[Lab 01] Crackle Inverter

I previously shared the background behind why I began these circuit experiments. However, starting something for the first time is always a challenge, as the initial point of departure sets the direction for everything that follows.

My choice emerged naturally from experience. When I first started these experiments, I was at a level where I could build very basic oscillators. Consequently, it felt intuitive to begin with the Integrated Circuits (ICs) I already had on hand. At the time, I had a sort of circuit practice toolbox that my friend Satoshi had passed down to me, which contained various IC chips. My starting point was to organize them, figure out what each one did, and pick one to work with. The most abundant chip in the box was the 4049 CMOS. I discovered it was a NOT gate; seeing that it simply outputted 1s and 0s, I thought it would be a perfect place to start.

Inverter (NOT gate)

An inverter, or NOT gate, is a fundamental component in digital circuits, designed to control input and output logic level voltages representing binary bits of 0 and 1. These binary values are depicted through voltage signals in relation to ground within the circuit. The functionality of an inverter extends to its ability to manage currents in two primary ways: Sourcing and Sinking.

Sourcing current involves connecting the output terminal to the IC’s power source (usually called Vcc), effectively “pushing” the current out. Conversely, Sinking current entails connecting the output terminal to the ground (often labeled as Vss), completing the circuit by “pulling” the electricity in to enable logic operations. To put it simply, it’s a component that “pushes and pulls” electricity.

Inverter Concept 1 Inverter Concept 2

Another frequently used IC for inverters is the 40106, which contains six Schmitt triggers. A Schmitt trigger is an inverter with hysteresis. But what exactly is hysteresis?

It refers to a property where the output of a system depends not only on its current state but also on its past state. By setting different thresholds for “stepping up” and “stepping down,” the system avoids wavering in ambiguous middle zones. This allows the system to remain stable and unfazed by external fluctuations or minor noise. In short, it is a more stable, noise-filtered inverter, and it is preferred in oscillator design due to that very reliability. (See the diagram below)

Hysteresis Diagram 1 Hysteresis Diagram 2

The interesting part of choosing between these two lies right here. Usually, one would choose the Schmitt trigger for its robustness against noise, as the 4049 seems to require a lot of effort to produce a clean square wave. To investigate further, I decided to compare the two side-by-side. This kind of comparison is an experiment that can only be done out of “ignorance”—a lack of prior knowledge. I designed the oscillators as follows:

Oscillator Comparison Design

Theoretically, in the design above, both should oscillate properly. The formula for calculating frequency is $1 / (RC \times t)$. I also learned that the value of $t$ (propagation delay) can usually be found in the datasheet. Looking at the waveforms at the bottom of the diagram, you can see that the frequencies of the two inverters are completely different. Specifically, the 4049 oscillator practically runs wild because it allows even the most minute changes to pass through. It’s a noise hellgate!

Consequently, I realized that to build an oscillator with the 4049, one must mix multiple oscillators together. In other words, you have to pass through various inverter gates to self-correct. The design is as follows:

4049 Mixed Oscillator Design

Through this experiment, my choice naturally gravitated toward the more “problematic” one. Starting with the 4049 and my first oscillator design, I built three oscillators into a single IC and began tinkering. I tried connecting different points, breaking connections, and replacing capacitors with different values or materials. The first circuit I created is shown below:

First Tinkered Circuit

At this point, a question arose: where should I listen to the sound? When working with analog, the starting and ending points are often unclear. For someone like me, who values tinkering over the “orthodox” way, the sheer number of choices was a bit paralyzing. So, I initially used the output junction shown above. When connecting to other equipment (e.g., a mixer), both devices must share the same ground, and the audio cable should not interfere with the signal flow. A good way to prevent this is to build a simple pre-amp using an Op-amp. I’ll explain the Op-amp some other time—that story is quite long!

So, the final design came out like this:

Final Circuit Design

Each point is numbered; these are the contact points where I can interfere with the circuit in various ways. This idea was actually inspired by the Crackle Box. I created multiple contact points in advance so that the character of the circuit changes depending on how each point meets. Unexpectedly, it works quite well.

The following is a video of the test. This attempt eventually became the catalyst for composing my 2024 work, Cross-wired Xylophone.

[Lab 00] Introduction

Between 2023 and 2024, as the pandemic began to subside and a new daily life emerged, an exciting project opportunity opened up for me: the Speculative Sound Synthesis research. My friend Luc was kind enough to include me in a major project proposal. While the funding results were originally expected during the height of COVID-19, the project—like so many other things at the time—came to a halt. I had even forgotten that my name was on the proposal.

Fortunately, the project eventually received funding. It was originally planned as a three-year endeavor, but unfortunately, Luc and I had to step away after just two years. I prefer not to discuss the reasons, and at this point, they are no longer important. What matters is the lasting impact those two years had on me.

It has been a long time since I engaged in formal research. I completed my Master’s at Sonology in 2008 and another in Amsterdam in 2011. While I have released many works and conducted smaller studies over the past decade, this project allowed me to realize several things about my practice.

First, through years of composition, I have accumulated much more to say and more things I want to explore. Second, I noticed that my creative process had begun to take on certain patterns—one could say my artistic voice has become clearer. Third, I started questioning very small, fundamental things. These are often closer to philosophical inquiries; I began to harbor basic yet profound questions about the sounds I handle and the technologies I use to create them.

