I’ve kept a journal whilst recording at Shoreham Port, but the entries have tended to be lacking colour. I’m doing more to practice my writing skills including writing reviews of shows I attend, and I’m also developing my field recording journal writing too. Here is an entry from this week with the sound to listen to as you read.
Thursday 15th September 2022
Recording at the water treatment plant and then at the steel depot. Still and calm. Hardly any wind. Taking advantage of the conditions to record without the constant white noise wash of sea in the background.
A team of workers move huge steel beams under glare of floodlights , using large cranes and brute force to lift and position them in slow and what must be exhausting movements. First one alone then joined by 3 others. The whine of industrial electricity is joined by clangs and bangs as steel is lifted, dropped and hit. Now banged into position. A different pitch of electricity and then the new water pump nearby creaks and crackles in to life. It sounds like a broken washing machine full of concrete and happens roughly every 12 minutes. The sound of the old pump is gone now and I'm glad I recorded it.
Shoreham Port
The fresh sea air is masked by the putrid smell of the Southern Water sewage treatment. Shit mixed with washing detergent is how I'd describe it. On a windy day it is blown away, but on a calm still night like this it hangs around lingering like an invisible brown cloud.
It’s deserted down here apart from the odd cyclist using this route to bypass the main seafront road or a jogger running past with a big dog. I don't blame them, it is beautiful at this time of day as the sun disappears over the horizon.
I’m anxious though, feeling exposed. Constantly on alert, fearful of who might take this almost deserted route at night. It affects my ability to quietly listen, to really tune in to the sounds.
The sea black now behind me. Red dots in the distance play a silent sequence.
The water pump again. It’s an ugly sound to go with the ugly smell.
A fox slinks across the road and slips through a fence.
It’s a relief when the pump stops.
Don’t know why I’m so drawn to the sound of the steel depot. Maybe it’s the spacious soundscape. You can hear the size of it not because it is a roaring constant, but because of the way the distant electrical whine is broken up by screeches and the clangs that reverberate around the space.
The next water pump sound will be my signal to call it a night. I'm glad I put aside my anxiety and kept recording because just before the final water pump starts up, the steel depot has a brief moment of sounding like Star Wars light sabres, as thick tense metal cabling is manoeuvred and metallic pings resonate around the space.
I make friends with a fox on the way home.
