Listening Journal - November 2024 - My Shadow in the Sweet Spot

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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Listening Journal October 2024 - A Temporary Sonic Imprint

Some things I heard in October.

The Entertainer floats around Brighton station, bouncing off the glass ceiling.

Squealing sharp travel, the hum of movement, upper frequency details ricochet around the expansive structure clattering against glass and metal. 

The Entertainer is not entertaining.  A train arrives unheard, and bags pass me jingling delicately as zips and fastenings swing. A distant beep, source unknown, smears in the reverb. 

Now a song that I recognise from Echo's playlist, Dance Monkey.

As I walk along the platform to the train, details diminish. It's much more enjoyable to hear the notes float towards me, rippling off every surface, merging with train drones and hiss. I'm sad to shut that soundscape out, but as the train door slides shut, it's gone, replaced with whooshing humming air and tin foil crunched brittle.

Factory songs.

A beautiful story of listening and the connection to landscape and more than human beings. 

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Listen Club 16 playlist

Sounds and music around the themes of Archaeology and deep listening. At Listen Club, The Rose Hill, Brighton on the 26th of September 2024.

Neolithic Cannibals Clip 1 - Neolithic Cannibals  - 4’22"
Cave of Shells - John Kenny - 2’13"
Stone Tape - Nigel Kneale/BBC Radiophonic Workshop - 4’45"
Neolithic Cannibals Clip 2 - Neolithic Cannibals - 6’12"
In the Cave - Pepe Deluxe - 1’51"
Star Carr - Ben Elliot and Jon Hughes - 5’59"
Sound Marks - Rob St John / Rose Ferraby - 7’44"
Mycenae Alpha - Iannis Xenakis - 9’39"
Neolithic Cannibals Clip 3 - Neolithic Cannibals - 6’03"
Vision of Truth - Blake Baxter - 6’31"
The Landscape Listens - Caterina Barbieri - 8’07"

Listen Club is organised by Sound Art Brighton. More here.

Luray Caves, home of the Stalactite Organ used on In the Cave by Pepe Deluxe

Last night at Listen Club 16. Deep Listening to the Unheard.

Listening to stone. Inquisitive about what we might learn from ‘listening in’ and expanding our auditory experience. Stone Tape. Stalactite Organ. Tuning in to materials and connecting on a deeper level. Imagined prehistory ‘sound fabric’. Blake Baxter Detroit Underground Resistance thru sound. Uprising. The submerged surfacing. My beginnings. The landscape listens. Representing the softness and kindness. Struck by the power of my vulnerability. Neolithic Cannibals playing in a dead (acoustic) space. A low hum sat between and under everything. Sharing this with one of the Neolithic Cannibals artists in the audience. A sound community.

Listening Journal

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Listening Journal

I started a listening journal in September 2023 whilst on a residency in the Pyrenees. It wasn’t my first attempt to make ‘no microphone’* recordings, but it began a sustained period of recording sounds using words. Maybe it’s because it is relatively new compared to recording using microphones, which I’ve been doing for decades, but I’ve found the process has become my favourite way of connecting with listening. 

My listening journal comes everywhere with me, and the feeling of opening it up to make a new entry is calming and invites a quiet focus I struggle to find anywhere else. I try to record in the moment rather than from memory, and find that this promotes a deeper listening and connection with the world around me, getting really inquisitive about what I’m hearing; the texture, rhythm, timbre, acoustics, time and spatial dynamics as well as exploring aspects of relationships, memories and place. 

There is often no context in entries, just simple noting of things I’ve heard, with an attempt to record something of the character and detail of the sound. Sometimes it is important to describe the sound source and sometimes that won’t be so clear. 

This is practice for me. Writing and listening.

I’m going to share extracts each month and begin with August’s recordings. I’m considering a number of bonus/subscriber content ideas including monthly extracts from the past year’s archive and an actual audio recording that accompanies each month’s extracts. 

I’d be interested to hear if any of these recordings resonate with you and hope they might invite you to listen to the world in different ways. I owe a huge debt to Pauline Oliveros and other Deep Listening practitioners I’ve been fortunate enough to learn from and good friend and mentor Angus Carlyle, whose writing about sound has been inspirational. 

