The power of sound

For a while last night, I listened to NPR's Evening Music hosted by David Garland. Terrance McKnight hosts the weekday Evening Music, and while his choices are very interesting, he frequently does not tell you who who a singer or musician was... if I were the musician or singer I would be infuriated. It's bad enough for the listener.

Garland was asking what listeners' 5 favourite non-music sounds were, and read two lists from comments on the Evening Music blog, on the air. They were beautiful:

Comment from Alana Z.
Date: May 1, 2009, 10:27 pm
1. The “greeting” trill my tuxedo cat makes as he saunters into the room.
2. The warbling whir of a morning dove taking flight.
3. Waves quietly lapping at the shore of Buzzards Bay, MA.
4. A rabbit eagerly nibbling on pansies.
5. The odd cacophony of myriad wind chimes emanating from a nearby apartment in my Brooklyn neighborhood on a windy day.

and

Comment from steven
Date: May 1, 2009, 11:14 pm
heavy snow muffling city sounds
owls in the woods
lonely trucks mournfully winding down a far-away interstate
songbirds as I go home in the very early morning air
rain on the cabin roof
a lover

So I visited the blog and added mine, and soon, as I was sitting at the computer editing photographs, I heard a break in the music, and heard Marie's Favourite Sounds read back to me from the new little radio sitting on top of the fridge, on Saturday night at home, in New York. I felt like a kid.

Comment from Marie
Date: May 2, 2009, 8:07 pm
1. Sizzling of a roasting chicken in a cast iron skillet in a 450′ oven [Marie is precise, he said]
2. The silver ice-sound of a martini being shaken
3. Ships' horns booming through the mist of New York Harbour, reaching my Brooklyn terrace
4. Fat summer raindrops on my bedroom’s skylight
[And now for a very scary sound, he said, but Marie has heard it, and it is now one of her favourite sounds:]
5. Barking geckos surrounding our tent, invisible in the darkness of a night in the Namib Desert

So what are your favourite sounds?

I used to listen to NPR a lot, and then tossed the last radio when its cd action failed. The last thing I recall hearing was a speech by some senate candidate at the Democratic Convention in Philadelphia (in 2004). The voice and words [close your eyes] stopped me cold in my tracks, and I leaned against the door jam to the bedroom, listening in growing wonder. My breath caught in my throat and he made me cry. This man has to be president, I told no one.

And now he is.