Sounds and Emotions

“Ooh! Ahh! Yay! Ouch! Ugh! Grrr!” We have all heard these sounds before, and the second they hit our eardrums, we knew exactly what the speaker was feeling. I have been quite curious about the interrelations between sounds and emotions, and in this blog, I hope to bring up some interesting points regarding the expression of emotions through sounds.

Have you ever noticed that when we produce expressive sounds, we tend to use both standard phonemic sounds and non-phonemic ones? For example, “ahhh!” and “oooh!” clearly consist of common phonemic sounds that English speakers use on a regular basis. But what about the denti-alveolar click [ǀ] we make to show disapproval or regret? Interestingly enough, although not found in English, this sound is found in languages in Africa and in the Danim language of Australia. But why do we make these atypical sounds? The best reason I could come up with is that vocabulary in language is limited. We, humans, are too mentally advanced to express all of our ideas and all of our emotions with just the 250,000 words found in the English dictionary. We are forced to use body movements, facial expressions, changes in intonation, and meaningful sounds to express our thoughts. Sometimes, we must even resort to using unusual sounds that are not found in our own language to transmit our feelings. Also, wordless sounds can sometimes convey feelings much better than a simple statement. That is, sighing when feeling sad and groaning while in pain are more meaningful than saying “I am sad” or “I am in pain” and the same is true for laughing and chuckling, when feeling positive emotions.

Our emotions are reflected by not only segments but also by suprasegmental features of speech. In File 2.5, we learned that intonation, the “pattern of pitch movements across a stretch of speech,” greatly influences the meaning of a sentence (e.g. the rising and falling intonations at the end of a sentence change its functional type), but what about the emotions being conveyed? Intuitively, it seems obvious that the variation in high and low notes in a speaker’s utterances reflects his or her emotions. This brings me to emotional prosody, the study of perception of feelings transmitted through speech. A very interesting study dissected an over-the-phone dialogue between the protagonists Jerry and Rod (played by Tom Cruise and Cuba Gooding Jr. respectively) in the movie Jerry Maguire (1996). The conversation occurred when Jerry, a sports manager, feared that he might lose his last client, Rod, a famous football player. The duration, intensity, and frequency of Jerry’s voice were measured, and it was concluded that the amount of stress felt by Jerry throughout the dialogue had a positive correlation with the increase in duration, rise of intensity, and frequency of his words. This may not be too surprising as over a century ago, Charles Darwin noted in his book, The Descent of Man, that “even monkeys express strong feelings in different tones – anger and impatience by low, – fear and pain by high notes.”

Ultimately, expression of emotions is a vital aspect of language. The different sounds we produce and the different ways and contexts in which we produce them all play essential roles in the messages we attempt to communicate. 

Through the “Inferior” Lens: The ‘Mis’conception of African American Vernacular English in American Society

Last class when we discussed the legitimacy of certain words, it reminded me of my research two summers ago with Professor John Rickford, which led me to ask a question of how AAVE might relate to this lack of acceptance in the English language. Last lecture reintroduced me to African American Vernacular English (AAVE), also referred to as Black English (BE), and the controversial exclusivities of languages and their dialects.

In society, certain dialects are categorized as acceptable according to the standard form of that language spoken in that community. Grammatical prescriptivism can be loosely defined as the established usage rules for "good grammar". Prescriptivism and the Standard-English-speaking society have drawn a line between the "proper" usage of the English Language and the "improper" usage, viewed as lesser sub-par form of Standard English (SE) that only debases the original language. "Speakers of nonstandard varieties are often made to feel ashamed of their own dialect while being taught the standard one" (Harley, English Words: A Linguistic Introduction, 267). This prejudice applies to AAVE, as a sub-standard dialect to SE or more specifically, Standard American English (SAE).

A characteristic feature of AAVE that opposes the "proper" form of prescriptive grammar, is its usage of double negatives, as introduced in our class with the word ‘irregardless’. In this post I plan to point out the complexity of multiple negation and its close relation to the same linguistic prescriptive rules in other “developed languages”.

Black English "is indeed systematic in its own right and as effective in communication as any other variety of English. Speakers follow rules of pronunciation, grammar (syntax and morphology), and vocabulary" (Field, Bilingualism in the USA, 116). Although Black English does not follow the standard rule for negation, grammar is not absent in this dialect; rather, the language possesses a nonstandard grammatical construction, recreating the base language in a different order. And, the rules that are established, are picked-up "through exposure and experimentation" (John R. Rickford and Russell J. Rickford, Spoken Soul), in "pronouncing, modifying and combining words" (Rickford and Rickford) within our community.