*I read this term for the first time in Dirty Ear Report #2 last week. James Webb uses it to describe pretty much what I’m doing here. 

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Distillation

Location recording and soundscape composition for Dalmore Whiskey. One of those brilliant projects where my sound art practice meets my commercial work (and not my first Whiskey commission - see here ). Over a year later these sounds still conjure up the smell of whiskey and the heat of the stills. I melted a microphone during this project.

Surround microphone and contact mics attached to the still

Traditional microphones capture the wider soundscape and contact mics listen in to the stills, pipes and other elements of Dalmore Whiskey being produced. It will be at least 10 years before anyone tastes these recordings.

flat top still / condenser / down lyne arm / wash / charging / heating / water jacket / feints / foreshots / middle cut / spirit safe

Made of Sand

4 day residency with Max de Wardener at Made of Sand in the Blackdown Hills. Tuned microphone and feedback experiments. Recording imprints of the structure. Miniature oscillations. Exposed room tones. Facing speakers to the glass. Excited by spectral falcon wings. Sound wand.

……….

Thanks to Natalie and Tom.

Gathering

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The Neolithic Cannibals exhibition went by in a blur and I need to find some time to write about the experience and think about what it means to my ongoing practice and what I’d like to try and do next. I’m excited. It is one of the biggest (in every sense of the word) projects I’ve been involved with and brings together decades of practice and a new found confidence. I also think we witnessed how powerful a simple invitation to listen can be.

Our plan was to make something uncompromising (in the context of community/sound art). Something that connected the joy of playful creativity, heritage, archaeology, and Class Divide’s campaign for fairer education. There were many times when I thought the story was too complex and had too many layers and wouldn’t work, but listening was the beautiful glue that held everything together. Of course it was.

More thoughts when I have time, but I’m hopeful that there will be more to come.

And I can’t forget those amazing artists I was priveledged to work with and the team at Lighthouse, Emily from Stanley James Press and of course Curtis and Carlie from Class Divide.

More details here.

The young artists (and one older artist) stand in front of large hanging exhibition banners in the gallery designed by Emily Macaulay.

Photo by Phoebe Wingrove

Neolithic Cannibals workshop 3

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Workshop 3 was held at Brighton Museum and offered a unique journey into deep history. Exploring the Archaeology Gallery with Jon Sygrave from Archaeology South East, the young artists were transported to the Neolithic era, learning about the remains of Whitehawk Camp while surrounded by mysterious artifacts. With skilled flint knapper Grant Williams the artists experienced the intense sonic impacts and intricate crunchy  processes involved in crafting tools from aged stone. It turns out that listening to the materials is of great importance when knapping. Observing the timbral and pitch changes as flint was worked, participants discovered a wide range of sounds within the ancient rock.

Film by Curtis James

Using chalk gathered from Whitehawk Hill, artists translated Whitehawk Neolithic Camp’s patterns and shapes into graphic scores, for future explorations with electronic synthesizers. 

The workshop culminated in an improvised performance, where the artists gathered around a mock campfire, exploring the sonic potential of flints and recording their experiments with a surround microphone, capturing every gritty, resonant detail.

Neolithic Cannibals is a socially engaged sound art project and exhibition from the young people of Whitehawk and East Brighton, artist Simon James, who was born and raised in Whitehawk, and Class Divide.

More info here

Neolithic Cannibals Workshop 2

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In workshop 2, the young artists expanded their listening to the outdoors, exploring the sonic environment around The Crew Club. They used portable audio recorders to gather sounds, and percussion beaters were used for improvisation with materials and found objects.

Film by Curtis James

An unexpected highlight was an impromptu group performance playing the railing that surrounds a forlorn and empty playground. Where lack of funds have seen the playpark derelict, the young sound artists found their own way to play, circling the railing and dragging their beaters and brushes over the tines of the railing as they ran around and around. A surround microphone captured the swirling, spinning metallic resonances as they reverberated around the nearby valley walls.

Neolithic Cannibals is a socially engaged sound art project and exhibition from the young people of Whitehawk and East Brighton, artist Simon James, who was born and raised in Whitehawk, and Class Divide.

