory hallucina-
tions.21 From these experience reports, three specific features of auditory
hallucinations were identified, which were then used to inform the design
of corresponding prototype mechanisms, which reflect various auditory
enhancements and distortions. Of course, this project could be further
developed to provide an expanded range of options for representing
these ASC features, and various other features of auditory or visual
hallucinations could also be implemented. For example, visual hallucina-
tions could be modelled by animating various graphical properties using
similar methods as those utilised in the Quake Delirium or Psych Dome
projects. This could ultimately lead towards an expanded audio-visual
‘ASC engine’, which provides a comprehensive set of features modelling
psychedelic hallucinations for player avatars.

∗ ∗ ∗

Through the course of this chapter, we have seen how three distinct
projects, realised through various forms of creative coding and sound
design, represent psychedelic hallucinations through interactive systems.
These projects draw together the approaches in sound, interactivity, and
audio-visual design that were outlined in the previous chapters. In doing
so they provide interactive audio-visual forms that reflect shifting distor-
tions to perception, and a variety of other features that resemble what
one might see or hear during a hallucination. Of course, these are all
very much prototypes, and perhaps what matters most here is not the
end result, but the idea they all point towards: the possibility of repre-
senting subjective experiences, including ASCs, through specific uses of
game-engine simulations. This idea can be described as ‘avatar-centred
subjectivity’, since it modifies the way graphics and sounds are used to
communicate the virtual, subjective experience of a game avatar from
128 J. Weinel

a first-person perspective.22 This concept has an immediate utility for

designing experiences of intoxication in FPS video games, and looking
more broadly, it could also be used for designing simulations of audi-
tory hallucinations or other subjective states that may serve therapeutic
or communicative functions.23 In this chapter we have also seen how
biofeedback technologies could be used to connect users to these inter-
active systems, providing passive forms of interaction. These ideas are
the seeds that could one day lead to something greater. Extending
these principles, perhaps with improved biofeedback technology, could
lead towards interactive systems that record, and playback the contents
of sensory experiences, giving rise to the cyberpunk technologies of
tomorrow.

Notes
1. For a further discussion, see also the Adam Curtis documentary HyperNor-
malisation (2016).
2. The potential of psychedelic ASCs for treating depression has been
suggested (e.g. Carhart-Harris et al. 2016a), and it is possible that immer-
sive technologies capable of inducing ASCs might also have therapeutic
applications.
3. For further discussions regarding representations of subjectivity in VR,
see also and Weinel et al. (2018); and Weinel and Cunningham (2019).
Of wider relevance to these discussions are the debates surrounding pres-
ence and immersion (Slater and Wilbur, 1997), which address the ways in
which users feel a sense of embodiment in VR (Sanchez-Vives and Slater
2005; Slater 2009; Landau et al. 2020); and the role of sound in providing
this (Grimshaw-Aagard 2019).
4. While this may not yet be possible with available technologies, there
is early research that explores the generation of images based on
neuroimaging techniques using fMRI; see Nishimoto et al. (2011).
5. Pure Data is a visual programming language similar to Max/MSP (both
languages were developed by Miller Puckette).
6. For a further discussion of these systems and the idea of remixing video
games, see the original article on Quake Delirium (Weinel 2011).
 5 Sensorial Apparatus: Interactive Projects 129

7. Fitzquake (http://www.celephais.net/fitzquake/) by John Fitz is a modifica-

tion for Quake that provides various graphical improvements. QuakeC is a
compiled programming language for Quake that allows various parameters
to be scripted via cvar commands.
8. For more information on the Quake Delirium EEG system and parameter
mappings, see also Weinel et al. (2015a).
9. Use of the term ’passive’ here refers to Zander et al.’s (2010) definition of
’Passive BCIs’: ‘a passive BCI is a BCI which derives its outputs from arbi-
trary brain activity without the purpose of voluntary control, for enriching
a human–computer interaction with implicit information’ (p. 185).
10. Open Sound Control (OSC) is a computer music networking and
communication protocol.
11. BrainWaveOSC is an open source software application designed by Trent
Brooks in collaboration with George Khut, which passes EEG data as OSC
messages for use with software such as Max/MSP (Brooks 2019).
12. The interpreted EEG outputs are provided by Neurosky’s proprietary tech-
nologies; for a further discussion of EEG signals see Sanei and Chambers
(2007).
13. Other more sophisticated fulldome systems use rigid dome structures
with multiple projections that are stitched together using software such
as Blendy Dome VJ (http://www.blendydomevj.com/).
14. The time stamps used in this section describe the actual timings used in
the software application, rather than the video examples included in Media
5.3, where there is an offset due to the inclusion of video titles.
15. For an overview of the Affective Audio research team, see Weinel et al.
(2014a). Further discussion of the user study carried out with Psych Dome
is available in Weinel et al. (2014b) and Weinel et al. (2015b).
16. For more information on Noosphere: A Vision Quest see the Sacred
Resonance website (https://www.sacredresonance.com.au/projects) and
Facebook page for the event (https://www.facebook.com/events/adelaide-
planetarium-unisa-mawson-lakes/noosphere-a-vision-quest-at-adelaide-pla
netarium-fringe-2016/209854189352393/).
17. In game audio 3D sound encompasses various features such as attenuation
of amplitude based on the relative distance of the listening player avatar.
For a further discussion see Horowitz and Looney (2014, pp. 129–131).
18. This is technically accomplished in Unity with ray casting. A ray is
projected from the player avatar based on the direction the avatar is
looking, and when the ray intersects with an object, that object is
considered the current focus of attention.
130 J. Weinel

19. Dissociation between object and sound source is achieved in the Unity
object hierarchy by creating a separate child object to the cube, which the
sound source is then attached to. The child is animated with a C# script,
while the parent object remains static.
20. While ASC Sim uses C# scripts and the Unity audio engine, similar mech-
anisms could alternately be devised using combinations of scripting and
game audio middleware such as FMOD or Wwise.
21. Informing sound design through the use of empirical studies may provide
a route towards more accurate representations of experiences such as audi-
tory hallucinations; see also Weinel, Cunningham, and Griffiths (2014b);
Weinel and Cunningham (2017).
22. The concept of ’avatar-centred subjectivity’ was first proposed in Weinel
and Cunningham (2019).
23. For example, Weinel et al. (2018) discuss representations of autism
through specific uses of sound design and graphics in VR, in order to
raise public awareness.
 6
Optical Geometry: VJ Performances

On the side of a dusty track somewhere in Croatia, I am waiting with

a group of people in the sweltering afternoon heat for a shuttle to take
us to Mo:Dem psy-trance festival. Eventually, we board a bus that has
seen better days. It’s too hot inside—I leap into one seat and then crawl
into another one that is out of the direct sunlight, in a bid to prevent
myself from melting onto the faux-leather upholstery before we get to
the festival. After what seems like an eternity, the bus leaves. Refreshing
cool air rushes in through the windows as the vehicle speeds its way along
winding roads deep into the countryside. At last over the brow of a hill,
a sea of tents unfolds across the fields, as bronzed bodies in loose t-shirts
and hemp clothing stroll along the side of the road, and others wait for
the bus to give them a ride back into town. I wander down a muddy
track with the other festivalgoers, heading towards the low-frequency

Supplementary Information The online version contains supplementary material available at

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-4055-1_6.
Where the icon is shown in the chapter, the reader should refer to the supporting
media files.

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132 J. Weinel

rumble of a sound system somewhere deep in the forest. Following the

sound, I pick my way through a maze of trees, and hammocks that are
occupied by the prone bodies of hippies who have already been partying
here for days. Eventually, I reach a clearing, where swathes of animated
figures dance relentlessly to the hypnotic beats of psy-trance music. The
music itself is coming from a stage set that resembles a vast jagged sculp-
ture. With sharp fins and an impossibly detailed mandala in the centre,
the structure looks like a mysterious, crash-landed alien spacecraft from
some strange science-fiction movie. As dusk falls, the pulsing throb of
synthesiser basslines ramps up in intensity, while detailed layers of other-
worldly sounds trickle, pop, and squirt over the top, as if the music is
dripping in some kind of gooey neon hallucinogenic liquid. As the final
rays of sunlight cutting through the tall branches high above fade to
black, the stage comes alive with brilliant shades of purple, pink, green,
and yellow. Snake-like forms creep across the sharp contours of the huge
sculpture, illuminated by projections that pulse in time to the beat. In
the hot sticky night, ultraviolet canopies surround us in the trees, while
lasers and projectors cast tribal patterns and optical geometry across the
scene, whipping the crowd into some kind of relentless, hypnotic frenzy
of dance—truly a momento demento, or ‘moment of madness’.
The psychedelic video projections at psy-trance festivals such as
Mo:Dem are a form of VJ (video jockey) performance.1 As discussed
in Faulkner (2006), VJing involves live mixing of video to music. The
art form emerged primarily from electronic dance music culture in the
1980s, where VJs began mixing videos to complement DJ performances
at nightclubs, raves, and festivals. While VJ performance has syner-
gies with visual music, perhaps more importantly, antecedents can be
found in the liquid light shows of 1960s rock concerts. Investigating the
latter, in 2018 I interviewed Paul Brown, a member of Nova Express,
a group which also included founder Jim MacRitchie and Les Parker,
who performed psychedelic lightshows in Manchester and the North of
England in the 1960s and early 1970s (Weinel 2018b). Nova Express
provided light shows for bands such as Pink Floyd, The Who, The Nice,
Canned Heat, Barclay James Harvest, Edgar Broughton, and others.
As Paul explained to me in the interview, the group approached the
light shows as improvisational performances. Using slide projectors, inks,
 6 Optical Geometry: VJ Performances 133

paints, and chemicals in glass clock faces on overhead projectors, the

group would energetically fade images in and out by moving their hands
rhythmically in front of the beams, working in synchronisation with the
music and creating their own forms of “visual syncopation’ where ‘one
rhythm would be going into the eyes and another rhythm would be
going into the ears’. The respective group members would even direct
their visual performance to match the different musical instruments of
the band, weaving patterns of light to match the drum, bass, and guitar
parts of the music.
Albeit with analogue projection technologies, Nova Express was essen-
tially providing an early form of what might today be called a VJ
performance. Of course nowadays at festivals like Mo:Dem or London’s
audio-visual performing arts festival Splice,2 modern VJs utilise high-
spec laptops and MIDI controllers, which allow them to mix digital
video in real-time. While Nova Express mixed turbulent oils and
performed visual rhythms with their hands, the VJs of today can use
audio analysis to map properties of frequency and amplitude to various
visual filters and effects, transforming videos in real-time using software
like VDMX, Resolume, or Modul8. They can also use video-mapping
software such as Mad Mapper to project onto the contours of irregular
surfaces, displaying their projections across complex stage sets like the
ones used at Mo:Dem. While the technologies may have changed, the
ultimate goal remains the same—to provide complementary synaesthetic
experiences of rhythmic visual energy and psychedelic imagery, which
reinforce the symbolic meaning of the music.3
There is an excitement that is brought by live visuals, regardless of
whether they are created with 8 mm films, coloured liquids reacting
under the heat of a lamp, or generative computer graphics animations
that pulse in response to an audio signal. One advantage of digital
approaches is that powerful computers are increasingly available at a
relatively low cost, making VJ performance a much more accessible
pursuit. As a natural extension of my previous DJing and my interest
in audio-visual composition, in 2016 I began my own VJ experiments.
In this chapter, I will discuss my work in this area, which explores
134 J. Weinel

various approaches for composing psychedelic visualisations in corre-

spondence with sound. Here the main focus will be the construction
of my VJ performances under the alias Soundcat. By designing VJ loops
using direct animation, creative coding, and 3D animation, I created a
DJ/VJ mix that combines 1990s breakbeat hardcore music4 with orig-
inal visuals. Following a discussion of this project, I will also describe my
parallel visual art practices, which explore related ideas through paint-
ings, including three works that can be enhanced with an augmented
reality (AR) application. Through the course of this chapter, we will
see how VJ performance can provide an alternative means through
which to compose psychedelic visualisations of sound based on symbolic
associations with music.

Making the VJ Loops

Extending my earlier work in audio-visual composition, from 2016
onwards I began making video loops for use in VJ performances. Initially,
I created simple visual animations in Processing, often using oscillating
colours and shapes. These designs extended concepts of psychedelic
visual hallucinations and altered states of consciousness (ASCs) discussed
earlier in this book, while also drawing significantly on the style of 1990s
acid house VJ performances, as documented on videos such as Dance in
Cyberspace (Dr. Devious and the Wiseman 1992); Global Chaos (Hex
1993); Future Shock (Frost et al. 1993); and the X-Mix series (Studio
!K7 1993, 1998). These 1990s visuals are similar to the ’demo effects’
computer animations seen in the demoscene computer art subculture
(Polgár 2005),5 which are also revisited in the aesthetics of the recent
vaporwave music genre. While many of the loops I will discuss in this
section were made in Processing, others were created using techniques
such as stop-motion animation, direct animation, 3D graphics, or found
video materials.
 6 Optical Geometry: VJ Performances 135

Selected Examples

Media 6.1 VJ Loops demonstration video, 6 minutes 30 seconds

Media 6.1 provides a silent demonstration video with excerpts from
a selection of VJ loops that I created for use in my performances.
Still images from these loops are also shown in Fig. 6.1.6 These are
the raw ingredients for my VJ performances, in which they are mixed
together with additional visual effects and combined with music. Before
describing these VJ performances in more detail, I will first explain the
design of the individual VJ loops.
‘Sinewarp’ is one of the first VJ loops I made for this project using
Processing (Fig. 6.1a). As with several other examples, the code generates
oscillating float values using the sine function. These values are used to
change the positions of two radial patterns, which intersect creating a
moiré effect. Oscillating values are also used to control the red, green,
and blue colours used for drawing the circles, causing them to change
colour and flicker with a stroboscopic effect.
‘Rotwarp’ develops the ‘sinewarp’ code, providing oscillating colour
effects that are used to draw radial patterns (Fig. 6.1b). Rectangles are
drawn at various points of rotation using a for-loop, creating many radial
patterns that vary depending on the angle of rotation. A fade effect is also
created by drawing a transparent black rectangle on the canvas in each
frame, thereby gradually erasing the contents of earlier frames, which
persist for a short time. The results are similar to the roulette curves such
as those produced by the Spirograph toy, and also relate to the concept
of spiral patterns seen during visual hallucinations.
‘Skywarp’ is a related Processing sketch, in which animated geometric
patterns are superimposed over rapidly cycling images taken from the
window of an aeroplane (Fig. 6.1c). These aerial photos were taken
during a trip to South America. The colour values of both the geometry
and the photos oscillate.
‘Ghosty’ was also made with a Processing sketch that draws repeating
patterns of animated sprites,7 which scroll horizontally with oscillating
colours and vertical positions (Fig. 6.1d). The sprites were made by
drawing individual frames of animation in a pixel art style,8 using a
stylus and Inchworm Animation on a Nintendo 3DS portable games
136 J. Weinel

