Soundwalk

On a rainy Tuesday afternoon, I walked around Kips Bay, an area I live in and therefore frequent often. I thought there would not be any sounds that would surprise me. For the most part, I was right—the keynotes were exactly the same as they always are, with cars rolling down the street beside me, occasionally letting out a beep, and the sound of shoes shuffling along the sidewalk. The time of day meant that many people were out for lunch, and I heard a few snatches of conversation and shouts of laughter as people hurried by talking on the phone. The rain did change some of these noises that I am used to, particularly the sloshing of water as cars drove through puddles and the squeaky scuffle of rain boots brushing against each other as people took shallow steps. 

As there is a lot of construction in the area, I expected some unpleasant noises. However, the sounds were not as horribly dissonant as I anticipated, at least not from a distance. The rhythmic clanging of metal and ringing of the drills sounded more like the percussion and brass sections of a band, matching the levels of the constant city sound. Another side effect of the construction was the way the sounds changed when I walked into a sidewalk tunnel. The sound from outside became muffled, while the sounds of my own shuffling boots became much louder, the steps echoing down the hall as I sloshed through a puddle. The audible effect was as if it had started to snow, with everything but me becoming quiet for just a few moments. When I emerged, everything seemed much louder somehow, especially the startling tinkling noise when I kicked a penny unexpectedly and it skittered across the pavement. 

The most unexpected thing—which is perhaps most notable because I had somehow never noticed it before—was that there seemed to be a constant ringing boom that never stopped, echoing throughout the streets. Perhaps it is a mark of how much time I spend with earphones in that I never really heard this never-ending, consistent thunder of countless numbers of people going about their afternoons. That is the most notable soundmark of Manhattan, because no matter where you go, there is no escaping it.