New Topophonics: Field Recordings of the Human-Altered Landscape

Recorded near Island Lake in the Tahoe National Forest

Recorded live, June 27, for the LA Dept. of Transportation's "Transformation Through Transportation" telethon, curated by Renée Reizman. Stay-at-home orders have had the unintended consequence of giving Angelenos a new vantage point of the city: that of the pedestrian. "The Train to the Sea" is a sound and poetry performance by me, Daniel Tovar, and Jenn Swann, reflecting on the post-pandemic LA landscape through observations and field recordings captured during our daily walks. Daniel Tovar: Sounds (Make Noise 0-Coast, Moog Mother 32, and field recordings taken in Highland Park, Los Angeles, CA) Jenn Swann: Words --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/newtopophonics/message

Recorded in the Angeles National Forest, Fusier Canyon. It is on a whim, a moment of spontaneity that seems so rare these days when all excursions outside the house are carefully planned, that I decide on a morning hike into the Angeles National Forest. This morning, like the previous few mornings, the air is cool, ideal for a hike. But after a few hours on the trail, unlike previous days, it becomes increasingly hot, rising from 70, to 80, to the mid 90s. I'm not prepared for this. The trail is largely free of tree-cover, winding through the sparse low-growing yuccas and other bushes that mark that unique transition from forest to desert so common in the ANF. I start to feel light-headed, but I know there is shade not too far ahead. After what seems like an increasingly dangerous 20 minutes or so, I finally get to the stream of water that runs down the center of the canyon. In the cool moist air beneath the tree canopy, I rest with the birds, bees, butterflies, and other insects escaping the intense Southern California sun. I set my mics up for a period that seems brief, but I learn later was a dazed 45 minutes. Listening back to the recordings now, they seem to convey that same woozy relaxation, an oasis of respite from a seething world. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/newtopophonics/message

Recorded in DTLA near City Hall on Sunday, May 31. The streets are relatively empty while the city readies its show of state power. Eric Garcetti had announced the arrival of the National Guard the previous night, and here they are. Alongside cops in riot gear, rifle-clad, fatigue-wearing soldiers are posed around City Hall and paraded down the street in armored vehicles. Their sand-colored fatigues and cars look markedly out of place. It is an aesthetic that I associate with our wars in the Middle East. Alongside this visual projection of power is a sonic one: the patter of helicopters hovering above, clicks and tinny voices coming from police radios, and the constant yelp of sirens echoing through the corridors of high-rises. Garcetti and his Chief of Police Michael Moore have repeatedly emphasized their desire for “peace.” But their words are clearly farcical in juxtaposition to the blaring, anxiety-inducing sounds of the city. (Content warning: contains audio of police shooting protesters with rubber bullets) All sounds original recordings except archival recordings taken from: 1. Mayor Eric Garcetti and Los Angeles Police Chief Michael Moore's press conference May 31 (https://www.facebook.com/watch/live/?v=182573599745722) 2. Zoom Police Commission meeting with Michael Moore (http://lacity.granicus.com/MediaPlayer.php?clip_id=19995&view_id=97) 3. @mkultranews via @ionel_prodan (https://twitter.com/ionel_prodan/status/1266916445662752768) 4. @mkultranews (https://twitter.com/mkultranews/status/1266884729673900032) 5. Alluringskull (tiktok) via @AdoreDelano (https://twitter.com/AdoreDelano/status/1267688320735166465) --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/newtopophonics/message

Recorded in my backyard, Highland Park, Los Angeles

Recorded at dawn on a hike into Fusier Canyon

Recorded in Vogel Canyon near Big Tujunga Creek in the Angeles National Forest. As we begin our hike, the sun rises over distant peaks. Being outside feels illicit. We see several helicopters. Perhaps they are looking for people in restricted areas? Although unmarked, the trail seems well traveled, and passing someone here would be like passing them on an airplane aisle. As 7:30 rolls around, we hear voices in the distance and decide to turn around. Fortunately, we see no one on the way back down. Before leaving, we see another road and decide to explore Big Tujunga Creek, whose banks are wide and perfect for social distancing. We walk along the creek and sit on a rock, taking in the morning light and the sounds of the water. It's not long before this soundscape is interrupted by a helicopter. But instead of fading into the distance as usual, the chopper gets louder and louder until it is flying directly over us. It flies off, but then turns back and flies overhead again, and then again a third time, getting closer and closer to us with each pass. We take this as a sign and quickly gather our things. As we speed walk back to the car, we're relieved to see the helicopter fly off for good. More info at http://tovar.io/newtopophonics --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/newtopophonics/message

Recorded off the CA 1 Highway at the San Simeon Elephant Seal Vista Point. Headed to San Francisco from Los Angeles, my girlfriend and I turn off the highway into a parking lot overlooking the ocean. We join the small crowd gathered along the guardrails and look out onto the shore where the massive elephant seals lie on the sand. Their odd, oversized noses droop down over their top lips and into their mouths. Every now and then, they crane their heads up to the sky and emit vocalizations that sound like water emptying from a drain. Their appearance is extremely inelegant, though with the lulling repetition of the ocean waves as a backdrop, their guttural groans add an otherworldliness to a meditative sonic landscape. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/newtopophonics/message

Recorded on an early Sunday morning in the fields of Debs Park. Murders of crows dominate the park landscape. In trees, on picnic tables, and on the field they shriek and squabble over trash left by yesterday's barbecues. Rush hour has just begun. The rumble of traffic and the whistle of a train are heard in the distance, signs of life that now, in the midst of a pandemic, seem nostalgic. More info at http://tovar.io/newtopophonics --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/newtopophonics/message

Recorded on a breezy day beneath the trees of the San Gabriel Mountains, overlooking the Dunsmuir Debris Basin. The distant 210 freeway provides a soothing, low frequency hum mixed with the gentle rustling of leaves. The elements of the environment move but you are still. Certain tones in the wind are emphasized to create a drone. Birds chirp on the branches above and, further down the mountain, the delicate, metallic clink of tractors as they spread the basin's debris into what will be the foundation for a future public park. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/newtopophonics/message

Recorded at daybreak in Cooks Canyon, just off of Cooks Canyon Trail in Deukmejian Wilderness Park, Glendale, CA. Although the 210 freeway is clearly audible for a majority of the trail hike, there is a stretch where it mercifully disappears from view and earshot. As you walk over the south crest of Cooks Canyon and begin the descent to the bottom of the canyon, the din of traffic dies away. The environment becomes quiet in the span of just a few steps. The bottom of the canyon has heavy tree cover and a quiet stream running through it. The recording catches the tail end of the morning bird chorus, the soft gurgling of the stream, and the bees that were out in force that morning. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/newtopophonics/message