Fig. 6.1 Various still images from the VJ loops

 6 Optical Geometry: VJ Performances 137

Fig. 6.1 (continued)

138 J. Weinel

console.9 These were exported and used in a Processing sketch, which

plays the individual frames of animation on a loop. For ‘ghosty’, ghost
and diamond sprites were used, however, several other adaptations of this
sketch were also made by substituting different sprites into the sketch and
changing various parameters.
‘Cycler’ was created using a 3D Processing sketch, which draws an
array of spheres that oscillate in size and position (Fig. 6.1e). The over-
lapping spheres create a worm-like figure, which reflects the concept
of ‘mysterious forms’ in hallucinations, discussed previously. A series of
‘cycler’ sketches were created based on the same code, providing various
oscillating dot patterns using 3D spheres. These variations were created
by experimenting with different parameters for the oscillating values,
thereby repurposing the code to create a series of VJ loops.
‘Boxworld’ also uses the 3D functionality of Processing to make an
endless tunnel of purple cubes (Fig. 6.1f ). This is technically accom-
plished by drawing rows of boxes that move forward in 3D space along
the z axis with each frame. Boxes that pass the z position of the camera
are returned to a point in the distance with each cycle (this programming
technique is known as ‘object pooling’). A mirror post-processing effect
is used to draw a ceiling of boxes, thereby creating the tunnel effect.
‘Lava’ was made using the direct animation techniques discussed in
Chapter 4 (Fig. 6.1g). Hand-painted 8 mm film was projected, and digi-
tally filmed. This provides colourful, organic psychedelic textures that
can be combined with other materials in a VJ mix. The ‘lava’ title of the
VJ loop reflects the bright orange colours that are seen in this clip, which
were created using orange ink. As discussed earlier, various artefacts such
as cracks in the paint add complexity and interest.
‘Blue flash’ was similarly made using direct animation (Fig. 6.1h).
In this case, marker pens provide strong blue and orange shades and
psychedelic textures that can be layered with other loops in a VJ
performance.
‘Mirror Inktray’ is one of several VJ loops made using stop-motion
animation (Fig. 6.1i). In this case, various inks, paints, and oils were
mixed in a plastic tub, which was photographed, providing colourful
abstractions reminiscent of the oil projections used in 1960s psychedelic
lightshows.
 6 Optical Geometry: VJ Performances 139

‘Leafwarp’ was similarly made using a stop-motion animation process

(Fig. 6.1j). In this case, I experimented with leaves, Danish newspapers,
and other found materials. I painted on to some of these materials, as
seen in Fig. 6.1j, which exhibits a familiar spiral motif.
‘Scanshroom’ provides vertically scanning horizontal wave patterns
(Fig. 6.1k). A Processing sketch draws horizontal white lines, which
move downwards and gradually fade out. The resulting video can then
be layered with a still image, using a blending effect. In this case, the still
image used was a hand-drawn sketch based on visual hallucinations. To
make variations I used photographs and other images.
‘Bspiral’ was made using a 3D Processing sketch, which draws oscil-
lating cubes that rotate, expand, and contract around a central point
(Fig. 6.1l). The Processing sketch uses the x and y coordinates of the
mouse cursor as an input to modify parameters of oscillation and rota-
tion, thereby changing the animation when the cursor is moved. By
positioning the cursor at various coordinates and recording the output,
a series of related VJ loops was quickly generated from the same sketch.
‘Plasma’ was made using a Processing sketch that combines multiple
oscillating values, which are used to draw wave patterns on the screen
(Fig. 6.1m). An array of cycling colour values is used to animate the
colours. This creates the classic ’plasma’ effect seen in many demoscene
videos.10 Variations were made by changing the oscillating colours,
thereby producing a series of brightly coloured VJ loops.
‘Plasma bath’ is a 3D animation made in Cinema4D, which uses the
’plasma’ VJ loop described above to colour and displace the heights of
polygons (Fig. 6.1n). This creates a dynamic 3D plasma effect, over
which an array of rotating metallic spheres was superimposed. Various
other clips like this were also created in Cinema4D using arrays of
rotating geometric forms.
’Dreamscape’ is a 3D animation that references the visual imagery
associated with rave culture (Fig. 6.1o). The VJ loop is based on a similar
graphic used on the Dreamscape December 1991 rave flyer, and there-
fore provides a symbolic association with rave music. This loop was made
using rotating 3D geometry in Cinema4D, which was rendered in green
wireframe.
140 J. Weinel

‘Trancecore’ provides various oscillating 3D boxes as a camera moves

rapidly through fields of red cuboid shapes (Fig. 6.1p). As I will discuss
later in this chapter, while making my VJ loops, I also created various
paintings and drawings. In some cases, visual motifs developed through
paintings or sketches were translated into VJ loops and vice versa.
Exemplifying this, Fig. 6.2 shows a digitally modified ink pen sketch

Fig. 6.2 ‘Trancecore’ sketch, digitally re-coloured

 6 Optical Geometry: VJ Performances 141

depicting a strange landscape filled with fields of cuboid shapes. This

sketch provided the basis for the ’trancecore’ VJ loop. In Processing, a
similar impression was created in code using narrow 3D boxes, which
move rapidly towards a camera (using similar approaches to ‘boxworld’).
While the pen sketch includes an organic structure in the centre, in the
Processing sketch, patterns of oscillating boxes rotate in the visual field.
‘Spinner’ is one of several geometric shapes rendered in Cinema4D
(Fig. 6.1q). These shapes include an alpha channel, allowing them to be
superimposed over different backgrounds and animated textures.
‘Plasma box’ was also made in Cinema4D, and reuses the ’plasma’
visuals to provide animated textures on a rotating cube (Fig. 6.1r). This
design is a homage to a similar visual that appears in the Future Crew’s
‘Second Reality’demo effect (DemosceneVids 2015).
‘They live’ is a pastiche of a scene from the movie They Live (Carpenter
1988), reinterpreted as a vaporwave-style visual (Fig. 6.1s). In the movie,
by wearing special sunglasses, the protagonist can read hidden messages
that have been placed in advertisements, urging the public to ‘consume’,
‘obey’, ‘conform’, ‘buy’, and ‘watch television’. In my adaptation, these
messages are displayed on Windows 95 pop-up advertisements. In addi-
tion to text such as ‘obey’, ‘consume’, and ‘no thought’, messages such
as ‘take selfies’, ‘update status’, and ‘like sponsored link’ reflect the age of
social media.
‘Purple interference’ is a Processing sketch, in which various oscillating
waveforms are used to generate red and purple interference patterns
(Fig. 6.1t). The resulting animation provides textural visual noise mate-
rials that are suitable for layering with other VJ loops.
The selected VJ loops evidenced by Media 6.1 and Fig. 6.1 illustrate
the type of materials used in my VJ mixes. Most of these loops were
made using non-real-time procedures, in which sequences of frames are
rendered that are then combined in post-processing software to make
HAP11 video clips. Once the new VJ loops have been made they are
added to a library of clips in VDMX, ready for mixing to music.
142 J. Weinel

As noted, the design of the VJ loops extends some earlier approaches to

visual animation based on ASCs, while also drawing on the psychedelic
computer graphics of 1990s VJ performances, demo effects, and vapor-
wave videos. In this regard, the VJ loops place a greater emphasis
on exploring the ‘visual language’ associated with 1990s rave music,
rather than basing the designs solely on reports of ASC experiences. For
breakbeat hardcore music, this ‘visual language’ arises from the many
techno-utopian/dystopian designs and fantasy images seen on rave flyers,
record sleeves, and other visual artefacts from this era.12 Previous VJ
mixes also serve to reinforce these audio-visual relationships. Because
these visual associations already exist, we can imagine that a synaesthetic
sound-to-image hallucination experienced in response to rave music
might access them, manifesting visualisations like these in the mind’s
eye. From this perspective, when the intended soundtrack is 1990s rave
music, it is logical to design psychedelic visualisations of sound based on
these kinds of images.
While the above outlines the ‘representational properties’ used by these
VJ loops, another significant aspect of design relates to the ‘affective
properties’ of the video clips, which allow us to consider the extent to
which they may induce states of high or low arousal for audiences.13
Since the intended usage for these clips is to provide corresponding
visuals for high-energy breakbeat hardcore music, the VJ loops may
complement and enhance this by also promoting states of high arousal
for the viewer. Just as music communicates high arousal through the
kinetic energy of rhythmic percussion, VJ loops can also generate a sense
of visual arousal or sensory overload through movement, by using forms
such as stroboscopic imagery, kinetic moving objects, rotating geometry,
or animated tunnels. In this way, both sound and image may promote
heightened states of arousal, perhaps even inducing states of sensory
overload and trance.
My VJ performance emerged from many hours spent iteratively
making and experimenting with these VJ loops in VDMX. When mixing
the loops together in real-time, I use a MIDI controller to adjust param-
eters spontaneously, blending, cross-fading, and applying further visual
effects to the mix. Most visual effects have parameters that can either be
controlled with MIDI or automated using values derived from frequency
 6 Optical Geometry: VJ Performances 143

Fig. 6.3 Still from a practice VJ mix combining multiple loops

analysis or low-frequency oscillators. I experimented with creating VJ

mixes to various existing music, recording some demonstration videos
(Fig. 6.3).14 Around this time I also recorded a VJ mix for the Japanese
psychedelic rock band Hibushibire using their album Freak Out Orgasm!
(2017) as a soundtrack. This was undertaken with permission from the
band and was used by Riot Season Records to promote the album.

Live in London
Building on my library of VJ loops and initial experiments, I decided to
create an audio-visual performance by mixing existing music in the form
of a DJ mix, while simultaneously providing my own original visuals
through a VJ mix. First, I recorded new visuals for existing pieces of
music, essentially creating original music videos for each track. For the
final performance, I then combined these videos together to make a
DJ/VJ mix, while also triggering other audio-visual elements. This DJ/VJ
mix was first performed under the alias Soundcat as part of a concert
organised by VJ London15 held at New River Studios (London, 12 July
144 J. Weinel

2018). While this performance is an evolving project that can poten-

tially incorporate different styles of music, my discussion here will focus
on the iteration designed for the VJ London event, which used breakbeat
hardcore music.

Recording the Videos

For the VJ London performance, I used existing 1990s breakbeat hard-

core music, and some other styles such as trip-hop and hardcore punk.
To prepare for this performance, for each of the music tracks, a VJ mix
was first recorded in the studio using my VJ loops. Figure 6.4 shows the
technical setup used in the studio. VDMX runs on a laptop, with a Korg
NanoKontrol and an Akai MPC Studio providing MIDI control data for
manipulating video effects and triggering clips. The video signal outputs

Korg
Akai MPC Studio MIDI
Controller MIDI
Controller

MIDI control
data

MIDI control
data
Laptop running VDMX

Audio-visual outputs
Audio-visual monitoring

Fig. 6.4 Diagram showing the VJ setup used in the studio

 6 Optical Geometry: VJ Performances 145

to a Blackmagic Hyperdeck Shuttle and display, allowing the output to

be viewed and recorded simultaneously. In what follows, I will describe
the original music videos created with this setup.
‘Yes to Satan’ by New Atlantic (1992) begins with a brightly coloured
blue alien landscape with a tumultuous red sky (Fig. 6.5). As the break-
beats begin, black and white patterns pulse across the screen, which
are based on the concept of hallucinated cryptic messages resembling a
sixteen-segment LED display (see also Chapter 1, p. [1]). This ‘cryptic
messages’ motif is one that I have also used in various other visual
artworks. In this case, the designs were made in Photoshop and trig-
gered in time with the beat using the percussive pads of the Akai
MPC Studio. At points, the video rhythmically cuts between mysterious
rotating objects, including the ‘plasma box’ clip, which is processed with
a feedback visual effect.
‘Nightmare’ by Kid Unknown (1992) uses a VJ loop of dancing
alien figures, which was created with a 3D sculpting tool, Cinema4D,
and the Mixamo animation tool. These figures were processed with
various colour transformations and stroboscopic effects, which were
mixed rhythmically in correspondence with the music, in order to
provide a high arousal visual that reflects the energy of the drumbeats.

Fig. 6.5 Still from the ‘Yes to Satan’ video

146 J. Weinel

An inverted colour effect used in this video produces a result that I find
reminiscent of the visual effects used in the hallucination sequences of
the movie Altered States (Russell 1980), while the moving figures recall
Hex’s Global Chaos (1993).
‘A London Sumtin’ by Code 071 (1992) uses scrolling patterns of acid
house smiley faces, and a détournement of the London underground
logo which I modified to read ‘Soundcat’. The mix cuts between this
visual and the purple ‘boxworld’ tunnel, with the ‘cycler’ graphic super-
imposed over it. Here an oscilloscope effect is seen, which was generated
using audio analysis in VDMX. Later in the clip, a fractal sequence
designed in the software Mandelbulb 3D is also used.
‘Wipe the Needle’ by the Ragga Twins (1991) begins with a view
of a Photoshop user interface, within which the ‘dreamscape’ visual
is seen rotating, superimposed over the ‘boxworld’ tunnel (Fig. 6.6).
Behind this, a scrolling graphic displays discordian symbols including
an animated apple with the number 23 written on it.16 The back-
ground cuts to scanning tropical palm trees (photographed from a trip to
Rapa Nui, and modified with a variation of the ‘scanshroom’ Processing
sketch discussed earlier), and the animated ‘purple interference’ pattern.
We then see an explosion of pop-up windows (‘they live’), which are

