Loving pop
And the 90’s-2000’s nostalgia
It has been a while since a text did not fully grasp my imagination. It might have been the references, but while reading Switched On Pop I felt the need to go back to the podcast that they reference, which inspired the book itself. Needless to say, I was hooked. Seven episodes later, I realized it was time to go back to the text — not without closely listening to the core songs they mention, before and after each of the chapters.
During my podcast listening practices, I analyzed my own behaviors. I believe that it was an illusion of productivity, but the listening speed of my default podcast software –Apple Podcasts– was preset to 1.5x the regular speed. I assume that at some point I decided to speed up the narrative, to ‘speed listen’ — if that is even a thing. However, when I started listening to the podcast, Sloan and Harding started playing Taylor Swift’s Blank Space. Even when a part of me tried to go along with a faster tempo-song, I felt the need to go back to a regular listening speed, and listen from the top. It has been a long time since I forced myself to listen in the intended tempo and speed — podcasts and audiobooks alike. It is not unfamiliar since my viewing practices follow the same logic of watching attentively, without missing a single scene. It has been a while since I applied my visual practices to my sonic experience.
Speaking of viewing practices, all my streaming services decided to go silent. I can blame the Wi-Fi and data download, but everything that I decided to play blocked the audio. Always take it on the software, right? Each platform I ran, did the exact same thing. As if that realization from the previous day, emulating visual practices in listening to form and content, was fighting back. At that moment, I did not persist. I went back to the podcast instead.
A place sounds different when there is company. We get used to places sounding one way or another. Another person’s sounds become part of the environment, a particular ambiance that might make up a home. However, the moment that ‘other’ person is not around, the lack of presence resembles a physical and sonic void, that makes space significantly different.
I like moments of silence. However, how quiet is too quiet?
Before, during, and even after the Sloan and Harding book, the ticking of the clocks took on a different presence. The chair I claimed for reading sits next to a window; not only does it catch the sunlight, but it is also placed where the ticking of both clocks in the house collide, in syncopation. Silence makes the ticking more pervasive, and mostly with fewer sounds to compete against at home.
The mystery of the never-ending baths.
Per Simogne’s recommendation during a conversation, Pink Noise is now my go-to ‘white noise’ to play at night. After changing the speaker and adjusting the settings, the sound emulator was set to play through the night. I kept hearing the neighbor’s bathroom shower turn on and off time and time again. I found it odd because I had never heard it before. All through the night, one shower after the other, I found myself worrisome for that continued bath-scenario.
After my alarm went off, I searched Spotify for a morning song. Right after hitting play, the neighbor’s showers ceased.
Did you know that Pink Noise is a collection of randomized static that resembles a combination of ocean sounds and a television set? Or better yet, your neighbor’s shower?
