Endangered sounds - the inspiration behind the documentaries
Rami Tzabar has produced two documentaries for Save Our Sounds on acoustic ecology.
Presenter Trevor Cox and I first came across the idea for these programmes in 2007, after interviewing sound artist Peter Cusack. Peter had just returned from Chernobyl, as part of a project called ‘Sounds from Dangerous Places.’
During the interview he talked about the concept of acoustic ecology. This included, amongst other things, the notion that some sounds and soundscapes were endangered.
Our appetite whetted, we delved into the sound archives at the British Library and discovered a wonderful set of Canadian radio programmes first broadcast in 1974 called Soundscapes of Canada, presented by R Murray Schafer. Schafer, an academic from Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, had formed The World Soundscape Project, initially as a response to over noise pollution and is regarded as the father of acoustic ecology and soundscape research.
By chance Trevor discovered that Schafer was due in London for the anniversary of a soundwalk he first undertook in 1974. It was being organised by John Drever, head of sound practice research at Goldsmith’s College in London, who invited us along.
We turned up on a crisp April morning, microphones at the ready, to find around a lively collection of artists, acousticians and students from across the UK as well as Italy, Germany and Canada. Disappointingly Schafer had pulled out (he is due to come over later this year), but another member of the WSP had come over, artist and composer, Hildegard Westerkamp.
After much arguing over where exactly John should stand to address the crowd (that’s acousticians for you) we were given some basic ground rules (‘go at your own pace’ and ‘don’t get run over!’), before drifting off, in snake-like fashion, our heads tilted upwards and our ears pricked.
The first task was to follow Schafer’s original instruction of blocking out the sound of the traffic on Euston road – a major dual carriageway that carves up central London. We were asked to listen out for those ‘hidden sounds’ within this wall of noise.
Much to our surprise, it was a fascinating day, full of interesting insights about the nature of urban sound and how we listen. So often in daily life we naturally block out most of the sounds around us to concentrate on whatever is the main priority (assisted these days by ipods and headphones).
But to walk at a different pace from everyone else, along busy roads, through train stations and into quieter back streets, with sole the purpose of listening, reveals a world of hidden sound and meaning.
You begin to appreciate the difference between foreground and background in the acoustic environment. The sound of your own footsteps, the loss of church bells and the delight of a child’s laugh against the base rumble of traffic noise.
Towards the end, we caught up with Hildegard Westerkamp in front of the British Library. She described a recording of a single cricket that had hopped onto her microphone during a visit to Mexico’s ‘Zona del Silencio’ as ‘two minutes of magic’.
She paused and the three of us basked in the remarkable silence. Here we were, just yards from 4 lanes of traffic yet everything had gone quiet. The architecture had, by accident or design, cocooned us in our own ‘zone of silence’ – a few seconds of magic, before the world of noise came crashing in again.