Tag: aeolian sound

Distal Bodies 71.5dBSPL (LAeq)

Wodcote Village Green

Location: Village Green, Woodcote, Oxfordshire, UK

Date: 23rd May 2020

Time: 09:04 – 09:19

Weather: Sunshine and patchy cloud with a strong breeze

Temperature: 14oC

Average Sound Level: 71.5dBSPL (LAeq)

Woodcote Village Green

May 11th

Somewhere near a field in Oxfordshire

At daybreak, my face still turned to the wall, and before I had seen above the big window-curtains what tone the first streaks of light assumed, I could already tell what the weather was like. The first sounds from the street had told me, according to weather they came to my ears deadened and distorted by the moisture of the atmosphere or quivering like arrows in the resonant, empty expanses of a spacious, frosty, pure morning; as soon as I heard the rumble of the first tramcar, I could tell whether it was sodden with rain or setting forth into the blue.

Marcel Proust The Captive (1925)

Leaning out of an upstairs window I can hear the sound of hedgerow birds, chickens running in one of the nearby gardens; a football bouncing on a paving slab and then being kicked into the shrubbery; a lone car heading West on the A4130 sounding the asphalt; a Red Kite circling overhead. I lean out further, listening into the distance, into the future, waiting for the tide of mechanised sound to return, for the drone of tyres on asphalt, not the phasing passage of a single car, but the sweeping tide of traffic sound flooding across fields, down lanes, through dense woodland. Perhaps it is still here, cars pass in groups, the air vibrates, the X2 pauses at the bus stop. Covid 19 has transformed our sounding environment, but how much is that transformation felt in any one place, in a place on the periphery of the situation? Can I hear it from my window? Is it evident in my everyday? And when will the tide of sound turn? and when it does turn how will we feel about it? As the air begins to vibrate with the phasing of distant jets will we want to step back or will we embrace the return to the normative sounding of the world? The soundscape is ambivalent. It represents the reduction of pollutants in the atmosphere but also signals the absence of loved ones. The temporary absence of friends but also the permanent absence of those who have lost their lives. This is a soundscape of hope and a soundscape of loss. It is a soundscape of a brighter future, one where listening to the world is part of the decision-making process we undertake when we chose to travel or not to travel; but it is also a soundscape of a brighter past, a past where now lost loved ones were still with us, where we could hear the sounds of their voices vibrating in the air and not just in memory.

I made this recording on Monday 11th May:

11052020

Distal Bodies 64.3dBSPL (LAeq)

Woodcote Village Green

Location: Village Green, Woodcote, Oxfordshire, UK

Date: 11th May 2020

Time: 08:56 – 09:11

Weather: Sunny, light cloud with a moderate breeze

Temperature: 8oC

Average Sound Level: 64.3dBSPL (LAeq)

My ‘BBC Weather’ app reads; ‘Sunny and a fresh breeze’ but this description does not seem to capture the experience, having been buffeted by the wind, hands numbed and tripod blown over. Sitting huddled on the park bench, my ears grumble with waves of wind noise, each bluster conjuring breakers of white noise passing right to left, north to south, following the line of trees marking the edge of the green. These tumbling gusts mask tyres and engines on the Goring Road along with the many movements I cannot see. I notice that the commercial vans have returned after the long weekend, but only the low rumble of their engines radiating from the adjacent Reading Road, can duck beneath the wind noise. The ‘breeze’, cloud and cooler air seem to have convinced many to stay indoors. An elderly man with a dog, prosthetic throwing arm and tennis ball, a lady running laps into the turf and a well-clad gentleman sitting atop a diesel mower circling the cricket pitch, infield, outfield. Cold and eager to return home, I dutifully record five minutes of the soundscape, all the time uneasy with the flashing ‘low battery’ indicator. Then, pack-up, load myself with the paraphernalia and walk briskly back across the park weaving to respect the invisible two-meter boundary surrounding people milling outside the corner-shop.

Woodcote Village Green

Distal Bodies 48.5dBSPL (LAeq)

Woodcote Village Green

Location: Village Green, Woodcote, Oxfordshire, UK

Date: 10th May 2020

Time: 08:48 – 09:03

Weather: Sunny, light cloud with a moderate breeze

Temperature: 16oC

Average Sound Level: 48.5dBSPL (LAeq)

Woodcote Village Green

May 10th

Somewhere near a field in Oxfordshire

At daybreak, my face still turned to the wall, and before I had seen above the big window-curtains what tone the first streaks of light assumed, I could already tell what the weather was like. The first sounds from the street had told me, according to weather they came to my ears deadened and distorted by the moisture of the atmosphere or quivering like arrows in the resonant, empty expanses of a spacious, frosty, pure morning; as soon as I heard the rumble of the first tramcar, I could tell whether it was sodden with rain or setting forth into the blue.

