#247: A Lyre
Can you hear the past?
Do you ever wonder what the past sounded like? Maybe you’ve tried to imagine yourself into a previous era? History can show us documents, archaeology can show us objects, and even make replicas. But what about sounds? Before the late 1800s, humans had no way of recording the sounds around them, and so we have no recordings of the sounds which they heard. That sense of history is lost to us — or is it?
We may not have the recordings, but we do have some objects which make the sounds our ancestors once heard: musical instruments. One such instrument which was quite widespread, in a variety of forms, was the lyre.
But once we have the instrument, how do we know how to play it? Depending on what historical sources are left for us to find, various fields of study are turned to, such as archaeology, archaeomusicology, and ethnomusicology. There will always be guesswork and interpretation involved, and we will never really know for sure if what we’re hearing is ‘the same’ as those before us, but we get a little closer.
I came across this particular lyre when I went to an evening event at the JORVIK Viking Centre in York. In a room full of people, with various objects put out for us to hold and look at and discuss, I was drawn to this lyre. Why? Because I’m a musician, and my interest was caught and held as soon as I heard the first plucking of strings.
I was intrigued to hear the music of the past. Sound, from a world before recordings, was so ephemeral. Every sound of the past was part of a particular moment in which it vibrated through the air, before it dissipated into silence again. Here was a chance to try and hear those sounds.
As I listened, I also wondered. What would this music have sounded like to the people who heard it as part of their everyday life? When I listened, the only images in my mind were of historical movie scenes. And how could I not compare it to the sounds we have today? Of symphony orchestras, pop songs, stage musicals, rap, disco music. The list goes on and on, but our ancestors would not have known that. I stood there, listening, and wondered how much my hearing was being affected by all the sounds I’d heard before the lyre.
I was also reminded of a Vlogbrothers video which I watched a few years ago. Titled ‘What is The Oldest Song?’, Hank Green not only talks about the oldest song which we can still play and sing today (the Seikilos Epitaph), but he actually plays it. However, as he does not own a lyre like the one above, he played the song on his guitar. It is surprisingly catchy, the lyrics have surprisingly relatable meaning to us today, and when you search for other, perhaps more ‘accurate’ versions on the internet, you realise he hasn’t changed too much of the tune.
So go on, give that video a listen (he starts playing at 1:44), and then compare it to some other versions online, such as this one. This will not be the oldest song ever, just one of the oldest we have access to. But it gives us a little taster — one which reveals that while our ancestors may be separated from us by centuries of time and changing technology, their music may not be quite so foreign to us as it first appears. And, thanks to this lyre, the sounds of the past are not so far from our hearing.
Thanks go to the Wolfson Foundation, who fund my studies, and organised the event which allowed me to discover this lyre, and thank you to JORKIK Viking Centre for hosting us.
Katie writes regularly about random objects that she finds in her everyday life. If you’re interested in reading more, check out her blog Object, a collaboration with fellow Medium blogger Eleanor, and sign up for the monthly newsletter (containing exclusive content) below. You can also follow us on Twitter at @ObjectBlog.