The problem with double negation, according to SE, and other languages like Latin and German that are not negative concord languages, is that one would not know whether a speaker is creating an affirmative statement or a negative statement, trying to add emphasis to the negativity of whatever is being discussed. Double negatives present a simple contradiction to formal logic; in fact, from a mathematical point-of-view: in English we have [S = X*Y*Z --> (-S) = (-X)*Y*Z [1]], which logically makes sense. An odd number of negatives create a negative statement, and an even number of negative elements in a sentence indicate an affirmative statement in SE. 

Whereas, in Black English: [S = X+Y+Z --> (-S) = (-X)+(-Y)+(-Z) [2]]. Although it is not grammatically acceptable to use a double negative in SE, there is double negation in other languages (e.g. Spanish, French, Portuguese, Persian, Russian, Ukrainian) that is meant to create emphasis in conversation, the second negatives are seen as reinforcing the first negative. AAVE grammar moves negative verbs like ain’t and can’t to the front of a sentence, “however, you can only move the verb to the front if the subject of the sentence is a negative quantifier like nobody or nothing” (Rickford and Rickford). Therefore, a subject like Julie or woman could not be considered negative quantifiers. If we replaced Julie or woman for nobody, the statement would lose its emphatic sassy punch at the beginning of the sentence.

In general, we are not really aware of how we are speaking in conversation. Ingrown languages develop organically through speech, which is why languages are illogical, disheveled, and intricate. Which is why, ‘irregardless’ a word that’s structure is double negation, is used regularly without hesitance of improper use. In that even AAVE or BE that is usually considered a “simple”-minded language is a complex dialect that has rules that statements must follow to be considered grammatical. The living form of language is oral and adapted through speech, rather than writing, which allows speakers to speak without consciously considering the prescriptive rules. Instead, speakers are subjected to descriptive rules in conversing, which are the analysis of the way the language is actually used by its speakers, not how it should be spoken, like the restrictive grammatical forms in prescriptive grammar.

[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Talk%3ADouble_negative#Definition_of_.22Double_Negative.22

[2] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Talk%3ADouble_negative#Definition_of_.22Double_Negative.22

Language, Culture, and Identity

After my sophomore year of college, I decided to take a year off to live and work in Argentina.  Having studied Spanish for over five years, I left the United States feeling very confident in my Spanish-speaking abilities.  However, I quickly discovered that the years I spent inside the classroom had done little to prepare me for the foreign language experience I was about to have.  My experience in Argentina revealed to me the importance of language in reflecting cultural attitudes and building self-identity.

Just minutes after touching down in Cordoba, Argentina, I began to see the difference between Argentinian Spanish and the Spanish I had learned in school.  When the customs official turned to me and asked, “¿Hablas Castellano?”, I feared I had landed in the wrong country.  Turns out, the Spanish spoken in Argentina is commonly referred to as Castellano, a name that reflects the language’s Castillian origin.  I quickly learned why:  Most of the words I learned in Spanish class were pronounced differently in Castellano.  For example, the “ll” sound which usually represents the [ j ] sound is pronounced as a [ ʒ ] sound in Castellano.  The word "tu", which translates to the informal “you” in most Spanish speaking countries does not exist in Argentina, which instead has its very own informal you (“vos”) and accompanying set of verb conjugations.  

This unique Argentinian variation of Spanish reflects a larger cultural theme.  Many Argentinians consider themselves different from other South Americans.  Many will say they identify as Europeans just as much or more than they identify as South Americans.  This cultural attitude is reflected in their unique vernacular, which sets their country apart from other Spanish-speaking ones.  In addition, Argentinian slang demonstrates strong European influences.  If you listen to an Argentinian speak Spanish, you might almost mistake it for Portuguese or Italian for its intonation, pronunciation, and borrowed words.

Furthermore, the Argentine vernacular reflects the country's cultural values surrounding the nature of work.  One striking example of this is that in Argentine Spanish, the phrase “¿Qué haces?”, which directly translates to “What do you do?”, actually means “How are you doing?”. In the US, the question “What do you do?” is often one of the first asked when getting to know someone, reflecting that our culture places a strong emphasis on one’s career in determining personal identity.  In contrast, Argentinian’s place less value on work as a component of self identity.  The fact that the phrase “¿Qué haces?” takes on a different meaning in a social setting shows that Argentinians consider work to be a smaller factor in one’s self identity.  

