field recording

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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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.

Flux and Phantoms

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Sheltered by a concrete harbour arm and a shingle and steel embankment built on sunken ships, Shoreham Port houses a sewage treatment works, a power station, a rock processing plant, a steel factory, wharves, lorry parks and burger vans: a backdrop for swimmers, nudists, cyclists, surfers, fishers and summer picnickers.

More from my collaboration with Angus Carlyle at Shoreham Port. Flux and Phantoms is a multi dimensional broadcast experiment for Radiophrenia, a temporary art radio station broadcasting from the Centre for Contemporary Arts in Glasgow. Field recordings gathered from Shoreham Port will be broadcast at 4PM on Saturday the 26th of August, and listeners are invited to use another device to simultaneously mix in “phantom frequencies” and recreate a phenomena encountered at the site: the appearance of enigmatic drones and tones at the edges of the acoustic atmosphere. These ‘phantom sounds’ can be streamed from Soundcloud via a link below.

The hope is that listeners will experiment by playing this second layer synchronised with the broadcast, using a mobile phone or a computer - possibly a bluetooth speaker - and engaging with the spatial nature of these recordings. We’ve been testing it out and it is a lot of fun to move the second sound source - the phantom sounds - around the listening space, with the potential to collaborate with friends and use more than one  playback device.

Photo by Curtis James

To listen to the ghost frequencies which add an extra dimension to the "Flux and Phantoms" broadcast please tune into Soundcloud with another device and mix the two streams in your own space.

Shards

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My head swivels from left to right.

I’m counting down the minutes. It’s a funny way to listen.

My hood flaps in the wind.

My nose runs.

Amongst all this I’m somehow managing to listen to the sound as the wind blows across this sleeping, weather beaten, decrepit machinery.

It sounds like hundreds of shards of rock falling like hailstones. A wide shower of crumbling shaking movement.

I glimpse a fox in the distance.

A red glow from a building behind me.

This is a binaural recording so best experienced on headphones.

Large industrial machinery behind a brown concrete wall with barbed wire along the top.

I wanted to write more but I was too nervous in this deserted space I could barely think. Aren’t these always the spaces where dark things happen? I did my best to remember some details.

The Passage

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The passage leads from Basin Road South to a raised pebble path that runs parallel to the shore. The acoustics of this thin space, large weathered grey concrete blocks on one side and ugly metal fence on the other, funnel the roar of the sea which increases in power until you exit and feel the full intensity. 

The rain is heavy today, seeping through my waterproofs to my skin. I’m testing a new rain cover for my microphone and I’m a bit apprehensive putting my faith in it under these conditions but I’m holding out for a little while longer.

As I stand at the entrance to the passage, behind me I hear the familiar mix of port vehicles and cars, and the steel depot’s heavy machinery a distant drone. Often when I walk down this path I feel like I’m leaving one world and entering another, but today in the middle the two worlds blur, roaring sea trucks on slick wet roads.

I’m too wet now and ready to cal it a day. My thoughts distracted by Victoria’s trip to the hospital. I’ll come back to this another day. 

The Invisible Power Mix

The wind's invisible and silent energy blasts through this mix of field recordings.

I made a windy mix tape! To celebrate the release of my Electronic Breeze album this week I’ve collected my favorite wind field recordings in to a mix.

In isolation wind is silent. Only when it comes in to contact with an object does it reveal itself to our ears; churning up the sea, rippling through the forest, vibrating and oscillating otherwise static structures and materials. The Invisible Power Mix collects my favorite recordings of these kinds of sound activations.

Tendrils of hairy sea creatures

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Field recording journal - Shoreham Harbour arm sea defence boulders - 9th October 2022

Sea choppy this afternoon, churned up by south easterly wind. It’s busy down here but I take the chance on making a recording of the waves splashing over the sea defence boulders to the west of the harbour arm. 

Large clumps of seaweed float in the turquoise blue, tendrils of hairy sea creatures tangling and untangling. 

The sea is veined with white foam, constantly changing shapes and patterns as it rolls and splashes over the boulders. Occasionally a heavier wave hits, and I fear for my microphones. Large sonic cracks behind me as the sea hits the eastern part of the harbour arm. 

In the distance a medium size boat is entering the harbour. Looks like one of the dredgers. I tune my ears in but I can’t hear the deep hum of its engine yet. The sun is warm, cancelling out the chill of the wind. One of those autumn days where I can’t make up my mind whether I need a jacket or not.

On the other side of the harbour, the bright fluorescent sails of small sailing boats lined up on a small beach flutter. 

The dredger is closer now. It looks heavy, full of aggregate and sailing low in the water. A floating factory, full of industrial machinery - yellow cranes, cabling, metal walkways and at the front a tall brown rusted pillar.

The hum is lost under the sounds of the sea today. Maybe a faint drone ?

It’s called Dapper Dan.  It really is low in the water. The bow wash looks like it is covering the side.

As the boat gets closer I realise it is called Sospan-dau, not Dapper Dan.

A small yacht enters (GBR 1418L) and the hi viz Jacketed harbour arm warden is walking toward me from the end of the harbour arm. Earlier he was in conversation with people fishing off the end. I must record him one day. He’s a constant feature down here. 

On the coast guard station opposite where I’m standing, the radar spins slowly.

Harbour Arm

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Field recording journal 5th October 2022

The wind vibrates the fence I’m leaning against and I welcome its warmth and physical connection to this space.

Carrats cafe car park is almost full with surfers’ vans and cars. Some drying and getting changed.

The wind is blowing hard (I check on an app that says 26mph but it feels stronger). 

