Good vibrations?

I played at the Sainsbury Centre for the Visual Arts earlier today, a building designed by Sir Norman Foster on the UEA campus to house the Sainsbury art collection. The jazz/klezmer trio of which I am a part is not especially loud but we do amplify ourselves. And I remember playing here in a nine-piece salsa band some years ago which certainly packed a punch.

It occurred to me that future generations may be shocked at the damage our noise has done to the molecular structures of the works on display, some of which are thousands of years old. I completed an archaeology degree at a time when the practice of leaving parts of a site untouched (so that scholars as yet unborn could one day apply techniques that would make ours appear crude by comparison) was still a recent development. It was symptomatic of a new humility in science: the idea that although we may be at the cutting edge of knowledge we may not yet be the finished article.

I love playing at SCVA but will do so henceforth with a slight feeling of unease. But I notice the venue never seems to hire any operatic sopranos so maybe they're way ahead of me on this. Should I ask to see their risk assessment paperwork or keep schtum and be grateful for the gig?

Why do birds sing?

Although I do enjoy the occasional dip into New Scientist, the great thing about having no attachment to empiricism myself is that I can happily entertain all kinds of crazy notions. For over twenty years now my partner and I have practised chakra chanting - singing tones into each of the seven energy points, or chakras, of the body (according to some eastern belief systems). We learned it from a charming old hippy who subsequently moved to a remote part of Wales. Apparently it is based on a north Indian Buddhist tradition, although we have modified it to suit ourselves, but I couldn't say for certain and for once I actually like knowing nothing for certain about its origins. I am happy to be free of any of the restrictions that come with dogma.

It makes us feel good but I doubt I could prove that. I have some vague idea that it's to do with vibrations and the fact that humans are largely made of water. We don't do it to attract mates or to warn others off our territory, although I know people who sing for at least the first of these reasons.

This morning I heard the wood pigeon in the picture calling from the roof of my studio. It put its whole body into it - a large sound for such a small creature - and followed up with a thorough preening session. I have reason to believe it was courting and, when another male pigeon arrived they shared the space peaceably for a while before the singer flew away. So, obviously not defending its territory then.

Could it be that some birds, in addition to whatever other reasons they may have, sing because it makes them feel good? Because it vibrates their molecules in a health-giving manner?

While photographing the pigeon I caught a rare glimpse of an urban woodpecker and that was enough to make me feel good.