Things I heard in November.
In a converted warehouse space an unexpected whoosh followed by the briefest whine, form an object in the air. It's the spatial trail that catches my ear.
Connecting with Echo through making pitched down remixes of his favourite songs.
Outside a long, drawn out noise sweep moves into the distance and I listen to its tail trying to hear where it ends. In my imagination it continues, stretching like the freeze audio effect that sustains a sound forever. I can still hear it minutes later.
From upstairs I can hear pitched snare drums on every offbeat and Echo singing along to the slurred, slowed down vocals.
Today someone asked me if a sound carried on forever and if sound waves continue to oscillate, fluttering and vibrating into the ether, out into space. I imagine distant planets inhabited by beings with incredibly sensitive ears picking up Earth's din.
Liquid, bubbling and squelching bat echolocation. We try a human version, clicking using our tongues, exploring how our ears pick up spatial communication reflected from building’s surfaces.
Two residents describe their windows shrieking when the wind is strong.
Stomping on drain covers, listening to subterranean booms, touching railings to feel the sound of passing trains. A small child with very good rhythm uses percussion beaters to sound objects around her community. She clambers up onto an outdoor gym apparatus clutching a Zoom audio recorder, eager to record the resonant metal bars that run at intervals along the top.
I read out loud the lore about the king shouting his secret into the earth and I lose a metal spike that is meant to let me listen to those secrets.
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