Fig. 6.6 Still from the ‘Wipe the Needle’ video

 6 Optical Geometry: VJ Performances 147

synchronised with the beat of the music using VDMX’s beat detection
functionality, and terminate with the ‘blue screen of death’ image of a PC
crashing with a fatal system error. Taking inspiration from approaches
used in the vaporwave genre, the various visuals of user interfaces, trop-
ical palms, and failing computer systems expose the illusory mechanisms
behind media fantasias (see also Chapter 7, p. 191).
‘Mil Vidas’ by Bixiga 70 (2015) also uses a 3D dancing figure. In the
background, various red and yellow patterns move to the beat. These
visuals were made using stop-motion animation of jagged pieces of paper
over a light-box, resulting in short ‘one-shot’17 clips, which were trig-
gered in time to the beat using the Akai MPC Studio. These were also
processed with a mirror effect in VDMX. This background layer of the
video was first recorded using the Blackmagic Hyperdeck Shuttle, and
the footage was then recombined with the dancing character and other
visuals, adding video feedback and other effects.18
‘Animal’ by Jaguar (1998) uses a ‘cryptic messages’ effect similar to
the one used in ‘Yes to Satan’, where horizontal patterns are triggered
rhythmically in time with the beat. To produce more accurate time-
synchronisation between the breakbeats and the visuals, I loaded the
‘Animal’ track into a music tracker (Renoise) and programmed a MIDI
sequence that matches key percussive elements in the beat. This MIDI
sequence was then used to trigger the one-shot ‘cryptic messages’ visuals
in time with the beat, in real-time. Behind these, the VJ mix cuts between
the ‘trancecore’ and ‘ghosty’ visuals.
‘Ape Shall Never Kill Ape (Twin Tower Mix)’ by U.N.K.L.E featuring
Nigo & Scratch Perverts (1998) takes a different approach, using a ‘video
mashup’ technique.19 The music track ‘Ape Shall Never Kill Ape’ uses
various audio samples from trailers for the Planet of the Apes films (1968–
1973). The main visual for this track was made by lining up footage from
the original Planet of the Apes trailers with the samples in the music,
thereby providing images one might associate with these sounds. This
video track was then mixed in VDMX, where it was overlaid with oscillo-
scopes, the ’plasma’ visual, scrolling patterns of animated ape heads, and
the statue of liberty smoking a spliff (the latter an irreverent reference
to the ending sequence of the first Planet of the Apes [Schaffner 1968]
148 J. Weinel

movie, which is in-keeping with the trip-hop style and pop-cultural

sampling of the music).
‘Bed Jam Session’ by Tycoon To$h & Terminator Troops (1997) is
based around a direct animation background, which is processed with
a VHS effect. Over the top of this, we see brightly coloured orange and
yellow lightning shapes, which were made using transformations of stop-
motion animations made by moving and photographing pieces of paper
over a light-box. These were mixed together with an oscilloscope graphic,
in time with the beat.
‘LED Down’ by Tipper (2000) is a trip-hop track with a slower tempo,
requiring less visually kinetic or energetic visuals. The main visuals were
created using a recording of the PC video game Magic Carpet (Bullfrog
Productions 1994), which is processed with various effects, including
a brightness adjustment, which is tweaked in time with the music. At
points, the VJ mix also cuts to footage of the M1 motorway heading
into London, scrolling patterns of clouds, flying dolphins, and a rotating
3D vaporwave scene suggestive of a computer graphics demonstration.
‘Siren Bass’ by Aphrodite (2001) is also based around sampled footage
of the Atari ST video game Lotus Turbo Challenge II (Magnetic Fields
1992). Rave music has associations with Atari ST and Commodore
Amiga computers, which could be used for both gaming and home music
production (Weinel 2018a). For example, Aphrodite is known to have
used the music tracker OctaMED on the Amiga for many of his music
productions. In my video for ‘Siren Bass’, sampled video game footage
connects the music with computer games of the day. This footage is
processed with video effects, and combined with palm tree animations,
a ‘soundcat’ logo, and the ‘bspiral’ loop.
‘Acid Rain VIP (Breakage Final Chapter Mix)’ by Equinox (2006) is
based around footage of a 3D object being squashed, unravelled, and
exploded20 (Fig. 6.7). This footage was technically produced using 3D
geometry in Cinema4D, which various animated deformation processes
were applied on to. The deformations were designed to reflect the
sounds of the processed drum breaks, which are the main focus of
interest in this track. For example, the 3D object squashes resembling
a cymbal as a crash sound is heard; shrinks into a ball in correspondence
with a pitch-stop sound effect; and disintegrates as the drum breaks
 6 Optical Geometry: VJ Performances 149

Fig. 6.7 Still from the ‘Acid Rain VIP’ video

are time-stretched. The rendered 3D footage was divided into several

different video clips, which were then triggered using a MIDI sequence
in Renoise, allowing precise synchronisation between the footage and the
percussion. Visual filters were also applied in VDMX to give a striking
electric-blue effect.
‘Message in a Bottle’, a cover of The Police song, by Excel (1989),
uses various combinations of stop-motion animation (‘leafwarp’), oscil-
loscopes, direct animation (‘lava’), and Processing animations (‘sinewarp’
and ‘plasma’). These are rapidly cut-together in time with the music, in
order to provide highly kinetic visual noise and patterns that match the
energy of the music.
While the process of creating all of these videos is somewhat labour-
intensive, the end result is a set of original music videos for existing pieces
of music, which provide the building blocks for creating the final audio-
visual performance. Each video becomes analogous to a ‘record’ that a
DJ mixes, except in this case these ‘records’ also have a visual compo-
nent, so the final performance becomes a DJ/VJ set. A limitation of
this approach is that some aspects of video mixing and triggering, which
are undertaken ‘live’ during the production process, become ‘fixed’ in
the final performance. However, a benefit of this is that in the final
150 J. Weinel

performances more effort can be focused on manipulating sound and

mixing the records together in time. This is significant because, in a
solo performance, there is only so much that one person can do. In
addition, accurate timing is also arguably more important for music
than it is for visuals, since the ear is more sensitive to timing than the
eye (Chion 1994, pp. 10–11). As a result of this phenomenon, if two
rhythm tracks fall out of sync the musical experience as a whole will
be derailed, whereas any imperfections in the timing of the visuals are
more likely to go unnoticed. Moreover, I consider that the music is the
most important, central element of the performance. The visuals must
flow from and complement the sound, not the other way around. Pre-
recording visuals in this way also allows rapid transitions between many
intricate configurations that would otherwise be difficult to recreate live,
leading to more a diverse end result. Another practical advantage is that
pre-rendering the visuals reduces the computational load on the CPU
during the final performances, meaning the live performance system has
improved stability.
The workflow used to create these videos could be summarised as ’live
VJ mixing in the studio’. Though the end result is a series of fixed-media
videos, the process embeds aspects of spontaneous organic improvisation,
allowing the videos to acquire qualities of musicality which differ from
those that would likely be obtained through non-real-time processes
(e.g. post-processing video software). Of course, this real-time approach
means that a recording can go wrong, and in some cases, multiple takes
were needed, from which either the best one was selected, or the two best
were kept, thereby providing an alternative version that could be used if
so desired in the final performance. Following the analogy of each video
being like a ‘record’, these variations are like the alternate ‘dubs’ that a
DJ might play. Since this workflow involves repeated real-time processes
of sampling, remixing, and resampling of visuals, I also find the produc-
tion process analogous to the ‘live mixing in the studio’ approach that
dub reggae producers use. Just as the dub producer may play back pre-
recorded tracks in the studio, modifying and remixing them with filters,
cutting sounds in and out of the mix, to make these videos I am using
a similar approach with visuals. This allows special alternate versions of
a track to be used in live performances. For example, an alternate video
 6 Optical Geometry: VJ Performances 151

for ‘Acid Rain VIP (Breakage Final Chapter Mix)’ (which itself is a ‘dub
version’ of the original Equinox track) was produced using a different set
of visual filters to give an electric pink version of the video, which I can
choose to use in some performances instead of the blue version.

Performing the DJ/VJ Mix

Media 6.2 Soundcat DJ/VJ mix, 30 minutes 32 seconds

For the final performance at VJ London, I utilised a DJ/VJ setup based
on the Serato Scratch DJ software. This provides two virtual ‘decks’ with
transport facilities for playing two music tracks simultaneously. As with a
typical DJ system, pitch controls can be used on each deck to synchronise
tracks, which can be blended with a DJ mixer. Adjustments to ampli-
tude, EQ, filters, and a range of DSP effects can be applied to either
deck. While a DJ typically works only with sound, the MixEmergency
video plugin allows each track to have a video element. Fading between
two music tracks therefore produces transitions between both sound
and image, while the EQ and filter controls are also linked to visual
effects parameters. The system also allows spontaneous live triggering of
one-shot audio-visual materials.
A diagram of the performance system is shown in Fig. 6.8. A laptop
running Serato Scratch and MixEmergency is controlled by an Akai
AMX DJ mixer. The compact Akai AMX outputs sound to the main
PA (public address) system, while also sending a signal to a pair of
headphones, which allows the performer to cue and preview the sound
from either deck. In addition, an Akai MPC Studio controller is also
used, providing 16 percussive MIDI pads, which can be used to trigger
the one-shot audio-visual materials. Video outputs from the laptop to a
projector via HDMI.
Media 6.2 provides an example recording of a practice mix that is
representative of the one performed at the VJ London event. The first
half of the mix focuses on 1990s breakbeat hardcore music, beginning
with the New Atlantic track ‘Yes to Satan’. During the intro, a one-
shot element is triggered, consisting of pre-recorded synthesiser sounds
created with a Korg MS-20 Mini; edited speech from the science-fiction
152 J. Weinel

Akai MPC Studio MIDI

controller

Laptop running Serato Scratch

and MixEmergency

MIDI control data

Video
output
Akai Serato Scratch control data
AMX
Audio output Audio output
(monitoring) Mixer

Audio system Video projector

Fig. 6.8 Diagram showing the live setup used for the VJ London performance

TV show The Outer Limits (1963–1965); and psychedelic radial patterns

(0:10). From 1:59–2:23, we hear the Kid Unknown track ‘Nightmare’
being introduced, and see the dancing alien figures of the video super-
imposed over the ‘Yes to Satan’ visuals while a transition between the two
tracks occurs. From 3:38–4:44, the next transition begins, as ‘A London
Sumtin’ fades in, with some rapid mixing techniques used to cut the
sound and visual of ‘Nightmare’ in and out rhythmically. Launching
with vaporwave visuals, the Ragga Twins’ ‘Wipe the Needle’ comes
in from 6:07–6:42, accompanied by a one-shot audio-visual element
that includes a time-stretched ‘s–o-u-n-d-c-a-t’ sample.21 Following this,
Bixiga 70’s ‘Mil Vidas’ is dropped in at 7:58, as we see the dancing
alien character after the ‘blue screen of death’ visual (Fig. 6.9). During
this track at 10:47 and 10:57, two audio-visual one-shots are heard,
one of which includes the sample ‘soundcat… he was born and raised
in a hatchery just like an egg’, reflecting the irreverent humour that I
incorporate in this performance. The crisp breakbeats of Jaguar’s ‘Animal’
 6 Optical Geometry: VJ Performances 153

Fig. 6.9 Performing as Soundcat at VJ London (New River Studios, 12 July 2018)
(Photo credit: Laurie Bender [L’Aubaine])

first cut through the mix at 11:08, merging with the rhythms of Bixiga
70, while also creating a rich composite of rhythmic visuals from the
two videos. Punctuated by another audio-visual one-shot at 12:58, the
two tracks are allowed to ride together until ‘Mil Vidas’ runs out at
13:13. ‘Animal’ ends with an abrupt ‘deck stop’ slow-down effect, which
digitally simulates the effect of stopping a turntable.
The second half of the mix drops down to a slower tempo, begin-
ning at 14:06 with the sounds of U.N.K.L.E featuring Nigo & Scratch
Perverts’ ‘Ape Shall Never Kill Ape’, with the new Planet of the Apes
visuals. During this track, various audio-visual one-shots are used, and
from 15:31–15:49 the mix cuts in with beats from ‘Bed Jam Session’.22
At around 18:18, a filter effect is applied together with a deck stop, as
the mix transitions to Tipper’s ‘LED Down’, accompanied by video game
visuals and motorway footage.
At 19:52 the mix brings the tempo back up by bringing in Aphrodite’s
‘Siren Bass’, in double time relative to ‘LED Down’.23 From 21:48–
21:57, the drum & bass rhythms of the Aphrodite track temporarily
drop out, which occurs due to a technical issue with the software, and
is masked using an audio-visual one-shot. ‘Acid Rain VIP (Breakage
154 J. Weinel

Final Chapter Mix)’ drops into the mix at 22:38, superimposing the
electric-blue 3D sculpture over the flickering video game visuals of ‘Siren
Bass’. The two tracks ride together until 22:53, with emphasis gradually
shifting on to ‘Acid Rain VIP (Breakage Final Chapter Mix)’ via a gradual
crossfade and various rhythmic cutting effects on the mixer. During this
track, we see various deformations of the 3D sculpture as it squashes and
flies apart in correspondence with relentlessly deconstructed breakbeats,
until 27:31 when another abrupt deck stop is used to transition to the
final track. ‘Message in Bottle’ provides an irreverent finale, combining
raucous punk rock with various collisions of psychedelic visual noise and
sensory overload. As the track runs out, an audio-visual one-shot adds
the ‘soundcat’ stamp and brings the DJ/VJ mix to a close.

The Soundcat performance was well received at the VJ London concert,

which also featured sets by Fabu, High Files, and Warehouse Animals.
As noted, the approach of creating original music videos allows impro-
visational visual processes to take place in the studio, while the final
performance shifts the emphasis on to the musical aspects. This allows
each performance to be adapted by reorganising tracks spontaneously in
the live situation, much as a DJ would do when adapting to the energy of
an audience. Similarly, my performance can also be adapted or expanded
by adding new ‘records’ (i.e. making new music videos). In a later perfor-
mance at the Tŷ Pawb arts centre (Wrexham, 12 September 2018), I
added four new videos using hard house, hard trance, and acid techno
music. These included plasma visuals, direct animation, 3D geometry,
funnels of spheres, horror movie clips, satirical animations, and more.
Figure 6.10 shows a still from one of these videos, which was made to
accompany the acid techno track ‘One Consciousness (Dynamic Inter-
vention Mix)’ by Acid Ted (2006). Adding new tracks in this way allows
the performance to evolve over time, and gives space to try out different
ideas. More recently, a version of this set was also performed online at
Art Futura (London, 17 April 2021).
 6 Optical Geometry: VJ Performances 155

Fig. 6.10 Still from the ‘One Consciousness’ video

Visual Artworks
My DJ/VJ performance as Soundcat developed from the work described
earlier in this book, while also exploring some new directions. Alongside
working on this project, I continued to compose various other works
of electronic music and visual art. I have often worked on visual art
in parallel with music, sometimes incorporating this into audio-visual
works or using it as record sleeve artwork, as noted earlier for the Entoptic
Phenomena in Audio vinyl (Weinel 2014; Chapter 2, Fig. 2.3, p. 56); or
the Flood City (2015) 10 dubplate (acetate) records by Teknoshaman
(2015), each of which featured unique hand-produced artwork. In order
to further consider how work can traverse the boundaries between the
sonic and the visual, in this section I will discuss some visual artworks
I produced during this period, thereby illustrating the broader context
from which the VJ work emerges. These synaesthetic visual artworks can
be considered as complementary pieces, which inform the development
of, and respond to, my VJ work, providing space to experiment with
different symbolic forms and associations that can be formed between
sounds and images.
156 J. Weinel

Synaesthetic Paintings

Extending my explorations of Klüver’s (1971) form constants, Fig. 6.11

shows Vortex (2017), an acrylic painting that represents a tunnel impres-
sion, such as might be seen during a hallucination. While this painting
is closely related to formal concepts of ASCs, with later visual artworks

Fig. 6.11 Vortex, acrylic on canvas, 39.7 × 49.8 cm

 6 Optical Geometry: VJ Performances 157

I moved away from basing the designs on research regarding features of

hallucinations, instead exploring imagery related to the symbolic visual
languages associated with different styles of music. This led to a variety
of paintings made in response to music using acrylic paint, airbrush,
digitally cut stencils, and collaging of printed digital materials.
Trip at the Brain (2017, Fig. 6.12) is based on a song of the same name
by the hardcore punk band Suicidal Tendencies, and interprets the music
as an ink pen sketch, which was then digitised, used to cut a stencil with
a plotter machine, and rendered with an airbrush. The style of the piece
draws upon the visual language associated with this style of music, as seen
in various artwork created for the band by Ric Clayton (2018); and the
aerosol artwork created by the band Excel (Ross and Clements 2018).

