Podcasts about Pitt Rivers Museum

When I first heard this recording of men gathered around a guitar, singing fragments of traditional songs and inventing lyrics on the spot, with women and children laughing in the background - it hit me: music isn't just sound, it's connection. It's a reminder of the timeless beauty in coming together, sharing stories, passing down traditions, and creating something meaningful in the moment.Curious about what the singers were saying, I reached out to people from Central Africa, and the response was surprising - those improvised lyrics were built from single words in regional slang. In this kind of music-making, it often starts with one word, then another, and before you know it, a whole verse is born. It's spontaneous, alive, and beautifully organic.For my remix, I used the main melody of the original field recording as the foundation, blending in those improvised words as fillers. I also incorporated the traditional rhythm of Soukous - a guitar-driven genre from Congo, often referred to as Congolese rumba, which mixes Afro-Cuban folkloric influences.Just like our ancestors sang around the fire, united by song, we too continue this tradition today - whether around a campfire or through modern technology, remixing old recordings into something new. Music is more than entertainment; it's a bond, a message, a celebration of community, and a bridge to the past. From kings sending musicians ahead of their armies to show unity, to modern-day communities of music lovers sharing sounds across the globe - we keep passing the sound from generation to generation. And that's what keeps us together.Afternoon beneath a palm shelter reimagined by micca.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

The sound that I was allocated for this track was described as a Zande drinking song, from a collection of wax cylinder recordings of Zande songs, dances and spoken language made by social anthropologist Edward Evans-Pritchard in South Sudan between 1928 and 1930. I spent some time thinking about the collection of songs that was taking place across the world from the end of the 19th Century right up to that time, and wondered what kind of 'drinking song' might have been collected right here, where I am in the North York Moors National Park. I listened to lots of source recordings of English drinking songs from the EFDSS Full English digital archive, but I was drawn back to the Mummers play that we perform in Whitby every year, and the character of the Doctor, who has a little bottle in his inside-outside-jacket-pocket. It's a little Nip Nap, and it's most effective if you let it run down your tip tap. It will cure all ills, and do you good. When I was listening to the recording, I was struck by the rhythmic drive of the cylinder, inserting itself into the song, unbidden. That set the tempo, and the composition came into being. Drinking songs are sung the world over. We have more in common that could ever set us apart. For me, the union of cultures through music is a shoot of hope in a world of division. Something to raise a glass to at the very least!Zande drinking song reimagined by Rebecca Denniff.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a collection of cassette tape recordings of songs and instruments made by playwright David Mowat across several different states in India during 1987.Recorded by David Mowat.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

The field recording that I worked with was a wax cylinder recording of a Zande funeral song. One of the things that really struck me when I first listened to it was how this funeral song is buried beneath the imperfections of its recording medium – you just hear this single impassioned, grieving voice breaking out through layers of noise and obfuscation. I thought there was something strangely poignant about hearing this almost century-old funeral song, originally intended to memorialise a lost loved one, itself having become an imperfect and dwindling memory.Following on from hearing the recording in this way, I wrote the song 'Int. Exteriors (Day)', which aims to convey how it feels to find yourself momentarily severed from the material present moment. How it feels, for example, to be internally going through intense emotions but not feeling able to express them out in an everyday public space.In terms of how the field recording itself is incorporated in 'Int. Exteriors (Day)'; the recording emerges throughout the song in a few different ways – it is run through a vocoder, adding a ghostly layer of harmony to the synthesiser and guitars that drive the music; and later on, samples of the emotive song bleed out in the composition alongside the crackles and hiss and artefacts of the original recording medium.Zande funeral song for a woman reimagined by Mute Branches.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

I saw this recording before I heard it. At the Pitt Rivers Museum at the start of the project. The physical object: an original Edison wax phonograph cylinder from 1914. I was struck by how modern it seemed in some ways; the corporate branding on the label. I imagined it being purchased from a shop. Then I saw it was a recording made in Nagaland and I thought of my friend, Temsu, an artist from Nagaland. I thought of Nagaland: such a fascinating place, so rich in tradition and culture; megaliths, hills and jungle. Then I heard the recording, the voices singing rhythmically, a work song designed to make the hours pass and how the hours have passed – into years, decades, a century. I wondered about those people and how little I will ever know of their lives. And the voice that introduces the recording too, an anthropologist now just as lost to time as the singing Nagas, his world on the brink of being consumed by an industrial warfare that within a generation would reach Nagaland too in one of the biggest, most significant battles of the second war, now largely forgotten here. I thought of Vaughn-Williams and of Butterworth (he himself lost in that first war), I thought of their reinvention of folk music at that time and all of the periodic rediscoveries of folk music since. This led me to a work song melody with its purpose lost, morphed into a hypnotic repetition. The richness of individual lives melted down and boiled by time; all of it forever lost, only dust and ghosts scratched into wax. "Ishi no ghi sholu": agricultural work song reimagined by Jon Griffin.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

This has been the most difficult piece I have ever written for Cities and Memory. What could I add to a recording made by Patti Langton of a young Moru man - Timon Beri? The recording was of Timon singing and playing a lamellophone. Whatever I ever I did, it felt like cheap exploitation. The recording was beautiful, authentic and real.In my research I came across a paper by Patti Langton called Personal Reflections on Fieldwork: A Moral Dilemma and it resonated and hit hard with how I was feeling about what I was creating with this field recording. In the end, with the deadline fast approaching I separated Timon's voice from the lamellophone and decided to use his voice as a sort of tribute to him, even though it was heavily processed. As I was scouring for further inspiration, I found a vocal sample which says "we dance, we dream, we love" and this became the title of the track as well as being the light in the piece. Up to then it had been a brooding dark piece of dark electronica which I felt represented not only my frustration but also the backdrop of war and famine which was and still is so prevalent in Sudan. After all, what can a piece of music be against the backdrop of so much human tragedy, but I felt the lyric spoke of the human experience that everybody, from whatever culture, race or creed can identify with. We all dance, we dream, we love.Sanza (lamellophone) music reimagined by Rob Knight. ———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a collection of wax cylinder recordings of Zande songs, dances and spoken language made by social anthropologist Edward Evans-Pritchard in South Sudan between 1928 and 1930.Recorded by Edward Evan Evans-Pritchard.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

