More snowy sounds

The Met office are forecasting heavy snow tonight, particularly in the North West, so remember to have a good listen this evening and then again in the morning to hear some of the amazing effects that the snow has on your soundscape.

Quiet Times

Having recently listened to the excellent Trevor Cox Save our Sounds documentaries I have been thinking about how we are losing our quiet times. Trevor discusses the fact that cities are not really getting noisier, but rather that quiet space is becoming harder to find within them as more space is used commercially or for habitation. But how do our changing lives effect quiet times too?

With life in Britain becoming faster, working hours long and varied, and in turn social life too, there are less times to find quiet. Now by quiet I don't mean silent, but rather peaceful, different from the bustle and pace of noisier times.

Here in Central Manchester for example, early Sunday mornings is one of those times, where until about 9.30am it is relatively peaceful. Soon after though it is just as busy as any other day, as the shops open sending their competing Muzak into the streets and crowds of people bring footsteps and chatter.

And yet to many people Sunday is still a day to rest and relax, the majority of office workers are not working, but with people living right in the city centre and the shops open almost a full day, it sounds the same as any other. Until the Sunday Trading Act was passed in 1994 though, the majority of shops did not open at all on a Sunday, giving the day a quieter soundscape, distinct from the other days of the week.

Another law that has had an effect on quiet times is the Licensing Act 2003, which since coming in to play in 2005 has seen a small but steady rise in pubs opening later, particularly at weekends.

By closing their doors at one or two, pubs ensure that the streets are busy and filled with sound well into the next morning, rather than peaking after last orders at eleven and then quietening down after twelve once the majority of people are in a club or back home.

In my opinion it is a good idea, but it is a prime example of what Trevor discusses. The actual level of noise and disturbance at any one time is probably less than it used to be at its peak, but the constant stream of people moving around town throughout the night means that there is actually less quiet time to be found.

It is important to progress, and both of these acts were necessary given the changing working habits in Britain, but I do find it interesting how they can have such an affect on our soundscapes and much more thought needs to be put into ensuring that we do not lose quiet time and space from the public arena all together.

Wall of Silence

Found out recently why the huge concrete structure dividing Manchester's Piccadilly Gardens and the Tram and Bus station was designed the way it was by architect Tado Ando. The shape and materials were used specifically to reduce noise from the buses and trams into the gardens.

More about it here

A Futuresonic Weekend

It's not often that I discuss music on this blog, but then futuresonic was much more than a music festival, it was festival of ideas, concepts, thoughts and feelings.

My first taste of the festival was visiting the cube gallery late on Friday to witness The royal college of art and Yamaha's exhibition of strangely crafted instruments, all requiring quite definate movement and tactility, emphasising the deep connection between sound and body. Part argument against the aparent lack of bodily connection in digital culture, part persuation that everything is sound, from the sporadic rhythmic clipping of a typewriter to the rustling and scratching of clothing, affected both by its material makeup and that of the human orchestrator.

Saturday had me sat in Nexus art cafe for much of the afternoon as people made their own tapes and constructed one off sound pieces with the clunking and rolling pressing equipment as artists performed on the stage. Again this was a physical sonic experience combining heavy machinic movements with careful folding and stamping. It was also participatory and inclusive, the audience interacting with the performers to break the barrier of artist and fan. By the time Denis Jones took to the stage people were purposely using the equipment in a way that heavily influenced the sound and direction of his pieces. It is exciting to see samplers being used in such a comunal and improvised manner, and also to hear interesting live music composed and recorded in front of you out of a mixture of laregly industrial machinary.

After such a relaxing and thought provoking saturday it was then off to Club Underground for the night to let Kode9 and friends transport us somewhere else entirely. I haven't been so immersed in dancing ever before and I can't remember thinking a single thing for the entiraty of Kode9's set, my body and mind completely overtaken by the sheer speed and depth of some of the records he was playing, lost in the pulse and addrenaline of the music, the bass thundering through my chest and deep into my legs, involuntary movement and overwhelming joy.

Walking home we tried to discuss what he'd been playing and how he'd been manipulating records but the night was beyond theorising, again it was physical, tactile and in a different way interactive, bodies and faces coliding and merging to enhance the mood, voices shreeking, little whelps of joy.

A friend realised that there is something about bass heavy music that affects her sinuses, I was reminded that what I love about sound is its physical and interactive possibilities, we all had a great weekend!

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.

Welcome to the Jungle

With the trams currently kept out of the city centre and many of the roads blocked off for road works, there was a whole new soundscape in Manchester centre today. Instead of the usual fuzz, roar and heave of engines it was the confused mumble of a thousand voices that circled around my head.

A Bass heavy wave of cross rhythmic and incomprehensible voices swept through town, bubbling, jolting and circling in panorama, occasionally penetrated by clearer, higher pitched voices cutting through the mass, but still largely incomprehensible amongst the clutter.

It is a joy to hear the human voice in such a way, stripped of recognisable language but full of nuance, tone and interaction, telling the story of space and time through sound rather than words. It is the same when we communicate with people who we do not share a common language, through echoic mimicry we listen to and replicate tones, intonations and sounds rather than words.

By closing your eyes and listening to such scenes you can really sense the space around you, mood, size and materials are all audible if you listen carefully enough and you can draw a solid mental image of your surroundings.

