A granular synthesis performance using field recordings of rock gongs and inharmonic idiophones

We are literally looking into the past. The nearest stars in our night sky are 10 to hundreds of thousands of light years away, and because light travels at one speed (299 792 458 m/s) through space we see those stars as they once were. What if the same could be said for sound, and our experiences here on earth? Imagine we could hear them echo through space and time.

It is this interaction between the past and how we perceive it in the present that guided the sound design for this recording. The nature of sound waves is that over time and distance they lose kinetic energy, becoming less clear, and lose meaning. So, while we can't listen to the music or conversation that our human ancestors would have made before recording technology was invented, almost 150 years ago, we can only make guesses and use our imagination to approximate them.

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Imagine a cave. It’s dark and is only lit by a small opening in the ceiling where you can see the sky peeking through. Condensation clings to the walls and makes the air damp and is hard work for your lungs, taking more energy to breathe than normal. Imagine the space has many stones and boulders scattered on the floor - some small enough to hold in your hand and others so big and old that they must have formed with the cave. Imagine you can see the evidence of their past. Some have markings from repeated percussive stress, cracked and split in half. Some have paintings of hunting expeditions, etched with images of gods who have been forgotten. Imagine each rock a story to tell, wisdom through the ages. A story of how people have come by to strike their surface to make music, to communicate and tell stories of their own. Stories of community. Stories of rhythm, song and dance. Imagine the stories did not fade and lose meaning over time. Imagine we could hear them echo through space and time.