"Ishi no ghi sholu": an agricultural work song performed by a group of Sümi Naga male singers.From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a collection of wax cylinder recordings of Naga (Angami, Sümi, Lotha, Chang and Sangtam) songs made by administrator and anthropologist John Hutton in India between 1915 and 1919.Recorded by John Henry Hutton.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

Sanza (lamellophone) music performed by young Moru man Timon Beri.From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a collection of cassette tape recordings of music and spoken language (principally Laarim) made by anthropologist Patti Langton in South Sudan during 1979 and 1980.Recorded by Patti Langton.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

The Land is Our Mother is based on a collection of field recordings of digeridoos made for the Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies from the archive of the Pitts River Museum. Information about the recordings is limited but they were originally recorded on reel to reel tape.The recordings are rich and varied, some including song, but I eventually had to choose some of my favourites to build the piece. I was particularly interested in using the rhythms as these are such a key aspect in the power of digeridoo playing.The piece is called the Land is Our Mother in reference to the feelings of Indigenous People towards the land, its evolution and their rights to live in the land. Indigenous People have lived in Australia for at least 60,000 years and have a deep respect and spiritual connection to the land which is often expressed through digeridoo playing.“The land is our mother. Like a human mother, the land gives us protection, enjoyment and provides out needs economic, social and religious.” (Djinyini Gondarra, Aboriginal Elder)Didgeridoo music reimagined by Laura Hills.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

I chose this recording - an orchestral Korean recording from Seoul, 1972 - after initially earmarking another sound, but this one spoke to me with its uplifting, playful and mischievous spirit & felt right. Atmospherically, it evoked a busy market place or a ceremonial dance, putting me in mind of the benevolent chaos of the ‘hungry ghost' concept - more of which later.The instruments featured in the recording are: traditional Korean percussion - probably a Janggu - and two double-reeded wind instruments : the Hojok and the Hyang P'iri, both similar in tone to an oboe and known for their loud and powerful sound. After several listens through, I honed in on particular phrases that I liked - ones I might start building a new sound world around. My approach is to improvise with electronics and various instrumentation, until I generate clusters of "sympathetic" musical ideas that complement the source recording and suggest further layers. I view this as a collaboration - a conversation between me and the recordings.One of the first things I noticed was the challenge of finding accompaniment that felt in tune, because the original recording is not in standard Western tuning - as you would imagine. My years of playing South East Asian Gamelan and love of tuned percussion, would help me to embrace the piece's wonderfully "wonky" quality.The recordings were really inspiring to work with, generating lots of material which needed to be focussed. My initial piece reached an impasse, so I started a second piece which became the piece you will hear - along with some incorporated moments from the first piece. I became concerned that the work was becoming “too much about me” - maybe the recording's were getting lost a bit - so I used the trick of using some film footage of Korean life in the 70s, and importing it into Logic for me to watch whilst composing - a way of keeping me in tune with the original essence of the time, location and character of the recording. I also wanted to incorporate the sound of the Korean language somehow and in the process of developing the piece I'd started to feel like I was "dancing with ghosts": the ones inhabiting the recordings, but also my own recently departed loved ones. So not surprisingly, the piece became an homage to ancestral spirits.It all fell into place when I introduced the Korean phrases "ghost dance" and "dancing with ghosts", and settled on the title "How I learnt to live with ghosts". This seemed a fitting double meaning to me, after deeply engaging with this haunting sound recording, I felt I'd danced and collaborated with a moment in the past, from a different culture and time, always conscious of honouring and respecting the origins of the sound and its social and cultural history. I hope that my sonic storytelling has succeeded in that intention, mixing together the personal and the source material into a compelling listen.Instrumentals featuring the hyang piri and hojok reimagined by Tim Saul.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

 "Didgeridoo music": collection of didgeridoo recordings prepared by the Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies (now the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies), with commentary.From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being one of a number of miscellaneous or individual ethnographic field recordings (rediscovered during a recent research project).Recorded by Alexander Cornelis van der Leeden and John Robert Cleverly.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

Narel (song) performed by Peter, Sali and Mal Sekini.From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a large collection of reel-to-reel tape recordings of music and soundscapes made by ethnomusicologist Raymond Clausen mainly on the island of Malekula (Malampa Province) in Vanuatu between 1960 and 1979.Recorded by Raymond Ernst Clausen.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

Korea: three instrumental pieces of music, featuring the hyang piri (double-reed wind instrument or oboe) and hojok (double-reed wind instrument, also known as taepyeongso), recorded at the Institute for National Classical Music in Seoul.From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being one of a small number of recordings issued or released by foreign broadcasting corporations or radio associations.Recorded by Laurence Rowland and Ernest Picken.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

Bayaka women singing yeyi (polyphonic song) in the forest.From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a large collection of cassette tape and digital audio tape recordings of Bayaka music and soundscapes made by ethnomusicologist Louis Sarno mainly in the Central African Republic (and the Republic of Congo) between 1986 and 2009.Recorded by Louis Sarno.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