To elaborate, we primarily create or transform sound using computers, which means following digital signal processing (DSP) methods. I understand how signals are processed through my studies in DSP. However, ultimately, behind those technical calculations lies a specific way of handling time—and the same applies to analog methods. I realized I had never seriously considered what fundamental difference these two approaches bring to us as electronic music composers.

I discovered that the worlds of analog and digital, so close yet so far, have always been with me in an unfamiliar way. It was a moment of sudden clarity: I needed to return to the basics. I wanted to understand signals more deeply. And so, the project began.

I started by focusing on how time is processed from analog to digital. Following my characteristic “tinkering” approach, I allowed myself to cross over into whatever areas piqued my interest, resulting in several fascinating experiments.

Moving forward, I intend to collect and share these experiments here—many of which were created back then but never published. These are not quite tutorials, nor are they clearly defined artistic outcomes. It is better to call them “experimental fragments.” By releasing them here, I will document my thought processes and questions, and perhaps I might find answers to one or two of them. Perhaps this writing is simply a means for me to maintain a proper record.

There may be moments where a post ends abruptly without a clear conclusion, but I want to steadily list these past experiments as a series while continuing to pursue new ones. As mentioned, the research was interrupted after two years, and I moved on to other projects. It feels as though I only opened the door to let some air in without progressing further. Now, I want to return to that research and continue it on my own (with occasional conversations with Luc).

If someone happens to find and read this, that would be wonderful. But even if not, I am content. I am simply grateful to finally begin this record.

2025 in a Nutshell

As the year comes to an end, I find myself more drawn to noticing how I have been thinking and working.

This year was marked by a sustained engagement with practice rather than resolution. I spent much of my time building, testing, listening, and reworking—often without a clear sense of where things would land. Instead of aiming for finished forms, I stayed with processes that were unstable, provisional, and sometimes uncomfortable.

Much of this year’s work was shaped by my one-year lectorate research at the Conservatoire, Tinkering as a Speculative Tool for Music Composition.

This research emerged out of a sense of urgency. My originally three-year project, Speculative Sound Synthesis, unexpectedly ended after two years in 2024, just as the work was becoming more focused. I was therefore looking for a way to continue, not by restarting, but by carrying forward the questions and fascinations that had accumulated toward the end of that period.

The lectorate research offered such a continuation, albeit in a different form. It was more directed and contextualized, yet still grounded in hands-on experimentation, uncertainty, and speculative practice. Above all, I was finally able to write down some of my thoughts, what I have practiced, and what I wanted to share.

2025 in a Nutshell

As part of this research, I developed Machi-nory, a work that functions less as a fixed composition and more as an ongoing on-stage experimentation (tinkering!). Alongside this, I led two workshops that extended the research into pedagogical and collective contexts. The outcomes of this period—both artistic and reflective—will be published in written form and presented publicly in January–February 2026.

Another significant strand of this year was my return to the analog studio. Thanks to Kees Tazelaar, who allowed me to attend his classes after 19 years, I was able to re-learn analog studio techniques and, more importantly, to encounter them from a completely fresh perspective.

Working in this environment reshaped how I think about technology—not as something to be optimized or streamlined, but as a space for attention, constraint, and material decision-making. And what it truly means to deal with the process of making relations between the technological blocks.

I became particularly fascinated by VOSIM, which led to the composition of two new eight-channel works, Vosim Variations I & II. These pieces will be premiered next year at the Sonic Acts Festival and are partly commissioned by the festival.

These works draw on early spatial techniques developed before contemporary panning technologies, integrating phase relationships and distribution strategies rather than conventional spatial movement. They are also the first pieces I have composed entirely without a computer—created in the analog studio with minimal editing—which marked a meaningful shift in my compositional process.

Another memorable moment this year was a field-recording-based project Buoyants developed with Ludmila, Mike, and Rob. It was my first field recording practice, combined with experiments in vertical panning and spatial listening. Working with long-time friends for the first time gave this project a particular resonance, both personally and artistically.

This project will return again in April, in Veere, continuing its underwater exploration.

Across different projects, a recurring concern kept returning: how sound, signal, material, and action relate before they are organized into familiar structures. Much of my work unfolded around circuits, feedback systems, spatial sound, and performative situations where control was partial and outcomes remained contingent. What interested me was not mastery, but what emerges when systems are allowed to behave on their own terms.

Over the course of the year, something shifted in how I understand my practice. I became more attentive to states that precede clarity—to moments before sound becomes music, before signal becomes information, before an action becomes intention. Rather than trying to stabilize these moments too quickly, I began to see value in staying with them, letting them remain unresolved. Listening, oh, and listening!

This has also influenced how I think about research and writing. I am increasingly interested in writing not as a means of explanation, but as a way of thinking: of holding questions open, of resisting premature conclusions, and of making space for uncertainty as an active condition rather than a lack.

Looking ahead, I am not so much planning a new direction as continuing a trajectory. The coming period will focus on deepening questions around signals, material interactions, and the conditions under which things become perceptible or operative. I want to keep working at the threshold, where things are sensed but not yet named, where form has not fully settled.

This year did not bring closure, but it did bring a clearer sense of where I am standing. And for now, that feels enough.

Happy New Year to you all.