http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20051124/sc_ ... NlYwM5NjQ-
.5 hertz. that's pretty low.
they'd have to speed it up by 6 octaves for it to be heard, and 7 or 8 for it to be heard well. i'd sure like to hear it. i'm wondering how they sped it up. whenever i raise stuff by 6 or more octaves, i get all sorts of artifacts and shit. then again, i probably don't have the sound facilities of the alfred wegener institute for polar and marine research, who probably deal with ultra- and sub-sonic sounds from whales and dolphins and shit.
singing icebergs
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- KVRian
- 886 posts since 2 Jun, 2005 from Hawaii
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Reverse Engineer Reverse Engineer https://www.kvraudio.com/forum/memberlist.php?mode=viewprofile&u=9129
- KVRAF
- 4968 posts since 23 Sep, 2003 from Glasgow
What ultra/sub sonic sound does shit emit?bernhardtjeff wrote:who probably deal with ultra- and sub-sonic sounds from whales and dolphins and shit.
Last edited by Reverse Engineer on Fri Nov 25, 2005 2:00 am, edited 1 time in total.
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- addled muppet weed
- 111341 posts since 26 Jan, 2003 from through the looking glass
sand dunes do too,ghosts of the desert 
i once heard a piece by some guy who had sampled the various differnt sounds as the sand vibrated in the wind and all he did was edit them together,but seriously i could then understand where a lot of desert nomads got their ghost stories from.
the world around us has some amazing music,we just need to slow down sometimes to hear it
trees creaking in forests and wind rustling the leaves is such a beautiful sound too
i once heard a piece by some guy who had sampled the various differnt sounds as the sand vibrated in the wind and all he did was edit them together,but seriously i could then understand where a lot of desert nomads got their ghost stories from.
the world around us has some amazing music,we just need to slow down sometimes to hear it
trees creaking in forests and wind rustling the leaves is such a beautiful sound too
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- Rad Grandad
- 38041 posts since 6 Sep, 2003 from Downeast Maine
I've been on our lake up in maine in the dead of winter when the ice was over 4 feet thick. The lake still shifts under the ice and sometimes these enormous craks travel through the ice. The sound is really cool (pardon the pun), you can hear it coming towards you, or across in front of you...
The highest form of knowledge is empathy, for it requires us to suspend our egos and live in another's world. It requires profound, purpose‐larger‐than‐the‐self kind of understanding.
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- KVRAF
- 10597 posts since 13 Jun, 2004 from Alberto Balsam
Who was it, that back in the day they sped up a recording of whales and it sounded EXACTLY like birds?
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- KVRAF
- 7936 posts since 18 Feb, 2003 from out there somewhere
such a hippyvurt wrote:sand dunes do too,ghosts of the desert
i once heard a piece by some guy who had sampled the various differnt sounds as the sand vibrated in the wind and all he did was edit them together,but seriously i could then understand where a lot of desert nomads got their ghost stories from.
the world around us has some amazing music,we just need to slow down sometimes to hear it
trees creaking in forests and wind rustling the leaves is such a beautiful sound too
Last edited by CypherOne on Fri Nov 25, 2005 5:51 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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- KVRist
- 76 posts since 31 Jan, 2003 from Outer Bongolia
vurt wrote:sand dunes do too,ghosts of the desert
i once heard a piece by some guy who had sampled the various differnt sounds as the sand vibrated in the wind and all he did was edit them together,but seriously i could then understand where a lot of desert nomads got their ghost stories from.
the world around us has some amazing music,we just need to slow down sometimes to hear it
trees creaking in forests and wind rustling the leaves is such a beautiful sound too
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- Skunk Mod
- 21249 posts since 10 Jun, 2004 from Pony Pasture
I've read that there are places where walking across desert sands can start them "ringing." They say it's hard to describe the sound or give it an accurate name. I'd like to hear that.
On the Outer Banks of North Carolina, when the sand was dry enough it would "bark" like a little dog when you walked through it. (Maybe someone lost a small dog in the sand and I just didn't notice it.) Then I'd step on one of those awful sandburs that were everywhere, and I would be the one barking. =:-O
On the Outer Banks of North Carolina, when the sand was dry enough it would "bark" like a little dog when you walked through it. (Maybe someone lost a small dog in the sand and I just didn't notice it.) Then I'd step on one of those awful sandburs that were everywhere, and I would be the one barking. =:-O
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- KVRist
- 76 posts since 31 Jan, 2003 from Outer Bongolia
Snow does that little "bark" too you know, Meffy. I like the absolute quiet of mountain tops. Also the view, usually.
