『Soundwalk』のカバーアート

Soundwalk

Soundwalk

著者: Chad Crouch
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Soundwalk combines roving field recordings with an original musical score. Each episode introduces you to a sound-rich environment, and embarks on an immersive listening journey. It's a mindful, wordless, renewing retreat.

chadcrouch.substack.comChad Crouch
個人的成功 自己啓発 音楽
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  • Creek & Raven
    2025/10/09
    I’m sitting on a bench at the nearby city park listening to Creek & Raven. It comes out in a few days, as I write this. I haven’t listened to it for many months now, so it’s both surprising and unsurprising how it opens. Unsurprising is the trilling Pacific Wren, a distant Common Raven and the faint sound of a creek. Surprising is the mournful synthesizer lead that resembles a French horn.The vibe is meeting me where I am today, on this last overcast day of another extended Portland Indian summer. Winter is coming, literally and figuratively. I feel it; stark, curious and foreboding.The environmental audio was captured in one of the deeper canyons of Forest Park in early June of this year. The creek that carved this deep canyon is named Rocking Chair Creek after the discovery of a rocking chair in its waters. I’m visualizing it now like the heirloom bentwood rocker in my living room, half sunk with gold-green moss growing on it, illuminated in a sunbeam. I returned to the canyon a few weeks ago and made more sketches. It’s interesting to me how the palette shifted, on return, to bluer hues of green. This brings to mind how the observer influences a scene; how interpretations and tone can shift. About 8 miles away from this canyon is a different scene that has captured the imagination of the nation, and beyond, in the recent news cycle.Here, a nondescript beige multi-story federal building stands between Interstate 5 and the Willamette river on the margins of downtown Portland, Oregon. It is ground zero for a political Rorschach test. A lot has been written about it. I’m not interested in trying to summarize that here. If you know, you know…you know?But the idea that there is any debate about facts on the ground; that there is any set of conditions that presently call for US military intervention in my home town is unnerving. It is deeply strange and seemingly animated by a dark fantasy. Most here poke fun at the absurdity of it all; the disconnect between truth and image-peddling. A few have their own reasons to support some hazy notion of a “crackdown”. The city is not without problems, after all. Anyone can tell you that. It’s been a tough run over the better part of a decade, here and most everywhere. On that score, there have been plenty of indications that the city turned a corner. I travelled to four capital cities in Europe over the summer and they didn’t strike me as better or worse, any more or less livable on the whole.The fever-pitched finger pointing is what makes my stomach churn. The notion that educated people cannot in good faith arrive at a consensus on whether a city is “war-ravaged”, “under siege”, even “burning to the ground” or about average for its size is like a chapter out of George Orwell’s 1984. “Reality exists in the human mind, and nowhere else.”“2 + 2 = 5”-Party doctrine from 1984 by George OrwellIn the finale of Creek and Raven we hear ravens croak and rattle with gusto. What are they saying?Ravens have long been cast as messengers in the symbology of First Nations. As a communicative carrion bird, their associations with prophecy, insight, and playing intermediary between life and death are long held. Do these ravens have any prophecies or insights to share about their home in Portland, Oregon? Recent studies have identified at least 30 to 40 distinct vocalizations in ravens’ repertoire. They vocalize for the same reasons humans do: talking about food, keeping track of family members, socializing, bonding, playing, warning, and identifying each other specifically. Ravens even use “emotional” prosody; they convey urgency or calm through tone. They can learn new vocalizations, mimicking human speech and other sounds.I think we could all benefit by taking time to actively listen to what Bernie Krause coined the “biophony”, the layer of the soundscape made by living organisms. We would do well to listen to each other as well; us human animals. I believe estrangement from the biophony, can lead to less empathy, and that can lead to all sorts of unfortunate outcomes.We have some mending to do. We have holes in our social fabric left over from the pandemic; splits aggravated by social media and the tribalism of news media empires. Maybe we can take a lesson from ravens and just remember to talk to each other; to shoot the breeze about food and family.A raven’s warning call is a sharp, urgent Kawk! Kawk! Kawk! But what happens when one of the flock spreads alarm when there is no real threat? We know from the old folk tale how Chicken Little—the sky is falling!—learns a lesson about spreading alarm without evidence…in the sanitized version of the tale. In most versions, the characters (Chicken Little, Ducky Lucky, Goosey Loosey, and Turkey Lurkey) encounter Foxy Loxy who uses the panic to trick them into his den and eat them all. What I think we are facing in this country is leadership that is acting like Chicken Little...
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    39 分
  • Mt. Tabor Park
    2025/10/03

    It’s been a little while since my last Listening Spot release. If you’re just joining, Listening Spot is a pseudonym I use for stationary environmental recordings paired to atmospheric “ambient” compositions. Once again, however, I’m breaking with the tradition of avoiding piano with a Listening Spot release. Pianet electric piano alternates with Korg synthesizer “dew drops” at the center of this musical score.

    This time we are visiting the iconic Mt. Tabor Park of Portland, Oregon.

    The 636 ft (194 meter) forested peak rises up from the otherwise mostly level plane of SE Portland. It’s a dormant cinder cone volcano from a lava field formation now quiet for over 300,000 years. From a bird’s eye view, it’s a promising rest stop on migration, offering an island of green in a patchwork of grey.

