I have a real interest in the way that sound is coloured by the space that it is projected in to. Alvin Lucier's piece I Am Sitting In A Room is a beautifully simple and extremely effective example of the way that the resonance of a room can alter the sound of the human voice so that the words spoken, (through re-recording and re-projection) no longer contain the significance of semantics, and instead, transform in to a rich reverberating and smooth texture.
One particular aspect that I have enjoyed when working on sound for film is trying to recreate that dimensions and spatiality of a location depicted on screen, through treating the sounds recorded (within a "dry" environment) with electronic effects like reverb and EQing. I find this process very challenging and learning about how sound reacts to the environment it projects in to is fascinating stuff.
When recording sound for Broken Bottles, I have discovered some really interesting dynamics in the way that buildings, spaces and architecture around Elephant & Castle drastically colour sound through dampening and reverberation. Favourites include:
- Entering Elephant & Castle Shopping Centre through the sliding doors, from the outdoor market. The roar of the traffic and the boom of the personal stereos of the market stall vendors suddenly, with the closing of the door to the shopping centre, decrease in volume and brightness, and then what replaces it is this cavernous space, with the clicking of heels and footsteps, along the hard floor creating sharp attack sounds that bounce off of all the hard surfaces of glass and concrete, this creates a soundscape that is both insular and sterile. The sounds exist in this space and present themselves with such clarity because they are protected from the sounds of the vehicles outside, and they are sterile because they are so "clean" of the sounds outside smothering them with their rough and brash shouts and drones. The Muzak that tends to be playing over the tannoy system, is a feeble attempt to fill the cavernous space, and with its hollow and tinny characteristics only serves to further enhance the dimensions of the shopping centre. What is also interesting to listen to is the different stall holders, with their own distinct sound tracks, either through pertable TV sets or stereos, and then the many different shops with their own miniature sound worlds, each attempting to entice would be patrons. At one moment the musics of South America, then Africa, and then the Carribean, and walking at haste, they emerge and recede with such frequency that they echo the hustle and bustle of the traffic outside.
- Another prime example of the above, is when entering LCC through the front doors and then stepping in to the main foyer. Immediately, the roar of the traffic gives way to (if there are a lot of people milling around) an immense cacophony of voices that intertwine with each other and collide with the solid surfaces (not unlike the sound heard at a municipal swimming pool). What the voices are saying is difficult to understand due to the echo and reverberation, however, the sonic properties of the sounds are really interesting in their distortions.
- Entering any of the underpasses that criss-cross the main roundabout at Elephant & Castle creates an interesting contrast in volume between the traffic and the pedestrians. Their roles in the amplitude of the soundscape reverse, and whereas the traffic at street level rules the dynamic range, in the subterranean tunnel network, the pedestrians are free to sound their journies.
- Emerging on to the railway station platforms from underneath the train station creates an amazing expansion of sound as the city suddenly reveals itself to the ear. Underneath the station, the trains passing overhead are dampended rumbles, and as soon as you enter on to the platform, you experience the full power and violence of these huge machines as they thunder along the tracks, the screeches of metal on metal, the blast of wind from the air the train forces out of its way, and of course, the autmated announcement of names of locations that aid the imagination in mapping out the size of the city. From up on the platform, you can also get a panorama of the sounds of the city, as the platform is exposed from each angle, sounds confront you from all sides.
More to follow...
http://www.guardian.co.uk/theobserver/2001/dec/23/life1.lifemagazine1
ReplyDeleteThe Heygate Estate was completed in 1974, on land where, centuries before, inmates of a leper hospital walked, wearing bells to warn locals of their presence. The estate was a bad hangover from the neo-brutalism that urban architects embarked on in the 60s. One of its inhabitants put it more succinctly at the time, when BBC's Nationwide canvassed her opinion outside the off-licence: 'It's a concrete jungle.' The estate begins from behind the shopping centre. It replaced tenements, parades of shops, pubs and numerous streets of houses arranged in squares. I was once told that the decisions on which streets were to be demolished was made in the back of a taxi, as planners drove around, striking crosses on a map. Originally, a plan was hatched to link it to the other mammoth council estate in the area, the Aylesbury, and attach that to the North Peckham estate (where Damilola Taylor was murdered) and beyond. 'The idea was that it would start from Crystal Palace,' remembers Doreen Gee. She and her late mother were moved from one of the streets to a flat in a high-rise on the estate. 'These estates with walkways would've linked so that no one was at ground level until the river. It terrified me when I thought of it.'
Leper Colony - The Zone
I mean Leper Hospital, but I like the idea of bells.
ReplyDeleteAlso when I was wondering around the shopping centre yesterday, I had a thought about the music. It kind of sounds like muted/poorly rendered funfair music. There's a funfair in the film... What do you think?
ReplyDelete