Fig. 6.12 Trip at the Brain, airbrush on paper, 29.7 × 29.7 cm

158 J. Weinel

31 Seconds (2017, Fig. 6.13) is one of several works that explores the
use of typographic references to music. The airbrushed text ‘31 seconds’
references a sample used in the drum & bass track ‘Valley of the Shadows’
by Origin Unknown (1996). This was placed over an acrylic flow24

Fig. 6.13. 31 Seconds, acrylic on canvas, 25.4 × 30.5 cm

 6 Optical Geometry: VJ Performances 159

painting with colours suggestive of the rainforest, thereby exploring trop-

ical associations with jungle/drum & bass, as with Tiny Jungle (2010, see
Chapter 4). Red ‘cryptic messages’ motifs are also used, which draw upon
the style of visual art created by the Spiral Tribe rave collective.25
Bug Powder Dust (2017, Fig. 6.14) also uses text cut from a newspaper,

Fig. 6.14 Bug Powder Dust, acrylic and collage on canvas, 25.4 × 30.5 cm
160 J. Weinel

referencing a track of the same title by Bomb the Bass featuring Justin
Warfield (1995). In this case, acrylic flow techniques and airbrushed
stencilling were used to provide a cityscape with skeletons flying above.
The gothic impression of flying skeletal figures draws influence from
the ‘x-ray’ figures of William Burroughs’s ’shotgun paintings’ (Riflemaker
2005), in correspondence with the Bomb the Bass song, which is based
on the Burroughs (1959) novel The Naked Lunch.
Seasons in the Abyss (2017, Fig. 6.15) is based on the album of the same
name by the thrash metal band Slayer. Acrylic flow techniques were used
to create the main background for this painting, providing abstract white
and dark reddish-brown shapes, from which it is possible to perceive
forms in the manner one might do with a Rorschach painting. In this
sense the painting may unlock the unconscious in the manner of surre-
alism, perhaps allowing one to see various screaming faces that reflect
the hellish themes of Slayer’s Seasons in the Abyss (1990). On top of
the abstract images, various red designs are rendered, which may suggest
‘cryptic messages’ of an occult nature.
Holo Point Break (2018, Fig. 6.16) uses a multilayered approach that
bears comparison with my VJ productions. The background layer is
created with red and purple acrylic flow painting techniques, over the
top of which we see wireframe geometric shapes, audio waveforms, and
other fragmented elements. This provides a visual structure similar to
my VJ productions, where shapes, waveforms, and other fragments are
superimposed over abstract psychedelic textures. ‘Holo Point Break’ is
one of several paintings that take inspiration from street art, such as the
work of New York graffiti and hip-hop artist Rammellzee,26 whose work
crossed boundaries between the sonic and the visual. The breakbeat hard-
core discussed in this chapter is interwoven with hip-hop culture through
the producers’ use of breakbeats and hip-hop samples, and so it is logical
to explore visual connections of street art when visualising these musical
forms.

Augmented Reality VJ Paintings

Media 6.3 AR Paintings demonstration video, 53 seconds

 6 Optical Geometry: VJ Performances 161

Fig. 6.15 Seasons in the Abyss, acrylic on canvas, 30.5 × 40.6 cm

Many of my paintings explore visual ideas of motifs that were later devel-
oped into VJ materials or vice versa. In three of my paintings: Enter
Soundcat (2017), Soundcat 2000 (2017), and Soundcat S-101 (2017),
I drew connections with VJing by integrating VJ loops, which can be
162 J. Weinel

Fig. 6.16 Holo Point Break, acrylic and collage on canvas, 50.8 × 76.2 cm
 6 Optical Geometry: VJ Performances 163

activated using AR, when viewing the paintings through a mobile phone
(Media 6.3).
Enter Soundcat (Fig. 6.17) uses a background with yellow and red
acrylic flow painting and torn newspapers. Hardcore punk imagery is
placed over this background, including ‘soundcat’ written as a détourne-
ment of the Suicidal Tendencies band logo, and a mannequin head,
which references the album artwork for The Joke’s on You by Excel
(1989), which the song ‘Message in a Bottle’, discussed earlier, was taken
from. The piece also includes typographic ‘cryptic messages’ related to
visual hallucinations. Three rectangular prints of stills from my VJ loops
are also used as collage elements, which are brought to life when viewed
through AR, thereby integrating moving images into the painting.
Soundcat 2000 (Fig. 6.18) takes its name from the Rainbow 2000 elec-
tronic dance music festival in Japan (1996, see Masaaki Kobari 2012),
and the logo is a détournement of a design created for that festival by
The Designers Republic.27 This element associates the painting with
1990s rave culture in Japan, and still images of VJ loops are included
as collage elements, which are animated when viewed through an AR
device. As before, these are placed over an acrylic flow background, and
various other designs related to visual hallucinations are laid on top of
this, including waves of triangles programmed in Processing, which were
rendered in orange neon using digitally cut stencils and an airbrush.
Soundcat S-101 (Fig. 6.19) also uses an acrylic flow painting back-
ground, over which the title of the painting is rendered in text. This
text uses the same typography as the titles for the film Terminator 2:
Judgement Day (Cameron 1991), and references the Cyberdyne Systems
Model 101 terminator from the movie. The cinematic reference used
in this painting is also a musical one, since science-fiction movies were
widely sampled in 1990s hardcore rave tracks, such as Terminator by
Metal Heads (1993). These visual elements can therefore be understood
as a form of ‘visual sampling’ analogous to the use of audio sampling of
film quotations in drum & bass tracks, like The Terminator. The film
is also referenced through the use of airbrushed bullet holes across the
painting, and a red wireframe animation of a Neural Net CPU (the
Terminator’s CPU in the film) exploding. Beneath this, another image
shows green ‘cryptic messages’, which were taken from an animated
164 J. Weinel

Fig. 6.17 Enter Soundcat, acrylic and collage on canvas, 30.5 × 40.6 cm
 6 Optical Geometry: VJ Performances 165

Fig. 6.18 Soundcat 2000, acrylic and collage on canvas, 30.5 × 40.6 cm

Processing sketch.28 Both the disintegrating computer chip and the

cryptic messages are AR elements. The printed still images from these
two videos have painted cracks in them, suggesting damaged screens.
The cracking motif is also used on the printed still images of ‘Enter
166 J. Weinel

Fig. 6.19 Soundcat S-101, acrylic and collage on canvas, 30.5 × 40.6 cm
 6 Optical Geometry: VJ Performances 167

Soundcat’, and is intended to suggest fractures between the layers of

painting, AR VJ materials, and conscious perception.

The synaesthetic paintings discussed in this section were created in

response to music, and were often made while simultaneously listening
to music. The aim of this creative process is to channel the multimodal,
affective, and associative properties of sound into visual forms. Using
this approach leads to paintings that represent the types of imagery that
are related to the idea of what one might see during synaesthetic sound-
to-image hallucinations. Each piece weaves together intricate symbolic
visual references that correspond with music. These are not always
rigidly controlled or determined in relation to individual pieces of music,
but rather, motifs and approaches are developed, and allowed to bleed
between the various paintings. This bleeding between works is cultivated
beyond the paintings into the VJ work, so that the VJ loops are informed
by the paintings and vice versa. The integration of visual art and VJ
performance was also explicitly explored by incorporating VJ loops as
AR elements in three of the paintings.

∗ ∗ ∗

Emerging from the psychedelic lightshows and electronic dance music

culture of the late twentieth century, VJing is a dynamic and diverse
form of performance that centres on visual representations of sound and
music. This chapter has provided a detailed discussion of my personal
explorations in this area,29 composing psychedelic visualisations through
VJ performances, and paintings in response to music such as hardcore
rave and punk. While these practices continue to utilise various forms
based on specific reports of ASCs, the projects discussed in this chapter
represent a shift towards basing the work on the visual languages associ-
ated with music. By mining the visual culture that surrounds music, it is
possible to draw out the symbolic associations that one might have when
listening, and use these to inform the design of imagery. The resulting
compositions can be understood as psychedelic visualisations of sound,
because they manifest synaesthetic visual imagery, making concrete the
imaginary impressions or sound-to-image hallucinations that one might
168 J. Weinel

have in response to music. Yet just as languages evolve over time as they
are continually used and revised, the language of VJing may not only
restate existing visual associations, but also redefine them. In doing so,
the VJ channels music, to reform and renew our multimodal visual inter-
pretations of it, thereby eliciting the shape of synaesthetic hallucinations
to come.

Notes
1. For a further discussion of VJ projections at Mo:Dem festival, see also
Weinel (2018d, p. 131).
2. The audio-visual performing arts festival Splice is also discussed in Weinel
(2018).
3. For a further discussion of the affective and representational functions
of VJ performances in relation to music, see Weinel (2018d). Symbolic
correspondences are also considered in Weinel (2020).
4. Breakbeat hardcore music (also ‘hardcore rave’, ‘old skool rave’, or ‘UK
hardcore’) is a form of rave music popularised in the 1990s by artists such
as The Prodigy and others, which is based around sped-up drum breaks
sampled from funk and hip-hop tracks. For a further discussion see Weinel
(2018c, pp. 86–87).
5. Many demoscene videos are available online, for a classic example see
Future Crew’s ‘Second Reality’ (DemosceneVids 2015).
6. The VJ Loops demonstration video is provided for educational purposes
only; please do not use these video clips in your own VJ performances
without permission.
7. In computer graphics is a sprite in a two-dimensional bitmap image, as
commonly used in video games to represent moving characters.
8. Pixel art is a style of video game art in which graphics are designed and
edited at the pixel level.
9. This slightly unusual setup was used partly for convenience, since at the
time I was regularly flying back and forth from Denmark, and the porta-
bility of this setup allowed me to work on animations while on the
move.
10. For a technical description of how to program plasma effects, see Vande-
venne (2004).
 6 Optical Geometry: VJ Performances 169

11. HAP is a video codec for Mac OS X, which performs image decompres-
sion on the computer’s video card, thereby reducing the CPU usage when
playing back the videos. At the time this was the preferred video codec to
use for VJ performance in VDMX.
12. For examples and discussion of 1990s rave flyers and other imagery, see
Savage (1996), Berlin (2018), and Tomlin (2020).
13. In this section, ‘representational properties’ refers to features of sound
and audio-visual media that represent spatial locations, places, events,
or concepts; while ‘affective properties’ communicate mood and emotion
(see Weinel 2018c). For a discussion regarding the affective properties of
motion graphics, see Bartram and Nakatani (2010).
14. For an example of one of my practice mixes, see my unofficial VJ mix for
Paul Oakenfold’s ‘Goa Mix’ radio DJ set from 1994 (Soundcat VJ 2018).
15. VJ London (http://vjlondon.com/) are a London-based VJ collective.
16. Discordianism is a philosophical movement sometimes considered a
parody religion, which is based on the worship of Eris, the goddess of
chaos in ancient Greek mythology (see Hill and Thornley 1994). Both the
apple and the number 23 are discordian symbols, and the latter has been
used in rave culture by the Spiral Tribe collective. In an interview with
Mark Harrison of Spiral Tribe, he attributes use of the number 23 to its
significance as an ‘anti-icon icon’ (Transpontine and Harrison 2013).
17. The term ‘one-shot’ is borrowed from electronic music production, where
‘one-shot’ audio-visual samples are short sampled sounds that are not
looped. In the context of this chapter ‘one-shot’ is used to describe short
non-looping video samples.
18. The approach described here, whereby improvisational video mixing is
undertaken in the studio, and the materials are iteratively reprocessed, was
partly inspired by the studio techniques used by dub reggae artists. For
example, Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry recorded his dub mixes by repeatedly mixing
down (or ‘bouncing’) the tracks on four-track and two-track tape recorders
in order to add more elements (Katz 2006, pp. 175, 330; see also Weinel,
2018c, pp. 78–79).
19. Video mashup is a style of audio-visual performance in which video music
is constructed through rhythmic collaging of audio-visual samples. For
example, see the music videos Timber by Coldcut and Hextatic (1997) or
‘The Wolf of Wall Street (Eclectic Method Chest Thump Mix)’ by Eclectic
Method (2014).
20. The approach used in this video draws influence from the Autechre
Gantz Graf video by Alex Rutterford (Autechre and Rutterford 2002).
170 J. Weinel

Rutterford says his work on this video was partly inspired by geometric
hallucinations seen on LSD (Kilroy and Rutterford 2010).
21. This timestretching effect was made with the Akaizer (http://the-aka
izer-project.blogspot.com/) application, which simulates the timestretching
features of popular Akai samplers such as the S950/S1000/S2000/S3000
series, which were widely used in hardcore rave music during the 1990s.
22. This section attempts to replicate scratch-DJ techniques, but this is diffi-
cult with the Akai AMX mixer and could perhaps be improved by
exploring the use of alternative controllers such as turntables with control
vinyl.
23. DJs often move between tempos by mixing tracks that are half or double
the tempo of each other. For an example, see DJ Food & DK’s (2001)
transition between ‘Mirror in the Bathroom’ by The Beat and ‘Square Off ’
by Mask, on the Solid Steel—Now Listen mix.
24. Acrylic flow painting (or ‘acrylic pouring’) is a technique where additives
are mixed with acrylic paint to improve the flow properties of the paint.
Multiple colours of paint can then be poured on to a surface resulting
in interesting colourful patterns similar to those produced by marbling
techniques.
25. For example, see rave flyers for Spiral Tribe events and related sound
systems, as documented in Seana Gavin’s visual diary Spiralled (2020).
26. The work of Rammellzee was exhibited at Rammellzee: A Roll of the Dice
(Laz Inc. 2018).
27. The Designers Republic (https://www.thedesignersrepublic.com/)
produced various graphic designs for electronic dance music artists,
events, and record labels such as Warp.
28. These designs draw upon approaches for designing abstract algorithmic
computer text and music notation that are explored in Manfred Mohr’s
computer artworks such as P-021 (1970–1976). This and other related
works are included in the V&A’s collection of computer art.
29. Of course, it should be acknowledged that this chapter reflects my own
personal journey, and other VJs may use entirely different approaches and
workflows that are equally valid. The discussion in this chapter should in
no way be taken as a definitive ‘guide’ to VJing.
 7
Future Sound Dream: Virtual Reality
Experiences

Rotterdam, 1995. Twin brothers in sportswear with shaven heads are

thrown out of a gabber rave in an old country mansion.1 While they
ponder how to get back into the club without having any money, a young
researcher invites them to participate in a sleep study, with the promise of
one thousand gilders. Upon arriving at the research laboratory, the twins
are strapped to beds and fitted with brain-computer interfaces, a torrent
of wires flowing from their heads into various monitoring equipment. A
hypnotic cassette plays, while behind a one-way mirror, the researchers
begin to perform electronic music using keyboards, modular synthe-
sisers, and computers running sequencer programmes and code. One of
the performers plays an instrument that resembles a cross between an
oboe and a Roland TR-909 drum machine, where the traditional keys of
the reed instrument are augmented with a variety of switches, buttons,
LEDs, and a trackball. As the performers begin to play, the trance-like

Supplementary Information The online version contains supplementary material available at

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-4055-1_7.
Where the icon is shown in the chapter, the reader should refer to the supporting
media files.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 171

Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021
J. Weinel, Explosions in the Mind, Palgrave Studies in Sound,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-4055-1_7
172 J. Weinel

melodies draw the twins into an altered state of consciousness (ASC).