More info here

Neolithic Cannibals - Workshop 1 journal and video clip

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The first Neolithic Cannibals workshop took place this week. We enjoyed some simple field recording, exploring the corridor outside our workshop space. I guided the group in listening to and recording the resonances and timbre of various objects and materials such as a hollow plastic bin (which they dropped the microphone in to and then hit with percussion beaters), coathangers sliding and scratching on a metal rail, radiators clanging, squeaky tables and discovering that every door has its own unique sound signature if you listen closely. They mixed these everyday, found sounds with electronics, improvising their first soundscape, each artist engaging with the inquisitive, playful nature that lies at the heart of this project.  

Young sound artists take part in listening exercises and experiment with synthesizers and found sounds. Film by Curtis James

“A vibrational movement - through the hill to the city. Vibrating the earth and chalk that sit as a symbolic barrier.”

Often these tools - microphones, synthesisers and effects are more powerful in the hands of young people, with no preconceptions of what they should do with them or what they should sound like. That’s really exciting. 

I’m listening back to their work now and there are some lovely moments. After just one session I’ve no doubt we will fill the gallery space with wonderfully imaginative sounds. 

Fog

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At Shoreham Port on the South Coast of England, a harbour arm sits shrouded in mist. A 500hz tone sounds at 2 minute intervals as an alert to those at sea.

In the years I’ve been recording at Shoreham Port I’ve not managed to record the fog horn. Yesterday I was in the right place at the right time and enjoyed listening to the tones from many different perspectives, two of which I’ve shared here.

Sound captions - The Architect Has Left the Building

The main focus of the RIBA exhibition with Jim Stephenson and Sofia Smith was the film, but something that excited me as much as producing my first multi speaker gallery mix was writing the captions for the catalogue. Emily Macaulay, who took care of all the visual branding for the project, suggested we might include some words to accompany the images that make up the bulk of the catalogue. It coincided with a period where I’m actively trying to improve my writing and ways of communicating the listening that I partake in on a daily basis.

Book designed by Emily Macaulay - Photos by Curtis James

I’ve spoken before about my background and lack of education and thus the lack of confidence that historically may have made me feel like I couldn’t do something like this, so I’m really proud to be included in the catalogue.

I’ve kept a listening journal since September 2023 and continue to engage with it daily. The connection and deep noticing this practice promotes has been my favorite discovery for a long time and in fact has seen me do less recording.

Neolithic Cannibals

Deep Listening to the Unheard

A socially engaged sound art project and exhibition at Brighton Festival 2024 from the young people of Whitehawk and East Brighton, and artist Simon James, who was born and raised in Whitehawk and education campaign group Class Divide.

Explored through the deep time history of the Neolithic in East Brighton and the contemporary soundscape of Whitehawk, the Neolithic Cannibals exhibition mixes archaeology, psycho-geography, sound art, and activism to transport audiences to a place where imaginative and fantastical sounds will invite deep listening to an area that can often be considered hidden and unheard.

Through a series of workshops the young people of Whitehawk will listen to and sound the contemporary environment of East Brighton using the Whitehawk Hill Neolithic Camp, discovered in 1929 through a geophysical listening technique known as Bosing,  as a symbolic focal point and inspiration for their sonic explorations. 

The Neolithic Cannibals exhibition at Lighthouse will recreate the Neolithic Camp - a place of communion, celebration and ritual, as a compassionate listening space inviting audiences to discover Whitehawk's richness, joy, playfulness and hope, empowering local voices through rarely explored sonic expressions. Audiences will leave with a deeper appreciation for empathetic listening, and consider the power of collective effort and the part we all play in addressing complex and current social issues.

She Had Kept all Her Illusions

I’m doing some early research on a series of short personal radio features and one of them is about a painting that I’d locked away in my loft. I enjoyed reading Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray and soaking up the atmosphere and exploration of duality and paintings as mirrors.

As a person from a working class background it has taken me a long time to find the confidence to consider telling stories with my own voice, using my own words, accepting my own self percieved lack of vocabulary and inteligence. But I’m excited about the stories I can tell and the creative ways I can shape them, welcoming space and placing deep listening at the center.

I owe a lot to my twin brother leading the way with his podcast series about education inequality which also features some of our childhood experiences. Listen here.

“There were maladies so strange that one had to pass through them if one sought to understand their nature. ”
— Oscar Wilde