Project #2: What I Hear
The area was Midtown. From Park to 6th Avenue, lots of ground covered. The background, or “keynotes,” was mostly filled with sounds of cars. The low thumps of tires dropping into a manifold of craters. The distinct “clank” of back tires trudging over sunken manhole covers. The screeching of break pads and wheel axels pivoting around bolting pedestrians. Of course, there were car horns. Mostly in the distance, but some close enough to feel in the air.
The “sound signals” seemed to be mostly pedestrians, all of whom appeared to be in a collective rush. Their words passed by as fast as they could walk, and were soon replaced with more fleeting words of a group of people, or someone simply yakking on their phone. The sounds of talk seemed to cease as I passed a junk band drummer, who was rapidly banging on pots and pans with a skilled precision. The beat was ear-catching, lots of heads turned to locate the source. As I walked by, the sound was almost deafening, but as I proceeded on, it faded and sure enough, the low hums of people’s murmurs filled my ears.
Tourists seemed to make a different kind of sound, often saying “ooh” and “aah” and “whoa” and “look!” The Saint Thomas Church on Fifth Avenue seemed to get a lot of these, partially due to the glint of the sun shinning on the building as I passed by. The Trump Tower had it’s share of “whoa’s” and “look’s,” but a low grumbling could also be heard, a distinct sound of collective displeasure.
The texture of the sound was erratic. There were lots of blips, interruptions, there was no serenity at this time. When I thought it was silent just for a moment, a team of Dragon Ball Z cosplayers appeared next to me and belted out a skit that caused heads to turn from across the avenue. In an area where so many people, cars, and even subway trains converged, it was impossible to experience any form of tranquility, but that’s what makes Midtown, and the larger city of New York, an audible anomaly.
The “sound signals” seemed to be mostly pedestrians, all of whom appeared to be in a collective rush. Their words passed by as fast as they could walk, and were soon replaced with more fleeting words of a group of people, or someone simply yakking on their phone. The sounds of talk seemed to cease as I passed a junk band drummer, who was rapidly banging on pots and pans with a skilled precision. The beat was ear-catching, lots of heads turned to locate the source. As I walked by, the sound was almost deafening, but as I proceeded on, it faded and sure enough, the low hums of people’s murmurs filled my ears.
Tourists seemed to make a different kind of sound, often saying “ooh” and “aah” and “whoa” and “look!” The Saint Thomas Church on Fifth Avenue seemed to get a lot of these, partially due to the glint of the sun shinning on the building as I passed by. The Trump Tower had it’s share of “whoa’s” and “look’s,” but a low grumbling could also be heard, a distinct sound of collective displeasure.
The texture of the sound was erratic. There were lots of blips, interruptions, there was no serenity at this time. When I thought it was silent just for a moment, a team of Dragon Ball Z cosplayers appeared next to me and belted out a skit that caused heads to turn from across the avenue. In an area where so many people, cars, and even subway trains converged, it was impossible to experience any form of tranquility, but that’s what makes Midtown, and the larger city of New York, an audible anomaly.
Comments
Post a Comment