Marcel Proust The Captive (1925)

Leaning out of an upstairs window I can hear the sound of hedgerow birds, chickens running in one of the nearby gardens; a football bouncing on a paving slab and then being kicked into the shrubbery; a lone car heading West on the A4130 sounding the asphalt; a Red Kite circling overhead. I lean out further, listening into the distance, into the future, waiting for the tide of mechanised sound to return, for the drone of tyres on asphalt, not the phasing passage of a single car, but the sweeping tide of traffic sound flooding across fields, down lanes, through dense woodland. Perhaps it is still here, cars pass in groups, the air vibrates, the X2 pauses at the bus stop. Covid 19 has transformed our sounding environment, but how much is that transformation felt in any one place, in a place on the periphery of the situation? Can I hear it from my window? Is it evident in my everyday? And when will the tide of sound turn? and when it does turn how will we feel about it? As the air begins to vibrate with the phasing of distant jets will we want to step back or will we embrace the return to the normative sounding of the world? The soundscape is ambivalent. It represents the reduction of pollutants in the atmosphere but also signals the absence of loved ones. The temporary absence of friends but also the permanent absence of those who have lost their lives. This is a soundscape of hope and a soundscape of loss. It is a soundscape of a brighter future, one where listening to the world is part of the decision-making process we undertake when we chose to travel or not to travel; but it is also a soundscape of a brighter past, a past where now lost loved ones were still with us, where we could hear the sounds of their voices vibrating in the air and not just in memory.

I made this recording on Sunday 10th May:

10052020

Travel! [#5] Ashendon Playing Field

This is the fifth in a series of posts investigating the close-season soundscape of football pitches on the route between Brightwell-cum-Sotwell and Winslow. There are more details of the project here.
The village of Ashendon sits between Upper Pollicott to the south and Westcott to the north-east on a road that heads north from the Aylesbury Road and connects with the A41 to the north-west of Waddesdon. At its southern end the road – at that point called Cannon Hill – climbs to a crossroads and then descends into a shallow valley before rising to a ridge on top of which sits Ashendon. As I entered the village I noticed a set of goalposts; turned left into a small car-park; and headed up the hill to the west end of the pitch. I didn’t have any sound recording equipment with me so I sat, listened and made a note of what I could hear.
6th July 2017
13.57 : Ashendon Playing Field
(Sitting behind the goal looking down the slope)
1.
Reversing van pulses with white noise; passing car approaches and departs a slow-motion wave of sound; wood pigeons call in the distance; cars pass matching their sound envelopes – a meeting of waves; gentle breeze disturbs the trees; a blackbird calls from beyond the pavilion; a fly passes close by; the wings of a small bird – flapping; rattling cement mixer and white van meet, pause, continue; the squeal of brakes; a chaffinch calls; the leaves of the Oak treeshake in unison and form a barrier of sound between my position and the lane; two airplanes – one to the North, one to the South – the sound of their droning propellers rises and falls – left to right, right to left; one is dominant now and blends with the leaves in the breeze –  a drone powered by diesel and air pressure; a passenger jet – distant rumble; a rook calls in the gap between passing cars; antiphony between air traffic and the approaching protesting roar and squeak of a large trailer; a train sounds its horn to the South.
Ashendon Playing Field is the home of Ludgershall United FC who play in the Aylesbury and District League. The pitch has a distinctive slope and I imagine that a fair number of strikes on the goal at the east end of the pitch – at the bottom of the slope – finish with the ball being lost in the churchyard to the east.

On my second visit to Ashendon I had my equipment with me. There was a strong wind, so strong that many of the distinctive sounding characteristics of the area – the vibrations of distant jets, helicopters, and light aircraft; the phasing white noise of the passing traffic; the calls of red kites and wood pigeons – were obscured by the many and various sounds of the wind as it shook branches; whistled through bushes and shrubs; and turned the long grasses around the pitch into a multitude of whispering aeolian devices.

 

(looking west up the slope from the touchline)