#2

#1

Low Freq.

Echoes

Outcomes and Applications

Outcomes and Applications

What, then, are the outcomes of this research?  With the conclusion of the analytical phase, the project enters a new cycle—one that moves toward more direct applications of the system. What, then, has been achieved so far? The central focus of the work has always been on process rather than outcome, and for this reason it would be misleading to evaluate its value based solely on finished musical results. All the works presented here represent early applications of the method, and as such, they remain in a state of refinement and exploration.

These outcomes are dynamic and porous—more like seeds than monuments. They include not only musical materials and structures, but also shifts in perception, awareness, and compositional methodology. The process itself has generated new tools for listening, selecting, shaping, and organizing material—tools that now form the basis for future development.

First and foremost, one of the clearest outcomes is the development of a personal system of notation that combines verbal cues with visual diagrams. This hybrid approach emerged not as a stylistic choice but as a necessity, through this, I’ve discovered that clarity does not mean reduction, and that even ambiguous or metaphorical instructions can lead to coherent and powerful results.

Another crucial outcome is a redefinition of tools—not as static objects or settings, but as evolving relationships between sound, gesture, attention, and interpretation. Pedals, effects, fragments, loops, analysis —all of these became tools not in their raw form, but in the way I learned to relate to them.

Third, this research has produced a method for generating material from improvisation without falling into repetition or randomness. By listening retrospectively to my improvisations and extracting fragments, I felt like a composer/archaeologist —digging into performances to uncover seeds of ideas worth developing. These fragments are micro-tools: they can trigger form, gesture, or mood depending on how they are placed and combined. Finally, perhaps the most important outcome is the shift in my own way of thinking. This research has made me more attentive, more patient, and more curious. I now listen not only to sounds, but to behaviors, resistances, and questions within the sound. This way of thinking transforms the very notion of outcome into something ongoing: not a product, but a practice. Not a solution, but an evolving process of learning how to listen again, differently.

 

Direct and Indirect Applications

While I was working on this research, I was also involved in several parallel projects. Even though the influence of this work was initially passive, it gradually began to surface—both in my role as a performer and as a composer. Here, I present three examples that illustrate how the ideas developed through this research have echoed across a broader creative spectrum.

The first, as already mentioned, is the piece for Big Band entitled "Futura," written for a concert held at Jazzcampus Basel in June 2025. I chose this composition as an example because it reveals how the system I developed proved useful as a source of inspiration, even as it collided with other compositional tools and processes. The outcome was something different from the research itself, yet it retained a clear and vital connection to its source.

The initial concept for "Futura" was based on an interest in employing a compositional structure inspired by the first movement of Stravinsky’s Symphony of Psalms. Having such a compelling framework in which to operate, what I needed was a body of concrete material with which to begin. The influence of fragment analysis here functioned as a unified block: I recognized in many of the fragments recurring elements—loops, repetitions, circular gestures—that resonated strongly with Stravinsky’s stylistic language. There was no direct or literal transposition of materials from the research into this piece. Rather, I believe that the ferment of reflection during those days of composition led to a natural transference of concepts, parameters, and sensibilities. This mode of thinking became the underlying structure upon which the entire piece was built.

This example is meaningful to me because it reveals something important: I cannot fully isolate myself from the tools and knowledge I’ve absorbed over time—those I choose to explore or those that have already shaped me. The creative seed may have emerged from the language of fragments, but it was cultivated and carried forward by other tools—ones that may not have been directly referenced in this research, but that nonetheless form part of my wider musical identity. No matter how strongly I try to define myself within a single method or creative approach, experiences like this remind me that musical fundamentalism has serious limitations. I am the sum of all the creative practices I’ve engaged with, and this research is now part of that sum.

You can click the pdf and scroll through the score of "Futura" and perhaps recognize elements—particularly in the type of notation—that reflect the parameters and illustrations described earlier in this document. Good luck! 

 

Improvising

The second direct application of this method involved inviting friends from two different ensembles to participate in collective improvisation sessions based on the system I had developed. After introducing them to the ideas behind the method—its origins, reasons, and guiding parameters—we began by simply playing together to break the ice. I documented portions of these sessions through audio and video recordings, capturing spontaneous interactions that offered valuable insights into how the system functioned in a real-time, social context.

