In music taste, tables turn

Peter Lo sits in the production studio of KSCU in the basement of Swig Hall. The red light atop the eleven-story high-rise blinks in perfect time, like a metronome, as if it were an indicator for someone who'd just pressed a giant record button.

Inside, the red light on my digital recorder blinks similarly as I interview Lo. He rummages around with the sound and recording equipment, turning it on.

Lo is the production director at KSCU, the university's student-run radio station. He describes the role as being in charge of "anything that involves digital manipulation of sounds," including any "This is KSCU" promos you might hear between songs on the radio station.

But Lo's true love at the radio station is creating mash-ups -- taking elements from two or more existing songs and creating a new piece out of them. He plays his mash-ups during his Monday on-air time slot.

Lo is part of a new wave of musicians and music makers, the kind that didn't exist a hundred years ago. These artists mesh together music and technology, but produce the same result that has been around for thousands of years -- creativity.

This largely unexplored hub is redefining the notion of success in musicianship -- even redefining the idea of musicianship itself. It is a positive redefinition, broadening it, making it more relevant to the masses.

While there may be the classical purists who contend the doors are being opened too wide, there is a more egalitarian message at work: Music is for all to enjoy.

The room looks exactly how you would think a college radio station should look: obscure stickers on the windows, recording equipment, boom microphone stands and a wall of vinyl.

"My gateway, my entry drug, was hearing my friend make some mixes," Lo says, setting up his MacBook and opening a program. He is garbed in a KSCU t-shirt.

On the screen of his computer, there is a program open with a list of songs on one side of the screen and another list on the other side. The program, called Traktor, essentially acts as two turntables and a speaker. He sets his computer beside two actual turntables and speakers.

"It's really fun feeling the music, having that tactile sensation," he says when I ask him about the turntables. He lifts the needle up and moves it to certain points on the record. "But unfortunately, I'm more accurate using hot keys."

He clicks around and displays the program. Using hot keys is the process of assigning different sounds in a song to different keys on a computer keyboard.

He demonstrates using Daft Punk's "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger," a popular gateway to electronica thanks to Kanye West's prominent sample of it in his 2007 hit "Stronger" -- to the chagrin of some purist Daft Punk fans. He layers the song over a jazz beat that quotes Louis Prima's 1936 swing hit "Sing, Sing, Sing (With a Swing)."

"Fa-fa-fa-faster," the Daft Punk talk box robot voice sings over the brass section as Lo repeatedly hits a key on his computer.

There is a Benny Goodman record in the Big Band section of the vinyl shelf. I imagine Goodman looking confused.

Part of Lo's job description as production director is teaching others how to make mash-ups and use software so they can make their own, a luxury he didn't have while he was starting out.

"I really wish I did have someone to help me out when I was first learning, because it would have increased the process so much," he said. He says the word "so" like there should be a few more o's after it.

"I mean, that's why I'm a production director now, because I want to be that resource for people who really want to get into this sort of stuff," he explains.

Fifteen minutes into our interview, the batteries in my recorder die. So much for technology, I say to myself.

Lo offers to record the rest of the interview using the recording equipment we conveniently have in front of us.

He plays some of his original mash-ups. "What I specialize in is actually taking American beats and using Asian pop music with it," he says.

He plays a mash-up of the Pussycat Dolls and Japanese pop singer Kumi Koda.

"More than anything it involves a lot of listening," he explains. "What would go well with this song? What would make this song sound even better?"

He describes the structures and format of songs, stressing the importance of being able to recognize all of the individual parts of songs, like intros and outros.

"There will be a break in the song. This is just an empty gap. Maybe the mid to high ranges are just really empty, so I'll try putting something in there," he says. "And most of the time, most of the time, whenever I do try putting something in there, it sounds like absolute crap."

He goes into the tediousness of beat matching -- making sure the beats of two songs are aligned. He mentions the helpfulness of knowing basic musical properties like rhythm and pitch. He plays me what he considers to be his best mix -- a mash-up of nineteen songs. "It's always fun to see how many songs you can fit in there," he says. "But I don't think you'd really get it unless you listened to Korean music."

Lo explains his relatively new affinity for Asian music, having only really discovered it this fall. This prompts me to inquire about his ethnic background.

"No, I don't mind you asking. I'm hapa," he says. "I'm half Chinese, and then mostly Polish. But half Chinese for the most part." As he says this, his mash-up plays faintly in the background, Asian lyrics sung over an American dance beat.

Across campus, Teresa McCollough sits in her office in the Music and Dance Building. Outside her door, music also plays faintly in the background.

Horns, multiple pianos and strings all emit sound waves into the atmosphere, coming from the numerous practice rooms that line the second-floor hallway. Lingering "tas" and "ta-ki-ti-kis" come from students reciting rhythm exercises. It's midterms week in the music building.