Music once required presence. It had to be made, together, in time. Even when guided by notation or shaped by lyrics, it still depended on collective coordination for its existence. Recording breaks this dependency.
With recording, music no longer needs to happen again in order to act again. A particular unfolding of sound — and with it, a particular modulation of readiness — can be replayed indefinitely, without renegotiation, without re-attunement, and without the bodies that originally produced it.
This is not simply a technical convenience. It is an ontological transformation.
Music as Event, Once More
Before recording, music existed only as event. Each performance was a fresh coordination: timing adjusted to the room, to the bodies present, to the contingencies of the moment. Even repetition required re-actualisation. Readiness was generated locally and collectively.
Notation could specify possibilities; lyrics could direct attention; theory could constrain form. But none of these removed the need for music to be made again in order to act again.
Recording does.
The Separation of Sound from Occasion
A recording detaches sound from the situation that produced it. What is preserved is not merely a sequence of tones, but a specific readiness profile: tempo, intensity, phrasing, escalation, release.
Once captured, this profile becomes portable. It can be activated anywhere, anytime, by anyone — without shared context, shared history, or shared intention.
Readiness is no longer co-produced. It is delivered.
Repetition Without Re-coordination
This is the crucial shift. Recorded music enables repetition without the need for renewed coordination. The same readiness pattern can be imposed repeatedly, identically, across contexts.
Bodies learn this timing directly. Familiarity accumulates without interpretation. Anticipation is trained through exposure, not through meaning or instruction.
In this way, repetition stabilises readiness beneath semiosis. No proposition is learned. No belief is required. The body is simply tuned.
From Coordination to Environment
As recording proliferates, music ceases to be an event and becomes an environment. It fills spaces rather than convening gatherings. It regulates mood, pace, and attention while demanding little or nothing in return.
In shops, workplaces, vehicles, gyms, and domestic spaces, recorded music operates as ambient readiness modulation. It scaffolds activity, smooths transitions, and dampens friction.
Music no longer gathers bodies together; it prepares bodies wherever they already are.
Scale, Power, and Asymmetry
Recording also introduces a new asymmetry. Those who design, select, and distribute recordings acquire the ability to shape readiness at scale. The many are tuned by the few; the present is shaped by the absent.
This power is subtle precisely because it is non-semiotic. It does not persuade or command. It prepares. It inclines. It makes some actions easier and others harder, without ever needing to speak.
Modern institutions quickly learn to exploit this capacity.
What Recording Enables — and What It Costs
Recording enables:
transmission across vast distances,
preservation beyond living memory,
intimate, repeatable encounters with music.
But it also costs:
local negotiation of timing,
collective emergence,
the contingency of live coordination.
Readiness becomes standardised. What once varied with circumstance now repeats with mechanical fidelity.
Again, this is not a lament. It is a description of a new condition.
Toward Automation
Recording is not the endpoint. It is the hinge. Once readiness can be stabilised and replayed, it can also be selected, scheduled, combined, and optimised. Algorithms follow naturally.
At this point, music no longer merely coordinates bodies or aligns meanings. It participates in the ongoing organisation of possibility itself — continuously, invisibly, and at scale.
When music repeats, readiness endures. And when readiness endures, the conditions of action quietly change.