Language also played an important role in my own identity when living in Argentina.  Although I was fluent enough in Spanish to express any thought I wanted to convey, I wasn’t always able to do so in the exact, precise way that I wanted to, or with the degree of eloquence that I was accustomed to in English.  My unsophisticated speech had a surprisingly strong effect on my self-identity.  My inability to speak in more complex, nuanced ways made me feel less intelligent when expressing my thoughts.  

When I returned to the states, I brought my Argentinian Spanish back with me.  Back home, my Mexican friends would tease me for my Argentinian accent, suggesting that my new accent made me sound stuck-up and arrogant.  My identity, too, had been shaped by the language.  

My experience in Argentina gave me my first glimpse into the power of language in both reflecting and shaping human culture and identity.  An intriguing follow-up would be exploring the circumstances in which language simply reflects culture and identity and those in which it actually creates and shapes it.

You can’t always count on your language: The curious case of the Pirahã

On the banks of the Maici River in the jungle of Northwest Brazil lie the Pirahã, a hunter-gather people who number around 700. Their language is extremely interesting for many reasons, for one they have only eight consonants, three vowels, and ten phonemes, yet they have an extremely complicated system of whistles and intonations that allow for the language’s complexity. Yet, the thing most interesting about the Pirahã language is that it has no vehicle for numeracy— the Pirahã people can’t count. This raises questions about the nature of Linguistic Relativity, as this case clearly suggests that one’s language is key in the knowledge of numbers, and thus numeracy is not hardwired. 

Pretty much all we know about the Pirahã comes from Christian-evangelist-turned-secular Linguist Daniel Everett. Everett was sent to evangelize the Pirahã people with his family back in the 70’s, after those before him had failed to learn such an impermeable language. What Everett discovered is that the language has no words for discrete numbers. What the Pirahã do have is three words which can be used to broadly approximate a notion of quantity: hói, a “small size or amount”, hoí, a “somewhat larger size or amount”, and baágiso, which can mean either to "cause to come together" or "a bunch.”

Surely the Pirahã must have developed some ad-hoc way of counting that doesn’t require words? In fact, they haven’t— the Pirahã demonstrably cannot count beyond three. Everett performed an experiment where he showed the tribespeople a row of items on a table, then took them out of view, asking the subjects to put the same amount of objects back onto the table. When there were more than three items the subjects failed most of the time. What’s more the Pirahã have a history of being exploited by traders who have abused their lack of numeracy skills- something they hoped Everett could help them with, although after eight months of work they failed to grasp numerical ability. 

Everett also claims that the Pirahã have no notion of color over than “light and dark”, and they have a dissimilar relationship to time also, having no form of history of their ancestors. Everett has claimed that the Pirahã live “completely in the present”- perhaps an idealization on the part of Everett but interesting nonetheless.  

The Pirahã need to be studied further. Everett is considered the only scholar to have worked on the Pirahã language, and other scholars need to learn it and perform similar experiments in order to verify Everett’s claims. With that said, the language is a remarkable example of Linguistic Relativity. One final remark: It is amusing that while many non Pirahã view the language as an inferior- described as “chicken language” by those living near to the Pirahã, the same applies the other way around:  the Pirahã “consider all forms of human discourse other than their own to be laughably inferior, and they are unique among Amazonian peoples in remaining monolingual”.

Link to Piraha being spoken https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SHv3-U9VPAs

Articles used: 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pirah%C3%A3_language

http://www.slate.com/blogs/lexicon_valley/2013/10/16/piraha_cognitive_anumeracy_in_a_language_without_numbers.html

http://www.theguardian.com/world/2008/nov/10/daniel-everett-amazon

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pirah%C3%A3_people

The Power of Abstraction

          While reading an amazingly interesting excerpt by S.I. Hayakawa from his book Language in Thought and Action (an ridiculously relevant and intriguing read that I think everyone in Ling 1 would benefit from) I was struck by the thought that abstraction in an integral part of language and semantics that affects much of our grammar and thinking processes. Based on some of the points Hayakawa made and my own thoughts I will briefly talk about the relationship between abstraction and semantics and between abstraction and thought, hoping to open a discussion about the effects of abstraction on linguistics.

