Gently Shifting from Rhythm to Drone

I have been thinking a lot recently about how our soundscapes change over time, and one of the points that I keep coming back to is the shift from a rhythmic world to one of drone.

Take transport for example. A horse drawn cart provides rich and dynamic rhythmic timbres, each one with its own characteristics and subtleties. Whereas the overriding sound of a car is that of a continuous zoom, drones which vary slightly in pitch dependent on speed. And with the electric car seemingly not far from common use this will be reduced further to a whir.

Machinery too. Listen to an old hand powered Singer sewing machine, clunking and turning with infinite possibility. Then listen to a modern electric machine. Some of the rhythm is still there, but the sound is overwhelmingly that of a fierce hum.

This is evident too in the playback of music. An old jukebox or gramophone is full of the rhythmic sounds of moving parts. Audio signals advising us of what is to come. Modern home record players and tape decks provide slightly less rhythmic interest, CD players almost none and MP3's none at all. The clang, drop and turn replaced by the zzzrr of the computer fan.

There are of course many rhythms still to be heard, but the further we move toward a digital society governed by electric machines, the harder they are to find.

The Physical Affect of the Firework

"you must be the only person to go to a fireworks display and close your eyes... apart from them kids that are scared of fireworks"

I had to close my eyes for periods of the display to focus myself on the sounds, something which can be hard to do in such a visually intense environment, and realised that hearing a fireworks display without seeing it can be a scary experience. And I have full sympathy with those kids that find it terrifying.

When you can see light firing off into the sky, the puff of smoke and the wonderful array of colour in the sky it is easy to place the sound that accompanies it. When you take away the visual element you are left with a succession of sporadic bangs, pops, fizzes and whistles.

The bangs just make you jump when you're not expecting them, but the screamers are trully terrifying as the constant change in pitch and intensity that accompanies their journey gives the impression that they are about plant themselves in your head at any second. Seriously give it a go.

I imagine this must be what it is like to live amongst war, the sound of explosions and rockets all around, often out of sight but sounding much closer than they are, a constant tension in your body caused by sonic vibration.

This physical affect on the body and mind is also evident within tonights display. The gathered crowd are notably calm and gently wowwed by the fireworks as they set off one at a time to be admired, but as more are set at once and the bangs become more frequent, less ordered and more intense you can feel the crowd becoming more overpowered by sound, drawn in, excited and intense.

The samba band begin to pick up the rhythm, to which the fireworks add a counter, extra beats thrown in to jerk the rhythm, crackles and fizzes to heighten the ambience. The crowd of strangers are physically closer to each other than they were at the start, exchanging glances, shoulders touching, legs moving to the rhythm.

To me this is the sign of sound physically affecting the human in a positive and beautiful way, bringing people together and helping them to lose their precomposed ideas of public behaviour. This makes me very happy indeed.

He Thought of Cars

Standing outside Central Library at 5.30 this afternoon provided an interesting juxtaposition between an area of constructed quiet and a world of man made noise.

A cacophony of traffic noise circle and whir around me forming a reverberant, distorted ambiance, housing swirling sirens stripped of their harshness by distance, lending them a smooth, pleasant tone as they gently swell and constrict, each drawn out intensity appearing to last an age amongst the more immediate chaos.

Trams scuttle into the station, metal grinding and rattling together on the tracks, synthesised with a drawn out aching mid range screech and the unbroken sound of the horn, disrupted by the spontaneous thuds and bangs that break their enchanting rhythms.

But today it is the buses that really grab my attention. Their engines purr like tigers. Vibrating, warm and inviting, rumbling low frequencies seeping into the lower regions of my torso; shuddering high pitched wails, the sound of metal straining, bursting, stretching and screeching into almost ultrasonic territories. It is inescapable. Beautiful. Intense.

Heals clop brashly on the concrete amongst rushing bodies and booming voices, all fighting to be heard amongst the commotion. It is proven that loud and uncomfortable sounds lead to increased stress and annoyance and it is all the more evident from this scene.

It is worth noting though that by focusing on the sounds around you and actually listening to them you can reduce their adverse effects, and I must admit to finding it peculiarly relaxing listening to the sonic heave of rush hour unfold before me.