Le terroir sonore du phare Lachinois

NB: The Flash films on this site are between 350k and 1 MB, 1-3 minutes download with a 56k modem.

Terroir is a word used in French to talk about food and wines, and how the tastes of the soil, the air, the water, and the vegetation of a region are mixed and transformed in the act of cooking or fermenting, producing the subtle, yet recognizable, flavour of a St. Emilion wine [or a Kilkenny beer, or jam made from Lac St. Jean blueberries]. I like this as a metaphor for the sound work that I do.

Hidden memories [350k] trace different moments...

Chaînes murmurantes [1 MB] One day walking on the rocky shore close to the Lachine pier, I found a large, heavy, rusty chain that must have been used to dock cargo ships when the Lachine Canal was open. I recorded the sound of this chain as I slowly lowered and raised it on a rock. I could hear waves lapping against the shore, and paced the movement of the chain to that of the waves. On the computer, I slowed down this sound by different amounts - an octave apart - and braided them through the stereo field. Over this mix, I bring in other moments - short fragments of conversation with a fisherman, cars arriving and leaving, boats driving by, birds flying overhead. All of these recordings were made in the summer or fall of 1999. 'Murmurantes' is a reference to 'les murmures de la vie quotidienne', a phrase used by Michel de Certeau to refer to the actions of everyday life that are often ignored or taken for granted, but which were the focus of his research and of mine. It also refers to the perspective of recording - because I don't want to disturb people's privacy, I record voices from a distance so that conversations are only murmurs - unless someone talks directly to me, as happens at the end of this piece.

Soupirs de glace [700k] This is a recording of a thin layer of ice on the water by the pier in Lachine, recorded on a day in March 2001 when the temperature plummeted 27 degrees [from 10 above to 17 below celsius], skimming the water surface with ice that was tearing in a thousand places as we listened. There is also the sound of a chainsaw used by an ice fisher, and lots of seagulls. This piece also includes a brief recording of my voice sighing [from a recording on another day]. I filtered, equalized and lowered the pitch of the original recording of the ice, then juxtaposed excerpts of the original recording with the processed version. The processed version speaks to me of the shifting power of the current below the water surface. The original recording sounds oddly like insects in summer. I was able to get a clear recording of the ice moving by lowering the mic on its cable to within a few feet of the surface. This also protected it from the wind.

L'entrée du phare [1 MB] The lighthouse is open! So I'm going to go in... The resonance of this enclosed space feels like the internal presence of the lighthouse. While I climb the metal stairs inside, a churchbell begins to ring. The sound of running up metal stairs in enclosed spaces reminds me of ladders on ships, and my childhood growing up near the sea. This piece is the closest to the original recording, the one most closely linked to my subjective experience as a recordist. I have introduced only two alterations: a brief melody made by speeding up the sound of my steps on the ladder, which appears just after I say I will go in. Also there is an amplified and slowed version of the resonance of the space, which appears around the time that I say 'hello', recognizing the presence of the interior.

By Andra McCartney.
Made with my sound recordings around the Lachine pier, 1999-2000, and with photography by P. S. Moore. Thanks to Nicole Gingras and GIV