            To begin a definition of abstraction for this post is needed. For the remainder of this post I will refer to abstraction as the idea that “the word is not the thing” or that “the symbol is not what is symbolized” (Hayakawa). In terms of linguistics that idea applies directly to the fact that the words we are using are not actually what is being discussed. Also it refers to the idea that smaller ideas can be abstracted into more broad concepts and terms. The idea of abstraction comes into our study of linguistics very directly; both studies of morphology and phonology have abstractions built into them.  Phonology involves phonemes and allophones, phonemes being the symbol that represents all of the symbolized allophone sounds. Morphology following a similar pattern with morphemes representing the class of actualized allomorphs.

            By framing the idea of phonology and morphology as examples of abstraction it can become clearer how the idea of linguistics is a study of the relationships between abstracted topics. In class we discussed the idea that certain allophones are not reproducible across all spoken languages, even when those languages have the same phonemes. We now have an idea that while multiple languages can have an understanding and an ability to use a certain morpheme that they cannot understand all of its more specific parts. Said another way, multiple languages can comprehend an abstracted idea, but they cannot use all of the more specific parts. Hayakawa refers to this idea as the “ladder of abstraction” (Hayakawa), the idea that as you abstract an idea more and more it becomes more inclusive and understandable but one loses sight of what actual idea is being represented.

            The previous argument is a singular and slight example that brings to light the more complicated and interesting linguistics question: how does abstraction in language alter thought? To frame this problem consider how certain languages cannot understanding specific allophones while understanding the overall phoneme. Now consider if this problem extends to more than simply specific voiced sounds, but to strings of voiced sounds, entire words, or sentences. What does it say about communication that an abstracted idea could be understood while its less abstracted parts were not intelligible. For example using the ladder of abstraction as described by Hayakawa we can say that two different languages might exist, one with an understanding of a cow, and another without that understanding. But as we abstract the idea of cow from cow to farm animal, to farm asset, to asset, to monetary representation. The idea that by the time we get to monetary representation almost all languages will have some sort of understanding of that concept that can then be used to describe the cow, makes me question the value of specific language.

            At its most core this post aims to question how language shapes our understanding of the world around us. I aimed to do this specifically by introducing the idea of abstraction as part of our semantic usage that can easily alter how we understand and communicate with others.

Citations:

Hayakaw, S. I. Language in Thought and Action. New York: Harcourt, 1972.

Wearing a Foreign Language

I grew up in the Western United States, and I consider the cot-caught merger to be present in my speech.  I have visited the East Coast a few times, but it has never occurred to me to adjust my speech to reflect the vowel distinction.  One reason to do so might be to receive better service, under the assumption that people will treat customers or patrons better who are perceived to be locals.  It is precisely for this reason, however, that I have never tried.  To modify my speech for such a purpose feels dishonest; I mentally distinguish between my own language and language of the "other."

As always, of course, such a distinction is very ambiguous.  This brings up the question of foreign loan words.  Many English speakers use foreign words to sound more culturally aware, exotifying the other to display a wider breadth of knowledge.  Think about Starbucks using grande and venti for their drink sizes.  I'm going to speak primarily about Japanese because that's where I have the most experience, but I believe what I'm saying is widely applicable to many languages.

Certain elements of Japanese culture are relatively familiar in mainstream Western culture.  Sushi and karaoke, for example, are two words I can write with reasonable confidence that most readers will understand.  Frequent sushi diners might extend that vocabulary to their favorites, perhaps knowing a piece of tuna as maguro and a cucumber roll as kappamaki.  People may display this knowledge with pride, as it is a reflection of their experience, and other people may applaud them accordingly.

On the other hand, take my dad.  Japanese was his first language, and he always pronounces karaoke "correctly" as [kɑɾɑokɛ] as opposed to the Westernized [kæɹioʊki].  In casual contexts, this accurate-to-Japanese pronunciation often sounds overly pedantic; it tends to come across as a judgmental correction of other people's ignorant pronunciation.  In the context of American college students chatting at their home campus, then, what is the most appropriate pronunciation?  Does this change if the same people are at a Japanese campus?  I find myself code-switching with this particular word all the time, but I always feel guilty when I do.

Of course, while we ponder how to integrate Japanese into English, the opposite question is being asked on the other side of the Pacific.  The Agency for Cultural Affairs recently released their annual report on Japanese usage, and the report includes, for example, the claim that 49.4% of people use the word パニクる [pɑnikuɾu] to mean "to panic."  Anecdotally, while studying abroad in Japan this past spring, I discovered that I could sometimes convey my thoughts by speaking English words in a Japanese accent even if the same English words without the accent garnered blank looks.  Was I being offensive?  I was never quite sure.  Barrelling forward with my usual English felt inconsiderate, since it was clearly not getting me anywhere.  Was the Japanese accent taking an extra step, showing that slight extra effort to meet my conversation partner halfway?