Rather than presenting isolated concepts or a single analytical idea, I chose to design hybrid pieces—improvisational frameworks that fused together several analyses. In doing so, I intentionally combined different parameters to foster a sense of narrative and development. For example, I avoided pairing two fragments that centered solely on "melody." Instead, I sought combinations that hinted at compositional structure—those that required a process of selection and organization. The idea was to generate interplay between interpretive freedom and pre-existing constraints.

Below, you will find examples of the illustrations  I combined in each improvisational setup.

 

About the Ensembles

I recorded with two different ensembles made up of close friends. The first featured myself, Seraina (flute), and Ignat (flute). Knowing how responsive and deeply engaged they are with improvisation, I had no doubt that—despite some initial hesitation—they would quickly find their creative voice within this system. Their ability to navigate unfamiliar frameworks with openness and sensitivity made them ideal collaborators for this kind of exploratory work.

Below, you can view the video of Piece No. 2 performed by the full trio, as well as an audio excerpt from Piece No. 1, which features just Seraina and myself. 

 

Reflections thoughts about the concept, the approach and personal feeling while playing in this way. 

 

                                                                    IGNAT / SERAINA / CORRADO 

C: What do you think as first approach, about the method, about the how you feel playing into this idea, and also, if you feel potential to isolate some parts and redo the same circle again, like, maybe the central part is cool, what if I isolate that,redo the same or is this limitating for your creativity to have too many parameters, too many changes?


I: I mean, I'm not sure that I understand the method, but what I can feel, what I like that from the beginning, it was quite defined with the material, like we only didn't search, you just started to play at one moment I joined you. And I mean, it was nice quality that we just knew what we are doing. And I like it also. I like that this task that we need to, not to jump from one to another. We making it smoothly and we trying to hold the material. I think it's also actually quite nice.I felt at some moment that we have, of course, tendency to develop it. And so it was both sometimes, like, I feel okay, can I go there? Is it just a restriction? Is it allowed? But somehow, while I was thinking about this, I think still I wasn't into your score, Yeah, I was inside your score, but I felt that okay. This, for example, I can broke, I can start to play already, kind of melody here where I can, but still I was aware. And I think this actually quite nice. So maybe this balance between restriction and freedom is not reflected enough, but I think it can be quite nice, maybe for for example, for the last one, I didn't have clear image in my head, how it can sound. I mean, we found something, but it was, for me, not so clear in a way. Also, I feel that it's nice tool for creating beautiful textures, I mean, two, three different processes can easily live together, and if they are added on. So it's quite good. I mean, maybe we need something else to hear, like, maybe some more development. Or here,it can become too linear, maybe, and maybe too like "this texture we play, it's quite gooey"  It's nice after we going there, but it's a little bit, I don't know, too sterile or what is this thing? Yeah, like we are a little bit in the box, and this is interesting quality also, but I don't know. 

 

S: I felt much freer now than before. Before, I took the term super serious now also, but I realized while playing that it can mean like 100 of things, just because it's written, Echo can be like and I think this is nice that it's not just one thing, of course,  but that even though there are quite specific terms, It's quite free, and I think we could go even further in this freedom, but still respecting what is written.

 

C: because also see this not as a composition, because when we play and we see something in front of us, it's automatically, like a score.  I also see this as tools. So I play what I want, but I have those tools, and maybe I cannot play all of them, but if I open this door, I will go into another direction and I will open the door of freedom. And it's not more the linearity that you were speaking which actually cool, because the goal of this, it's not like creating pieces we can play, but it's finding something that,  is interesting.

 

I: I've been, in a way, I really liked how it was now, like I enjoy, yeah. 

 

S: I think it's, or at least for me, it would be  kind of a task for myself to find this right middle between freedom and respecting. How far can I go and still respect  and also, how far can we do the things together like that? It's one term to get  you know, whatever that It's like one person how to stay connected. Maybe it could be interesting ones to just see the images and not the words, but then it's even more graphical score. 

 

I: I think actually, for me, these words weren't something confusing. I mean, maybe I didn't see like, I didn't think of already, like, Okay, now it's echo. I felt more that  I'm trying to compliment the whole picture, and this can help me. And I just trying to grasp something. So maybe in this way, I even would like to have more information, maybe bigger picture or more description. So there are more things through the through this, I can grasp something and use it. I'm not sure about this. I think it can be really different with different people.

