Sauna acoustics

I have mentioned a rather special building in the past. It is a sauna constructed primarily in plywood in the shape of an icosahedron. I have spent many happy hours in there over the years and have heard speech, laughter, chant and song within its walls (sides?). On my last visit I was treated to some very atmospheric didgeridoo playing late one night around the full moon. This prompted me to try out the acoustic with my clarinet.

I visited in the morning, when it was cool, and set up my recorder. I then began noodling on a folky theme in (concert) D dorian which allows me to drop down to what is, for me as a Bb clarinetist, known as bottom E. A few snaps, some fun in Windows Movie Maker and result awaits below.

From the point of view of the musician I found the acoustic supportive while playing but with a very rapid decay of any reverberations. Parallel surfaces are avoided when building recording studios as they prevent standing waves from making echoes, all of which are added later to give the required sound characteristics. Although the plywood that makes up the sauna is reflective, very little of the surface area is parallel to any other side of the structure. So, unlike most indoor spaces, it has no sympathetic resonances reinforcing the volume of certain notes. Most producers and recording engineers would agree that a sympathetic natural reverb like this is preferable to one applied solely after the event. And the vibe in a studio is unlikely ever to match this sauna. I could have added a flattering 'atmosphere' but prefer it like this.

Free Game for August - Fish and Chips

I love gigs within cycling distance and last night I played at Will Giles' Exotic Garden, a fabulous place near the railway station. The event was a party for Norwich's Green Party which, never having wielded power of any kind, are still considered cute and cuddly and immune from the opprobrium that is traditionally heaped on the spenders of public money. Ironically I had a puncture on the way and, looking for a safe place to put my bike on a Friday night, left it outside the Plantation Gardens, another favourite haunt.

There was enough stone and brick-work at Will Giles's place to make for a good acoustic. It's built on the side of a steep hill so there's a sense of being in an amphitheatre when playing. Although amplification was technically forbidden Andy still managed to sneak his battery powered Pig behind a palm leaf to enable a reasonable balance with the clarinet. Our mix of klezmer and jazz usually hits the spot and this was no exception.

I have just posted a new Game of the Month for August on the website. Fish and Chips was taught to me by a group of ten year olds earlier this year but I believe its appeal is universal by both age and geography. In case you are wondering, chips are deep fried lengths of potato, roughly equivalent to North American fries and what the French call pommes frites. By all means substitute a food item with which your players will be familiar. If you are playing in Spanish please try the word 'paella' and let me know how you get on.

The game is perfect for bonding as the individuals in the group have to listen closely to each other. I hate to say it, so early in the holiday season, but it's a perfect 'back to school' game.

Talking of holidays, this is my last post for a couple of weeks. I'm off to a couple of camps to play live music for various dance forms and will tell all on my return. May the sun shine on us all but especially on my tent.

Working with children and animals

The old Hollywood adage is never to work with either. I played for a tiny family gathering today with Andy the guitarist. It was suggested we play under a tree next to the hens. Birds seem to like wind instruments in a way that mammals don't. These chickens were singing along merrily so I asked a boy of about eleven to take a picture with instructions to get the chickens in the shot. 'Take as many as you like,' I said. When I got home and looked at the camera I found 230 pictures, only one of which had the birds in shot.

In retrospect their voices didn't carry especially well. We weren't using amplification apart from a little boost to Andy's nylon stringed guitar. However, I appreciated their moral support and they certainly gave us a stage presence we may otherwise have lacked.

Aeolian Roof Box

If you've been following this blog you'll know I went to see some musical theatre last week rather than go and look at a roof box. In fact I went the next morning, prior to a weekend's camping and jamming in the woods near historic Bury St Edmunds.

I duly bought the box and headed for home. I was about to turn on the radio, my chosen CD having been refused by the in-car entertainment system, when I was treated to the song of the roof box. Sweeter even than those ancient sirens who charmed Odysseus. Mind you, they had to compete for attention with the Aegean Sea: the A140 is easier to upstage.

Factors including wind direction and speed of travel made for an enjoyable ride back listening to the roof-bars and box run through the harmonic series. And in case you're wondering if I've lost the plot, others have enthused unbidden. It was my best motoring experience since Classic FM used birdsong as a test signal back in the 1990s. Had I known the roof-box vendor was throwing in an aeolian harp I may have forced another tenner on him.

Well it's nearly time for a new game. August's Game of the Month will have a seaside flavour, although it can be played anywhere. Look out for it from Saturday. Meanwhile it's not too late to check out the July offering at http://www.playwithsound.com/music-game.html Called Limelight you may find it useful if you are faced with a disparate band of would-be musicians at a workshop or play-scheme this summer.

Tomorrow's World

I am a habitual cyclist. I tend to avoid the adjective 'keen' because, although I do enjoy the practice, my main reasons for cycling relate to convenience, economy and carbon emissions. Cars, which I also use, impact negatively on my enjoyment and it could be argued that any urban cyclist must be keen by definition. But recently, in Britain at least, the increased pedestrianisation of town and city centres has added new hazards.

