We learned the first and second laws of thermodynamics in my 7th period physics class junior year. The first law of thermodynamics states that, in a closed system, the total energy, including heat, is conserved. The second law states that heat flows spontaneously from a hot body to a cool one, that one cannot convert heat completely into useful work, and that every isolated system becomes disorder with time. I stopped doodling long enough to copy these laws into a free corner of my notebook. 8th and 9th period ruminations didn't make the second law any more comfortable, so I went home and cried. Really.

Loscil is both the basic unit that Csound software uses to build a sampling synthesizer, and the pseudonym that Canadian sound designer Scott Morgan performs and records under when he's not drumming for Dan Bejar's Destroyer. I can only assume that Morgan, who has been active in the Vancouver music and new-media scene for some time, has put more than a few loscils to use; possibly even some loscil3's, which use fancy cubic interpolation schemes.

Triple Point, Loscil's debut record was titled for the point when the vapor, liquid, and solid phases of a material are all in equilibrium. And as it so happens, it's an ambient dub concept album about thermodynamics, created with samplers, synths, and a Powerbook. Sure, the idea has some potential, since the dark promise of thermodynamics' second law can bolster nihilism and elicit a very strong emotional response from humans, but the odds aren't on the side of success. After all, most people don't know much-- if anything-- about thermodynamics, and this combination can quickly equal bad art. Bard College might give 2\xBD credits for interpretive dances inspired by "Fuel Exergy," but that doesn't mean you want to listen to its audio counterpart on the way to work in the morning.

Triple Point begins where the periodic table does: the opening track is titled "Hydrogen." The song starts with a muted beat under a looped two-note synth melody, and then neatly adds elements to this base one at a time. It sounds more like Bergheim 34 at half-speed or Aphex Twin than any primary component of the universe to me, but somehow, the music seems like it might be anticipating something.

It anticipates more of the same. The second track, "Ampere," begins with the exact same formula as "Hydrogen." The drum machine starts with what sounds like a heart beating to a mutant rhythm, while the synthtone keeps the pacing of a respirator. While I wait for more sounds I hit the dictionary. "An 'Ampere' is equal to a constant current which when maintained in two straight parallel conductors of infinite length and negligible circular sections..." I notice a three-note melody of synth cello and a dance beat have been introduced. The last element to enter the song is clanking, irregular percussion. For the first time so far on Triple Point, the metallic beat sounds like something that might have been played by a human instead of processed by a sequencer. And though the sound is flatter and more contained than live drums, the excessively sterile quality of the rest of the record seems heightened when it drops out.

The next song, "Pressure," is actually an IDM cover of that ridiculous Billy Joel number. Oh! That was just my imagination! It's actually just spacy music that might lead one's mind to wander. "Pressure" is sparse, and filled with "pssst" noises that leak out with every long slow synth tone. At this point in the record, it becomes clear that Triple Point is less a musical interpretation of thermodynamics-- or a response to the implications of thermodynamics that some might find sad or frightening-- and more a recording of what these processes might sound like if they were closely miked. Morgan's digital dubs add detail to loops as they build throughout the songs, thus creating the impression of "listening in closer" to hear small bubbles popping and delicate echoes pulsating.

"Vapour" is Triple Point's haunted house. A sharp intake of air trails each programmed gong tone. The low ring shifts pitch as swarms of sound swing in and out. A ping-pong ball bounces once and then dribbles off. If the song was longer, the looped ping-pong ball would quickly become the aural equivalent of Chinese water torture. It brings to mind the work of electro-acoustic tape artist Francis Dhomont, who used samples like balls, chains, and gears almost cinematically to create spaces. While Loscil's work is based in rhythm and meditation unlike Dhomont's free compositions, the dampened beat and sterile synths he repeatedly uses on Triple Point could use some of Dhomont's creaks, cranks and flutters.

The concepts of thermodynamics are difficult to express in writing, music or art. Entropy and heat death are famous for being misused in tacky metaphors to explain chaotic social dynamics, atonal music, and relationships in need of therapy. Thomas Pynchon gave it a shot in his early story, "Entropy," but now is very critical of the piece. He's since written that the concept was so forced that the characters themselves were shortchanged. His advice to others is, "Get too conceptual, too cute and remote, and your characters die on the page." Triple Point might be inspired by thermodynamics, but Loscil's attempts to communicate these ideas through sound are forced. Sure, the placement and timing of the samples is finessed-- Morgan has a clear talent for arranging sound-- but after ten tracks, the muted beats and droning synths just sound dead. But then again, the "triple point" of a material marks a moment of stasis. So that might all be part of his plan.

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