Reflections on sound--not just about music

[peeplj]

Some of my most vivid memories are sounds. Perhaps my brain fools me, but it seems to me that I often recall sound more accurately than visuals--though of course there are notable exceptions. <smile>

When I was a child, the world was full of sounds. Often the first sound I'd hear was the hiss-hisss-hisss-gurgle of the percolator. If it was warm, that might be followed by a chorus of birdsong coming in through the windows; if it were cold, that was usually followed by a different hiss-pop! of my mother or father lighting their gas heater to start to warm the house.

You might not know--or you didn't until I told you--but the sound of running a tub full of hot water is quite different from running the same tub full of cold water. It's a subtle difference, but distinct--hot water fills the air with steam and all sounds are slightly muffled as a result. Hot water makes everything sound sleepy, like the world has blankets pulled up around its ears. Cold water is sharp and brisk. Hot water is for relaxing, and is relaxed; cold water is usually drawn with a purpose in mind, and it's all business. Nothing is relaxing about a tub full of cold water--although on a very hot day, it can save someone' life.

The sounds of my parents' little kitchen were usually sounds of cooking. I know we didn't eat as often as I seem to recall--most days I only ate two meals back then, some days only one--but in memory, there is always the sounds of food in that kitchen--bacon frying, sausage sizzling, the oven popping as it heated to bake biscuits, the sound--wow, the sound!--of my mom pouring coffee into the skillet she fried the sausage in, to make redeye gravy, as its lovely sizzling sound perfumed the air with a smell that was just indescribably wonderful.

Outside, there were many good sounds. The sound of the gravel in the driveway under the wheels of my bike as I rode out. The sound of the grass when I ran on it--when I was young, I was thin, and I remember the glorious freedom of being able to run without anyone laughing at me. The bike had its own sounds--especially the 10-speed that i got when I was a little older. The lovely clunk! of the derailleur as I shifted gears, the silky smooth clicks as I coasted--you think of bikes as being silent, but they aren't. Even the brakes have their own unique sound.

When I was in junior high, my first day to be in a marching band, I remember the sound of a room full of 7th, 8th, and 9th graders all trying to tune. It was dissonant, and it was loud. It buzzed like a beehive and it made your teeth hurt. It was big like the sound of a truck idling was big -- this was a sound that could move things, could knock them over. In spite of all the troubles that came from being a boy playing flute, especially from some of the older kids, I never stopped loving that sound. Although these days I do prefer my bands to be in tune. <grin>

The first time I talked to Shan--now there is a memory. The sound of her voice rang in my head like a bell, and the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood up. I didn't yet know who she was or what we would one day be to each other, but I knew that voice was Important. As indeed it was--and is.

Sounds, my friends. Some of them are important--don't forget to stop and listen to them sometime.

If you have your own special memories of sounds that you'd like to add, you'd be more than welcome to share those memories here.

[Nanohedron]

Even the brakes have their own unique sound.

Which reminded me that hereabouts, squad car tires on pavement sound different from your usual. Sticky, like. I always know when the cops are coming.

I can tell the landlord is at the door by the way he rings the buzzer.

I can tell by sound when the bathroom sink faucet's output is heating up. When I think about it, I guess I register a lot of things by sound.

My cat's gone deaf, and I wonder how it is for her. Being a matter-of-fact creature, she seems to have made the adjustment rather well. But I talk to her anyway. I like to think it's comforting for her to see my mouth move when we're looking at each other, because that's how it always used to be - and I hope that the sound vibrations register in her whiskers, and that maybe there's a physical memory of voice involved in that way somehow. She certainly still knows how to talk. I've got her nuances down, that's for sure: summoning my attention, encouraging me along, singing, and talking to herself (that's a new one) are all distinct and clear to me. I'm not 100% sure, but I think I hear a difference between whether she wants a drink or food.

Although they're available, I'm afraid I don't really do memories, much - no idea why - so the best I can do is cover the day-to-day.

[Katharine]

She certainly still knows how to talk. I've got her nuances down, that's for sure: summoning my attention, encouraging me along, singing, and talking to herself (that's a new one) are all distinct and clear to me. I'm not 100% sure, but I think I hear a difference between whether she wants a drink or food.

Oh, yes. My cat definitely had distinctive meows-- whether she was annoyed, was demanding something, was trying to wheedle me into something, was distressed, etc. Very expressive. Then again, I sometimes could tell what she was thinking without her needing to say anything, either.

I read not long ago about a study, where they found that a cat's owner could interpret its meows but a stranger to the cat couldn't. They conjectured that a cat and their person learn to understand each other. It certainly makes sense to me.

[s1m0n]

I used to be able to tell if a cathode-ray TV or monitor was powered up, even with the sound off, because of a particular high whine they made, and I've long been intrigued by the rising pitch in the sound of a glass of water being filled under a running tap. I once asked a blind friend if he'd noticed and used that as a guide to tell when a glass was getting full, but he had no idea what I was talking about.

[Toonboog]

I remember that my father;s cat was deaf.
She used to go up in the attic and sit on my acoustic guitar.
She pulled the strings with her paws and nails. (a strage sensation when it first happened, for there was no one else in the house and the guitar started playing).

Of course she couldn't hear the soud, but she obviously liked the feeling of the resonance in the guitars body.
It looked like she really enjoyed it in a way that it was equal to hearing.