I walk towards the harbour arm passing surfers trailing wet footprints. The small turbines are spinning fast, blades cutting through the air, the deep whoosh phasing as I pass between them.

Light rain, tiny specks of sound against waterproof fabric, catch my ear and I consider turning back, but I push on judging it will only be a shower. 

I arrive at the start of the harbour arm and the familiar sound of the gate swinging and clanging fills the air, with lighter, higher pitch clinks coming from the fence to the west. No whistling wind today, must be a different direction. 

Looking to the east with a clear view that stretches along the coast, Brighton, Hove and the port seem squashed, closer together. Sense of perspective lost at this distance under these conditions. The sea is a light green blue, topped with white waves crashing against the beach, throwing up clouds of sea mist. 

The sea roars all around me, enveloping me in wide range noise. I position my microphone and press record. I'm interested in the rhythm of the human made objects as much as the natural. The undulating sea taking up most of the space, the gates and fences a percussive out of time loop.

The wind vibrates the fence I’m leaning against and I welcome its warm physical connection to this space.

A walker passes in short sleeves. I’m wrapped up in fleece and full wind and water proofs. He walks along the deserted harbour arm, conditions too wild for the fishing that takes place most days.

The tee shorted walker returns from the end of the harbour arm. We exchange smiles and nods of heads. 

The creaking gate sounds a bit like a farm animal.  A donkey maybe.

The Water Pump Again

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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.

Shanghai 1933 Soundwalk

One of the buildings that I created music for as part of the Musicity project, was the Shanghai Slaughterhouse, 1933. This pre brutalist brutal building was designed to expedite the killing of animals to provide meat for Shanghai’s residents. It is now a space for shops, galleries, restaurants and a theatre, but the history is hard to shift, as the design is so striking it makes it impossible to forget its intended purpose.

I spent a couple of days at 1933, recording sounds to use in my piece of music (which is now finished and will be shared soon) but I’d forgotten I also recorded a sort of guided walk during one of Shanghai’s famous downpours. It was interesting to listen back to myself (and also weird) trying to navigate the maze of passages and bridges whilst taking in everything in the space. I’m sharing this as a personal audio journal/sound walk. It isn’t a definitive audio guide.


Shenzhen Electronics Markets

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The electronics markets in Shenzhen are famous. It's easy to assume they are full of fake iPhones and other brands, but there is much more to Shenzhen than that. Shenzhen is the place to go if you are designing new technology, because you can get prototypes built in a fraction of the time it takes anywhere else. You can also buy pretty much any electronic component you can think of. 

IMG_7739.JPG

I spent two hours exploring 7 floors of electronics, using my LOM Elektrosluch electromagnetic microphone to record the hidden sounds that the circuits, LEDs, components and gadgets emit. The LEDs in particular were a rich vein of sounds; the colours, patterns and movements creating a beautiful minimal techno album 12 hours a day, hidden from human ears. Recordings coming soon. 

Musicity China

I've just returned from a truly inspiring trip to China where I've been gathering field recordings and researching buildings for the latest Musicity project. Nick Luscombe (BBC Radio 3) with the support of the British Council, has commissioned a group of artists from the UK and China to create pieces of music for buildings and structures in Beijing, Shanghai and Shenzhen.

I spent 5 days each in Shenzhen and Shanghai recording with traditional microphones, contact microphones and electromagnetic microphones - Huge factory silos with beautiful reverb, 7 story electronic markets, Maglev Trains, Power Stations and much more! I'm currently back in the studio and working on the first of the tracks for a building in Shanghai that used to be a slaughterhouse. 1933 is a mix of art deco and brutalist architecture and resembles an Escher painting; a maze of concrete bridges and stairways lead to a circular central structure where the cattle met their fate. My plan is to use the shapes and patterns of the building as a graphical score. I also found an interesting document that talks about the Feng Shui, numbers and codes believed to have protected the local population from the negative 'death energy' leaking from the building. 

Ambisonic Recording in Scotland

I had the pleasure of recording on the East coast of Scotland last week for a project for Salesforce Trailhead. I used the brilliant Sennheiser Ambeo microphone, which records 4 channels and allows for post processing in to various stereo microphone configurations, binaural and most versions of surround. Whilst the technique has been around since the '70s, it has gained in popularity in the VR world recently as the positioning can be linked to head movement within a virtual reality environment. It is one of the only microphone systems that records vertical as well as horizontal, and captures a truly immersive sound space.

Below is an excerpt of a longer recording I made in the rock pools near Dunnottar Castle. (you can just make me out in the image below) The microphone was placed so that water was bubbling and moving all around it and lapping against the rocks. This version is encoded in to the binaural format, which requires headphones to fully appreciate the 'surround' effect. 

What is so exciting about this recording technique, is the amount of flexibility once back in the studio. If I wanted to, I could choose to encode this same recording in any number of stereo mic configurations (and directions) or full surround. I'm seriously considering creating some library collections and I'm already planning another trip to Scotland to spend an extended period recording on the West coast. 

Photo by Clive Howard/Blue Canary

Photo by Clive Howard/Blue Canary

The Sky Ripped Apart 2

This time by natural forces, as a thunderstorm hit Brighton over the weekend. I tried recording from my loft (which you'll hear first) and then from the front of my house. You can hear the screams of the car alarms triggered by the powerful sound waves of the thunder claps too.

Technical note - recorded with the new Zoom H6 in XY mode. I got caught out on the levels and hadn't switched on the backup mode on the Zoom, which creates a safety recording 15db lower than the primary recording.