Sound as Territory: Why Sound Art Explores the World While Neural Networks Remain Just a Tool

In the modern world, sound is ubiquitous: from the hum of a car engine to interface jingles. However, according to Sergey Zykov, sound design is always about specificity. It involves a clear technical brief, a client, and a strict connection to the context. If you hear realistic footsteps in a game or a minimalist signal from a voice assistant—that is the result of a designer’s work, whose task is to make the sound natural and appropriate for that specific environment.Sound art, in contrast to design, doesn’t answer the question «how to do it»; it asks questions of existence. This is a territory of artistic expression where sound exists for its own sake. There is no client here, but there is an author attempting to interpret culture, technology, or even archaism. While a sound designer adapts to the world, a sound artist rethinks it. It is difficult to imagine the disappearance of sound design—it is too deeply embedded in everyday life—yet its hypothetical absence might open our ears to reality: we would start listening to the rain outside our window again, instead of being distracted by notifications.

In the age of streaming and short songs, an album can seem like an artifact. However, for Zykov, it is a complete canvas that demands concentration from the listener. Every track, skit (interlude), or even a minute of silence before a hidden bonus is part of a single narrative. True musical art is tested by time: the artist lives with the material for years, and the listener syncs with that rhythm from the first to the last second. It is in this prolonged encounter that that very «statement» is born—one that cannot be contained in a three-minute hit.

Why is a sound art exhibition not a concert? A concert is a collective experience—the energy between the stage and the hall, a shared atmosphere. An exhibition or listening to a record at home, however, is an intimate, one-on-one encounter. When you sit in silence, eyes closed, listening to a composition, you are not tuning into your neighbor’s reaction. It is a personal journey into a sonic universe where there is only you and the creator of the work, and this interaction is far deeper than a mass event.

Sergey Zykov draws a bold parallel: if we don’t list a Roland synthesizer as a collaborator when it outputs a ready-made orchestral preset, why should we consider an AI a collaborator? Artificial intelligence is an incredibly powerful, almost magical device—but it’s a device. As long as the idea originates with the human, the machine merely helps realize the vision. If a student creates a conceptual album featuring Shufutinsky’s voice at a Masonic gathering—that is the author’s artistic gesture, and the AI is merely the paint.The main rule that defines the musician is honesty. If AI is used in a work, it must be disclosed. However, even the most advanced algorithm cannot replace direct interaction with a master in education. Students more often ask, «What should I tell the world?» rather than, «How do I do it technically?» Finding one’s own voice, connecting with a professor, and dissecting a project—that is what algorithms cannot replicate. This is why the future of music, in Zykov’s view, lies not in acceleration, but in deceleration, in an interest in «live» sound, and in local identity. We are returning to our roots to hear the world anew.