One particularly interesting aspect of this conversation centered around how the musicians felt when engaging with this new form of interaction, and how it affected their way of playing. Two main challenges emerged: first, that the illustrations could initially be perceived as a form of visual score, and second, that their sequential juxtaposition might unintentionally imply a fixed order of execution. I discuss these points in more detail in the following chapter, which is dedicated to areas of improvement and reflection.

The second example is a duo performance with my friend and vocalist Barbora, in which we focused for 17 minutes on a single illustration—"Expand and Contract." The aim of using just one was to push the creative potential of a limited set of parameters across a longer time span, allowing space for the natural emergence of restlessness, boredom, and the impulse to move. The result is something that unfolds organically. Much like in the previous ensemble, the parameters acted as seeds, growing powerfully in a shared direction guided by mutual listening and attention.

Barbora described her experience in the following way:

“I don’t enjoy improvising under constraints—even very light ones like in this case. At times, especially in the beginning, I almost felt obligated to wait for your transition before shifting to a different parameter. But then I realized I was actually free to operate however I wanted—even in opposition. That realization was fascinating. I started asking myself: who’s really stopping me from doing the opposite of what’s written or illustrated? Or from carrying a single parameter through multiple sections, but in different ways?”

What made this experience different for me compared to the previous ensemble? I found that working with the voice as an instrument led me into a sonic world I personally love: one of small, delicate sounds—yet still full of energy and contrast. I also felt it was easier to engage with a single fragment; perhaps because it allowed us to detach more quickly and follow our own paths of interaction and expression. Unlike the trio session, where the combination of illustrations fostered a more compositional mindset, here the absence of multiple visual elements pushed us toward a more performative and spontaneous direction.

 

 

Future Iterations

The third outcome of this research resides in the near future—it will materialize in my final Master's concert, scheduled for August 2025. One of the foundational questions driving this research was how musical thinking might engage with other art forms. This curiosity emerged from my long-standing interest in interdisciplinary collaboration, particularly the relationship between movement and sound. For this upcoming project, I seek a balance between the modalities explored in earlier outcomes: a convergence of improvisation and composition, applied not only to instrumentalists but extended to dancers as well.

My decision to involve dancers arose from a prior collaboration with Linda, an improvisational dancer, whose intuitive responses to music revealed potential pathways for bridging bodily movement with my system of musical parameters. This endeavor also reflects an ambition to test the adaptability of my framework beyond its original domain. How might dancers interpret instructions and illustrations originally conceived for sound? How do ideas such as "intensity," "texture," or "volume" translate when the instrument is the body, rather than a guitar or a pedal?

In this context, terms once bound to musical convention acquire new dimensions: "volume" becomes not a question of decibels, but one of spatial expansion; "attack" is no longer a plucked string but a gesture’s force; "sustain" turns into a held posture or prolonged movement. As choreographer William Forsythe suggests, the body can be "an instrument of spatial thinking"—a notion that resonates deeply with the openness of this system. The ambiguity that emerges when transferring concepts across media is not a problem to be solved, but a field to be cultivated.

 

In one session with Linda, she engaged with selected illustrations, translating them through spontaneous physical responses. Each movement became a hypothesis—an embodied question rather than a definitive answer. This performative dialogue reveals a crucial point: the system does not prescribe, it proposes. Its purpose is not to standardize expression but to frame a space where different modalities of thought and presence can interact.

The intersection of improvisation, composition, and dance remains for me a rich but largely uncharted terrain. These disciplines share a devotion to process, ephemerality, and embodied thinking. Philosopher Erin Manning, reflecting on the movement of thought in the body, writes that “improvisation is not what happens when there is nothing. Improvisation is what happens when the field is alive.” This idea challenges the very boundary between listening and moving, between composing and responding.

My task moving forward is to deepen this entanglement—to hold space for complexity, ambiguity, and discovery.

 

 

Legato/vibrato

Groove

Pulse

+

+

Melody

Feedback

Rhythm

Swell

+

Time

+

Rhythm

Breath in

Contract

Expand

Time