The new [sic] generation is in the middle of this "plague of silence". Implants? what do they sound like? There may be examples of 128 and 256 channel reconstruction somewhere out there. Consider that 256 channels only yields about 1/3 semitone bandwidth, probably ok for speech and autotuned music. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OvHmrShrmaM Kevin ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Some people have read this, but it is about David Eves, at that time [c 2007], he was in his mid-30s. He is now teaching music in a number of Montreal area schools. Making ContactSuddenly there is no place to hide. Everyone has been seated as is customary around the periphery of the classroom so that every person is in full view. Professor X is at the board, marker poised to stack four whole notes into a minor seventh chord on the pre-fabricated staff. “Could someone please name the notes in the ‘ ? ’ minor seventh chord?” This has been happening with terrifying regularity recently. Of course I know the theory. It’s the theory that more often than not is getting me through the course. Root, minor third, fifth, minor seventh… The source of the nauseating adrenaline rush that surges from the base of my stomach is the fear of not having heard correctly which minor seventh chord was asked for. I know it was an “ee” sound; was that “B minor seventh”, or “D minor seventh”? “David?” All eyes are on me; there is no help in sight. “David? Can you help us out here?” The hesitation accelerates my heart. I can literally feel the blood rushing to my brain. Being wrong is no big deal. Being wrong can be rectified. The true terror stems from the struggle of being perceived as not knowing something; having not studied, when in fact the knowledge is firmly in place. The true terror stems from the humiliation in front of classmates that rudimentary knowledge would be perceived as being lacking when in fact it is a hearing problem that is interfering. “David?” Heads or tails? D… it must have been D minor seventh. “Yes, sorry; I’m still here. The notes would be D, F, A, C.” Professor X lifts the marker away from the board and turns to meet my eyes. A quick gaze around the room confirms my fear. Several have crossed their arms; squirming. Everyone averts their eyes from my gaze. “Is that your final answer?” Nervous laughter releases some of the tension for the observers. My heart is pounding. I sense that Professor X sees my growing panic. In fact I have been suspicious for a number of weeks that with each test, he is inching closer to discovering my problem. “Well you have successfully spelled out a minor seventh chord. Let’s try the one I asked for this time.” At this point I know that he knows. Further, I know that he is offering a helping hand. Slowly, Professor X turns to the board and with patient deliberation writes a B in the root of the chord. “I’m sorry, I thought you meant D minor seventh.” “I know.” “B, D, F#, A”. Professor X fills in the remainder of the chord. “David could you please see me after class?” “Sure.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ On 2013, Oct 13, at 10:55 AM, Drew Barnet <drhabarnet@xxxxxxxxx> wrote:
|