This track is based on the recording of Metimbo of the Aka tribe in the Central African Republic playing the Bubulu (Potbowl). I chose this recording because the rhythmic complexity of the playing was so interesting to me. At first, I was thinking of approaching this exciting recording through many pre-planned ways, but it was proven to be unsuccessful. So I decided to return to the recording itself and try to experiment as much as I could with the sound. I let the sound design go as wild as possible, and any musical elements should later follow it. The result is a track that is filled with many variations of the recording, achieved through multiple sound design stages. Every sound that is not a drone, bass, or synth sound is made through the extensive processing of the source material; this means all drums, percussion, textures, and glitch effects came from one origin. The music is wildly different, but I tried to keep the spirit of playfulness in Metimbo's playing intact during the whole track. The title "v4-4" means the fourth revision of the fourth version of this track.Metimbo playing the bubulu (pot bow) reimagined by 8110118.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

Hearing the vocal music of the BaAka for the first time was a powerful, emotional experience for me. This led me to explore some of the other sounds in the Louis Sarno archive, and to his book and film "Song from the Forest", where I learned more about the context and culture behind this music. In arranging and orchestrating my piece, which blends electronica with neocIassical elements, I wanted to reflect elements of nature. I used calabash, seed based shakers, and deeper, shamanic drums to reflect the forest, with its earthy, natural rhythms. In the original field recording I noticed bright flickers of birdsong around the BaAka voices, and I wanted to leave these environmental sounds in the mix. Later in the piece I introduced higher sounds like strings and voices, a call towards the infinite sky beyond the high forest canopy, and I wove some electronic colours and textures, like tape processed synths and arpeggiators, around the whole. Listening to the BaAka recordings, I hear a joyful positive energy resonating in the music, but I also feel a poignant melancholy, perhaps a response to my ongoing learning about the fragility of this unique culture, a way of life that harmonises with nature rather than living in opposition to it. Competing interests in the Congo Basin Rainforest continue to threaten the BaAka, and the destruction of their forest habitat continues. This composition is my reflection on the uniqueness and fragility of this ancient way of life, a way of life that has so much to teach us.Bayaka women singing yeyi in the forest reimagined by Neil Foster.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a collection of wax cylinder recordings of Zande songs, dances and spoken language made by social anthropologist Edward Evans-Pritchard in South Sudan between 1928 and 1930.Recorded by Edward Evan Evans-Pritchard.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a collection of reel-to-reel recordings of music and spoken language (principally Thulung Rai) made by anthropologist Nicholas Allen in Nepal and India between 1970 and 1981.Recorded by Nicholas Justin Allen.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

Created in collaboration with Kinnauri filmmaker Himanshu Negi Regesoi, this piece is a meeting of old and new, bringing a sonic archive to life from the Western Himalayas. From the Pitt Rivers Museum's sound collection, a field recording of women singing in the early 1980s (recorded in Kinnaur, Himachal Pradesh, India by anthropologist Nicholas Allen) now becomes a portal for a young Indigenous filmmaker to reflect on his homeland/heritage. Through his voice a living thread emerges to celebrate a rich and dynamic culture - both ancient and modern.The original field recording inspired various textures and loops created to take the listener on a journey from the dusty archives of a museum in Oxford to the vast Himalayas, evoking landscape and opening space for exploring how we deal with the past in the present - to inspire the future. The piece includes the following text from the Royal Geographical Society online exhibition titled “Reimagining the Himalaya through the lens of diasporic indigeneity”: “Archives are not just repositories of memory and imagination, they are complex and contested sites of representation deeply shaped by histories of colonial encounters. Whose memories do we elevate, and whose do we obscure? Whose perspectives do we validate to frame our understanding of the world and whose do we suppress? The key to these questions lies in the power to represent ‘truth'. Archives, therefore, are sites of power - the power to explain the world through dominant narratives.” https://www.rgs.org/our-collections/stories-from-our-collections/online-exhibitions/reimagining-the-himalaya-through-the-lens-of-diasporic-indigeneityFootsteps on Wooden Floor.aif by ftpalad -- https://freesound.org/s/119914/ -- License: Creative Commons 0; heavy door open close outside to inside.wav by iggy1345 -- https://freesound.org/s/673236/ -- License: Creative Commons 0; Attic door opening and closing 2 by giddster -- https://freesound.org/s/805637/ -- License: Creative Commons 0With thanks to Himanshu Negi Regesoi, and to Professor Alan Macfarlane for permission to use an excerpt of his 2001 interview with Nicholas Allen. Produced by Sonic-Soma. Mastered by Felix Davis.Women singing reimagined by Sonic-Soma.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a large collection of cassette tape and digital audio tape recordings of Bayaka music and soundscapes made by ethnomusicologist Louis Sarno mainly in the Central African Republic (and the Republic of Congo) between 1986 and 2009.Recorded by Louis Sarno.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

This was one of the more difficult pieces I've worked on, although it was enjoyable working through the process. I struggled quite a bit at the beginning, as the field recording has both harmonic & rhythmic structure which varies in tempo quite a bit… so I wasn't sure how to approach this initially.After some thought and a fair bit of trial and error, I decided to pick up my guitar (and play the piano) and simply play along with them without overthinking it too much… so the tempo may be a little rough in places! Guitar and piano simply panned out to left/right, adding some bass/cello towards the end. I tried to match my chords with their harmony and I did feel as if I were joining in with them! I noticed the call and response structure in the field recording, so tried to incorporate this as well at either end of the piece.I wouldn't say it's very genre-specific, but it's more me joining in with them and it's from the heart. Hopefully it conveys the warmth I felt from listening to the field recording - I hope I have done the Bayang justice in my piece.Bayang men's songs reimagined by Jaspal Singh Bhogal.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