I guess this is very off topic, sice it is about no sound, but the prevous posts jogged my memory.

[Nanohedron]

...but he had no idea what I was talking about.

Now that surprises me. I'd assumed that being blind meant you'd be all the more keenly attuned to sound. Shot that theory all to hell...

[Tunborough]

I used to be able to tell if a cathode-ray TV or monitor was powered up, even with the sound off, because of a particular high whine they made

That was the flyback transformer, 'round about 16 kHz. You don't hear it anymore for two reasons: you've aged and can't hear 16 kHz anymore; and flat screens don't need a flyback.

Sometimes, my favourite sound is being out in the country and hearing absolute quiet.

[s1m0n]

...but he had no idea what I was talking about.

Now that surprises me. I'd assumed that being blind meant you'd be all the more keenly attuned to sound. Shot that theory all to hell...

I wondered the same. He was pretty attuned to sound - a good musician & a trained piano tuner (a standard trade taught by schools of the blind, back when there used to be acoustic pianos). I wondered if the difference was that I had both the sound and the visual of the diminishing airspace at the top of the glass (a Helmholtz resonator, I assume), so I was able to correlate pitch to fullness. His method of filling a glass was to stick his thumb a little way in and wait for it to get wet.

[s1m0n]

You don't hear it anymore for two reasons: you've aged and can't hear 16 kHz anymore; and flat screens don't need a flyback.

I had assumed the same.

[Katharine]

...but he had no idea what I was talking about.

Now that surprises me. I'd assumed that being blind meant you'd be all the more keenly attuned to sound. Shot that theory all to hell...

That is what I would've thought, too. I mean, I can tell when the car's gas tank is getting close to full and the pump is about to shut off, y'know? For that matter, if I go get a drink during the night and don't want to turn on the light, I listen to hear when the glass is getting full. I can usually guess pretty accurately where the level is getting to.

I would think one would like to be able to hear when the glass was getting full... I'm not sure of all of the other methods of discerning the liquid level in a glass, but the only other one I know of involves sticking your finger inside the rim until you feel it... and if I could come up with another way that doesn't involve sticking my finger in my (or my guests') drink, I'd certainly want to! (I think there are also devices you can clip on the rim which serve the same purpose, but then you have to buy a device.)

I'm going to start paying more attention to sounds, now. I do use them to differentiate some things (besides the obvious, like figuring out that there's rain or snow outside based on how cars sound on the road as they go past), but perhaps not as much as I could. Mind you, I've always found music everywhere-- I was playing my mom's egg slicer like a harp when I was about three years old (it makes for a very interesting version of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star), I can get lost rubbing my finger around the rim of wine glasses when I'm doing dishes or practicing my flute embouchure on bottles, and I may have been known to start rapping my knuckles on metal dog bowls at the pet store when I accidentally knock against one and notice it's got a great sustain, or experimenting with support-point ratios of various metal pipes while waiting for someone at the hardware store...

One thing I always found interesting was closing your eyes while in the car with the windows open (I wouldn't recommend it while you're the one driving, but hey, maybe some of you are thrill seekers)... the sound of the air going past the window changes as a car passes, or even as you pass a driveway (vs. a curb running along the street). The patterns in traffic are fun.

[Nanohedron]

His method of filling a glass was to stick his thumb a little way in and wait for it to get wet.

Right, that's the usual way. But even so, you'd think he'd have noticed the pitch change anyway.

You'll probably think I'm fibbing here, but I can walk all the way down the hallway with my eyes closed and stay on track just by listening to the sound balance (of pressure, volume, something) reflected back from the walls on either side of me. It's always a bit of a surprise to open my eyes and find I'm still dead center. But if you walk with eyes closed past an object like a tree or a parked car, the nearer it is to you the more you can hear it "sticking out". It's like that.

[david_h]

But if you walk with eyes closed past an object like a tree or a parked car, the nearer it is to you the more you can hear it "sticking out". It's like that.

I started paying more attention to that sort of thing after reading an article about the training http://www.worldaccessfortheblind.org/ gives.
It was an article like this http://www.latimes.com/local/great-read ... story.html (linked on their web site) but also detailed the more passive things that Nano mentions.

[Tunborough]

I may have been known to start rapping my knuckles on metal dog bowls at the pet store when I accidentally knock against one and notice it's got a great sustain

Has anyone but me noticed the great sustain you get from 2 liter PET bottles (different kind of PET) full of ginger ale? 50 liter (18 gal) bottles of water are good, too.

[Tor]

When I fill a glass in darkness I feel the weight and know when it gets full. I could probably do it by sound too, or not.. I haven't tried. I would have to set the glass on a table so that I can't feel the weight increase when I pour.

[chas]

The first time I talked to Shan--now there is a memory. The sound of her voice rang in my head like a bell, and the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood up. I didn't yet know who she was or what we would one day be to each other, but I knew that voice was Important. As indeed it was--and is.

It's great to see you around, James!

I saw a bit of wisdom awhile back -- "Be sure to marry someone with a mellifluous voice." I also remember the first time I heard my wife's voice. She was calling for my roommate. I had no idea who she was, and it was three years before I met her. It took awhile, but I eventually remembered the ten seconds on the phone three years earlier. I still love the sound of her voice and could (and certainly intend to) listen to her forever.