Reimagining Chion’s Three Listening Modes through Intersensorial Paradigms [PHILLIPS 2019]

Hegemonic discourses in perceptual studies have led to narrow, rigid definitions of sound and listening that cater almost exclusively to those with (what have been deemed as) “normal” hearing capabilities, while failing to account for the varied perceptual experiences of d/Deaf and otherwise hearing diverse individuals. While Michel Chion’s three listening modes highlight a critical variance in types of listening, his analytical framework ultimately contributes to this altogether incomplete and ableist discourse, in that they do not account for the diverse reality of listening practices. This post aims to reimagine Chion’s three modes through the incorporation of intersensorial paradigms that are inclusive of d/Deaf individuals in conversations regarding sound and listening.
1.     Causal Listening, defined as “listening to a sound in order to gather information about its cause (or source)” (Chion 48).
Chion’s explanation of causal listening describes the ways in which visual cues might contribute to one’s ability to identify a source. In this explanation, however, while there exists an interplay between the visual and the auditory, they are regarded as two separate entities. A more inclusive discussion might propose a framework that introduces vision as a form of listening in and of itself. Jessica A. Holmes (in “Expert Listening beyond the Limits of Hearing: Music and Deafness) highlights that “for some d/Deaf people, vision is altogether a more reliable listening technique than vibration” (210). In this sense, proposing vision as a form of listening, rather than a supplement, accounts for (some) d/Deaf experiences where the aural and visual are inextricably intertwined. 

Guitar strings in slow motion demonstrate that sound is much more than its aural qualities alone!
2.     Semantic listening, defined as a mode “which refers to a code or language to interpret a message” (Chion 50).
Chion goes on to classify semantic listening as “spoken language, of course, as well as Morse and other such codes” (Chion 50). What is absent from this list is non-spoken languages, such as American Sign Language, as well as semantic listening in the form of lip reading and other diverse practices that fall outside of the realms of spoken languages and codes. Additionally, Holmes introduces the notion that this “interpretation” may also occur through sensory rather than linguistic processes, such as vibration. As applied to music, specifically, she describes how “vibration is a rather conceptual vehicle for understanding music as the transfer or energy across time, space, and bodies” (189). While she cautions against generalizing the prominence of vibrational interpretation in d/Deaf communities, it nevertheless provides an additional and inclusive listening practice that has not yet reached “mainstream” conversations.
3.     Reduced listening, defined as a mode that “focuses on the traits of the sound itself, independent of its cause and of its meaning” (Chion 50).
Chion grounds this “emotional, physical, and aesthetic” (51) listening practice, based upon timbre and texture, almost exclusively in academic and high arts contexts. (Connecting its use to cinematographers, directors, and musicians) But this type of listening is by no means unique to high arts; Holmes instead emphasizes how “Deafness only deepens musicology’s sense of what music is – its social, relational, and material contours” to illustrate the unique constellation of perception that composes d/Deaf listening experiences – a constellation not unlike Chion’s description of reduced listening.
While Michel Chion's three listening modes lay an insightful foundation for understanding complex and ever evolving listening practice, his altogether ableist framework would benefit greatly from the inclusion of intersensorial perspectives on sound and listening. Sound studies and musicology scholars play a key role in building inclusive and representational imaginaries that highlight diverse biocultural realities, rather than perpetuate narrow, generalized discourses. 


Sources: 
Chion, Michel, "The Three Listening Modes," inThe Sound Studies Reader, ed. Jonathan Sterne, New York City: Routledge, 2012. 
Holmes, Jessica A., "Expert Listening beyond the Limits of Hearing: Music and Deafness," Journal of the American Musicological Society, Vol 70, Number 1, 2017. 
Mascarúa, Ruy. "Guitar strings vibrating." Posted [March 2018]. Youtube video, 0:28. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XOCGb5ZGEV8


Comments

Elaine Kim said…
As a former musician, the act of reading music has become somewhat of a second nature to me. However, since quitting my instrument two years ago and reading Carrie’s blog post, I have come to realize how standard musical notation has made music more accessible. While the act of reading music is primarily visual and therefore could fall into Carrie’s definition of casual listening, it could also be interpreted as a form of all three modes of listening. Music can be thought of as a medium for delivering a message. Throughout my time in orchestra, my conductor would often emphasize the messages that composers had written into their symphonies and importance of identifying, understanding and delivering those messages when performing. Therefore, the act of reading music can be classified as a form of semantic listening: interpreting the message that a composer has written into their piece. The act of reading music involves a kind internal listening and “playing”; when reading music, I would oftentimes “hear” the piece in my head as if someone was playing it in front of me. However, the way a piece is internally “heard” differs from musician to musician; it depends on a person’s own experiences with playing, hearing and reading music. The act of reading music is an act of perception and therefore can also be classified as a form of reduced listening.
Maggie said…
I completely agree with your criticism of Chion's frameworks, and I really appreciate the alternative ideas you've proposed! I think our analysis of sound and media definitely benefits from a skeptical lens toward ableist norms, language, and expectations (among many other things). I especially like your proposed amendment for Chion's third mode of listening, reduced listening, as incorporating sound and music not only from the "high arts". We discussed this a lot in Professor Steigerwald's class last semester, but I think the categorization of high arts - and further, modes of listening that can only be utilized for this category - creates more exclusivity, further illustrating how our thinking regarding sound strays from inclusivity. Your reference to American Sign Language reminded me of some topics discussed in my Intro to Linguistics class. In linguistics, ASL is broken down into syllables much like spoken language; the syllable is usually associated with part of one hand gesture, much like how a syllable in spoken language is associated with part of one word. In addition, linguists (or at least the linguists mentioned in my textbook, as well as my professor) are adamant that ASL be considered as a language equal to spoken languages. I think that this utilization in the linguistic world is a good example of how we can be more inclusive in our discussion of listening to sound and the sort of rhetoric used when attempting to define concepts.
This is such a thoughtful reconsideration of Chion's Modes of Listening. I agree that it's important to acknowledge that hearing is not necessrily the foudnation of listening experiences, and I appreciate this dismantling of sensory hierearchies. I think it would be interesting to apply a similar eye to voice. Specifically, I belive this relates to our discussion of Stephen Hawking's voice in class the other day!
WOW!! I think you did a great job of complicating Chion’s frameworks and interrogating ableist analysis in general. Do you think there are ways we can talk about specific auditory experiences at all without them being dominated by ableist discourse? I think what I’m thinking about is how do we speak to and speak of sense-specific experience without it being inherently embroiled in exclusion?
Dylan said…
I'm a big fan of calling out ableism, especially in situations when it isn't obviously apparent. I often hear ableism discussed in the context of physical accessibility, no curb cuts, accessible bathrooms, elevator access, etc., which are obviously important, but I think many human acts able-bodies consider second nature, hearing, speaking, eating, breathing, don't get much attention in ableism discussions. Your critique makes me think of our discussion on whether or not Stephen Hawking's voice is truly a voice. I would argue that labeling Hawking's voice as just sounds, not truly a voice the way mine is, is an inherently ableist view, the same way you argue that Chion's framework for categorizing listening is inherently ableist.