I ended up listening to this recording a lot in my everyday life, just putting it on and going to work, walking around the city I live in, in idle moments between work. I didn't know an awful lot about Vanuatu, where the recordings were taken by Raymond Clausen in 1962. Having read the Pitt Rivers blog, I thought a lot about how people and societies move on and are changed, sometimes forcibly, by the world they inhabit, and importance of communication, across generations and across the world. Climate change and the threat of rising sea levels presents an existential, direct and profound threat to the lives of people across the global south, particularly islanders. The Vanuatan government has appealed to the world for help via the UN, which with the rise of the right and shattered consensus across the world is becoming increasingly toothless, but hope has to prevail. For the spoken text in this piece I used the information about the threat of climate change from the Permanent Mission of the Republic of Vanuatu to the United Nations over a sample of drumming at Wor Tamat, other electronic samples and guitar, with text read by Lizzie Lindsay.Drumming at Wor Tamat dancing ground reimagined by Dermot Fitzsimons.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

"You say you no want 'im married long me" (song performed by men, women and children).From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a large collection of reel-to-reel tape recordings of music and soundscapes made by ethnomusicologist Raymond Clausen mainly on the island of Malekula (Malampa Province) in Vanuatu between 1960 and 1979.Recorded by Raymond Ernst Clausen.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

The song "Narel" made me think about the power of separate and unique voices working together. The name Narel in Hebrew also mean "singing". I was inspired to use the field recording to make new voices that I could remix in different ways and recombine to form a new whole. In my version of "Narel", the field recording is manipulated in various ways to create different instruments - choirs, guitars, strings - upon which a new composition is built.Narel (song) reimagined by Kid Kin.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

This piece is built around a field recording from the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum of Berber beggars singing for charity.Listening to this recording, across time, what struck me was not difference but familiarity. Themes of begging, homelessness and poverty recur in traditional songs from all cultures, spanning the centuries. Despite differences in place, language and technology, poverty, hunger, social injustice, and the vulnerability that comes with these things, remains constant.Through my organisation in Whitby, Flash Company Arts, I frequently work with people experiencing homelessness and fragile economic circumstances. Hearing this recording, made more than 60 years ago, felt uncomfortably relevant to my daily work. These voices could belong to anyone, anywhere, right now.The lyric “A Begging I Will Go” is borrowed from an ancient English folk song, first printed on a black-letter broadside in 1684. And still today, all over the world, people wake each morning to the same words: A begging I will go.Nothing changes.Beggars singing for charity reimagined by Rebecca Denniff (Subphotic).———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

When I first heard "Mekana discussing a case of adultery", I really wanted to know more about the background to the recording. My research led me a to 1983 Granada Television Programme from the Disappearing Worlds Series which introduced the idea of "Benge", the poison oracle used by the Azande People of Central Africa to answer questions relating to, amongst others, infidelity. It was also vividly described by Evans-Pritchard as the process of administering poison to a baby chicken and waiting to see if it died or survived to determine guilt or innocence. Everything I watched or read focussed on the process of reaching this verdict, but there was never an exploration of the actual people involved. There must be a story behind these cases of forbidden love, in a culture where such feelings were prohibited and sometimes punishable by death. I wanted "Broken" to tell the story of this forbidden love, the feelings of loss the accused must have felt as they discovered they could never share a life together, but at the same time being indelibly connected throughout the rest of their lives. I try to paint that picture within the lyric whilst also acknowledging the cultural relevance of Benge with references of poison, feathers and confessions.The qualities of the wax recording are a perfect backdrop and can be consistently heard throughout. This helps to contextualise the themes of the song, particularly in terms of history, culture and tradition.Mekana discussing a case of adultery reimagined by Simon Holmes.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

"Sapeh (type of three-stringed boat lute) being played": the instrument was recorded in Sarawak by collector Leslie Bennett.From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being one of a small number of recordings of the musical instruments in the institution's collections being played or discussed.Recorded by W. Leslie Bennett.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a collection of reel-to-reel tape recordings of Berber (Ait Haddidu) music and soundscapes made by members of the Oxford University Expedition to the Atlas Mountains of Southern Morocco in 1961.Recorded by Audrey Butt, Michael R. Emerson or Ralph Hudson Johnson.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a large collection of cassette tape and digital audio tape recordings of Bayaka music and soundscapes made by ethnomusicologist Louis Sarno mainly in the Central African Republic (and the Republic of Congo) between 1986 and 2009.Recorded by Louis Sarno.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

I listened to the piece and researched any historical links between Plymouth, my home town and Sarawak, were the original recording by Leslie Bennet was made. It turns out there were three white "Rajahs" of Sarawak and they were members of the Brooke dynasty: James Brooke, who founded the rule in 1841; his nephew Charles Brooke, who succeeded him; and Charles' son, Charles Vyner Brooke. Although not from Plymouth, all three of the “Rajahs of Sarawak” are buried in the small churchyard of St Leonard's at Sheepstor on Dartmoor, just outside of Plymouth. James Brooke did at one time set sail from Plymouth in 1838, arriving at Sarawak the following year.The name for Sarawak means the land of the hornbill. This piece is an ode to this journey. I listened to the recording of the Sapeh and learnt the rough pentatonic scale used. I isolated a few segments and tried them on guitar to get the ideas flowing. The recording of the Sapeh is sampled and utilise throughout the piece. At times I have used it to double the bass line or to give a new melody line or rhythm.The main “nautical” melody is built upon a four bar segment of the original recording. The clicks and resonance of the instrument are also used to give some ambience and texture. I have used acoustic guitars, hand drums, mandolin, electric guitars, sequenced midi instruments and drums using GarageBand. I also used open source recordings of seagulls in Plymouth and Hornbills in Sarawak.Sapeh (three-stringed boat lute) reimagined by Daniel Chudley - Le Corre.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

