Authentic Audio—Part 1

I have been a music-listening freak ever since, as an 8-year-old kid, I discovered what it was like to listen to 78 RPM records on my aunt's post-World War II Victrola. (I realize that many younger people today may not fathom a few terms in that sentence, so here's an abbreviated glossary. 78 RPM: the turntable rotational speed of primeval record players. Victrola: a generic term for some of those ancient machines. Post-World War II: the late 1940s and early 50s. Okay; we're on same page now?)

I discovered at this tender age the magic of listening to recorded music: I could play it over and over again—until I either knew the song by heart, or the record became too worn-out for me to tolerate the noise of its scratches and pops and clicks. Today's younger generation knows little about how analog records deteriorate with age or careless handling, as they can play a CD or other digital audio file endlessly and never wear it out.

So the experience of listening to modern digital music recordings is far superior to the old records, right? Well, that's not the case in some people's minds. There are many people in the last few years who have come to believe that the venerable 12-inch LP vinyl record represents the peak of music listening. In their minds it beats the digital CD, hands down. And speaking of digital sound reproduction, those MP3 formats pale in comparison to a good quality CD, don't they? There seems to be a backlash brewing, wherein some people prefer an LP to a CD, and many feel the MP3 is the pits.

What's going on here? What, after all, is the best format for music listening among these candidates? I have been skeptical of people who express these recent (retro) preferences, so I did some research to check into the validity of them. As a former acoustic engineer and ongoing music enthusiast, I wanted to delve into the matter and see what the truth is—if possible. I feel that some of the popularity of LPs, as well as the belittling of MP3s is a misunderstanding of the physics of music reproduction, and I sought to learn more.

Let me begin with what I found out about MP3s. This recording format was developed a few decades ago, as a means of reducing the size of the digital file required to store a song (either on a CD or any another digital format). It is based upon a rigorous analysis of the science of psychoacoustics—which tells us that the human ear cannot detect all of the content of a pure, live acoustic event, such as music. We are destined to remain ignorant of some of the information, due to the limitations of our ear and the brain's processing of the electrical signals received from the ear. So those working on developing the MP3 asked: if a CD can essentially reproduce all of the original signal, why record those parts of it that the ear cannot detect? Why waste storage space that is not needed? So recording engineers set out to reduce the size of the music file.

Their task was to measure what part of the original signal we can hear and delete the rest. Why not save just the important parts and throw away the part we can't hear? After many laboratory experiments, the MP3 format was settled upon. It discards nearly 90% of the digitized signal, thereby reducing the required kilobits of storage by a factor of 10! That huge savings is particularly important when you're streaming music over the internet. But what about the information that is lost? Does discarding so much of the original signal cheapen the experience?

More on MP3s and other audio topics next time...

It's Cold!

Frost over the front door--just from warm air escaping.

Deer Desperadoes

I wrote last year (“Masting Aftermath,” 12/26/12) about experiencing a heavy masting year for oak acorns. (The masting process is one in which oak trees somehow collaborate to grow a superabundance of acorns every few years, thereby coating the forest floor with far too many acorns for critters to eat—ensuring that some survive to grow the next generation's oak trees.) Everywhere I trekked in the woods last year, the ground was carpeted with countless acorns. I had to watch my step, lest I slip on them and fall.

So last winter the deer, squirrels, turkeys, and other critters were fat and happy—gorging themselves on the oaks' bounty. All that overindulgence came to a screeching halt this fall, as the trees were unusually stingy in their acorn crop. The result is severe hunger in the ranks of these acorn harvesters. I don't know how the squirrels and turkeys are faring, but we've seen lots of evidence of famished deer.

We depend on our free-roaming dogs to keep the deer from invading our garden, and they do a good job of it. A garden fence deters the deer to some degree, but the dogs love to chase any deer who takes a second look at the fence and is contemplating a jump over it into veggie heaven. So once again we made it through the summer with no deer incursions in the garden.

This fall has been a very different story, however. As foraging on tender plants in the woods was brought to a close by the beginning of cold weather and no backup supply of acorns was to be had this year, the deer have repeatedly invaded the clearing. Numerous shrubs and bushes do not get fenced, as the garden does. That is usually no problem, because I've chosen varieties of shrubs known to be shunned by deer.

Well, that may be true for normal years, but when starvation threatens, the deer become desperate. They'll eat most anything green, as well as many other types of barely edible plants. It's irritating as hell to go out in the morning and find that deer have devastated our holly, privet, and other evergreen shrubs.