I believe it comes down to how comfortable I as a speaker feel in the clothing of my own language.  Certainly, some words like [pɑnikuɾu] are even more widespread, and there is no oddity in using it at all.  The concern is ultimately who is "local" enough to have the legitimacy to speak a certain way, and, as with the [kɑɾɑokɛ]/[kæɹioʊki] switch, what is appropriate in a given context.  This decision is no more unusual than deciding whether a business suit or a T-shirt is more appropriate depending on the day's events: each has its own place.

Phonetics in A Cappella

A cappella is a genre of music where the sound is only produced by the voice, no instrumentation. This may seem quite limiting, but the range of the human voice, not just in pitch, but in style as well, is amazing. For a standard four-part all male group, there are four voice parts. These are Tenor 1 (also known as Top), Tenor 2 (also known as Lead), Baritone, and Bass. A part is decided based off of things like range and strength in that range. Most groups also have one or more Beatboxers, or VP (Vocal Percussion). The VP adds an extra bit of flavor, and can complement a full-sounding group very well.

The three aspects of Phonetics are extremely important to an a cappella singer.

To start, articulatory phonetics focus on the production of speech sounds. This is the majority of what a group, or singer works on. A cappella singing can be very different from any other style of singing that usually involves a instrumental accompaniment. The “blend” of a group is extremely important, and the way to achieve a good blend starts with good articulation. One of the main things considered when auditions for a cappella groups come around is how well an auditionee will sound with a group. To test an auditionee’s blend, a group will typically have a few members sing with them to hear how they sound together.  The first run through is not extremely helpful in deciding, but after that run, the music director may give some input to the auditionee. Some of this input will have to do with articulation, a common phrase being “match their vowels”, referring to the other singers. When a quartet lines up their vowels on a solid chord, it’s a beautiful sound, and producing that with your voice is one of the things thats make a cappella so fun.

Different genres of music call for different types of articulation. One style, barbershop music, is extremely dependant on good articulation from the group to sound great. Vowel matching is crucial, and typically the vowel quality is rounded, or aims to be. In a lot of a cappella, all of the singers besides the soloist, if there is one, aim to not stick out from one another in vowels, consonant placement, breathing patterns, etc., unless of course it is intentional.

Intonation is arguably the most important aspect of any singer in general, not just for a cappella, being the clarity and accuracy of a singer’s pitch. This goes back to a singer’s range, and how precisely they can sing the different frequencies, or notes, that extend along that range. This also relates to tone, as defined in linguistics, as pitch differentiation is very important without instrumentation to provide a consistent pitch. This relates to auditory phonetics, as a good “ear” is an important quality for any musician, not just a singer.

Finally acoustic phonetics involve a finished product and putting it all together. On the less technical side, acoustics involve how the group sounds. This depends on a lot of things, such as the size of the group, the venue being performed at, whether or not there are electronic amplifiers and mikes, etc. The group has to decide what to sing and how to sing it based off of these options. A choral piece with a lot of dynamics and fine focus on articulation, such as “Ave Maria”, would probably not sound too great in a loud environment like CoHo, or an open area, like White Plaza, but would resonate and sound great somewhere like MemChu. Having a microphone opens a lot of possibilities for singers, but it is a huge difference for VP, where they can take advantage of the amplification to create a wider variety of percussive elements and sounds to complement the group.

On the more linguistics focused part of acoustics, there lies a defining factor of a cappella - harmony. The vocal folds produce a primary pitch, known as the source wave, although this is not the only frequency that is produced or heard from a singer. This wave repeats itself, creating harmonic frequencies that can be enhanced or diminished by the vocal tract. Besides the individual aspect of harmony, the term also extends to something noticed more auditorily. If a group’s parts sing different notes, they can create a harmony of frequencies much more powerful than a singer could produce on his or her own. This is what gives a cappella it’s unique sound, and what keeps it’s community coming back for more.

What other aspects of Linguistics do you think are important to a cappella, or even singing in general? Do you think that these qualities of phonetics are crucial for a singer to have? How much focus on Phonetics, and Linguistics in general, does learning formal singing technique involve?