Sound is a variable people don’t seem to account for with our surroundings, we just thoughtlessly assimilate it until a discrepancy occurs. With shifts in sound, what we notice seems based on what we expect to hear. Living surrounded by pines and birch, my expectations were pendant on those sounds for wind noise. When I moved to more urban surroundings, the assumption of wind noise shifted from the softer whisper-rustle of needle-filled branches to the high pitched whine of the drafts and the whooshing sound as higher speed gusts hit brick edge corners. Likewise an emergency siren begot very different responses from me, curiosity over panic (chances were I would see it pass by rather than arrive at a neighbor’s house) it was if it stopped and stayed in the urban context that I left my home. Conversations passed, the only note I took was pitch. Are they content? Fighting? Is that an issue? Are they likely to be in trouble or causing it? In the rural area, voices engendered curiosity, why are they out this far? Our views on notable noise are purely based on our expectations and previous exposure.
As a child, my times on the subways of New York were enjoyed. I could tell you about light systems, when the cars went over switches, glimpses of the access doors in the tunnels, the secret spaces in the less busy stations, it was a different world. It was also SO much louder; I couldn’t stand the sounds of the arriving trains. And so that is my first clip, the subway, with the squeal of the wheels, the clatter of cars passing over irregularities in the rails (likely switches), the murmur of voices having quieter conversations further down the car. People avoid paying attention in a noticeable fashion, they may see you, but will not acknowledge it. Pay attention, can you tell when the subway curves? It’s not as loud as some, but I think there is a turn in there.
As a child, my times on the subways of New York were enjoyed. I could tell you about light systems, when the cars went over switches, glimpses of the access doors in the tunnels, the secret spaces in the less busy stations, it was a different world. It was also SO much louder; I couldn’t stand the sounds of the arriving trains. And so that is my first clip, the subway, with the squeal of the wheels, the clatter of cars passing over irregularities in the rails (likely switches), the murmur of voices having quieter conversations further down the car. People avoid paying attention in a noticeable fashion, they may see you, but will not acknowledge it. Pay attention, can you tell when the subway curves? It’s not as loud as some, but I think there is a turn in there.
The next two are flows and rhythms of water, the first is a fountain hitting its basin, then filling a bottle. The second is the Gowanus Canal’s terminus/head, where the mechanics initiate flow via outpourings of waterspouts, and the foam hisses as it dissipates. The difference between the two in interesting, the smaller one has a louder identity due to its more singular notes, while the latter, larger one is more of a sound-subsuming roar.
My last location was time specific. It is a park in Brooklyn, which had a modest and very well populated playground, with people of varying ages. The children using it were either attended by adults playing games with them (often with two to five kids per minder), or playing while their adults watched and chatted, or read on benches. Additionally, the rest of the parks benches played host to the less heard contingent of people relaxing, or meeting. If you listen, you can hear the gentle conversations beneath the higher-pitched children’s voices. At this specific time, parents were meeting with caretakers to collect their kids. It’s funny, because despite a ton of that activity happening around me, I can’t find the conversations I know were happening when I was there; there is no indication of this in the sound of the place at that time.