So begins a recent addition to the Feaster Collection—an amateur disc recording that deserves to become a cult classic. If Ed Wood of Plan 9 From Outer Space had tried his hand at radio drama, it might have come out something like this. Experience the three-part tour de force here, if you dare. More on the PhonautographMy First Sounds colleagues and I recently unveiled a batch of new findings that fundamentally reshape how we think about the world's oldest recorded voices. Here are some of my own ruminations (and the sounds, too, of course). The "script" and audio of my presentation on New Directions in Phonautographic History at the 2009 ARSC Conference are also now available online.
Their question: "Did Thomas Edison invent a machine to listen to the secrets of the dead?" Well, no, he didn't, but it gave the TV watching public a fine opportunity to experience phonographic luminary Tim Fabrizio talking about the PsychoPhone. (The best line, however, is Jerry Fabris's remark, "It would have to have been a very loud ghost.") Watch online here. Taylor Made RecordingsThe Center for Southern Folklore in Memphis, Tennessee, has recently launched a website featuring an interesting set of amateur original and off-the-radio sound recordings made in the Memphis Delta Region by Rev. L. O. Taylor. Listen to them here. The Lost Photographs of Thomas EdisonLewis Lueder was Edison's official photographer from 1913 through the 1920s. Robin and Joan Rolfs have made Lueder's photograph collection the subject of a new CD-ROM, and the Hearthstone Historic House Museum in Appleton, Wisconsin is home to a related exhibition through November 9, 2009.
Until the late nineteenth century, inscriptions of sound were typically earmarked for visual perception, not aural. But wouldn't it be exciting to hear them "played" right off the page anyway, much as we'd play an LP or an mp3? Since Fall 2008, I've been experimenting with ways of making various inscriptions "talk" or "sing" automatically—some made as recently as the 1940s, others dating back as far as the thirteenth century. Paleospectrophony uses reverse Fourier analysis to play inscriptions that graph time against pitch just as though they were modern sound spectrograms, with no need for reperformance, transcription, or MIDI:
The optical film sound track method instead plays oscillographic inscriptions that graph time against amplitude, such as phonautograms. Here are two of the first inscriptions I tried in September 2008:
To experience the full range of these Experimental Eduction Projects—including a prototype Morse code message from the 1830s, medieval church music, and pitch contours of Shakespearean declamation dating back to the 1770s—start here. Early June 2009 (right column) More on the PhonautographIn case you haven't yet heard, the version of the "Au Clair de la Lune" phonautogram my First Sounds colleagues and I released to the world in March 2008 turns out to have been played back at twice the speed at which it was originally recorded. What we thought was the voice of a young girl was really a "chipmunk effect"—played here after two other examples at the same speed for comparison: . Here it is at what we now believe to be the correct speed: . When I imitated the new version during a trip to Paris in April, the response I got was: "Ah! That's how we sing 'Au Clair de la Lune' as a lullaby!" So we may have to give up our romantic notion of Scott recording the voice of his young daughter, but in return we may have a record of the way he sang his children to sleep. Even so, the new version of "Au Clair" lacks the audible charm our initial playback had. Fortunately, another recently educed phonautogram makes up for it: Scott's last known phonautogram, an exuberant rendition of "Vole, Petite Abeille" ("Fly, Little Bee"): . This is one of two 1860 phonautograms played back so far using my "optical film sound track" method. The other is a recitation in Italian of the opening lines of Torquato Tasso's pastoral drama Aminta: : "Chi crederia che sotto forme umane e sotto queste pastorali spoglie fosse nascosto un Dio? Non mica un...." Scott writes at the bottom of this sheet: "I was wrong; it should be umane forme." By taking responsibility for the mistake, Scott indirectly identifies himself as the speaker here and, in all likelihood, in other phonautograms as well. Find out more about these latest discoveries at FirstSounds.org.
April 2008
November 2007
Show and Tell
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Original content copyright © 2007-2010, Patrick Feaster.