The Register

climaxgoldentwins.com — an unofficial listener's archive of a records-and-field-recordings practice, filed by the work.

Unofficial · not affiliated · not endorsed

Scores · Entry 03

Diegetic or not

The score that could be coming from a speaker in the corner of the room — and what that uncertainty does to a viewer.

Vintage brown radio with woven speaker grille and four control knobs on wooden stand
A hum that could be the building's wiring is never filed as music, so the viewer keeps processing it.Photo: Rulo Davila / Pexels

The productive blur

Diegetic sound belongs to the world of the film: the radio playing in the kitchen, the band at the back of the bar. Non-diegetic sound belongs to us alone, the audience — underscore the characters cannot hear. The distinction is taught as a binary, but a composer working with texture rather than melody has something the orchestral scorer rarely gets: the ability to sit exactly on the line between them.

A sustained hum at 50 or 60 Hz could be the building's electrical wiring. A low creak could be the chair the protagonist is about to sit in. Surface noise from a shellac disc could be an old radio left on in the next room. None of these sounds announce themselves as score. The viewer's brain, trying to locate where sound is coming from, does not immediately file them under music and stop processing. They stay active, unresolved, slightly alarming — which is precisely the point.

This is the mechanism that makes texture-based scoring so effective in scenes that require dread without event. The viewer cannot relax into the conventional listener's posture, the one that says this is the soundtrack, it signals how I should feel. Instead the sound behaves like an object in the room, and the room feels wrong.

A portable field recorder with a windshield on a fence post
Placed on a surface the recorder takes the building. Held in the hand it takes the recordist as well.

The technique is fragile in one specific way: if the texture is too clearly musical — if it has audible pitch movement, a recognisable rhythm, any quality that reads unmistakably as composed — the ambiguity collapses. The sound gets filed, the spell breaks. The restraint required is genuine. What works is material that could have been recorded rather than written: field recording passed through light processing, a bowed string held without vibrato, a room tone that has been shaped rather than generated. The edit is the composition, and the composition hides its own hand.

Filmmakers who use this approach describe the effect in terms of space: the sound does not push the viewer toward an emotion, it changes the room the viewer believes they are sitting in. That shift — from theatre seat to uncertain interior — is what diegetic ambiguity achieves that a cue marked tension, swell to cut never can. It works because it refuses to be identified.

A turntable with a worn shellac disc, tonearm down
Speed, direction, stylus pressure and needle position — four controls, none of them playback settings here.Photo: Bothe R.H. / Pexels