Stormscapes : Capturing the Sounds of Nature in Harsh Conditions
What drives us to seek out the raw sounds of Nature at her most brutal?
“The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.”
— Vincent Van Gogh
We often hear the term “calm before the storm” as a foreboding forecast for trouble ahead. Another one I’m particularly fond of is “there’s a storm brewing…”, perhaps because I’m so fond of drinking tea, which I often accompany with a forlorn stare into my mug thinking too much whilst deep in my daily ruminations.
There is for me a kind of power that takes hold of the atmosphere of a place when in the throws of a storm - of course meteorologically and physically this is of course the case with the obvious natural brute forces at play - the chaotic triumvirate of wind, water and electricity - but I find myself entering into a different state almost as if entranced when in the midst of a storm.
Fortunately, I live in a region of the world where storms are seldom catastrophic. When they do come they are often brief and brute, like a spectator sport, an expulsion of wild energy that has a regulated duration of between 45 and 90 minutes. During this time, I’m often quick to grab my recording equipment and set up quickly wherever I may be to capture these intensely rich sound worlds.
This is a recording I made here in Provence, one autumn night as the sun was setting. In the house I was staying in a the time, there was a small enclave with a tiny window that opened inwards. A perfectly, dry and sheltered spot to set up my recording equipment whilst taking refuge from the rain.
I recently added it to my growing collection of nature sounds available on the earth.fm website - they have just launched their very own soundscape app - worth checking out for those interested in listening to a phenomenal collection of natural soundscapes from sound recordists and artists spanning the globe.
The trickling rain
Kisses the quiet countryside goodnight
Beneath boisterous skies where gods and demons roar
As impressive as this storm was to both the ear and the eye, I was far from being in an environment that put my life at risk. Sheltered in the warmth, I recall sitting quietly listening through my soft padded headphones to the sounds of the storm outside thinking - surely this is cheating!
I was recently reading this article written by field recordist George Vlad. George is someone that I have admired ever since setting out to record in nature. He is without doubt a master of his craft. I was drawn to his words referring to the dangerous environments he sets out to record in —
“My first few rainforest expeditions (Ethiopia, Congo and Amazon) were eye-opening and humbling experiences. I was throwing myself into the deep end of the pool, using common sense and hoping for the best. I lost countless microphones to downpours. My bags and clothing started growing little mushrooms after weeks at 100% humidity. Ants made nests in my recording equipment. Elephants and other mammals found and inspected my equipment, sometimes destroying it in the process. Each and every one of these experiences taught me important lessons.” — George Vlad
Take a listen to one of his wonderful thunderstorm recordings below, recorded in the rainforest surrounding the Maliau Basin in Borneo.
“Sound recording is a path to developing a profound connection with oneself and the natural world, allowing us to fully appreciate the wonders of life in the present moment.”
Jan Brelih is a sound recordist and expedition leader with a great deal of experience venturing into some of the world's most wild, isolated, and endangered natural habitats. His pristine soundscapes, collected from regions such as the Himalayas, the Amazonian and Borneo rainforests and the Kenyan savanna.
In the field, Jan values the practice of slowing down in nature and embracing mindfulness. For Jan “sound recording is a path to developing a profound connection with oneself and the natural world, allowing us to fully appreciate the wonders of life in the present moment.”
Take a listen to perhaps one of my favourite storm recordings, made by Jan, at 3200m high up in the remote mountains of the Himalayas.
The progressive intensity of this storm gently rises becoming stronger and louder, before dropping to a still patter of raindrops on the ancient pine forest floor.
https://earth.fm/recordings/thunderstorm-in-himalayas/
Recording the sounds of nature is a fascinating and deeply rewarding experience. We can really learn to see (and hear) the world differently. It’s a unique way of telling a story, sharing an experience that is crafted from one’s own interpretation and connection to a place, to our surroundings, and to ourselves.
A philosophy shared in this wonderfully edited video from YouTuber and field recordist Rare Finds Sound Design —
If any of you have your own recordings you’d like to share, as always, I’m very open to listening to them! Get in touch via the comments or please feel free to message me directly ;)
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Mat
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Loved the last video share. If it wasn't already obvious, walking is a big part of my recording practice too!
Speaking of harsh conditions, I have the same recorder featured prominently in that video, a Tascam DR-100 mIII, and it took direct hit by a saltwater splash recently. Three weeks later, it's still on the fritz. Wah wah.