October 28, 2020, 01:30 am. Patrick Shiroishi is conducting an experiment in the carhouse of an empty restaurant in Monterey Park, California. Saxophone in one hand, glockenspiel in the other, he improvises. The sonic researcher records a single take. The result’s quality is everything but lab grade. There’s background noises. The recording device’s static is clearly audible. Shiroishi doesn’t mind, publishing his findings under the title »I was too young to hear silence«. Why? Wagging tongues might insinuate that the saxophonist’s career isn’t dependent on the success of a single study. Shiroishi is immensely prolific, participating in countless collaborations and a playing in the distinguished art-punk fraternity The Armed. In the ivy league, one can afford to publish miscues. Yet, »I was too young to hear silence« is everything but unucessfull. It’s a challenge of listening habits. There is no absolute silence, as Shiroishi’s well aware. Even in a soundproof chamber, we’d still hear our breath, fine movements, and the blood in our veins. Silence is a relation between noises, not the absence of sound. Shiroishi doesn’t attempt to manufacture zero decibel. Interference with his recordings is part of his record. Thus, if measured by Shiroishi’s own standards, this imperfect experiment can be considered fruitful. Further research is necessary, promotion encouraged.
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