There is now a link on the right hand side of the blog for Sonic Literature which will take you to my google books library where you can find some excellent literature on sound.
Large excerpts of many of the books are available to read online for free so its a good place to start if you're interested. There are also links to some interesting sound websites and sound maps too.
Ben Tausig of Weird Vibrations is also constructing a sound studies bibliography here which you can add to by signing up to the sound studies group. Find out more here.
Hope this is useful.
Thursday, 11 March 2010
Sunday, 7 March 2010
Sound and the Art of Listening
Having been consciously studying sound in the environment for some time now, I feel that I have gained a heightened awareness of the world around me. The chirp of the birds, the space of the valleys, the muting ambiance of the snow; I am passionate about the way these things affect us, what they represent and signify, and what they tell us about the ever changing time and space we are in. Sound also tells us much about the interaction between our senses and the things that determine our mood and emotions.
I know that listening to bird song makes me happy, peaceful and relaxed, but I can also get immense pleasure from sounds with less calming connotations. A road drill can deliver some exciting rhythms, tones and timbres that would not be out of place on record. It is the art of listening and understanding that provides the satisfaction.
Ignoring connotations is one of the hardest things to do though. They are the foundations upon which our media saturated world is hosted. We are told that bird song is relaxing, and it is. But why? It is a collection of rhythm, melody, harmony and timbre. Maybe the higher pitches leave space for the human voice amongst them? Or is it that if we can hear the birds we are already in a peaceful space, architecturally or mentally.
There are beautiful rich sounds to be found all around and I know that if I am taking the time to consciously listen to them that I am feeling peaceful and appreciative of the world around me. And not just the sounds, but the aromas, the colours and the feel of the air. Likewise, if I am agitated and struggling to concentrate, the hum of my refrigerator can drive me to distraction as my entire focus is drawn to its every detail.
This is not to say though that different sounds do not have different affects on our bodies and minds. Those mellow, high pitch, floating bird songs do make me feel and think differently to the ferocious roar of the drill.
The next time you are on a bus, in the office or just out in town, take five minutes to listen to what is going and try to understand how your body reacts to different noises. What sounds make you jump, cause your temperature to drop, your heart rate to increase, your chest tighten and body tense? What has happened sonically that may have caused you to suddenly exhale and relax? This is quite difficult to do because if you concentrate too hard you will exert control over your body that may cause it to react differently. The key is to be aware but not too expectant.
So my point here is that sound has a definite direct affect on our body and mind, but in tandem, the art of listening tells us much about how we already feel. All sounds can be dynamic and interesting, but only when we find the space to step back and listen to them.
I know that listening to bird song makes me happy, peaceful and relaxed, but I can also get immense pleasure from sounds with less calming connotations. A road drill can deliver some exciting rhythms, tones and timbres that would not be out of place on record. It is the art of listening and understanding that provides the satisfaction.
Ignoring connotations is one of the hardest things to do though. They are the foundations upon which our media saturated world is hosted. We are told that bird song is relaxing, and it is. But why? It is a collection of rhythm, melody, harmony and timbre. Maybe the higher pitches leave space for the human voice amongst them? Or is it that if we can hear the birds we are already in a peaceful space, architecturally or mentally.
There are beautiful rich sounds to be found all around and I know that if I am taking the time to consciously listen to them that I am feeling peaceful and appreciative of the world around me. And not just the sounds, but the aromas, the colours and the feel of the air. Likewise, if I am agitated and struggling to concentrate, the hum of my refrigerator can drive me to distraction as my entire focus is drawn to its every detail.
This is not to say though that different sounds do not have different affects on our bodies and minds. Those mellow, high pitch, floating bird songs do make me feel and think differently to the ferocious roar of the drill.
The next time you are on a bus, in the office or just out in town, take five minutes to listen to what is going and try to understand how your body reacts to different noises. What sounds make you jump, cause your temperature to drop, your heart rate to increase, your chest tighten and body tense? What has happened sonically that may have caused you to suddenly exhale and relax? This is quite difficult to do because if you concentrate too hard you will exert control over your body that may cause it to react differently. The key is to be aware but not too expectant.
So my point here is that sound has a definite direct affect on our body and mind, but in tandem, the art of listening tells us much about how we already feel. All sounds can be dynamic and interesting, but only when we find the space to step back and listen to them.
Saturday, 27 February 2010
Outside-iN and the Buskers of Manchester
The act of busking is an interesting one. To some it is music, to others it is noise, and to many it is just another component of city life. This of course has much to do with perception, and for me buskers bridge the gap between music and environmental sound.