Doing this today though I realised that things can easily get confusing when sound synonymous with another environment is suddenly inserted where it is not expected. People were selling whistles which replicated the various calls and screech's of the howler monkey, and they sounded fairly realistic amongst the noise of the crowds. So when I closed my eyes I had the bizarre sensation of hearing what sounded like a thousand people trekking through the jungle.

This demonstrates to me that although it is important to understand sound in relation to place, it is also good to think about sounds simply as sounds. Try not to always associate them with particular objects or settings, think as well about their pitches, rhythms, movements, moods, reverberations and timbres.

Think about how you can get a feel for your environment through sound without automatically converting your hearing into stored images and signified knowledge. Allow yourself to learn something new from sound as well as using it to better understand what you already know.

Birdsong in the City

Having read Bernard L Krause's lovely book Wild Soundscapes last week, I set off this morning in search of the sound of nature in the city centre. I found it at 9.45 in St Johns Gardens in Castlefield.




Although the engulfing ambient fuzz of traffic was still apparent, as soon as I stepped into St Johns Gardens I was immediately struck by the array of bird song that surrounded me, at first creating an alternate backdrop to compete with the mechanic hum of the city, and soon providing a cacophony of rhythms, melodies and intensities as I became more attuned to my new sonic environment.

High pitched, soft, sweet melodies, whistled, twinkled and reverberated around me, audibly bouncing off of the surrounding buildings. Call and response played out in the air above me in darting panorama, sweet songs frequently interrupted by abrasive stabs of stark, brash, inharmonious mid frequencies.

The low, warm, throaty warble of pigeons created rhythmic flutters on the ground in front of me
whilst the ratchety, mid range clacking of wings soared above, loud, quick and intense as they neared; low, soft and peaceful as they flew away.

Bushes rustled gently as the drawn out dongs of a church bell sounded in the distance, whilst the faint sound of laughter and soft chatter briefly entered my ambient hearing, only adding to the overall peace of my environment.

What amazed me about this array of bird song was how so many layers, pitches, speeds and intensities fit together so effortlessly. Every sound had its place; warm, sweet warbles and melodies naturally filtered to dance amongst raw, brash stabs of noise.

The only intrusion today was a long, high pitched airy burst which grated its way into my hearing for a few seconds before disappearing and leaving me once again to the natural sounds of a Sunday morning in Manchester.

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.

Down at the waterfront

On my way to buy the paper this morning I stopped to sit by the Rochdale canal, about half way between Great Ancoats street and Piccadilly Basin, to have a listen to the sound of a Saturday morning in Manchester.

Tearing water from the nearby lock lapped and fizzed; a constant sound with varying intensities, crackling and hissing to create the textured distortion prevalent in my hearing. This was mixed in with the low rumble of distant traffic that surrounds you wherever you are in Manchester city centre; soaring, pulsing and bubbling away in the background. Then there is the airy, higher pitched lapping of closer vehicles panning their way across my sonic spectrum, synthesised with the growl, grumble and heave of heavy lorries. There was also a constant unidentifiable mid range hum present, only clearly audible with concentrated listening.

These sounds combined provide a sonic landscape made up of varying levels of hum, fuzz and distortion, equivalent to the white noise on a Jesus and Marychain record or the prevalent crackle of old vinyl; they provide the basis from which the melodies of the environment can spring.

The sporadic and startling squawk of birds and ducks, the distant high pitch chime of metal clanging in the distance, indecipherable voices, the faint ting of a dogs collar and the soft padding of its feet. The low beep of a car's horn and the changing timbre of its engine as it shifts from ambiance into my peripheral hearing, gradually increasing in pitch and clarity as it moves closer, drowning out the distant stretching roar of sliding heavy metallic shutters.

This was a fairly peaceful spot on a quiet morning and it is interesting to note that even in moments of apparent sonic calm we are still interacting with so many sounds when we actually listen for them. The world is filled with drones, constants and distortions which surround us, providing a three dimensional ambiance for the more prevalent rhythms and melodies to interact with.

Without this ambiance, be it from wind, water or the distant rumble of engines, the sounds which we are more aware of would sound alien to us. It is through embracing and sharing these sonic undertones and ambient spaces that we form a better connection with the world and everything within it.

Sonic law

I heard today that although the proposed expansion of Heathrow airport is all set to go ahead, new legal documents have recently been drawn up to ensure that the new runway doesn't breach acceptable noise levels. It amazes me that this ruling has come so late in the day, but it appears that so much focus was put into making sure that a huge new runway wouldn't be in any way detrimental to the environment that the impact it would have on our sonic spectrum was overlooked.

In some ways this surprises me, but in others it just reiterates the fact that the sonic is so often ignored, we are almost oblivious to it until it becomes unusually intrusive. I have never heard people discuss the sound on the tram before, despite the fascinating daily whir discussed in a previous post, but today all other sounds were engulfed by an abrasive blast not dissimilar to the sound of sheering metal, which throbbed through our bodies, pulsed and battered our heads for the entire journey, only briefly interrupted by the crackling voice of the driver announcing the next stop.

And everyone discussed it! People got off before their stops, the carriages were filled with chatter, people mentioned deafness, headaches and pain. Having paid close attention to the sound inside the tram before though, I was fully aware that this was merely an exaggeration of a normal journey. It just happened to cross that boundary where noise can no longer be accepted as normal, it shifts from being an indescribable background drone to a pain inducing machine. Pain that is subtly inflicted during every journey.