Because we tend to rely heavily on our ears to warn us of danger when crossing roads we don't hear cyclists approaching and this leads to misunderstandings, especially in those streets closed to 'traffic' but open to bicycles. No one likes a pedestrian who just steps out in front of them. And of course no one likes being snuck up on regardless of whether the sneaker is on tiptoe or riding a bike. Introduce silent vehicles the size and weight of cars and these little altercations become far more serious.

I read recently (on the BBC) that the Japanese are considering the introduction of noise generators to hybrid cars to make them safer for visually impaired pedestrians. This seems like a very good idea. And not just for the visually impaired. For those of us with a penchant for science fiction films there is a frisson of excitement about this prospect. It's so futuristic. The city soundscape will be awash with tasteful sound effects straight from Blade Runner. No more adolescent joy-riders tearing my ear-drums to shreds. A calm, orderly and sonically restrained future is just around the corner. For where the Japanese are tomorrow, surely we will be the day after.

Oh, if only that were the case. Spend any amount of time in a public place and what do you hear? Amongst other things you will hear a succession of ringing telephones. Except that they don't ring, even the ones that pretend to. Instead they emit a variety of cheesy 'ring tones' ranging from Roquefort to Dairylea.

Now compare the amount of time phones spend ringing to the time cars spend driving. Traffic in a city is a virtual constant and the sounds of the engines are sufficiently similar, and of a range in pitch, that we can screen them out for much of the time. But imagine if all these sounds had been selected by their owners. The vehicular equivalent of the ringtone. Not everyone likes Star Trek. And not everyone wants to drive a black Model T Ford, devoid of furry dice or racing stripes. Standardised sounds? For how long, if at all? If you think you hate traffic noise now, you ain't heard nothing yet.

Now excuse me while I go and attach playing cards to the spokes of my front wheel.

Just the ticket

Last night I had to make a snap decision. Should I make a 35 mile round trip to look at a second-hand roof box or go with the kids to see some amateur theatre in a nearby park? Norwich has a long tradition of Shakespeare in the Park - usually one of the comedies - and I was wondering if I really wanted to sit through another worthy production of As You Like It. Good stuff but heavily reliant on dialogue and in the open air with untrained voices? Well, maybe. But when I asked what was playing I was told it was a piece loosely based on The Beano. That clinched it. For those of you who don't know The Beano is a children's comic founded in 1938. Its stars include Dennis the Menace, Minnie the Minx and, obviously the inspiration here, The Bash Street Kids. So this is why my kids are so keen to go. The penny drops.

I was very glad I went. This was the perfect antidote to the performance I bemoaned in my previous post. Not a megaphone or PA in sight. Instead there was an animated cast prepared to project and sing out. Also - oh joy! - there was a live band playing music especially devised for the piece. This comprised trumpet, two saxes, tuba, guitar, banjo and two drummers. They're all there - the camera angle makes is difficult to see the back row. In fact the entire show was refreshingly low-tech. The only electricity involved was the batteries used by a cast member to activate lights on his costume in the second half.

Using live music must have presented challenges. The band needs to be close to the stage for communication with the cast and to present the audience with a coherent spectacle. Even indoors, with the actors wearing those little mics that make them all look like extras from ER (fine for sci-fi but very distracting in a period piece), it's hard to get the balance right. But they handled this so well that it only occurred to me later. Walls tend to reinforce instruments and perhaps their absence allowed the sounds to escape. They were facing across the stage whereas the cast directed their songs and dialogue straight at the audience. But great skill and sensitivity were also in evidence: trumpets, drums and saxophones are not naturally quiet.

The show was called The Chalk Hill Gang and the company Crude Apache. My daughter is going again tonight. If I wasn't otherwise engaged I would probably join her. Live, acoustic musical theatre, an original show and all in the open air. It doesn't get much better than this. And the world, I have no doubt, is still full of roof boxes.

Seaside Sounds

A sunny day and a fine one for the North Norfolk coast. I dropped my partner and the kids near the front and went looking for a parking place. When I reached the cliff top a few minutes later there was no sign of the rest of the family but I did find, between the ice cream van and the lobster traps, a gathering of some thirty souls on a triangle of grass. 'Scripture Union' read the banner but I'd already heard them and their little P.A. system from around the corner.

The Billy Graham figure (vicar?) was a mild mannered chap in his 30s with all the iconoclastic zeal of a children's TV presenter from the 1970s. All very English and understated. "So God spoke to you in London," he was saying into a megaphone to a member of the congregation who gave confirmation. "And [to another] God spoke to you at work? What work do you do? A librarian. In which county? Sussex. So God has spoken to us in London and in America and in Sussex. And this is evidence that God..."

Hang on a minute, I think, my heckles rising. Evidence? God forbid you're ever called for jury service. And I find I'm resenting the din of the megaphone as much as the smug self-certainty of the man of faith behind it. But as I wander down the cliff path the tinny music that follows the sermon merges with the sounds of laughing children, gulls and the breeze and I realise this is what the seaside is all about. The world on holiday and all the hullabaloo that goes with it. To me this born-again evangelist is an echo of the showmen and callers of yesteryear. All his flock need to do now is ditch the canned music and form a brass band. That's the kind of revival I'd be game for on a sunny day at the beach. A little tiddly-om-pom-pom along the prom to wake up a sleepy little seaside town and breathe life into what's known here in Norfolk as God's waiting room.