Sound Observations and Reading Response

Sound Observation #1: In my room with the window open

Sitting in my room in the late morning with my window open, the overall atmosphere of sound is bright. My ear is immediately drawn to the loudest sound that I can hear which is the pulsing cadence of the cicadas in the trees. It is rhythmic and consistent. My attention shifts to a new sound that has been growing steadily over the past few seconds: a high-pitched sound like a siren, but I can tell it is more bugs in the trees. It starts off softly and grows in volume over the course of five or six seconds. It has an almost mechanical tone with an aggressive vibrato that decreases when it gets quieter. I can also hear the wind rustling the leaves of the trees around my apartment, and occasionally I hear the light scraping sound of dead leaves rolling across the pavement every time the breeze picks up. The sounds of bugs, birds, leaves, and wind are all very organic, but they are sometimes interrupted by mechanical and man-made sounds. At a moment when the bugs are quiet, I hear the far-away hum of a large truck driving by. I also hear the rush of a car passing by right below my window, along with the gentle popping sound of the car’s tires rolling over small loose rocks. I hear a low, male voice pass below my window. This is the first low, warm sound I have heard in the past few minutes. At first, it sounds like an indistinct jumble of sounds with very little variation. As the voice comes closer, I start to hear words and the volume of his voice increases. I can also hear the soft scuff of his footsteps on the sidewalk. The loud, nasal honk of a goose startles me and I open my eyes.

Sound Observation #2: Cultural Arts Building

At midday in the Cultural Arts Building, the sounds are surprisingly hollow. Sitting upstairs in an empty room, I can hear the hushed conversations of a few girls below. Their voices echo in the large empty space below the balcony. I can also hear the soft rush of the air conditioning running in the room I am sitting in. Although the space is not silent, it feels still. I can hear the distant, muffled sounds of a saxophonist playing long tones in a practice room down the hallway. He plays a note for a few seconds, and then plays another note a half step down for a few seconds and then pauses. I also start to hear what I thought was rain above me at first, but I realize it must be water running through the pipes. The sound is quiet though and is quickly taken over by a loud mechanical noise made by a water fountain close by. The sound is loud, aggressive, and shakes in stark contrast with the pure tone quality of the saxophone. Once everything is once again quiet and still, I hear the small, tinny sound of voices coming out of cheap speakers in a room across the hallway. 

Balazs Sound Reading Response:

I found the Balazs piece to be very poetic. Her personal voice as a writer has a musical cadence that seems appropriate for the content of her writing, especially because she references music several times throughout the piece. I can appreciate her obvious dedication to sound in film, and I agree with much of what she has to say, especially her comments on silence, but I don’t necessarily agree with all of her points. The piece seems to be made up of a collection of truths that relate to sound in film, but the way that she states them almost make them come across as rules or absolute truths. While nearly everything she says is probably true most of the time, none of it is absolute. However, I really enjoyed her allusions to color and music, because as an artist and musician myself, I was able to take my understanding of musical language (ie: words such as “timbre”) and language associated with color (ie: “shade” and “value”) and apply it to the reading in a way that gave me a new perspective on film sound.