a fall soundscape collage
The Sounds of Fall
Many of us are very familiar with the sounds of fall in Oberlin. We know how nice it is to step on crunchy leaves and frost. We hear birds passing by as they migrate. And then we gradually spend more time inside as the temperature drops.
This sound collage is an attempt to compress these months-long experiences of the season into a few minutes of music. I chose a few key sounds, namely birds (sparrows, crows, and geese), bulldozers, and the sound of dead foliage surrounding Plum Creek. I have been tracking some of these sounds all semester in order to find the right conditions to record them. Other than level setting, crossfading, and compression there are no “electronic effects” in this collage.
These sounds represent the full spectrum of sound categories presented in class (Schafer). Biophony is the sound of living organisms. Anthrophony is the sounds of humans, and our technology. Geophony is the sound of water, air, and volcanism. While this three-part distinction is flawed, it is a very useful framework for listening. Especially, if you do not normally pay attention to sounds on the landscape. I’ve included time stamps in my descriptions of each source so that you can go back and pick out each member of the fall ensemble if you like.
Sound Source Descriptions
Song Sparrows
In mid October, I noticed a flock of song sparrows hiding in a bush on the side of Hales Gymnasium (2:00). They stayed there every night for a few weeks. It was a funny thing to see. Why would 50 sparrows coop up on the ground under artificial light next to a bunch of college students? I wasn’t even intending to record the passing college students, but they are an appropriate background for these suburban sparrows.
I’m no ornithologist, but I wonder if they were hiding in the bush because the trees in the area were bare and offered little protection from predators. A few weeks later, I was walking by the golf course and found a truly enormous flock of sparrows residing in the hedgerow that lines Morgan Street. There were no sweet spring songs. It sounded, to me, like intense chatter, debate, and competition. They chirped aggressively as they chased after each other in the bush.
Bulldozers and Crows
The college is building a new dorm on Woodland Street to expand its housing stock. This made large, tracked bulldozers a sonic fixture of my semester. Their piece-meal tracks make an interesting rhythmic clicking-sound (0:10) that is very unlike the smooth friction of car tires. The on/off switch noises in the collage actually come from a car (0:00), but were superimposed to sound like part of the bulldozer.
There is a group of crows that stay around Stevenson Dining Hall on the north side of campus. I have seen them here all semester and in previous years. They seem to coexist well with this relatively urban, disrupted environment. It seemed fitting to include them with the bulldozers that they fly over every morning (1:30).
Dead Foliage and Plum Creek
Are dead leaves the sound of a living thing? I think fall leaves challenge standard sound categories. Fallen leaves are inert. They only make sound when the wind shakes them or when animals step on them. However, their crunch is an iconic sign that photosynthesis is over for a while and winter is coming. They also provide food for fungi that recycle nutrients into the soil that will give life to new sounds in the following year.
In order to record the crunchy sound of frosted leaves, I had to wait for a cold snap and thaw in mid November. I went to the central field in the arboretum, which is mowed every fall and is the perfect place to record these half-frozen, leafy puddles (3:25). I also found some fallen trees along the creek with their leaves still attached. Manually shaking these fallen trees from a central branch creates a beautiful sound that is analogous to a single tree shaking in the wind (4:30).
I had to wait to record the creek until after it rained in early December. When it rains and the frost melts, the creek fills up. The current picks up, and small changes in elevation become much more raucous (5:30). In general, the more gentle the change in elevation, the more gentle the sound of the creek. Oberlin is located on a flat glacial plain, and so the creek sounds, even when full, are relatively gentle. It’s just the voice of Plum Creek.
The Piano
My intention with the piano was to imitate the decay of fall leaves. The title makes this connection pretty obvious: “Singing Leaves.” The music starts with ordinary piano playing during the sparrow chorus (2:30). Then, it dissolves into plucking the strings directly like a harp when the foliage arrives (4:15). In the final sequence, I used a metal water bottle as a slide against the strings to get these ghostly pitch bends (5:10).
The sound gets thinner and more frayed as the collage continues. The music is meant to progressively blend into the foliage, like ghostly metal leaves that a summer melody left behind. There’s no direct melody, just a soothing texture that blends into the soundscape.
The piano is obviously an “anthrophonic” sound. It’s a machine made by, and played by, people for our entertainment. However, my goal in these collages is always to see how bird-like, leaf-like, or wind-like I can make the piano seem while keeping a musical, human element.
Most instruments are capable of producing a wide variety of sounds that fall outside standard, pitched playing. These “extended techniques” aren’t extended at all. They simply show us that pitch is not a monolith. By applying too much pressure, or pressing a metal object against a string, you can break apart the sound of a piano or violin and mimic the detail of the world around you.
works cited:
Schafer, R. Murray. 1994 (1977). The Soundscape: Our Sonic Environment and the Tuning of the World. Rochester, VT: Destiny Books.
