A Closer Listen
An open call from Italy’s Biodiversità Records has led to an incredible array of soundscapes; the fourth in a biennial series, 14 Soundscapes takes listeners around the world to enjoy a variety of natural and composed biophanies, while raising awareness of their often precarious existence. Each selection is a generous ten to twenty minutes in length, allowing the listener to soak in the atmosphere and wander in the sounds.
Ivo Tauriņš leads off the project with a piece about Medeira, referencing the displacement caused by the introduction of eucalyptus trees. The trees, much like humans, crowd out other species while hoarding a disproportionate amount of natural resources. Of course this is not clear in the recording itself, a wet and windy fragment of a larger storm. Next up: an unmanipulated recording of Brazilian tree frogs and friends, in which Janete El Haouli discovers a surprising ABA pattern and a simultaneous, synchronized pause. One wonders / hopes / prays that such sounds, recorded in 1998, still endure. In “An Old Settlement and The Watering Hole,” Michał Biel captures the sounds of waking birds and drinking cows, lamenting the disappearing habitat.
Alëna Korolëva, fresh from last year’s premonitions project, records pigeon and starling colonies in Portugal while teaching a valuable lesson. These colonies began to thrive after the collapse of marble quarries, a sign that nature is ready to reclaim what is left behind, if it is not eradicated in the process. At times their mingled cries create a cacophony. Julia Flux (a perfect name for what the artist records) visits “landscapes of extraction and erasure” to capture their electro-magnetic resonances. The rattle and rustle is a reminder that the metal in our blood may be invisible to us, but responds to forces we cannot see.
Martina Testen & Simon Šerc, who offered us the incredible Biodukt and its follow-up, Ekodukt, return with another immersive soundscape, recorded on a “late spring evening in the Cavanata Valley Regional Nature Preserve.” In this piece, one hears exactly what is worth preserving: a variety of natural calls and cries, an entire biophany rich in texture and hue. A storm is coming, but the creatures cry on, forage on, mate on, seemingly oblivious, living fully as long as possible.
In “Crab Shell Bay,” thruoutin records a seascape in China’s Heibei Province, lapping waves competing with the sound of crackle and a rush that becomes a drone. In contrast, Daniel Gianfranceschi presents “Meditation On Stillness,” amplifying the sounds of wind and melting ice, exposing what is often unheard. He writes of bringing background noise to the foreground, treating it as an equal partner: a practice that is also a metaphor. LUCIUS awakens early to capture sonic gold: the sound of sunrise in the Amazon rainforest of Peru: the Oropendola, which sounds like a wet slingshot, and the intimidating roar of the red howler monkey. We fret at the mention of “deadly spiders in boots,” content to enjoy the soundscape from the safety of home.
What is “The Sound of Spring in the Driftless Area?” Beau Devereaux teaches that this sound is the part of Wisconsin not touched by glaciers, a lake and its non-human residents, a local paradise. Late in the piece, one hears either a waterfall or a gushing stream. jungla (another great name) records birds at sunrise on an active volcano, another example of the risks often taken by field recordists on behalf of their craft. “Breath” is a particularly site-specific recording, offering a unique and seldom-heard sound: that of air pushed through the Etruscan sandstone cliffs by the incoming waves. Even for those who listen to a lot of field recordings, Felice Sciorilli‘s entry may seem entirely new, making one want to visit the site in person. Lena Achtelik records the soundscapes of cemeteries, hoping to discover something ineffable, some ghostly presence on tape, perhaps evidence of the great beyond. Even if this does not occur, other sonic treasures surface. Closing the set, Fausto Caricato offers “Padule, 31st December at Dusk,” letting us know how other creatures greet the new year, and how they react in agitation at our own skies-shattering celebrations. It’s a perfect metaphor for the entire field of climate disruption, the dismay more immediately felt, the impact visceral. What hath we wrought?
The quality of these selections is significantly high; the sequencing is to be complemented as well, leading to a fluid listening experience. Over the course of three hours, a wide angle story unfolds, concluding with church bells, a fitting end that lends itself to a wide variety of interpretations. To locate 13, 15 and 16 Soundscapes, simply click through the Bandcamp link below. Vast worlds of sound await: biophanies we have never heard, but have been there all along. (Richard Allen)
Sat Apr 12 00:01:08 GMT 2025