The field recording that inspired this composition features a Bayaka musician playing the geedal, an instrument whose sound is deeply connected to the forest, communal memory, and oral transmission. When I first listened to the recording, what struck me was not only the melody, but the space around it: the breath, the rhythm, and the sense of conversation between the player, the instrument, and the environment. The geedal, whose timbre closely resembles the adeudeu from Western Kenya, where I come from, felt less like a solo instrument and more like a voice embedded within a living ecosystem. This immediately shaped my approach to the composition, not as a reinterpretation that dominates the original or places it in the background, but as a dialogue with it, allowing the geedal to remain the bed of the music.As a Kenyan artist working across traditional African instruments and contemporary production, I was drawn to reimagine the recording in a way that honours its origins while allowing it to travel across geographies and time. I approached the piece asking how I could respond musically without erasing the cultural specificity of the Bayaka sound world, while also connecting it to my own cultural lineage as a Luhya artist from Western Kenya. The similarities between the geedal and the adeudeu created a natural bridge, making it possible to situate the composition within a shared African sonic language.Technically, the field recording became the anchor of the piece. Rather than heavily manipulating it, I preserved the geedal's texture and rhythmic integrity. In collaboration with my friend and producer, Ambrose Akwabi of Mandugu Digital, we conducted additional research on the Bayaka people to better understand their world, sounds, and musical techniques. Through this research, we chose to reimagine the work through an East African lens, reflecting my Kenyan background and Ambrose's experience as a Kenyan based in Tanzania. We noticed strong sonic and rhythmic similarities between the Bayaka, the Luhya community, and the Wagogo of Tanzania.We began by stripping the original recording of its vocal elements, leaving only the geedal, which we looped and layered with bass, hi-hats and muffled snare, and a restrained kick. I recorded shakers and udu to introduce a watery, grounding texture, and added my voice in response to the phrasing and emotional tone of the original performance. Chants were used intentionally, with lyrics written in Luhya to echo the ancestral roots of the piece. The words narrate the story of the Bayaka people as custodians who have resisted disconnection from the forest and from nature. Ultimately, this composition is an offering: a bridge between regions, traditions, and listening practices, inviting the listener to experience the geedal not as an artifact, but as a living, resonant voice.Balonyona playing the geedal (bow harp) reimagined by Liboi.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

The recording I worked with was pure beauty. A simple, pure sound of a conch shell being played - according to my further research, these conches can be hand-stopped to produce different notes and tones, and when played on the reefs in Vanuatu, can “make the whole reef resonate in sympathy”.Conch shells are also used ceremonially, for instance, to celebrate and denote the quality of boars that are killed for meals as part of a ceremony called Maki. A sound of beauty, then, but also of ceremonial significance - a treasure. At the same time, the sound reminded me irrevocably of a piece called “Conch Calling” from one of the ambient albums that's had the greatest influence on how I think about music, Underground Overlays from the Cistern Chapel by Stuart Dempster. On this album, trombonist Dempster takes a troupe of musicians into a two-million gallon underground cistern, with a naturally cavernous reverb that turns the simplest melodic patterns into some of the deepest, most beautiful drones you've ever heard. I wanted to respect - and highlight - the naked beauty of the pure sound from the original recording, and at the same time to imagine a duet across time and space, between conch shells from Vanuatu, and 21st-century synthesisers. Ancestral drone music, paired with today's ambient music. This piece is built, respectfully, around a repeated 12-second loop of the conch shell, which remains throughout, while synthesisers and arpeggios paint the air around it. This is a duet for conch shell and two synthesisers. Writing it, I was held in a moment forever, and I hope it brings a moment of stillness and contemplation for the listener too.Natar (song) on conch and musket reimagined by Cities and Memory.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

This project is inspired by a 1958 field recording of a Bamum girl singing a religious song in Fumban, West Region, Cameroon, recorded by Lois Mitchson on a ¾-inch reel tape. The archival voice forms the emotional and conceptual core of the project. The recording of the young girl singing praises about the Sultan Njoya who was part of the monarchy which dates back to the fourteenth century, is sampled and fused with layered percussion, reflecting the rhythmic richness of traditional African music, where percussion functions as both structure and communal expression. The title “Mwana Wevhu”, meaning “Child of the Soil” in Shona, draws from my Zimbabwean heritage and speaks to ancestry, land, and spirituality. Musically rooted in 3-step house, a South African subgenre of electronic music, the project blends Central African archival sound and culture, Southern African rhythm, and Zimbabwean language and identity. This intentional cross-regional fusion symbolises the idea that Africa is one, diverse in culture yet deeply interconnected. “Mwana Wevhu” bridges past and present, tradition and innovation, using music as a unifying force.Bamum girl singing religious song reimagined by NdiniBeatz.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

Natar (song) with Markany Lei on conch and Wani on musket.From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a large collection of reel-to-reel tape recordings of music and soundscapes made by ethnomusicologist Raymond Clausen mainly on the island of Malekula (Malampa Province) in Vanuatu between 1960 and 1979.Recorded by Raymond Ernst Clausen.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a collection of reel-to-reel tape recordings of songs and musical instruments made by journalist Lois Mitchison in Cameroon during 1958.Recorded by Sonja Lois Mitchison.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