    On spring mornings the park bustles with both bird and human activity. Many exercise routines target the broad summit, offering the reward of a city view looking west toward downtown Portland. Here’s a sketch of it I made on my phone:

    As far as environmental recording goes, I’ve historically found Mt. Tabor to be a difficult place to make “pleasing” recordings. This notion of pleasing is, of course, entirely subjective. But, in general, the topography and popularity of the park makes the anthropogenic layers more of a focal point. Dogs barking, joggers huffing up trails, sirens wailing, trucks beeping… These are all fine and interesting sounds—I’ve actually recently come to find backup beeps an interesting musical counterpoint to the sound of nuthatches, for example—but they are not the sounds I’ve set out to capture…yet anyway.

    More recently, I found a spot that’s pretty well insulated from the city soundscape and the bulk of human visitors. There is a knob between reservoir 1 and 5 with a solitary bench on top, offering a relatively tranquil listening spot in the 191-acre park. Here, I made this recording on April 4th of this year. The sounds of the city barely register below the songbirds belting out their springtime melodies.

    We hear Lesser Goldfinch, Red-breasted Nuthatch, American Robin, Song Sparrow, Pine Siskin, Steller’s Jay, Northern Flicker, and a Swainson’s Thrush, to name a few. It’s a sharp contrast to the subdued songs of fall.

    My score is of the minimal, imperfect, reflective and tender sort. I hope you enjoy it.

    Thanks for coming along for the journey. It’s not always clear to me if I’m connecting with readers and listeners via Substack, so feel free to say hi.

    Or, if you can think of someone who might like what I’m doing, please let them know. It means a lot to me.

    Mt. Tabor Park is available under the artist name Listening Spot on all streaming platforms Friday October 3rd.



    This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit chadcrouch.substack.com/subscribe
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    21 分
  • Pollinator Corridor
    2025/09/19

    I like to work in batches. Pollinator Corridor can be filed under two batches: 1) Forest Park and 2) plein air soundwalks.

    So Forest Park is self explanatory, but could use some contextualizing, which I’ll get into shortly. The plein air soundwalks batch is still taking shape. Basically it’s just me recording and sketching. Like I said last time, offering little twist on my Soundwalk formula. One little experiment I did on this particular day was to make some botanical sketches.

    For being in Forest Park, you might notice on this cover that the view here isn’t thickly forested:

    This is the view looking back up the hill on BPA road, where a swath of forestland was removed long ago to accommodate the high voltage power lines that run up and over the Tualatin Mountains here on the north end of the 5000 acre wooded park. The gravel and dirt lane is maintained for power line inspection and maintenance purposes, while serving dual purpose as a multi-use trail connecting the trails that intersect it.

    It’s a distinct habitat in Forest Park; an edge land where grasses, berries and wildflowers grow, attracting some different animal species than the forest interior. Portland Parks & Rec. calls this a Pollinator Corridor. If you’re patient, you’ll see and hear these visitors: the migratory Rufous Hummingbird with its little toy motorcycle sound; berry-eating songbirds like the Black-headed Grosbeak; insects like bumble bees, and Western Tiger Swallowtail butterflies; and deer or sometimes elk slowly cracking through downed branches on the perimeter, coming and going.

    There are few places in Forest Park that open up sufficiently to afford views of the Cascade Mountains to the west. This is one of them:

    Fireweed, oceanspray, western goldenrod, and Oregon Sunshine also thrive here. Here’s a sketch of orange honeysuckle.

    It’s both serene and pulsing with life.

    For the score, I really leaned into the sound of the Soma Lyre “Organismic Synthesizer”. I’m using a virtual instrument playable by a midi keyboard, but the original inductive pad and knob box hardware is quite fascinating. Many electronic musicians find it unusually emotive and inspiring.

    I’m also using a virtual instrument that samples the quieter timbres created by manipulating the tone bars of a 50’s / 60’s Hammond organ. I used to own a Hammond M3 organ, and my earliest musical experiments involved playing with the toggle switches and tone bars to add warm, crackly textures to my nascent experimental performances.

    I didn’t reach for any Electric Piano for this one. In this way it’s crossbred with my Listening Spot ouvre, I suppose.

    Reaching the end of BPA Road, the hiker is presented with a three way fork. All options are a road less travelled. Two lanes lead out to prominences topped by high voltage electric towers overlooking the Willamette River and the lower Columbia beyond. The other lane plunges down to Hwy 30 below, and is prone to overgrowth. Here’s the view from the northernmost point. It’s very peaceful place with a meadowy feel, and a nice view of the Multnomah Channel and the Sauvie Island Bridge:

    Thank you, as always, for joining me here. I hope you enjoy Pollinator Corridor. It’s available on all music streaming services today, September 19th, 2025.

    Also, last week I released another instrumental EP under the pseudonym Sleeping Animal. So if you’re in the mood for some impressionistic electric piano-centered music, I’ve got you covered there too. That one is called Traverse, also available on all music streaming services.



    This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit chadcrouch.substack.com/subscribe
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    43 分
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