Reading 2026-01 Test 3

A Maori fish hooks, made from wood, bone, stone and flax, are intended to have the best possible design and function. The hooks are designed to target specific species with precision. In the industry of commercial long-line fishing, there are some Maori hook designs which are making a splash. B When Polynesians first came New Zealand sometime within the years 1100-1300 AD, they didn’t have the technology necessary to heat and manipulate metal out of rocks. Meanwhile, fish was the settlers’ main food source at the time, so fishermen made their hooks and fishing gear out of wood, bone, stone and shells. Other plants native to the island of New Zealand, like as flax (harakeke), cabbage tree (ti) and astelia (kiekie) gave the necessary fibrous material to make fishing lines and nets of greater or equal strength to the jute, which was being used by the Europeans at the time. However, as a material, metal is more malleable, and can be changed into any shape, while natural materials are limited in the shapes they can take on. The Maori fish hooks needed to be more innovative in the ways that they dealt with these limitations. C Early accounts of Europeans who settled and explored New Zealand claimed that Maori hooks, known as matau, were “odd”, “of doubtful efficacy”, “very clumsy affairs” or “impossible looking.” Archaeologists from more recent times have also mentioned the round hook appearing as odd, with comments such as, “shaped in a manner which makes it very difficult to imagine could ever be effective in catching a fish.” William Anderson, who was aboard the Resolution during Cook’s third voyage in 1777 as the ship’s surgeon, commented that the Maori “live chiefly by fishing, making use…of wooden fish hooks pointed with bone, but so oddly made that a stranger is at a loss to know how they can answer such a purpose.” D The Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa did their own recent study on Maori fish hooks two hundred and thirty years later, and were able to demonstrate that the unique hook design was a matter of function. The hook’s design allowed it to catch fish by spinning away from the direction of the point and catching their jaws, instead of poking a hole through the fish or by being used as a lever, which some archaeologists also suggested. It seems that the design of the Maori fish hook is, perhaps, the world’s most efficiently and masterfully designed fish hook, likely superior to any modern metal fish hook of today. E To make larger hooks, Maori used shanks made of strong wood, with stout points made of bone or shell. They tied tree branches and saplings together to grow them into the ideal shapes for building, then harvested the plants when they grew to the appropriate size. They hardened wood by carefully drying it and burying underground with fires lit above it. Human bone was often used for bone points, which they lashed securely to a groove at the end of the shank with pre-made flax materials (muka). When they wanted to catch larger species like sharks, groper and ling, they used composite hook. However, average the traditional hook was usually not longer than a three finger breadth (128 mm length). F To capture seabirds for food and feathers, like albatross, the islanders used slender hooks which can be differentiated from other hooks intended to catch fish by their lighter build and lack of an inturned point. Many of these hooks were collected by early explorers, suggesting that the taking of seabirds with hook and line was an important source of food and feathers for Maori. (105 mm length). Slender hooks with wide gapes were used to capture albatross and other seabirds for food and feathers, and can be distinguished from hooks intended to catch fish by the lighter construction and lack of an inturned point. Early explorers collected many of these hooks which could indicated that catching seabirds with a hook and line provided significant amounts of food and feathers for the Maori. (105 mm length) G Maori adopted new materials quickly once they became available with European explorers, sealers and whalers who began to arrive towards the end of the 1700s. At this point, the Maori were still making their fish hooks, but now using metals and imported materials. Wooden and flax parts of old, abandoned fish hooks decomposed quickly as traditional hooks were cast away in favor of new ones. Tools made of luxury materials such as ivory or greenstone may have been kept around as decorations items, with stylized Maori fish hooks seen today as a symbol of cultural revitalization. H The Maori kept recreating traditional designs even as new materials poured in, preferring hook shapes which were introduced by Pakeha into the 1800s. By following the tradition of the rotating hook design, they remained connected with a part of their traditional culture. In the end, though, it was only a matter of time before the amount of mass-produced metal European hooks finally overwhelmed the area, highlighting the difficulty of making hooks from nails, horseshoes and other metal objects, and finally the use of the traditional designs fell out of favor. I By the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th century, tourists and collectors’ demands for Maori artifacts had grown, leading manufacturers to produce large quantities of forged hooks. These replicas were then traded with both Maoris and Europeans to use as forgeries of the real thing, sometimes directly commissioned by artifact dealers themselves. Fake hooks can be spotted by their cheap construction, inconsistent materials, rudimentary lashings, odd or over-elaborate decorative carvings, and finally, by the lack of in-turned points or angled grooves used to actually attach the fishing line. J The ways that matau have changed throughout their history is somewhat symbolic of how Maori have adapted to use European tools, materials and technology to their purposes over time, as well as the ways that European influence and technology contributed to, rather overtook, generally compatible Maori skills, and traditional materials were replaced or complemented by metals and, more recently, artificial materials. Commercial longline fishermen everywhere have begun using the circle hook design today, one that is nearly the same as the traditional matau in both its appearance and functionality. It seems that the advantages and improved catch rates of this Maori technology have been recognized once more.