Drawn to the Circle began with a field recording of a boar tusk horn calling people into a full circle. The sound comes from Malekula Island in Vanuatu, performed by Melteg Ike and Mal Maru of the Big Nambas cultural group, and recorded by Raymond Clausen in 1962. When I first heard it, I was struck by how two players became one sound. It felt less like music and more like an invitation — a call to gather.The idea of the circle stayed with me. A circle has no front or back, and no one stands above another. Across cultures, people meet in circles to listen, to share, and to mark time together. In this recording, the call draws people inward, toward community. I spent time researching the Big Nambas people and the island of Malekula, using archival material from the Pitt Rivers Museum. Looking at landscapes and objects helped me imagine the life around the sound. The piece came together quickly after that, shaped by thoughts about what connects us as humans. I found myself wondering how a call rooted in one community could arrive here with me in Athens, and how it might speak to my own sense of belonging.When composing, I treated the field recording as something living. The cello and voices follow its texture and tone, moving with it rather than leading it. My partner and baby daughter participated in the process and helped me record some of the percussion. Their presence became part of the piece, making the act of recording feel communal — less like producing a track, and more like standing in a circle together and responding to the call.Working with this recording has been a privilege. It has reminded me how deeply human the act of gathering is, and how sound can carry that impulse across place, time, and generation."Merer Pake": nDavu trumpet signal reimagined by Ana Habesh.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

“The Hills Remember” is a concept piece on the “domination paradigm” — a cultural logic shared across systems of oppression. The work explores the intersections of religious nationalism, religious violence and colonisation, authoritarianism, capitalism, misogyny, domestic and child abuse, gender- and sexuality-based violence, racial oppression, and rape culture — systems all linked by hierarchies of power justified through ideological and cultural narratives that normalise inequality and violence as methods of destabilisation and control.Initially inspired by a field recording from circa 1916–1919 of the Angami Naga singing their love song “Lozoruu, Hoiyi Ollie", the project took on a life of its own when artist Savannah Rae (Fawn Response) sat with the recording while researching the tribe and its historical context. After listening deeply to the emotion in the performance and reflecting on the lyrics — “though the villages are separated the herds graze together, upon the ridge there is a great stone to sit upon” — within the context of the religious colonization the Angami endured, Savannah was moved to research both the culture of the Angami people and the role religious colonization played in subverting it.Through this research, she discovered an unlikely through-line linking one of the religious crusaders responsible for the Christian indoctrination of the Angami Naga to the religious-based trauma she experienced as a child at the hands of radical televangelists. With a background as a therapeutic educator and trauma and behavioural specialist, Savannah broadened her inquiry to better understand the overlapping psychosocial mechanisms driving religious colonisation and extremism, religious nationalism, child abuse, sexual abuse, and exploitation.As the research deepened, and in recognising the scope required to create a piece that could meaningfully hold this material, Savannah enlisted the support of longtime friends and musical collaborators Oliver Ignatius (musician, producer, engineer, and owner of Holy Fang Studios), and Brian Ducey (musician and assistant engineer at Holy Fang Studios). Additional support included original works and samples related to the concept from friend and writer, comedian, and musician Joe DeRosa, as well as friends and musical collaborators Mitch Wells (Thou, Big Garden), Craig Oubre (High, Big Garden), drummer Tyler Coburn (Thou, Bursting), and contributions from her sister Jess and niece Willow.The composition includes multiple historical audio samples of sermons related to religious colonisation and nationalism, including those specific to the Angami; samples of Angami songs and dances; research compiled and read by Savannah — sped up in places to bypass the conscious mind; scripture and first-person religious colonisation accounts processed through AI voices; prayers; references to Angami folklore; field recordings of native birds; original songs and excerpts inspired by the emotional resonance of the work; original poetry; a channeled hymnal; and a question posed by a seven-year-old child in modernity, already questioning those who use religion to justify atrocity.Juxtaposing elements of noise with sound healing and music therapy, the piece sonically mirrors emotional modulation —seeking to hold the weight of deeply disturbing truths without becoming stuck in that heaviness, and instead modeling how to feel it and allow it to move through us as a path toward empowered expression. It is a channeled and researched effort to unpack and honour the context of something as hyper-specific as the historical field recording of the Angami, into a space that is universally resonant and urgently applicable today.An extended cut will follow and will be pressed to vinyl. In the meantime, and in all times, please remember gentleness; please remember peace."Lozorüü" - Angami Naga love song reimagined by Fawn Response———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

I haven't sung professionally in over 21 years and had long stopped writing and recording music. I am trying to return to it but these things are easier said than done. I was immediately drawn to this 1987 recording of a woman singing with harmonium recorded by David Mowat in the town of Mahalingapur, in the Indian state of Karnataka. It was perfect as it was – and in choosing it I knew I would be setting myself up to fail. Something about it spoke to me, though, and I felt hopeful that perhaps this unknown, beautiful woman might accompany me back to singing. Her voice was so strong, so effortless, that I couldn't hope to match it; I couldn't hold the notes or even understand what she was saying. I listened closely. I pulled out my old vocal warmup tape, began rehearsing and sang alongside the recording every day.Between first hearing her voice and producing my version, I stepped far outside my comfort zone. In one of those crazy “and why not?!” moments an old friend I decided to start a band and record an album. Against all expectation, I sang again – so far just a single complete vocal, written quickly in response to an improvisation – but I had broken the spell that bound me.This piece is as much about listening as it is about singing, about proximity without possession and about connection across time, distance and uncertainty. I did not sing on this recording – only she did. The work remains with her voice and with what it set in motion.Woman singing with harmonium reimagined by Margaret Fiedler McGinnis.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

I selected the recording of a night forest in the Central African Republic without looking at the description, simply because it sounded magical. I usually search the recorded sounds for inspiration to tell stories that are more or less personal, but this time it was different. As I started reading about the origin of the sound, chosen solely for its magical aspect, I found myself lost in the discovery of a real-life hero who devoted his life to the collection, protection and conservation of the sounds and culture of the Bayaka people. I met legendary ethnomusicologist and fantastic human being, Louis Sarno. From that moment, I felt that I could not use the rainforest sound as a simple backdrop for my personal musing, I felt the need to bring back to life the magic of the forest and the love and passion that Louis Sarno devoted to his life's work. The word "magic" that drew me to select this specific recording, kept echoing in my head, so I let the magic guide me, and what could be more magical than an incantation? At that point, it was simply a matter of filling in the elements usually found in an incantation: the desired effect, capturing and preserving the sounds of life; the ingredients, all freely found in the dream of a night forest; the spell, pronounced in the name of Louis Sarno's life work; the special effects, unmissable touches for someone devoted to sounds; and finally the real-live love and poetry of life itself. Likimbi forest camp late at night reimagined by M Cristina Marras.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