At once, they find themselves gliding across a glittering surface of arti-
ficial liquid in their Nike Air Max 90s. Drifting through the jaw-like
doors of a virtual gabber club, they ascend a staircase of piano keys
as the music accelerates and intensifies, and find themselves inside a
synaesthetic hallucination where sound, melody, and visuals are one.
These are the fictitious events that unfold in the animated short
Culturesport: Rotterdam 1995 (Boling 2019), which is set in an alter-
nate Dutch society, where rising water levels are driving technological
innovations. Aspects of the narrative extend the imaginary, high-tech
worlds depicted in actual electronic dance music culture of the 1990s.
Looking through rave flyers from this era for events like Fantazia or
Dreamscape (pastiche posters of which can be seen in the twins’ bedroom
in Culturesport: Rotterdam 1995 ) reveals various techno-utopian and
dystopian imagery. For example, on the surrealistic Fantazia New Years
Eve 1991/1992 flyer, a woman gazes across a virtual reality (VR) land-
scape as moons erupt from her head, while the Dreamscape December
1991 flyer shows an artificial intelligence emerging from a 3D mesh.
Like science-fiction movies such as Alien (Scott 1979), Blade Runner
(Scott 1982), and The Terminator (Cameron 1984), which were often
mined by music producers for audio samples,2 hardcore rave culture
from the 1990s depicted the awesome, empowering potential of tech-
nologies, but also the dangers and dystopias that could arise from them.
The music also explored these themes sonically, constructing portals into
technologically enhanced worlds and paranoid cyberpunk nightmares, as
heard on tracks like ‘Dreaming of a Better World’ by Exit EEE (1993)
or ‘Kemistry’ by Metal Heads (on Terminator, 1992), in which rays
of euphoric light filter through the cracks of tense kinetic breakbeats,
anxious minor key melodies, and abrasive industrial textures. Mirroring
these themes, in Culturesport: Rotterdam 1995 one of the rave posters
reads ‘Future Shock’, referencing Alvin Toffler’s (1970) book on post-
industrial societies,3 and the episode as a whole addresses speculative
technologies that are both fantastical and disturbing.
As a work of science fiction, Culturesport: Rotterdam 1995 imagines a
speculative world in which the capabilities of the real-world technologies
 7 Future Sound Dream: Virtual Reality Experiences 173

we have now are extended. For example, the cybernetic music hallu-
cination sequence in the story is actually based on various real-world
equipment, such as keyboards, modular synthesisers, electronic reed
instruments, computer sequencers, biofeedback technologies, and music
visualisations. Although these technologies haven’t yet been combined to
generate synaesthetic hallucinations in quite the way that the episode
suggests, they soon could be. Indeed, in Explosions in the Mind we
have already looked at psychedelic electronic music; computer music
systems that augment acoustic instruments; synaesthetic music visuali-
sations; biofeedback-driven simulations; and VJ performances. It is not
so difficult to imagine these forms being extended to provide immersive
audio-visual experiences of music that surround and engulf individuals,
giving them a feeling of presence as they drift through glistening virtual
landscapes of sound and image.
Moving towards the design of such immersive music visualisations,
in this chapter I will discuss Cyberdream (2019–2020), a VR experience
that extends the concepts of VJ performance described in the previous
chapter, placing these compositional forms in an immersive, interactive
context, which allows users to fly through synaesthetic virtual worlds of
electronic music. First, we shall look at the initial iteration of this project
for the Oculus GearVR headset, which provided a series of symbolic
virtual environments accompanied by fragments of hardcore rave and
vaporwave music. Following this, we will examine a later iteration of
the project for the Oculus Quest, which provides various improvements,
allowing a more seamless journey in which the user can also create parts
of the experience by using the controllers to ‘paint with sound’. Through
the discussion of Cyberdream, in this chapter, we shall see how elec-
tronic music, creative coding, VJing, and VR can be brought together
to compose psychedelic visualisations of sound.
174 J. Weinel

Dreaming in Cyberspace
Media 7.1 Cyberdream GearVR demonstration video, 4 minutes 57
seconds and software
Cyberdream extends the approaches of VJ performance, bringing them
into the domain of immersive technologies. While VJing allows audi-
ences to watch visualisations of music via rectangular projections,
VR holds the potential for immersive experiences that surround and
completely engulf the user. The feeling of ‘being there’ in a virtual space
is known as ‘presence’ (Slater and Wilbur 1997). Where it is provided,
presence in VR may allow users to feel as though they are actually there
inside psychedelic visualisations of music. Exploring this idea practically,
Cyberdream aims to provide an immersive rave music and vaporwave
experience for the Oculus GearVR.
Conceptually Cyberdream incorporates many of the ideas discussed
in the previous chapter, emerging as a visual synthesis of hardcore rave
music, vaporwave, and 1990s-style VJ visuals. As discussed, the visual
images associated with hardcore rave music in the 1990s were surrealistic
techno-utopian and dystopian visions. We see these images in the various
rave flyers of the era or VJ mixes.4 These images were often developed
using various combinations of airbrushed art and/or computer graphics,
which though cutting-edge at the time, may now seem primitive relative
to newer forms of 3D rendering.
The aesthetics of these visual images have more recently been revis-
ited by vaporwave, an Internet-borne music genre emerging in the
early 2010s. Sonically vaporwave uses loops of 1980s and 1990s corpo-
rate lounge music, advertisements, and banal pop as source materials,5
creating a soundtrack that is deeply nostalgic for the capitalist optimism
of this period. Yet the loops are slowed down, repeating ad infinitum,
and warped as if playing from an old cassette player in a broken-down
hotel elevator. According to Tanner’s (2016) discussion, these flawed
representations reflect a critical view of the capitalist excesses of this
period. Drawing on Mark Fisher’s (2014) concept of ‘hauntology’, which
suggests that the present day is haunted by lost futures that were once
imagined, Tanner argues that vaporwave exposes the broken mechanisms
 7 Future Sound Dream: Virtual Reality Experiences 175

of these capitalist illusions. Vaporwave is the sound of abandoned shop-

ping malls filled with plastic palm trees, haunted by the sound of Toto’s
‘Africa’ (1982)6 on endless repeat.
As a music genre and Internet meme transmitted on platforms like
YouTube and Bandcamp, vaporwave is also usually accompanied by
visual expressions of these themes such as video and album covers. In
correspondence with the music, the visual style of vaporwave mines
images of 1980s and 1990s shopping malls, skyscraper restaurants, and
commercials depicting fantasies of tropical holidays, business trips, or
home living enhanced by the latest appliances. In their original contexts,
these alluring images might once have suggested the promise of fulfilling
exotic lifestyles that could be obtained by purchasing products and
services for business and leisure. Yet in vaporwave, these images are
conspicuously dated and broken, rendered as fuzzy VHS recordings
being played on analogue video recorders with bad tracking. As in the
music, these images give a feeling of warmth and nostalgia, but also reveal
the illusory, broken mechanisms behind them; like torn and faded bill-
boards advertising tropical holidays in an apocalypse, what they represent
is distant and unattainable, existing only in a memory of a dream.
Vaporwave also draws extensively on computer graphics from the
1980s and 1990s, incorporating ray-traced images of statues from
Ancient Greece, primitive 3D shapes, dolphins, and tropical palms. Like
1990s rave visuals, these images are suggestive of exotic technological
utopias. In the 1990s, images like these were seen in the promotional
graphics associated with software like Microsoft’s Encarta ’95 multi-
media encyclopaedia, where leaping dolphins symbolised intelligence
and ecological perfection.7 Vaporwave uses symbols like these exten-
sively,8 yet images of the computer user interface are also frequently
included, such as desktop elements or cursors from the Microsoft
Windows 95 or Mac OS 7 operating systems. For example, one YouTube
video offering a ‘1½ Hour Vaporwave Mix’ (Hany Tarek 2016) features
a striking animation of a scene from a billion-dollar waterfront mansion,
with a view gazing outwards across an impossibly pink tropical ocean.
Yet the image is framed by the user interface from Microsoft Paint, the
default graphics-editing package included with Windows 95. Showing
the user interface of the graphics-editing software lays bare the artificial
176 J. Weinel

construction of the image; it shows us that the exotic illusion is not real,
it is synthetic and computer generated. Vaporwave is a utopian vision of
cyberspace rendered in low-polygon 3D, where an error in drawing gives
rise to an infinite trail of replicated desktop cursors.
Drawing these ideas together, Cyberdream is a virtual hallucination
through the broken techno-utopias of cyberspace, set to a soundtrack
of hardcore rave and vaporwave music. The project provides a journey
through a series of symbolic VR scenes that draw upon the visual
languages of these music genres in order to provide synaesthetic 3D
spaces that correspond with the music. The scenes are dystopian in that
they represent broken techno-utopian vistas in cyberspace, but they can
also be read as euphoric deconstructions, where these fragments once
liberated from their formal constraints become a playground of new
possibilities. In what follows, I will discuss the design of the music
and these 3D environments as they appear on the original version of
Cyberdream for the Oculus GearVR.

Constructing the Soundtrack

The soundtrack of Cyberdream consists of various electronic dance music

and vaporwave compositions. The electronic dance music compositions
were composed in Renoise, using a range of synthesisers and plugins. The
styles range across various forms of hardcore techno and electro, using
arrangements of rhythms, basslines, and synthesisers. The menu music
incorporates synthesiser trance sounds and sampled materials from rave
tapes, including an MC voice which says ‘if you look over there you’ll
see there’s no DJ’. The latter sample reflects the hauntological theme
described earlier—the VR experience is a memory or dream of a bygone
era, and there are not really any DJs here, only ghosts.
The vaporwave pieces are not original compositions, but instead are
sonic extracts made with a plunderphonics approach (Oswald 2004), as
is typically the case for most vaporwave music. The loops were taken
from library music CDs, which provide stock music tracks intended for
use on advertisements, corporate training videos, or other promotional
films (Hollander 2018). Library music is appropriate source material for
 7 Future Sound Dream: Virtual Reality Experiences 177

vaporwave. Library music CDs from the 1990s published by compa-

nies such as De Wolfe Music, Bruton Music, and Chappell Recorded
Music Library have titles such as Neutral Atmospheres (Sinclair 1994),
Success and Achievement (Scott et al. 1996), and Cyberscience (Wilson and
Ransom 1996). The track titles reflect possible uses and sentiments, with
titles like ‘World Class’, ‘European Partners’, and ‘Making the Deadline’
(Kiddy 1994). These discs can be understood as tools for designing the
sonic landscape of the intensely capitalist 1980s–1990s era that vapor-
wave is concerned with, allowing companies to engineer the emotions
of workers and consumers to increase positive feelings and productivity.
Sonically the music was created by expert composers using samplers and
synthesisers of the day, lending the music a clear, hi-fidelity quality of
the type explored on vaporwave releases such as New Dreams Ltd. by
Laserdisc Visions (2011). The album artwork of these CDs also corre-
sponds with the types of designs that vaporwave references; for instance,
Daytime Television (Kiddy 1996) uses gold 3D text and words like ‘fun’,
‘cookery’, and ‘relax’ over grinning faces and consumer products. The
vaporwave tracks used on Cyberdream were made by taking samples from
various library music, looping them, slowing them down, and applying
various digital signal processing (DSP) effects.