It makes me wish I had caught one in the act with a large stone in my fist, which I could ricochet painfully off its butt. But when my wave of fury has subsided, I feel sympathy for their plight. What kinds of desperate actions might I take, if I were starving? I try to let go my ire at the severe damage they've caused. After all, most of those shrubs will probably recover next spring... or so I fervently hope.

But I can't help wishing their stolen meal gives them a big bellyache. If so, it might deter them from returning and finishing off what little of the plants they spared.

Treed

"Get that dog out of here and I'll come down."

Goldfinch Gallivantings

We have three kinds of birds that visit our feeder: (1) year-round residents who come most every day for a snack, (2) year-round residents who periodically come and go, and (3) migrants who we see either temporarily residing here through the summer or winter, or just passing through in the spring or fall.

American goldfinches fall into the middle category above: we may see them visit the feeder at all times of the year, but only for few days. A flock of them will hang around for a while and then disappear for a few weeks—to return again. (At least I believe I'm seeing the return of the same group, although it's possible that I'm seeing a new flock of finches each time.)

I call the goldfinch a "periodic" resident, because it doesn't leave for Central America for the winter or head north to Canada for the summer. We'll see them at all times of the year, but, as I wrote above, it has the interesting habit of hanging around the feeder for a few weeks, and then disappearing for a month or so. Goldfinches engage in what ornithologists call "irregular seasonal movements," which finds them roaming in groups—their current territory being determined by the availability of the food supply they find there.

Okay, so they are resident roamers. That fits my experience, as I see them come and go from time to time. But why leave for a spell, apparently seeking new sources of food, when I put seed out all year long? The other regulars at the feeder dine on the continuously-offered sunflower seeds—supplementing them with bugs; a good source of protein. Do the goldfinches get tired of sunflower seeds and wish to change their diet occasionally? I could buy special finch food (they love thistles), that might entice them to hang around, but that option gets kind of pricey for my wallet.

Ornithologists have a difficult time tracking the roaming habits of any type of songbird—especially the little guys like goldfinches. Most any radio tracking device is too heavy for them to carry around, so their roaming habits are not yet well understood. (Although this is another ornithological barrier about to be cracked, as new, ultralight transmitters have been developed and are being deployed.) Thus, I have no idea where our finches go when they depart, how far they roam, or even if the group we see is the same one. When I see a flock appear at the feeder, I wonder if it is old friends returning or new visitors coming in for a temporary feed. Maybe I'll figure this out before long.

It's another one of those mysteries you constantly encounter, when you come to observe closely the natural world's goings on. If you don't take the time to watch, you rarely notice these intriguing details, and you're unlikely to become interested enough to ask the questions that occur to you, once you do begin to pay attention. When I observe closely, I find that many questions begin forming a long queue in my head. I love it! It's what adds endless interest to my life, way out here in the woods.

Christmas Snow

This great photo taken by my friend Shell. (Click to enlarge.)

MOOC Manna—Part 2

I have listed some of the positive aspects of MOOCs that I enjoy. But they can't be the greatest thing since "sliced bread," so what are some of their downsides? Since they are a current, well-received phenomenon—if not exceedingly popular right now—do they as yet have a downside that has had a chance to show up? Well, yes, a few detractors have offered a few criticisms, or have asked a few pointed questions.

Are the MOOC courses being over hyped? Is the quality as high as advertised or expected? Will there be a letdown on the part of students who are led to expect too much from a course? What about access to the lecturer: there is little chance to have access to the professor, when thousands of students are taking the course. Some courses offer credit: How do you grade appropriately or avoid students cheating on tests? Of students who sign up, typically only 10% finish a course. With this dropout rate, what's really been accomplished by offering that course?

I recognize that some of these concerns are valid, but have either discarded them as not relevant for me or worked through them for my needs. But I have my own misgivings about MOOCs—mostly in the arena of money. Right now they are free and of high quality, but how long before greedy profit motives muck things up? At the moment, MOOCs are almost too good to be true, and I fear that commercial interests will spoil the treat or dilute the teachings. TV once (back in the 1950s) promised to be a medium of merit, but has degraded into shallow and trivial entertainment. Will the money grubbers eventually demand their pound of flesh from MOOCs?

Another concern I have about the future of MOOC manna: right now, MOOCs are being taught by highly-qualified professors, who I think may be offering these courses for several motivations (none of them money): (1) reaching a worldwide student audience, (2) exploring a new venue, and (3) teaching students who really want to be there. (Too many of today's university professors lecture to an audience of minimally-interested students.) How long will the teachers' enthusiasm last and how long will the high quality continue?

Who knows where the MOOCs will go? No one. In the meantime, I aim to take full advantage of their remarkable manna.