A talea is both faithful and transformed. It remains genetically identical to the source, yet grows into something new through a different environment. It is not preservation or betrayal. It is organic continuation, the way traditional music has always moved through time and space.Our composition embodies the talea principle by maintaining an unbroken genetic thread to the source field recording while allowing that material to flourish in an entirely new sonic environment. The original recording serves not as a piece to be preserved intact, but as living genetic material — its essential characteristics, its rhythmic DNA, remain present throughout our transformation. Yet just as a talea cutting develops new leaves, new branches, new forms of expression when planted in different soil, our work has reimagined these elements through a compositional language that could not have existed in the original context.The melodic contours, harmonic implications, or rhythmic gestures embedded in the field recording have been interiorised and then allowed to grow according to new rules — different timbral choices, altered temporal frameworks, reimagined spatial relationships. What makes this approach powerful is that the connection remains audible and traceable; listeners can sense the rootedness even as they encounter something unmistakably fresh and contemporary.This method honours how musical traditions have always evolved — not through static repetition, but through the kind of generative transmission that the talea metaphor captures so precisely. Our composition demonstrates that fidelity to source material and creative innovation are not opposing forces but complementary aspects of the same organic process. The original recording lives on, not as a frozen artifact, but as active creative DNA that continues to generate new musical possibilities through our intervention.After listening both individually and collectively to the original field recording, and consulting the accompanying material, we recorded multiple improvisations in an eight-hour studio session, then chose our favourite take.Musicians:Francesco Ganassin: clarinet, electronics, dziga loop (custom made electronic instrument)Enrico Milani: cello, objectsSergio Marchesini: piano, electronicsAndrea Ruggeri: percussion, electronicsGianluca Segato: lap steel guitar, electronicsAlberto Zuanon: double bassGeedal in the forest with male voices reimagined by Sonic Investigation Unit.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a large collection of cassette tape and digital audio tape recordings of Bayaka music and soundscapes made by ethnomusicologist Louis Sarno mainly in the Central African Republic (and the Republic of Congo) between 1986 and 2009.Recorded by Louis Sarno.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

Researching this sound and the U'wa people gave me an opportunity to scratch the surface of their deeply complex seasonal customs, involving dance, storytelling and performance. Ann Osborn (the sound recordist) documents this in her study "The Four Seasons of the U'wa: A Chibcha Ritual Ecology in the Colombian Andes".What I learned inspired me to tell a new story. In this piece you hear about Ray Collective, a dance group who couldn't be more culturally, temporally or geographically removed from the U'wa, but for whom performative seasonal ritual is the connective tissue. Looking back on it, I can see how this piece subconsciously reflected my wrangling with the ethics of this project and concerns I had around cultural appropriation. It's interesting that even in Ray Collective, where members are drawing from and reworking a shared UK-based cultural/folk heritage, similar themes about what constitutes respectful reinterpretation and what is fair to use or repurpose came up a lot. It got me thinking about themes like rightfulness, ownership, permission and agency - and more specifically, how female and non-binary people relate to these within the context of a British cultural heritage that has for the most part, precluded their meaningful involvement. This may sound heady in retrospect, but ultimately, I set out to make peace that was fun, and in which the listener would get a sense of the real and present joy experienced within Ray Collective. I can see why it might feel problematic that I'm in any way drawing a line between the complex mythos of the U'wa culture and a group of women mucking about in Bournemouth, but my intent was purely to focus on commonality - the need to gather, dance and create rituals in harmony with the rhythm of the seasons. All of the instruments/sounds you are hearing in this piece have been created by sampling recordings from Ray collective sessions (usually people singing the word Sun) and mixing them with the U'wa sound (which from my research, I believe is a conch shell signalling the beginning of a ritual performance). I've never used this sampling technique, nor really made bits of bed music for a piece before, and it was a really tough but rewarding process. The voice you hear speaking is Lizzie Maries, founder of Ray collective. I cut so much nuanced and insightful discussion from our interview and hope she'll forgive me. I should also credit both Lorna Rees who composed the 'Singing for Sun' refrain that crops up a lot, and Billy Nomates, Ray Collective's composer- you hear a rough sample of her song at the close of this piece. And of course, all the wonderful Rays for humouring me and my recorder. U'wa drones reimagined by Laura Irving.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

Geedal (bow harp) played in the forest with male voices accompanying.From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a large collection of cassette tape and digital audio tape recordings of Bayaka music and soundscapes made by ethnomusicologist Louis Sarno mainly in the Central African Republic (and the Republic of Congo) between 1986 and 2009.Recorded by Louis Sarno.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

"Lozorüü" (tune: "Hoiyi Olle"): an Angami Naga love song performed by two men and two young women ("Though the villages are separated the herds graze together./ Upon the ridge there is a great stone to sit on").From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a collection of wax cylinder recordings of Naga (Angami, Sümi, Lotha, Chang and Sangtam) songs made by administrator and anthropologist John Hutton in India between 1915 and 1919.Recorded by John Henry Hutton.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

Spoken word recording of Mekana discussing a case of adultery.From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a collection of wax cylinder recordings of Zande songs, dances and spoken language made by social anthropologist Edward Evans-Pritchard in South Sudan between 1928 and 1930.Recorded by Edward Evan Evans-Pritchard.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