I want to go swim with the singing icebergs!
I like the absolute quiet of mountain tops. Also the view, usually.I want to go swim with the singing icebergs!
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- KVRAF
- 3617 posts since 26 Sep, 2003 from Bradford - The Armpit of Britain
There's nothing like waking up early morning camped out in a tent somewhere (preferably by the side of a brook) & just listening for a while.
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- Skunk Mod
- 21249 posts since 10 Jun, 2004 from Pony Pasture
Here in central Virginia, the snow is rarely dry enough to bark... too warm. But sometimes it gets really cold after a snowfall, and then it makes a sound too. :-)
I remember some sub-zero (Fahrenheit!) mornings that followed heavy snow... having to get up early to hike through the woods, across the pasture, and down to the pond and break through the ice so the horses could drink. Last thing I wanted to do at daybreak, but there was no avoiding such an essential chore.
Very still, very quiet. I could hear each small bird flying through the undergrowth, the whirr of wings, the sifting of fallen snow when it landed on a branch. A single tree bough cracking a quarter mile away sounded like a small-caliber gunshot, and I could pick out the sounds of individual cars and trucks on the nearly-empty highways a mile or so off.
And yes, as I scuffed along the paths or across the fields, the snow under my boots emitted various squeaks and barks and hisses. The sound varied, based upon what was beneath it and how much sunlight that patch of snow had got since falling.
Then -- in the midst of all that near-silent solitude -- I arrived at the edge of the pond and laid about with a pick-axe and a wood-splitting maul. WHACK! CRACK! SMASH!
As Hink says, ice makes wondrous and weird noises when a crack propagates through it. Even our much thinner ice. With the first blow of the maul an other-worldly "Gweeeeeeeeyoooooooopppp" would ripple across the pond's frozen surface, sounding for all the world like some kind of "blaster" in a science-fiction adventure movie, followed by a sort of effervescence-type sound as shattered bits of ice and bubbles floated back up to rattle against the underside of the ice surface. Then it was smash, bludgeon, crash, all the while with the liquid, curious, anxious eyes of our horses watching my every move. Finally I'd be done, they'd make their ways down to the space I'd opened up and drink their fill. In a few hours I'd have to do it all again. It would take just a few minutes of trudging back uphill for my offended ears to recover their ability to pick out the small, gentle sounds of wind and beast and snow.
And then I'd make hot chocolate, and the sound would be "ahhh."
I remember some sub-zero (Fahrenheit!) mornings that followed heavy snow... having to get up early to hike through the woods, across the pasture, and down to the pond and break through the ice so the horses could drink. Last thing I wanted to do at daybreak, but there was no avoiding such an essential chore.
Very still, very quiet. I could hear each small bird flying through the undergrowth, the whirr of wings, the sifting of fallen snow when it landed on a branch. A single tree bough cracking a quarter mile away sounded like a small-caliber gunshot, and I could pick out the sounds of individual cars and trucks on the nearly-empty highways a mile or so off.
And yes, as I scuffed along the paths or across the fields, the snow under my boots emitted various squeaks and barks and hisses. The sound varied, based upon what was beneath it and how much sunlight that patch of snow had got since falling.
Then -- in the midst of all that near-silent solitude -- I arrived at the edge of the pond and laid about with a pick-axe and a wood-splitting maul. WHACK! CRACK! SMASH!
As Hink says, ice makes wondrous and weird noises when a crack propagates through it. Even our much thinner ice. With the first blow of the maul an other-worldly "Gweeeeeeeeyoooooooopppp" would ripple across the pond's frozen surface, sounding for all the world like some kind of "blaster" in a science-fiction adventure movie, followed by a sort of effervescence-type sound as shattered bits of ice and bubbles floated back up to rattle against the underside of the ice surface. Then it was smash, bludgeon, crash, all the while with the liquid, curious, anxious eyes of our horses watching my every move. Finally I'd be done, they'd make their ways down to the space I'd opened up and drink their fill. In a few hours I'd have to do it all again. It would take just a few minutes of trudging back uphill for my offended ears to recover their ability to pick out the small, gentle sounds of wind and beast and snow.
And then I'd make hot chocolate, and the sound would be "ahhh."