A Singing is a tough business. Every vocal performance involves hundreds of thousands of micro-collisions of a thin pair of muscular strips called the vocal cords, located in the larynx in the throat. When we are breathing in, they remain apart; when we sing or speak, air is pushed up out of the lungs, and the edges of the cords come together in a rapid chopping motion. The air causes the cords to vibrate, creating sound. The greater the vibration, the higher the pitch, and when a soprano hits the highest notes, her vocal cords are vibrating 1,000 times per second. This transforms a burst of air from her lungs into a sound powerful enough to shatter glass. B Beautiful singing requires flexible cords, but the friction caused by prolonged overuse can erode their fine, spongy surface and lead to tiny bruises. Eventually, nodules, polyps, or cysts form on the vocal folds, distorting the sound they create. For a singer, the first sign of trouble is often the ‘wobble’: the voice fluctuates on and off key because the damaged cords have lost the ability to resonate properly. Often, there is a ‘hole’, a point on the musical scale where a singer’s vibrating vocal cords fail to produce the proper tone. The sound produced will be flat, or worse still, barely audible. C It was once unheard of for a singer to perform with a faulty voice. However, in recent times, it has become more common for performances to be interrupted, or even cancelled due to the inability of the performer to continue. Some opera singers complain of year-round cold symptoms, and steroid injections and numerous other drugs are often used to get a struggling singer through a performance. But continuing to sing can cause more damage and create voice-ruining scars, similar to when a football player continues to play with a damaged knee and eventually needs surgery. There is no precise data on the number of performers who have undergone surgical procedures, but it is estimated that thousands have been under the knife. Dusty theatres, stuffy airplane cabins, erratic eating and sleeping patterns, and stress all affect the vocal cords. Add to all this the occupational hazard— at least in opera and classical music— of taking on roles that require artists to sing beyond their natural range, and a singer’s cords become extremely susceptible to injury. D Will Crutchfield, a conductor and vocal coach, laments the fact that this vocal burnout is cutting short careers and diminishing the power of opera, and he feels that audiences have become accustomed to hearing voices which are not in peak condition. When he first highlighted the problem, he noticed that it didn’t affect singers until they were in their 30s, but now even singers in their 20s are undergoing medical procedures to save their careers. These injuries have been linked to a shift in what we consider quality singing. Across all genres, it has become normal to believe that louder is better, and singers are pushing their vocal cords like never before. New waves of medical research into dysphonia, or the inability to properly produce sound, bear this out. In the western world, vocal abuse is surprisingly common in all professions that rely on the voice, from schoolteachers to opera singers. E Steven Zeitels, a specialist vocal cord surgeon, believes that pioneering surgery is the way forward. He is working on a futuristic solution which will involve implanting a gel made of biomaterial in the tissue of damaged vocal cords to restore pliability, and therefore the voice. However, some research studies argue that surgery is not necessarily a lasting fix. According to Lisa Paglin, a singer turned voice coach, Zeitels has simply found a temporary remedy. ‘Unless a singer makes major changes, “return to performing” means a return to the vocal abuse that put him/her on the operating table in the first place.’ Her coaching partner Marianna Brilla agrees. ‘You cannot solve the problem by simply relieving the symptom.’ One observation Paglin and Brilla have made from working with older, classically trained singers is the way that they use the natural up-down release of the diaphragm to produce sound, rather than relying on their vocal cords. For Brilla, this represents a real discovery: the root of the problem today is in classrooms. She believes that students are graduating from music academies without having learned this natural singing method. In her opinion, today’s students ‘don’t know how to sing, and it’s leading to injury’. F Is it possible that teaching people to sing differently could cure damaged vocal cords forever? Zeitels is dismissive of such an approach, and quick to deny that his clients’ vocal problems are caused by bad technique. ‘People used to think if you needed an operation it meant you don’t know how to sing. The people I see— they know how to sing!’ Zeitels believes that medical specialists are becoming increasingly important to the arts, given that any athletic endeavour will eventually take a toll if done for long enough. Robert Sataloff, who has performed voice-corrective surgery on several award-winning performers, also resents the notion that surgery is not a sensible way to keep singers healthy. He believes that surgery, combined with proper education on the dangers of improper singing technique, can keep people on stage for longer. He concedes that surgery is not a perfect solution, and it probably never will be, but it is an option.

20 The …………… of a sound is determined by the rate of vibration of the vocal cords. 21 The delicate surface of the vocal cords can be worn down by …………… if they are continually overused. 22 Singers with vocal cord damage are often unable to produce a sound with the correct …………… at a certain point on the musical scale.

Section A Music is one of the human species' relatively few universal abilities. Without formal training, any individual, from Stone Age tribesman to suburban teenager, has the ability to recognise music and, in some fashion, to make it. Why this should be so is a mystery. After all, music isn't necessary for getting through the day, and if it aids in reproduction, it does so only in highly indirect ways. Language, by contrast, is also everywhere - but for reasons that are more obvious. With language, you and the members of your tribe can organise a migration across Africa, build reed boats and cross the seas, and communicate at night even when you can't see each other. Modern culture, in all its technological extravagance, springs directly from the human talent for manipulating symbols and syntax. Scientists have always been intrigued by the connection between music and language. Yet over the years, words and melody have acquired a vastly different status in the lab and the seminar room. While language has long been considered essential to unlocking the mechanisms of human intelligence, music is generally treated as an evolutionary frippery - mere "auditory cheesecake", as the Harvard cognitive scientist Steven Pinker puts it. Section B But thanks to a decade-long wave of neuroscience research, that tune is changing. A flurry of recent publications suggests that language and music may equally be able to tell us who we are and where we're from - not just emotionally, but biologically. In July, the journal Nature Neuroscience devoted a special issue to the topic. And in an article in the 6 August issue of the Journal of Neuroscience, David Schwartz, Catherine Howe, and Dale Purves of Duke University argued that the sounds of music and the sounds of language are intricately connected. To grasp the originality of this idea, it's necessary to realise two things about how music has traditionally been understood. First, musicologists have long emphasised that while each culture stamps a special identity onto its music, music itself has some universal qualities. For example, in virtually all cultures, sound is divided into some or all of the 12 intervals that make up the chromatic scale - that is, the scale represented by the keys on a piano. For centuries, observers have attributed this preference for certain combinations of tones to the mathematical properties of sound itself. Some 2,500 years ago, Pythagoras was the first to note a direct relationship between the harmoniousness of a tone combination and the physical dimensions of the object that produced it. For example, a plucked string will always play an octave lower than a similar string half its size, and a fifth lower than a similar string two thirds its length. This link between simple ratios and harmony has influenced music theory ever since. Section C This music-is-math idea is often accompanied by the notion that music, formally speaking at least, exists apart from the world in which it was created. Writing recently in The New York Review of Books, pianist and critic Charles Rosen discussed the long-standing notion that while painting and sculpture reproduce at least some aspects of the natural world, and writing describes thoughts and feelings we are all familiar with, music is entirely abstracted from the world in which we live. Neither idea is right, according to David Schwartz and his colleagues. Human musical preferences are fundamentally shaped not by elegant algorithms or ratios but by the messy sounds of real life, and of speech in particular - which in turn is shaped by our evolutionary heritage. "The explanation of music, like the explanation of any product of the mind, must be rooted in biology, not in numbers per se," says Schwartz. Schwartz, Howe, and Purves analysed a vast selection of speech sounds from a variety of languages to reveal the underlying patterns common to all utterances. In order to focus only on the raw sounds, they discarded all theories about speech and meaning, and sliced sentences into random bites. Using a database of over 100,000 brief segments of speech, they noted which frequency had the greatest emphasis in each sound. The resulting set of frequencies, they discovered, corresponded closely to the chromatic scale. In short, the building blocks of music are to be found in speech. Far from being abstract, music presents a strange analogue to the patterns created by the sounds of speech. "Music, like visual arts, is rooted in our experience of the natural world," says Schwartz. "It emulates our sound environment in the way that visual arts emulate the visual environment." In music we hear the echo of our basic sound-making instrument - the vocal tract. The explanation for human music is simpler still than Pythagoras's mathematical equations: We like the sounds that are familiar to us - specifically, we like the sounds that remind us of us. This brings up some chicken-or-egg evolutionary questions. It may be that music imitates speech directly, the researchers say, in which case it would seem that language evolved first. It's also conceivable that music came first and language is in effect an imitation of song - that in everyday speech we hit the musical notes we especially like. Alternately, it may be that music imitates the general products of the human sound-making system, which just happens to be mostly speech. "We can't know this," says Schwartz. "What we do know is that they both come from the same system, and it is this that shapes our preferences." Section D Schwartz's study also casts light on the long-running question of whether animals understand or appreciate music. Despite the apparent abundance of "music" in the natural world - birdsong, whalesong, wolf howls, synchronised chimpanzee hooting - previous studies have found that many laboratory animals don't show a great affinity for the human variety of music making. Marc Hauser and Josh McDermott of Harvard argued in the July issue of Nature Neuroscience that animals don't create or perceive music the way we do. The fact that laboratory monkeys can show recognition of human tunes is evidence, they say, of shared general features of the auditory system, not any specific chimpanzee musical ability. As for birds, those most musical beasts, they generally recognise their own tunes - a narrow repertoire - but don't generate novel melodies like we do. There are no avian Mozarts. But what's been played to animals, Schwartz notes, is human music. If animals evolve preferences for sound as we do - based upon the soundscape in which they live - then their "music" would be fundamentally different from ours. In the same way our scales derive from human utterances, a cat's idea of a good tune would derive from yowls and meows. To demonstrate that animals don't appreciate sound the way we do, we'd need evidence that they don't respond to "music" constructed from their own sound environment. Section E No matter how the connection between language and music is parsed, what is apparent is that our sense of music, even our love for it, is as deeply rooted in our biology and in our brains as language is. This is most obvious with babies, says Sandra Trehub at the University of Toronto, who also published a paper in the Nature Neuroscience special issue. For babies, music and speech are on a continuum. Mothers use musical speech to "regulate infants' emotional states", Trehub says. Regardless of what language they speak, the voice all mothers use with babies is the same: "something between speech and song". This kind of communication "puts the baby in a trancelike state, which may proceed to sleep or extended periods of rapture". So if the babies of the world could understand the latest research on language and music, they probably wouldn't be very surprised. The upshot, says Trehub, is that music may be even more of a necessity than we realise.

List of Headings i Communication in music with animals ii New discoveries on animal music iii Music and language contrasted iv Current research on music v Music is beneficial for infants vi Music transcends cultures. vii Look back at some of the historical theories viii Are we genetically designed for music?