"Merer Pake": an nDavu trumpet signal for a full circle tusked boar.From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a large collection of reel-to-reel tape recordings of music and soundscapes made by ethnomusicologist Raymond Clausen mainly on the island of Malekula (Malampa Province) in Vanuatu between 1960 and 1979.Recorded by Raymond Ernst Clausen.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

U'wa drones from the Andes in north-east Colombia.From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a collection of reel-to-reel recordings of U'wa songs and stories made by anthropologist Ann Osborn in the Northern Andes (Sierra Nevada del Cocuy region) in Colombia between 1969 and 1977.Recorded by Ann Osborn.Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

I heard the piece, which is a Vanuata hymn called 'You say you no want 'im married long me,' and connected with it immediately. Despite not knowing what the lyrics were about the singing was filled with emotion and a kind of melancholy that I often bring to my own work. I contacted Pitt Rivers for details on the lyrics, as I thought I would like to add my own singing to the piece, but unfortunately the sound recordist Raymond Clausen published little on his fieldwork. It turned out to be quite a tricky track to work with as the original recording wasn't in a consistent key or rhythm. I got around this by turning the piece into a sort of fugue; organs and choir ensembles have a breath and dissonance to them that I felt would complement the voices in the recording, and be in keeping with the original context of the song."You say you no want 'im married long me" reimagined by Hattie Cooke.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

"Fiat Lux". From the living breath of Genesis to the Kikuyu's sacred seed, from the Greek cosmic egg to the Sulawesi tale of the earth-shaking boar scratching its itch — across countless traditions, humankind has always sought to explain the origins of the cosmos. Perhaps fewer people are aware that humanity has also tried to explain the origins of technological life, with ‘technology' here meaning the discovery of activities that enabled progress: agriculture, the construction of more complex structures, brewing, and the domestication of animals. The myths, or stories, that describe how humankind, often with the help of divine or supernatural beings, came to acquire such knowledge are known as "civilisation myths".Western scholars (ethnographers, anthropologists, linguists, and archaeologists alike) were often fascinated by the collection of such stories from remote or so-called ‘exotic' places. These narratives were variously published in richly illustrated children's books or in dense and rather austere academic volumes. Among those who ventured into this field was Nicholas J. Allen, who explored both physical and conceptual terrains that were ‘new' only to Western audiences - for those who lived there, they were part of everyday life and cultural heritage.During his fieldwork in the Solukhumbu District (Nepali: सोलुखुम्बु जिल्ला [solukʰumbu]; Sherpa: ཤར་ཁུམ་བུ་རྫོང་།; Wylie: shar khum bu dzong), Allen studied the Rai, a division of the Kiranti peoples inhabiting the middle hills of eastern Nepal, and in particular the Thulung, one of more than a dozen Rai subtribes, each with its own distinct language. His attention was drawn to the peculiarities of the Thulung, which set them apart from other Rai groups. Through comparative linguistic andmythological analysis, Allen hypothesised that, although the Thulung had been influenced by Hindu immigrants, they showed virtually no trace of Tibetan or Buddhist influence and were hence the result of very ancient cultural heritage pre- dating Buddhism in Nepal. Yet, this observation was only the starting point of our own exploration, not its goal.In our work, we turned to the Jaw-Khliw cycle, a civilisation myth that culminates in a wedding. We sought to express this story through sound, following Khakcilik on his journey as he learns to build a house, prepare a swidden, and brew beer thanks to a woman called Wayelungma. His path is accompanied by the sounds of animals known to inhabit elevations between 1,400 and 2,000 m near Mukli, where the original soundscape was recorded in 1970. These include the dark-sided flycatcher, ultramarine flycatcher, Nepal fulvetta, and wild boar (the latter also mentioned in another of Allen's myths).The soundscape does not mirror the narrative point by point; instead, it employs evocative sounds to express key moments in the story, such as the Nepali gong introducing the three siblings, or the shimmering textures that evoke the magic of Wayelungma. We did not introduce one sad moment, as our intention was not to recount loss, but to dwell on the wonder of knowledge and of learning, with the aim of nourishing soul and intellect. The journey of Khakcilik and Wayelungma culminates in a marriage, for which Nicholas's 1970 recording was used. The names and lives of those who married and celebrated their love and were recorded by Nicholas may now be lost to history, but, in a romantic (and perhaps slightly naïve) gesture, we wished to honour love as one of the possible driving forces of civilisation itself — a celebration of the journey of Khakcilik and Wayelungma. Jaw and Khliw, the greater and lesser hornbill, try to kill their younger brother Khakcilik. Destroying an effigy of him, they fly off. After a quarrel the younger is eaten by an owl, then resuscitated. Meanwhile, Khakcilik, who lives by fishing, repeatedly catches a stone which he eventually deposits in his house. The stone, really a woman called Wayelungma or Nagimo, sweeps and cooks for him while he is out until one day, following advice, he hides behind a winnowing fan and captures her as his wife. Wayelungma instructs him how to build a house but in the process their first child is crushed under the central pillar. Also under her instruction and with her help he prepares a swidden, brews beer from its grain and invites, and when this fails, entices, his sisters to return home for the wedding. One comes from the north, one from the south and they contribute copper vessels as wedding gifts.Reference: TIBET AND THE THULUNG RAI: TOWARDS A COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY OF THE BODIC SPEAKERS Nicholas J. Allen (1980) in Tibetan Studies in Honour of Hugh Richardson ed. By Michael Aris and Aung San Suu Kyi.Proceedings of the International Seminar on Tibetan Studies. Oxford 1979. Aris & Phillips LTD Warminster, EnglandCeremonial (wedding) music from the Himalayas reimagined by Soundscapes Of Antiquity.———Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds