A cool glacier surges. The loud roar of a forest fire. The roar of the storm rising ahead. They are the noise of the living earth, the music of this particular region, and clues to the true nature of these dramatic events. But as loud as all these things are, they emit even more acoustic energy at frequencies of 20 Hz or lower, below the range of human hearing. These “infrasounds” have such long wavelengths that they can travel around the world as distant events churn. But humans could never hear them.
So far, that is. Everyday infrasound in an uncertain worldA new album from composer and artist Brian House condenses these 24 hours of thunder into 24 minutes of the most basic bass lines, putting a new spin on the idea of ambient music. Sound, even infrasound, is really just variations in air pressure. So House built a set of three “macrophone” tubes that fed air into a barometer capable of taking readings 100 times a second. From the quiet forests of western Massachusetts, House can pick up whatever the planet is laying down. Then he increases the speed of the recording 60 times so that it is audible to human ears. “I’m really interested in those layers of perception that we can’t access,” he says. “Not only is it a slow sound, but it’s also a distant sound. That kind of blew my mind.”
House’s album is art, but scientists made it possible. The barometer traced the eruption of the South Pacific volcano Krakatoa to London in 1883. And today, a global network of infrasound sensors helps enforce the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty. Some infrasound experts – such as Leif Carlstrom, a volcanologist at the University of Oregon who uses infrasound to study Mount Kilauea in Hawaii – helped House set up his own music-collection group and better understand what he was hearing. “He’s shedding light on interesting events, though it’s impossible to pinpoint,” Carlstrom says. What Each making a distinctive sound.
So what’s the real music like? it’s 24 minutes supernatural chorusAlternating between low murmuring vibrations and soft ghostly whispers. A high-pitched whistle? House says it could be a train. A sharp low-octave rattle? Perhaps a distant storm or changing ocean currents. “For me, it’s about the mystery of it,” he says. “I expect it will be a little disturbing.” But it can also connect the listener to a wider and deeper world.
Monique Brouillette is a freelance writer based in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