Symbolic Environments

The first version of Cyberdream was designed for the Oculus GearVR,
an untethered VR solution that runs on a mobile phone placed inside a
headset. As this device provides only limited controller facilities, Cyber-
dream was designed to provide an automated journey, in which the user
flies through a series of synaesthetic environments based around the rave
and vaporwave concepts described (Fig. 7.1). The project was created in
the Unity video game engine.
The menu screen of Cyberdream is based on the Fantazia New Years
Eve 1991/1992 rave flyer described earlier. A giant face hovers above a
wireframe 3D landscape beneath a pink sky. This landscape was techni-
cally constructed in Cinema4D and rendered as a skybox.9 At the top
of the screen, titles and instructions tell the player that they can begin
178 J. Weinel

Fig. 7.1 Various still images showing scenes from Cyberdream GearVR

the experience by touching the button on the VR headset while looking

at the face. The soundtrack for this scene includes the ambient trance
composition (including the ‘if you look over there you’ll see there’s no
DJ’ sample mentioned earlier).
The next screen provides a green wireframe landscape with a bridge
of tiles leading to a fractal pyramid of Sierpiński triangles (Fig. 7.1a).
 7 Future Sound Dream: Virtual Reality Experiences 179

In this scene, the user flies across a bridge of oscillating tiles, which
were created with a C# script that modifies the size of the tiles using
a sine-wave equation. The location of the tiles changes the phase of the
waveform, thereby producing a wave effect. Statues of mysterious enti-
ties are situated at either side of the bridge on top of checkerboards. The
music in this scene is an acid techno/hard house track.
As the camera flies into the pyramid, the scene transitions to an
infinity pool hovering in the sky (Fig. 7.1b). Giant mannequin heads
float in the pool, staring blankly into space. These symbols reference
the vaporwave tropes of exotic capitalist lifestyles and high fashionistas.
As we fly over the pool we hear a vaporwave track, before the camera
disappears into the eye of one of the heads.
The next scene revisits ideas developed through my VJ work discussed
in the previous chapter (Fig. 7.1c). The scene is based on a hand-
painted background, which was made by digitally scanning a painting
and manipulating it to produce a skybox. In this scene, a C# script is
used to animate objects in spiral patterns that draw transparent trails
behind them. This provides psychedelic patterns that relate to Klüver’s
(1971) visual patterns of hallucination. Musically the scene is accom-
panied by a track that draws on instrumental styles of UK garage and
grime.10
The scene fades into a field of pop-up computer windows suspended
in a clear blue sky (Fig. 7.1d). This scene develops the same idea used
in the ‘they live’ VJ visual described in Chapter 6, which was based
on the capitalist advertisements depicted in the science-fiction movie
They Live (Carpenter 1988). Pop-ups in the style of Windows 95 read
‘work’, ‘buy’, ‘watch TV’, ‘obey’, ‘consume’, ‘no thought’, ‘update status’,
and ‘take selfies’. These windows open and close, an effect technically
accomplished with a C# script, which modulates the size of the windows
using float values that change following a sawtooth waveform. An easter
egg11 in this scene is a window with text that references the cyberpunk
movie Johnny Mnemonic (Longo 1995). The scene includes a techno
soundtrack.
Following this, we fly across a landscape of purple checkerboard
mountains and Grecian statues (Fig. 7.1e). Giant 3D cursors rain from
the sky, flickering black and white. These are based on the pixel art
180 J. Weinel

default cursor of the Atari ST operating system, and the colour oscilla-
tions are generated with square wave values. The cursors bounce around
the scene chaotically, falling into the sea, where broken statues lie with
their heads bowed mournfully. The music in this scene is a breakbeat
hardcore track using ‘hoover’12 synthesiser sounds.
The next scene finds us suspended in an artificial blue sky once
again, surrounded by waves of brightly coloured cubes which flow across
the screen. Symbolically this scene references the Windows 95 artwork,
and is based on the idea of being inside a computer screen, where the
individual red, green, and blue (RGB) pixels become enlarged. The
soundtrack is one of the vaporwave tracks. This is one of the most
striking scenes in Cyberdream, which users have often remarked upon
during demonstrations of the piece. An aspect that seems to be partic-
ularly effective is the way in which the cubes move through where the
body would be, giving the feeling of being waist-deep in digital waves.
This seems to create a subtle physical sensation and slightly disorientating
vestibular effect, which triggers traces of the sensations that one might
experience standing in an actual sea at the beach. Technically the oscil-
lating movement of the cubes is once again achieved with a C# script
that generates sine-wave values, where phase is offset based on the 3D
coordinates of each cube. This script uses combinations of sine-waves to
change the size of the cubes, while also modifying the RGB colour values
of them, creating a plasma effect.
The scene after this is a variation of the previous one, in which the user
is suspended in a room in the sky made of oscillating cubes (Fig. 7.1f ).
As in the previous scene, the user does not move, but can look around
and observe the wave patterns. The soundtrack consists of a techno beat
that incorporates vaporwave samples via a kitsch synthesiser bell and a
pitched-down vocal sample.
With another transition, the scene then fades into a reddish room with
a hand-painted background (Fig. 7.1g). As before, this was created by
digitally scanning hand-drawn artwork. In this scene, metallic spheres
move following Lissajous curves, which are generated using combina-
tions of sine-wave values that move the spheres. Trail effects allow the
spheres to draw arcs of electric blue across the room, providing a similar
 7 Future Sound Dream: Virtual Reality Experiences 181

red/blue colour scheme to that used in Holo Point Break (Chapter 6,

Fig. 6.16, p. 178). The design of this scene takes inspiration from demo
effects (Polgár 2005), which often feature arrays of animated spheres and
other 3D objects. Another fragment of vaporwave music provides the
soundtrack for this scene.
The final scene plunges us into a black void surrounded by strobo-
scopic arrows that move around maniacally (Fig. 7.1h). This aims to
provide a feeling of visual noise and sensory overload, both through
the flickering arrows, and the music, which consists of speedcore techno
rhythms and distorted acid synthesiser sounds. Text suspended in this
room reads ‘the future is lost, crash the system, back to the tribes’.
Concluding the piece, this text can be read as a comment on the loss of a
techno-utopian future that was once imagined, and a call to break down
the digital structures of society and reformulate them in new ways. The
comment ‘back to the tribes’ hints at the idea of technoshamanism,13
while also referencing free-party rave culture (e.g. Spiral Tribe).

The first iteration of Cyberdream was a short audio-visual composi-

tion/software application for Oculus GearVR, which lasted approxi-
mately 5 minutes, taking the user on a synaesthetic journey through
hardcore rave and vaporwave music. These musical forms were not
visualised using the typical approach we might expect in a music visu-
alisation, where the acoustic signal is used to generate moving patterns
of light. Instead, the piece provides a symbolic psychedelic visualisation
of music, allowing the user to feel a sense of presence inside 3D envi-
ronments that correspond with the images and meanings inherent in
these musical forms. A variation of the piece was also produced for VR
cardboard,14 and it was demonstrated at a variety of events in 2019,
including Cyberdelics Incubator Melbourne (Australia, 24 March 2019);
the VR programme of Sci-Fi London film festival; the Event Two exhibi-
tion of computer art held at the Royal College of Art; and Audio Mostly
2019 at the University of Nottingham, where the demonstration received
an award.
182 J. Weinel

Painting the Sound Dream

Media 7.2 Cyberdream Oculus Quest demonstration video, 4 minutes
40 seconds and software
The original Cyberdream was well received, however, despite being
portable and convenient, the Oculus GearVR has a variety of technical
limitations, and lacks the full interactive and immersive capabilities of
other current VR systems. In order to address these limitations, in 2020 a
revised version of Cyberdream was created for the Oculus Quest with the
aim of providing improved interactivity and a higher quality VR experi-
ence.15 Building on the Unity project described in the previous section,
the newer version of Cyberdream includes a revised soundtrack, which
provides a more continuous experience between the 3D scenes that more
closely resembles a DJ/VJ set. In addition, it also provides three interac-
tive ‘sound toys’, which allow the user to interactively ‘paint with sound’
and intuitively create some aspects of the audio-visual experience.

Revising the Soundtrack

One of the original ideas behind Cyberdream was the concept of creating
a continuous audio-visual experience analogous to a DJ/VJ set in VR.
The idea was to create an experience where each audio-visual scene would
have its own musical soundtrack and be analogous to a record that a
DJ would mix. Yet each record would have a synaesthetic visual compo-
nent, and be rendered as a 3D space in VR, allowing users to feel as
though they were actually ‘inside the music’. Following this metaphor,
the project would be like a VR equivalent of a rave ‘tape pack’ such as the
packs produced by Fantazia or Dreamscape. I was particularly interested
in capturing the chaotic energy of Carl Cox’s DJ mixes (e.g. Fantazia:
The Big Bang, 1993), where he rapidly blends tracks in quick succession
across three turntables, making abrupt cuts between them.
Although the original Cyberdream was partly successful in this regard,
in the transitions between scenes the music simply fades out before the
next track fades in, rather than cross-fading tracks in sync, in the manner
of a DJ mix. To improve the sonic continuity between scenes, the revised
 7 Future Sound Dream: Virtual Reality Experiences 183

Track 1 Track 2 Track 3 ...

...

Fig. 7.2 Diagram showing the structure of Cyberdream, which resembles the
form of a DJ/VJ mix with crossfades

version of Cyberdream provides a new soundtrack, which was imple-

mented using the Wwise interactive engine for game audio. As shown
in Fig. 7.2, this allows tracks to crossfade between scenes in the style
of a DJ mix. While some of the same tracks from the earlier version
of Cyberdream were used, a variety of new compositions were created at
140 beats per minute, using typical approaches of early 1990s breakbeat
hardcore and ambient techno. Most pieces utilised sampled breakbeats
and various Roland synthesiser sounds appropriate to the era. These were
composed in parallel with the ‘sound toys’ that will be discussed shortly,
thereby ensuring that both the background tracks and ‘sound toys’ work
together harmoniously. As before, each track was paired with a different
VR scene, so that the experience fades between music and visuals simul-
taneously. An additional feature in the project allows the order of these
scenes to be randomised, thereby generating a different mix each time.

Painting with Sound

The macro compositional structure of Cyberdream emerges from the

series of symbolic VR scenes and electronic music, which unfold over the
full duration of the experience. For the Oculus Quest version of Cyber-
dream, these are contrasted with micro compositional features provided
by interactive audio-visual ‘sound toys’. The user can manipulate these
audio-visual ‘sound toys’ using the hand-held Oculus Touch controllers,
in order to generate various micro sonic materials that are complemen-
tary to the macro soundtrack of electronic music. Each audio-visual
184 J. Weinel

‘sound toy’ generates micro visuals that correspond with the macro
visuals provided through the sequence of symbolic environments in
Cyberdream, allowing the user to ‘paint with sound’ sonically and visually.
In the current iteration of the project, there are three audio-visual
sound toys. Each sound toy is manipulated using the left and right
Oculus Touch controllers, as shown in Fig. 7.3. The ‘index trigger’ on
each controller activates the sound toy currently selected. The ‘hand
trigger’ modifies the sound toy, initiating a secondary function if one
is available. On the top of the controller, moving the position of the
‘thumbstick’ applies various effects to the sound toy, changing the way
it sounds and looks. Lastly, the A/B and X/Y buttons cycle up and
down through a list of available sound toys, thereby allowing different
combinations of toys to be used with the left and right hands.
‘ZigZagToy’ (Fig. 7.4, right) emits an orange laser beam that twists
and produces percussive pulses in synchronisation with the music. The
rhythmic patterns that the toy can generate are stored in 16-bit binary
sequences as shown in (Fig. 7.5). Much like a drum machine, each

Reserved (Oc

sound toy (down)

Select soun
Select sound toy (up)

Secondary sound to
Trigger the sound
d toy

Fig. 7.3 Controller configuration for Cyberdream Oculus Quest

 7 Future Sound Dream: Virtual Reality Experiences 185

Fig. 7.4 Still showing the ‘ZigZagToy’ (right) and ‘StreamerToy’ (left) sound toys
in operation

binary value represents a ‘step’ in a sequence, where ‘1’ plays a percus-

sive pulse and ‘0’ does not. The percussive pulses are triggered in time
with the electronic music soundtrack. This is technically achieved using
‘callbacks’ from the Wwise audio engine to the game, which give infor-
mation about the timing of the music. The pulses of the sound toy
are then triggered pre-emptively, compensating for latency so that they
are perfectly in sync. Using the hand trigger switches between different
pattern sequences, which also vary between the left and right controllers.
This allows different interlocking patterns to be produced with the left
and right sound toys. The sounds are also slightly offset temporally
between the left and right sound toys, so pulses triggered simultaneously
with both produce a thicker sound.16 The orange beam connects a series
of points with randomised coordinates that update each time a percussive
pulse is triggered, thereby causing the beam to twist with each pulse. The
beam can be pointed in different directions with the controller, and the
sound is spatialised relative to the 3D location. Manipulating the thumb-
stick changes the sound by introducing various DSP such as filters and
pitch shifters, while also changing the width and colour of the beam in
correspondence with these effects.
186 J. Weinel

Pattern A:
1000100010001000 = 34953

Pattern B:
0010001000100010 = 8738

Pattern C:
1111111111111111 = 65535

Pattern D:
1001001010010010 = 37522

Pattern E:
1010001010000101 = 41605

Fig. 7.5 Step sequencer patterns used by the ‘ZigZagToy’

‘CircleToy’ emits asychronous pulsing sounds from a green beam that

moves in a rotating arc. When the sound toy is activated, pulsing sounds
are triggered according to a regular timing system that is independent
of the music. This sound toy is visualised with a green beam that flows
from the controller, employing a visual effect created by changing the
beam width at different points using a sine-wave. Using the thumbstick
changes the speed and sound of the pulses, while also modifying the
width and colour of the beam. The spatial location of the audio is based
on where the beam is pointing in 3D space, and so moving the beams
 7 Future Sound Dream: Virtual Reality Experiences 187

around allows the user to intuitively create interesting spatialisations of

sound. Sonically this sound toy bears some comparison with the rapid
pulsing sounds produced by the ‘atomizer’ module of the Atomizer Live
Patch (Chapter 3).
‘StreamerToy’ (Fig. 7.4, left) emits atonal drones and yellow light-
ning, which follow the movement of the hand controllers. Sonically, this
toy functions by triggering droning sounds with longer attack and decay
times than the pulsing sounds of the other toys. The Wwise audio engine
is used to randomise the pitch of these sounds in each instance, thereby
producing an atonal effect. Visually, yellow streams extend along a trajec-
tory that is modified by the position of the hand controllers, producing
complex organic contours that resemble lightning. The spatialisation of
the drone is based on the end points of each lightning beam. In this way,
the spatial position of the sound and its corresponding visual representa-
tion follow hand gestures made with the controllers, allowing the user to
‘paint with sound’. Using the thumbstick also allows the user to change
the sound, width, and colour of the beam. The droning sounds fulfil
a similar function as the ‘drone machine’ module of the Atomizer Live
Patch.

In summary, the Oculus Quest version of Cyberdream builds on the

symbolic journey through hardcore rave and vaporwave music of the
earlier version, while extending and improving the project. In particular,
the revised version provides a new soundtrack that focuses on breakbeat
hardcore music and improves continuity between scenes by cross-fading
between tracks. The resulting journey through symbolic visual scenes
and electronic music is analogous to the form of a DJ/VJ mix, and
provides the piece with its macro compositional structure. In contrast,
the three audio-visual sound toys allow the users to playfully experiment
and improvise micro compositional elements. These are also synaesthetic,
demonstrating various configurations where the generation of sound
produces corresponding visuals, allowing the user to interactively ‘paint
with sound’. The macro and micro compositional elements are designed
so that both sounds and visuals are complementary between the respec-
tive layers. It can be observed that the sonic approaches used are similar
188 J. Weinel

to those of the psychedelic electroacoustic compositions discussed earlier

in the book, while the visual approaches are related to those used in my
earlier VJ performances and paintings. In many ways then, Cyberdream
draws together approaches discussed throughout Explosions in the Mind ,
in order to provide interactive and immersive psychedelic visualisations
of sound.

∗ ∗ ∗

The exciting potential of VR for composing psychedelic visualisations of

sound emerges from the capabilities of these technologies for immersing
users into synaesthetic wonderlands where music and visuals are intrin-
sically related. When we think of visualisations of music, we often think
of audio-reactive effects that visualise acoustic signals in the manner of
an oscilloscope. However, a key difference with the approach presented
here is that the visualisations are primarily created by designing symbolic
spatial environments that correspond with the genres of music in ques-
tion. Using this approach, visual spaces are designed in response to the
visual language of the musical forms—in this case hardcore rave and
vaporwave music—allowing the user to journey through these spaces and
feel as though they are ‘inside the music’.
With the most recent iteration of Cyberdream, I have sought to
take these ideas further by making the experience interactive through
audio-visual sound toys, allowing users to ‘paint with sound’. In Rajmil
Fischman’s (2011) work he proposes the idea of ‘music in the holodeck’,
calling for accessible platforms for collaborative music making in virtual
environments (like the ‘holodeck’ seen in the science-fiction TV show
Star Trek). For Fischman, ‘music in the holodeck’ should be inclusive
and collaborative, providing an electronic equivalent to ‘a weekend after-
noon in a middle class parlour during the second half of the nineteenth
century: a soiree, with music performed live by family members gathered
around the piano’ (p. 53). In his own compositional practice with a data
glove (e.g. Ruraq Maki, 2012), Fischman has sought to provide intuitive
forms of electronic music making by exploring ways in which familiar
hand gestures can be used to generate electroacoustic sound. This and
other research in real-time computer music and VR (e.g. Serafin et al.
2016) may indicate possible ways in which we might realise his dream of
 7 Future Sound Dream: Virtual Reality Experiences 189

‘music in the holodeck’. However, like the holodeck in Star Trek, immer-
sive technologies like VR include both sonic and visual components, and
we must therefore consider what ‘music in the holodeck’ might look like.
It is my hope that Cyberdream may point towards some possible solu-
tions, however, there is more work to be done. While I plan to extend
this project, I also hope that others will forge new pathways through the
frontiers of this exciting field.17 Towards this end, the final chapter will
consolidate the approaches explored in Explosions in the Mind , with a
view to supporting further advances in this field, drawing us ever closer
towards the future sound dream.

Notes
1. The gabber nightclub in Culturesport: Rotterdam 1995 (Boling 2019)
appears to be a simulacrum of the Club Parkzicht techno nightclub, which
existed in Rotterdam during the 1990s (see Housenation 1992).
2. For example, ‘Terminator’ by Metal Heads (on Terminator, 1992) samples
The Terminator (Cameron 1984); ‘Underworld’ by SP 23 (1993) samples
Alien (Scott 1979); and ‘The Angels Fell’ by Dillinja (1995) samples Blade
Runner (Scott 1982).
3. Toffler’s work has also been credited as inspiring Detroit techno artists, for
a further discussion see Sicko (2010).
4. As discussed in Chapter 6, example VJ mixes include Dance in Cyberspace
(Dr. Devious and the Wiseman 1992); Global Chaos (Hex 1993); Future
Shock (Frost et al. 1993); and the X-Mix series (Studio !K7, 1993–1998).
5. The predominant use of sampled materials in vaporwave can be considered
in terms of Oswald’s (2004) concept of plunderphonics.
6. Toto’s ‘Africa’ (1982) playing in an empty shopping mall was portrayed in
a YouTube video by Cecil Robert (2017). For a further discussion see also
Tolentino (2018).
7. For a related discussion of sonic symbolism see also Tagg’s (2016) ‘Intel
Inside Jingle Analysis’.
8. For example, Eccojams Vol. 1 by Chuck Person (2010) references the video
game Ecco the Dolphin (Appaloosa Interactive, 1992), and dolphins are also
featured on GATEWAY 2000 by MindSpring Memories (2018), Saccharine
Synergy by Vaperror (2020), and others. For a further discussion of the
190 J. Weinel

symbols and iconography used in vaporwave graphics, see also Chandler

(2016).
9. In Unity, a skybox is a 6-sided cube that is drawn behind all graphics in
the game, typically providing an impression of a sky.
10. For indicative examples of instrumental UK garage and grime, see Bingo
Beats Volume 3 by DJ Slimzee (2004).
11. Easter eggs are hidden components that can be found in computer software
and other media including music (Weinel et al. 2014).
12. In electronic dance music production, the ‘hoover’ sound is a specific
synthesiser sound originally created by Eric Persing for the Roland Alpha
Juno, and popularised on tracks such as Mentasm by Second Phase (1991).
13. Technoshamanism is a term associated with 1990s rave culture and cyber-
culture, where technologies such as VR may be considered as shamanic
tools. See Weinel (2018, pp. 90–94).
14. VR cardboard (or ‘Google Cardboard’) is a form of VR provided through
a mobile phone mounted in a cardboard viewer.
15. The Oculus Quest provides a better quality VR experience than the Gear
VR due to a higher screen resolution of 1440 × 1600 per eye and six
degrees of freedom (6DoF).
16. This is similar to the ‘flam’ drumming rudiment, where two percussive
strokes are played almost simultaneously to sound like a single broader
note.
17. There is already exciting work being produced by students exploring game
engine technologies, for example see Holtum (2020).
 8
Conclusion: Design Frameworks

Blood red lasers punctuate the darkness of a vast arena, drawing flickering
patterns in the smoke. Thousands of bodies move to a pounding 4/4
techno beat, as a monotonous vocal sample repeats ‘we could go higher…
higher… higher…’. The DJ is bathed in red light, and moves her body
to the beat before an array of VJ projections showing sound waves and
geometric patterns. A bubbling acid bass line weaves its way through the
mix, the shifting filters of the Roland TB-303 synthesiser increasing the
intensity in cascading waves of sound, as cycling spotlights creep across
the ceiling of the arena.
This could be a description of almost any acid techno rave from the
past few decades, but the year is 2020, and the event is entirely virtual,
existing only as a live stream designed for viewers to watch at home on
TV. The DJ, Amelie Lens, is superimposed over a computer-generated
dance tent, complete with a laser light show and VJ projections. As video
cameras pan around the scene, it resembles what one might expect to
see if a real music festival were televised. Yet the bodies dancing to the
music are not real, instead, the DJ performs to a crowd of 3D avatars—
automatons who dance monotonously with blank expressions.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 191

Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021
J. Weinel, Explosions in the Mind, Palgrave Studies in Sound,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-4055-1_8
192 J. Weinel

This was the scene at Tomorrowland 2020, one of the many virtual
music festivals designed in 2020 in response to the COVID-19
pandemic.1 The social distancing measures needed to suppress the spread
of the coronavirus meant that music festivals could not take place as
in-person events. As a result, some promoters cancelled or postponed
their festivals, while others moved to online alternatives in the hope that
audiences could gain some enjoyment by partying in their living rooms.
These virtual concerts typically worked by recording performances and
presenting them as live streams. In some instances, this was achieved by
broadcasting from a studio or empty theatre, as in the case of Alexis
and VJ L’Aubaine’s performance (Resolution 2020), which was filmed in
Venue MOT in London without an audience. In other cases, the artists
were placed in computer-generated environments made using game-
engine technologies. For example, Prospa (2020) presented their music
in a virtual warehouse complete with smoke machines and strobe lights;
rap megastar Travis Scott performed as an avatar in the multiplayer video
game Fornite (Epic Games 2017), allowing players to attend a concert
with psychedelic visualisations in the game world (Epic Games 2020;
Webster 2020); while Lost Horizon allowed audiences to walk around
a virtual festival including performances by DJs and VJs using a player
avatar, and could be viewed with a virtual reality (VR) headset (Kocay
2020).
As Hogan (2020) notes, these concerts were not without precedent—
before the pandemic, Gorillaz, Bjork, and Hatsune Miku were among
those artists who had already been exploring virtual modes of perfor-
mance. MelodyVR had also been providing 360-degrees concerts for
audiences to watch in VR, and Mbryonic had created Amplify VR
(2018), an interactive VR music experience that allowed audiences to
manipulate the music with game controllers. New ways to experience
music in immersive spaces were not only dependent on computers,
but were also being forged in exciting new ways through Unkle and
Punchdrunk’s Beyond the Road (Saatchi Gallery, 12 June–8 September
2019) exhibition, which turned the band Unkle’s music into a multisen-
sory experience that represented different tracks on the album through
surrealistic, aromatic, smoke-filled neon-lit rooms. In different ways,
these projects had already been pushing music into new immersive,
 8 Conclusion: Design Frameworks 193

spatial, audio-visual contexts, but with the COVID-19 pandemic, live

music events were suddenly forced to move online or else be cancelled
altogether.
Although it is certainly debatable if virtual events can truly provide
an effective substitute for the atmosphere and social experience that
audiences seek from real-world concerts, nightclubs, or music festivals,
certainly these forms are capable of delivering interesting new ways
of experiencing music. To make the most of this possibility, we must
seek to understand how these experiences can be designed effectively.
It is my hope that the approaches I have explored in Explosions in
the Mind may contribute towards this understanding, and with this in
mind, in this chapter I will consolidate the main compositional methods,
thereby providing a set of design frameworks that can be used by artists,
academics, and industry professionals for developing their own work.
In this chapter, the compositional principles discussed in Explosions in
the Mind will be summarised as three design frameworks. In Chapter 2
I discussed approaches for creating ‘psychedelic journeys in sound’. This
involved taking various typical features of altered states of consciousness
(ASC) experiences, and using them to inform the design of sonic and
visual materials and/or structure. In this way, the compositions became
analogous to psychedelic experiences. In Chapter 3 we saw how this
idea could be utilised for real-time performances, while in Chapter 4
it was used to compose audio-visual works, which represented what
one might see or hear during a hallucination. Chapter 5 extended this
concept in order to design several prototype ‘altered states of conscious-
ness simulations’, by using interactive audio-visual technologies such as
video game engines to provide first-person perspective simulations of
psychedelic experiences. Through VJ performances and VR, the projects
discussed in Chapters 6–7 reflect a distinct progression of these ideas,
while moving away from designs based on formal accounts of ASCs,
in favour of an approach based on visual associations with sound and
music. These projects sought to construct ‘synaesthetic visualisations of
sound’ through the design of 3D environments and audio-visual sound
toys. In what follows, I will summarise each of these design frameworks.
There is of course significant overlap, and readers interested in utilising
194 J. Weinel

the frameworks will undoubtedly treat them as starting points for their
own projects, making adaptations to further evolve their practices and
find new directions.

Framework One: Psychedelic Journeys

in Sound
In Chapter 2, Explosions in the Mind explored how electroacoustic
music could be composed based on ASCs. The approach I used can
be understood as an ‘adaptive principle’ for composition. Genres such
as psychedelic rock adapt typical genre forms towards various concepts
of psychedelia, through lyrics that connect with psychedelic themes, or
the use of effects pedals and production techniques that warp or colour
the sounds so that they acquire hallucinatory qualities. In Chapter 2
we saw how this idea could be used in the field of electroacoustic
composition. The typical tools of synthesis, sampling, and digital signal
processing (DSP) were used to compose electroacoustic music, but the
design of these compositions was ‘adapted’ based on concepts of ASCs.
By considering a range of typical ‘ASC features’ that are described in
the research literature, it was possible to devise mimetic sonic materials
using ‘ASC techniques’. Table 8.1 summarises the main ‘ASC features’
and corresponding ‘ASC techniques’ that were used across the various
electroacoustic compositions described in Chapter 2.
Extending this methodology, we also saw how it was possible to
organise these materials into structural forms that are analogous to the
progression of hallucinations as they unfold in time. By doing this it is
possible to compose electroacoustic music that provides a sonic journey
that represents a psychedelic experience through sound. Figure 8.1
outlines this generalised approach for composing psychedelic works of
electroacoustic music. ASC features are translated with corresponding
techniques and organised into a structure that reflects the progression
of a hallucination in time. Figure 8.1 provides an indicative example of a
structural form similar to the ones used for compositions such as Entoptic
Phenomena (2009) and Nausea (2011). Three main phases of ‘onset’,
 8 Conclusion: Design Frameworks 195

Table 8.1 Summary of techniques used to represent ASC features in fixed-

media electroacoustic compositions
Example
ASC feature ASC technique compositions
Cellular consciousness Organic sonic materials Night Breed, Swamp
Process
Atomic consciousness Synthetic sonic materials Surfer Stem
Sensory consciousness Physical bass drones and Night Dream, Swamp
dub sounds Process, Nausea
Shifting perceptual focus Morphing textures Night Breed
Distorted time perception Drone sounds Surfer Stem, Night
Dream, Entoptic
Phenomena, Swamp
Process, Nausea
Micro–macro perception Juxtaposed macro drones Night Dream
and micro rhythmic
textures
Visual patterns of Scattered or rotating Night Breed, Surfer
hallucination rhythmic materials Stem, Entoptic
Phenomena, Swamp
Process, Nausea
Strange voices or Processed vocal sounds Entoptic Phenomena,
encounters with Nausea
mysterious entities
Euphoria or anxiety Light and dark sonic Nausea
materials

Generalised approach ASC features ASC techniques

ASC journey ASC structure

Onset Plateau

Wave 1 Wave 2 Wave 3 Wave 4

Light Whispering
voices
Dark
Drones
Sensory
bass

Breakthrough Breakthrough

Fig. 8.1 Framework for composing psychedelic journeys in sound

196 J. Weinel

‘plateau’, and ‘termination’ reflect the dynamic progression and inten-

sity of the imagined hallucination that the work represents. Within this
form, the work can be further subdivided into individual ‘waves’ of the
experience. In my works, ‘onset’ is typically accompanied by the gradual
introduction of materials based on visual patterns of hallucination, which
increase in intensity. The ‘plateau’ phase may incorporate light and dark
sonic materials representing euphoria and anxiety, sensory bass, drones
that are suggestive of timelessness, or auditory hallucinations that reflect
encounters with strange entities. The ‘termination’ phase usually includes
representations of visual hallucinations, which decrease in intensity as the
psychedelic experience draws to a close. Figure 8.1 illustrates this struc-
tural pattern to provide an indicative example, though many variations
are possible.
In Chapter 3 these ideas were developed in the context of real-time
performances, and here our discussion shifted to consider how creative
coding with programming environments such as Max/MSP could be
used to design these. The Atomizer Live Patch was a software tool that I
created to design sounds that fulfilled the requirements of these composi-
tions, allowing sonic materials to be generated for the fixed-media works.
This software was also created to realise a long-form live performance,
Entoptic Phenomena in Audio (2010). This performance synthesised a
hallucinatory structure similar to the one shown in Fig. 8.1 with the idea
of a DJ set, integrating multiple compositions into a single continuous
performance, where each individual composition becomes analogous to
a ‘wave’ or phase of hallucination. These compositions always have an
implicit ‘visual’ aspect, since they have sounds based on visual patterns
of hallucinations or other features of hallucinations that could be articu-
lated graphically, and so Entoptic Phenomena in Audio prefigures my later
work such as the VJ performances and VR projects, which use related
structural approaches. While Entoptic Phenomena in Audio is based on
real-time synthesis, triggering of samples, and DSP effects, Bass Drum,
Saxophone & Laptop (2010) showed how these compositional ideas could
be used to realise a performance with acoustic instruments and live
electronics, where real-time processes enable the sounds to undergo
continuous changes, reflecting the shifting perceptual experiences that
may occur during hallucinations.
 8 Conclusion: Design Frameworks 197

While Chapters 2 and 3 explore how one might compose psychedelic

journeys in sound, in Chapter 4 we saw how these approaches could
also be used to compose audio-visual compositions. The audio-visual
piece Tiny Jungle (2010) used similar ideas to those outlined in Fig. 8.1,
except where ‘ASC features’ were identified, these were realised as audio-
visual materials. Using this approach, visual patterns of hallucination
or strange encounters could be depicted using animated visuals as well
as sounds. Structural forms could then be developed in order to artic-
ulate psychedelic audio-visual journeys. In Chapter 4 these ideas were
also explored through the audio-visual compositions Mezcal Animations
(2013), Cenote Zaci (2014), and Cenote Sagrado (2014). Across these
various works, analogue and digital approaches to synaesthetic anima-
tion were explored, as well as creative coding via the Atomizer Visual
Max/MSP/Jitter software. Following these examples, composers working
with forms such as visual music or experimental film may draw upon this
first framework, in order to compose their own psychedelic audio-visual
journeys.