This is particularly true in Manchester where Market Street and the surrounding area plays host to so many street musicians. They provide the city with rhythm, melody and song, but their audience is transient and passive, drifting from sound to sound.
The beat of the Djembe, pluck of the Kora, squeeze of the Accordion, strum of the Guitar and the expression of the Sax all fill the air, blending and competing with the charge of footsteps and chorus of voices that channel through the city. Fighting for sonic space amongst the buses, trams and cars that flood the city's soundscape.
But why do people choose to busk? What is their life like? Do they see themselves as important to our community? What do they sound like without the city's accompaniment? How do our impressions of musicians differ when we pay to sit and watch them as opposed to hearing them in passing?
Outside-iN hopes to answer some of these questions through a series of performances and interviews at Nexus Art Cafe, as we invite Manchester's buskers to come and perform to a seated audience and talk to us about their experiences.
Check back here and on the Nexus website for performance dates and interviews, and if you're a busker from Manchester looking to get involved then please let us know.
This is particularly true in Manchester where Market Street and the surrounding area plays host to so many street musicians. They provide the city with rhythm, melody and song, but their audience is transient and passive, drifting from sound to sound.
The beat of the Djembe, pluck of the Kora, squeeze of the Accordion, strum of the Guitar and the expression of the Sax all fill the air, blending and competing with the charge of footsteps and chorus of voices that channel through the city. Fighting for sonic space amongst the buses, trams and cars that flood the city's soundscape.
But why do people choose to busk? What is their life like? Do they see themselves as important to our community? What do they sound like without the city's accompaniment? How do our impressions of musicians differ when we pay to sit and watch them as opposed to hearing them in passing?
Outside-iN hopes to answer some of these questions through a series of performances and interviews at Nexus Art Cafe, as we invite Manchester's buskers to come and perform to a seated audience and talk to us about their experiences.
Check back here and on the Nexus website for performance dates and interviews, and if you're a busker from Manchester looking to get involved then please let us know.
Wednesday, 24 February 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, 21 February 2010
My Sound of Recession pt2
Following on from the previous post I just wanted to lay down a few more thoughts on how the recession could be affecting our soundscapes.
Imagine we lose our job. If we no longer need to wake up early we no longer need to be woken by the piercing jolt of the alarm. We may no longer take the bus, train or tram; modes of transport rich in sonic activity, both mechanical and human.
We are no longer visiting the office, factory or shop. Gone is the sound of machinery, air conditioning units, telephones and chatter. There is no traffic noise on the road that we no longer walk along, no "big issue", no chorus of footsteps leaving the station, marching and singing on reverberant floors.
But we don't live in silence when our routines change, our worlds simply open up to a whole new variety of sounds.
The laughter of the children we now look after. The chopping, whizzing and sizzling of food that we have the time to prepare. The warming bustle of the market where we now have time to collect our ingredients, replacing the cold din and haste of the supermarket.
The calming natural sounds of the park and countryside that can be visited for free, the gentle motion of the bicycle whirring rhythmically along, and the sound of the earth as the garden is tended.
There are also the sounds of emptiness though, confined to the hum of the refrigerator, the force of the vacuum and the whir of the computer. The droll of daytime TV blaring amongst empty walls.
If the latter begin to get us down, it is important to try to take the time to step back and experience some of the more beneficial sounds and activities that life has to offer.
Imagine we lose our job. If we no longer need to wake up early we no longer need to be woken by the piercing jolt of the alarm. We may no longer take the bus, train or tram; modes of transport rich in sonic activity, both mechanical and human.
We are no longer visiting the office, factory or shop. Gone is the sound of machinery, air conditioning units, telephones and chatter. There is no traffic noise on the road that we no longer walk along, no "big issue", no chorus of footsteps leaving the station, marching and singing on reverberant floors.
But we don't live in silence when our routines change, our worlds simply open up to a whole new variety of sounds.
The laughter of the children we now look after. The chopping, whizzing and sizzling of food that we have the time to prepare. The warming bustle of the market where we now have time to collect our ingredients, replacing the cold din and haste of the supermarket.
The calming natural sounds of the park and countryside that can be visited for free, the gentle motion of the bicycle whirring rhythmically along, and the sound of the earth as the garden is tended.
There are also the sounds of emptiness though, confined to the hum of the refrigerator, the force of the vacuum and the whir of the computer. The droll of daytime TV blaring amongst empty walls.
If the latter begin to get us down, it is important to try to take the time to step back and experience some of the more beneficial sounds and activities that life has to offer.
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