Framework Two: Altered States

of Consciousness Simulations
If we extend the idea of representing ASCs with audio-visual media and
consider how this might occur in the interactive contexts presented by
game-engine technologies and VR, we arrive at the possibility of ASC
simulations. In Chapter 5 I discussed a series of projects that exem-
plify forms related to this concept. Quake Delirium (2010) showed how
a first-person shooter game could be modified in order to represent a
psychedelic experience by automating various graphical and game param-
eters, while also generating a corresponding soundtrack. Psych Dome
(2013) utilised Max/MSP and Processing in order to generate sound and
a visualisation in real-time based on forms such as the visual patterns
seen during hallucinations. Both of these projects also explored the use
of biofeedback controllers in order to provide passive forms of interaction
that link brain activity to the audio-visualisation. In addition, ASC Sim
198 J. Weinel

(2017) provided a prototype with three interactive mechanisms for repre-

senting aspects of auditory hallucinations in the context of the Unity
video game engine.
Across these projects we began to see how interactive audio-visual
technologies such as game engines could be used to simulate ASCs.
Figure 8.2 generalises the concept of ‘altered states of consciousness simu-
lations.2 The design of interactive ASC simulations can be produced with
an ‘ASC engine’. This is a system that generates graphics and sounds
based on ASC features. For example, an ASC engine might generate
visual patterns of hallucination, shifting forms of perception, or encoun-
ters with strange entities. These may be rendered with both graphics
and/or sound, with the audio reflecting forms of auditory hallucination
or distortions to spatial awareness. Typically these visual and auditory
forms may be rendered from a first-person perspective, thereby repre-
senting what a player avatar might see or hear during a hallucination.3
Biofeedback technologies can be used to enrich these simulations, by
linking the generation of sounds and visuals to aspects of the user such as
brainwave activity or galvanic skin response. The concept of ASC simula-
tions can be used for entertainment purposes in video games, or within
the domain of ‘cyberdelics’,4 where consciousness expansion is sought
through means of immersive technologies such as VR.

Generalised approach

ASC engine VR headset User

Data inputs:
Headtracking
Gamepad
Biofeedback Dynamic envelopes

Fig. 8.2 Framework for designing altered states of consciousness simulations

 8 Conclusion: Design Frameworks 199

Framework Three: Synaesthetic Visualisations

of Sound
The projects discussed in Chapters 6 and 7 provide the basis for our
third framework. While the first two frameworks rely significantly on
formal aspects of ASC experiences, such as those described in studies
of psychedelics, my later projects took a slightly different approach,
whereby aspects of sound and music were translated into visuals. My VJ
performances, paintings, and the Cyberdream (2019–2020) VR appli-
cations can be understood as synaesthetic, since they interpret sound
through visual forms such as computer animations, paint, and 3D
environments. Here the design of the work interprets symbolic and
conceptual meanings that are embedded in music. This differs somewhat
from the usual approaches to music visualisation, since instead of trans-
lating properties of an audio signal such as frequency or amplitude into
visual images, the pieces look for representational symbols which can be
rendered as animations or 3D environments. This opens up new worlds
of possibility for visualising music, allowing us to conceive of music as
imaginative, synaesthetic visual spaces that users can journey through.
My works in this area translate individual music tracks into audio-visual
designs, and then create journeys through multiple audio-visual tracks to
form continuous experiences, which are analogous to those provided in
a DJ mix. With the addition of the audio-visual sound toys, as explored
in Cyberdream (2020), users can also take an active role in creating and
composing audio-visual experiences of music themselves, providing new
forms of creative composition and performance.
Figure 8.3 summarises the framework for composing ‘synaesthetic
visualisations of sound’, which could be used by designers making VJ
performances, VR music visualisations, or other forms of visual art.
Synaesthetic visualisations can be designed by incorporating features
derived from the audio signal, such as properties of frequency or ampli-
tude, or may draw upon the symbolic concepts that are embedded in
the music. Projects using this framework should find ways to interpret
and represent symbolic concepts, which may give rise to the genera-
tion of 3D spaces or environments. Although there are multiple ways in
which this framework could be utilised, Fig. 8.3 provides an indicative
200 J. Weinel

Generalised approach Audio signal analysis

Symbolic feature analysis

Track 1 Track 2 Track 3

Macro structure Micro structure

Fig. 8.3 Framework for composing synaesthetic visualisations of sound

example similar to that used in Cyberdream, whereby audio-visual scenes

are generated in correspondence with musical tracks, and these are organ-
ised to form a continuous journey analogous to a DJ set. This provides
the macro structure, while the micro structure is provided by audio-visual
sound toys. Since these designs replicate a synaesthetic process, which
is similar to that found in sound-to-image hallucinations, we may also
consider that these designs are psychedelic visualisations of sound.

∗ ∗ ∗

In the twenty-first century we are currently witnessing the expansion

of networked technologies through new forms of immersive sensory
interfaces. Sonic and audio-visual technologies such as VR are allowing
us to design journeys through fantastic real and unreal environments
rendered in light and sound. ASCs may provide a useful lens through
which to consider the design of these journeys, by drawing our atten-
tion towards the myriad ways in which they affect our multimodal
conscious experience, and the designs themselves may also provide us
with interesting new ways to represent the sensory faculties of the human
mind. Throughout Explosions in the Mind, I have explored a wide range
of creative projects, which demonstrate practical approaches for doing
this. These projects reflect my own personal journey as a creative prac-
titioner, yet I hope the discussion presented in this book also reveals
insights which have a utility beyond that provided by the experience
 8 Conclusion: Design Frameworks 201

of the works themselves. We have seen how electronic music, audio-

visual compositions, and creative coding can elicit psychedelic journeys;
how interactive technologies might provide ways to simulate states such
as hallucinations; and how VJ performances and VR applications can
conjure voyages through imaginative synaesthetic worlds of music. In
this, the final chapter of Explosions in the Mind , I have consolidated
these approaches into three main design frameworks, which summarise
the essential methodologies that I have used for creating my projects.
These frameworks can allow other artists, designers, and programmers to
develop their own projects, either by utilising the frameworks described,
or by adapting, modifying, and extending them to forge new pathways
into uncharted territories. Taken as a whole, these frameworks point
towards an exciting new paradigm for composing psychedelic sounds and
visualisations. Above all, Explosions of the Mind has expressed my vision
of that paradigm, and yet, it is only as a collective endeavour that we can
truly realise this dream—and so now I hand it over to you, the reader, to
compose the psychedelic sounds and visualisations of the future.

Notes
1. At the time of writing, videos of Tomorrowland 2020 were available online
via https://www.tomorrowland.com on a time-limited basis. A list of virtual
concerts and music festivals are available online, see Stubhub (2020) and
Billboard (2020). These events have also been discussed in various press, for
example see Pollard (2020) and Kocay (2020).
2. The framework in this section continues the discussion of ’ASC simulations’
in Weinel (2018b).
3. As noted previously, the concept of representing the subjective perceptual
experiences of avatars can be described as ’avatar-centred subjectivity’; see
also Weinel and Cunningham (2019).
4. ’Cyberdelics’ is a portmanteau of cyberculture and psychedelics, and
describes immersive technologies that seek to provide forms of consciousness
expansion. For a further discussion see Weinel (2018a); Valentish (2019);
and Filimowicz and Weinel (2020).
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 Index

A Biofeedback 116, 120, 121, 128,

Acid techno 154, 179, 191 197, 198
ASC Sim 121–124 Brakhage, Stan 90
Atomizer Live Patch 57, 58, 64 Bug Powder Dust 159
Atomizer Visual 84, 88
Attention 116, 118, 122, 124
Auditory hallucination(s) 5, 8, 9, 18,
C
33, 43, 121–124, 126, 196,
‘Cartography of ecstatic and
198
meditative states’ 5, 87
Augmented Reality (AR) 100, 163,
Cenote Sagrado 100–102
165, 167
Cenote Zaci 98–100
‘Avatar-centred subjectivity’ 127
‘Circumplex model of affect’ 6
Ayahuasca 10, 12, 19
Cyberdelics 198
Cyberdream 174, 176–178,
180–184, 199
B
Cyberpunk 36, 37, 108, 109, 128,
Bass Drum, Saxophone and Laptop 172, 179
68, 76
‘Bass meditation’ 38, 87
Belson, Jordan 16

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive 225
license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021
J. Weinel, Explosions in the Mind, Palgrave Studies in Sound,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-4055-1
226 Index

D H
Demo effect(s) 17, 134, 141, 181 Hauntology 174, 176
Demoscene 17, 134, 139 Hobson, J.A. 4, 7, 14, 29, 122
Direct animation 82, 90, 91, 93, Holodeck 188, 189
95–98, 101, 134, 138, 148, Holo Point Break 160
154 Hypnogogic hallucinations 5
DMT 8, 10, 41–43
Dreaming 4, 5, 7, 14, 15, 32
Dreams 4, 12, 14, 38, 108, 117 I
Drum and bass 14, 34, 86, 87, 153, ISSUE Project Room 63, 67
158, 159, 163
Dub reggae 13, 37, 44, 150
Dubstep 34, 37–39, 44 K
Kendall, Gary 15
Klüver, H. 8, 10, 16, 40, 42, 44, 45,
E 50, 57, 88, 95, 98, 118, 119,
Electroacoustic music 14, 29, 63, 156, 179
86, 97, 114, 194
Electroencephalograph (EEG) 116,
118–120 L
Enter Soundcat 163 La Peste 28, 57
Entoptic Phenomena 40–43 Leary, Timothy 8, 33, 34, 36–39
Entoptic Phenomena in Audio 63, 64 Literary works 13
LSD 8, 9, 11, 12, 36, 45
F
Lye, Len 90
Films 13
Fischman, Rajmil 60, 95, 188
Flashcore 37, 39 M
Form constants 8, 10, 16, 41, 42, Max/MSP 37, 42, 57, 68, 112–114,
44, 45, 50, 57, 60, 88, 95, 98, 118, 119, 197
118, 119, 156 Max/MSP/Jitter 83, 84, 112
Fulldome(s) 16, 18, 118, 119 McLaren, Norman 90
MDMA 5, 11
Meditation 16, 87, 116, 118
G Mescaline 8, 12, 40, 45, 57
Garage rock 13, 32 Mezcal Animations 93, 95, 96
Granular synthesis 33, 37, 61, 87 Multimodal(ity) 9, 30, 111, 167,
168, 200
Music visualisers 16
 Index 227

N Shamanism 6, 10–12, 14, 15, 40,

Nausea 45, 46, 48 41, 44
Night Breed 33–36 ‘Sleep paralysis’ 5
Night Dream 38, 39 Smith, Harry 11, 16, 56, 82, 87, 90
Nova Express 16, 132, 133 Soundcat 2000 163
Soundcat S-101 163
Sound-to-image hallucination(s) 9,
P 16, 103, 142, 167, 200
Painting(s) 12, 13, 15, 31, 50, 82, Sound toy(s) 183–186
83, 156, 157, 159–161, 163, Spectromorphology 29
179, 199 Speedcore techno 37, 181
PANcho 95 State-space 7, 122
Peyote 8, 10, 11, 34 Strassman, R. 8
Plasma 139, 141, 154, 180 Surfer Stem 36–38
‘Practice-led research’ 20 Surrealism 12, 160
Processing 18, 83, 98, 118, 119, Swamp Process 44
139, 141, 146, 197 Synaesthesia 2, 9, 19
Psilocybin 2, 8, 34, 43, 68
Psych Dome 118, 120
Psychedelic light show(s) 16, 17 T
Psy-trance 14, 33, 131, 132 Technoshamanism 181
31 Seconds 158
Tiny Jungle 86, 87
Q Trance(s) 4–6, 11, 12, 84, 87, 90,
Quake Delirium 112–115 95, 101
Quake Delirium EEG 116 Trip at the Brain 157
Truax, Barry 14, 30, 40
R
Rammellzee 160 U
Rave flyer(s) 17, 139, 142, 172, Unity 121, 123, 126, 177, 182, 198
174, 177
Rouget, G. 4, 6, 87
V
Vaporwave 56, 134, 141, 147, 148,
S 152, 174–177, 179–181, 188
Seasons in the Abyss 160 VDMX 17, 133, 141, 142, 144,
Serato Scratch 151 146, 147, 149
‘Seven levels of energy consciousness’ Video games 18, 19, 111, 116
34, 36, 38, 39 Video mapping 18
228 Index

Virtual Reality (VR) 19, 20, 36, 38, VJ London 143, 144, 151, 154
109, 111, 172, 174, 176–178, VJ loop(s) 135, 138, 139, 141
181–183, 188, 189, 192, VJ mix(es) 17, 142–144, 148, 154,
197–199 174
Visual music 15, 16, 18, 19, 82, 83, VJ mixing 150
90, 93, 132 VJ performance(s) 18, 84, 132, 133,
Visual patterns of hallucination(s) 142, 174, 199
32, 35, 39–43, 46, 57, 58, 66, Vortex 156
67, 69, 73, 76, 87, 88, 95,
118, 179, 196, 198
VJ culture 17 W
Wwise 183, 185, 187