Sound and Music in the COVID-19 Pan(ic)demic

The sonic experiences most significant to me while sheltering-in-place in upstate New York were sirens and those that implied lack of activity/lack of life. In this project these are exemplified by atmospheric sounds of birds that are more audible now that there is little activity in my area, and the sirens of emergency vehicles that have become all the more present in m y life. These sonic moments elicited in me fear and panic regarding our current health crisis. I found solace in the Metropolitan Opera’s nightly livestreams as they brought music into my home and helped me connect with (now) distant family and friends.

In the Guardian article "Stayin’ alive! How music has fought pandemics for 2,700 years," Ed Prideaux writes: "Now that we’re equipped with technology, science and a global identity, music may be more valuable – and more necessary – than ever." Further, he quotes Dr. Chris Macklin, formerly a musicology professor specializing in music of plagues, “music was not a luxury in times of epidemic uncertainty – it was a necessity”.

The sonic experiences most significant to me while sheltering-in-place in upstate New York were sirens and those that implied lack of activity/lack of life. In this project these are exemplified by atmospheric sounds of birds that are more audible now that there is little activity in my area, and the sirens of emergency vehicles that have become all the more present in m y life. These sonic moments elicited in me fear and panic regarding our current health crisis. I found solace in the Metropolitan Opera’s nightly livestreams as they brought music into my home and helped me connect with (now) distant family and friends.

In the Guardian article "Stayin’ alive! How music has fought pandemics for 2,700 years," Ed Prideaux writes: "Now that we’re equipped with technology, science and a global identity, music may be more valuable – and more necessary – than ever." Further, he quotes Dr. Chris Macklin, formerly a musicology professor specializing in music of plagues, “music was not a luxury in times of epidemic uncertainty – it was a necessity”.

(Photo by Charles Harbutt)

A sonic ethnography project by Julia Row Harbutt

New York, USA (Spring 2020)

Introduction

A sunny, but empty day in Hudson, NY

(Photo by Julia Row Harbutt)

Although I usually call New York City home, I decided to stay with my dad in upstate New York given that the city was, and is, at much greater risk for COVID-19. Living in the current COVID-19 crisis has helped me realize to what extent our sonic experiences affect our state of mind, emotion, and overall mental health. My personal experience during this time is just that: personal. For me, the sonic world of COVID-19 is simultaneously quiet and loud, and equally unsettling. In reviewing my sound journals for the past six weeks I realized that I took particular notice of both moments of eerie silence and unusual loudness. Significantly, my emotional response to these two different kinds of sounds was the same: fear, isolation, and panic. Yet, on the other hand I found that music, albeit virtually streamed music, helped combat these negative emotions; particularly watching the Metropolitan Opera’s nightly livestreams concurrently with friends and family (and my cat, Kimchi). This sonic experience was not one of isolation or fear, but of connectedness and hope.

In the following sections I provide select recordings, excerpts from weekly sound journals, images, and quotes from significant scholarly articles to further illustrate and expand on my personal experiences of both the fear-inducing and connective aspects of sound during the COVID-19 pandemic.

The Sound of "Silence"

Sunday, April 12th

It's approximately 6:45am. While I’m usually asleep at this hour, I was unfortunately in the middle of pulling an all-nighter to finish a draft of my honors thesis. The transition from night to morning was signaled to me, not by the increase of light, but because of the sound of birds in the morning. The birds are usually masked by the sound of traffic on the street, especially considering I live on a busy street filled with shops and restaurants. There’s been a significant decrease in both pedestrian and vehicle traffic on my street, so the sounds of birds are more audible now. These kinds of atmospheric sounds are usually welcome and calming, but now I am just reminded of the lack of "normal" activity and disconnect from the world around me. And it's eerie.

An abandoned building in Hudson, NY

(Photo by Charles Harbutt)

My cousin has taken to sleeping in this tent every night during quarantine!

(Photo by Sarah Harbutt)

Tuesday, April 21st

Sometimes things are so quiet in my apartment that it seems like the kitchen appliances have become louder. Prior to this whole shelter-in-place situation, I never paid attention to things like that. Maybe one of the things I’m gaining is a greater sensitivity to all the things around me that emit “sound.” Today I noticed that the hum of my refrigerator and the sound the dishwasher makes as it’s running actually emit tones of dissonance, which is interesting in retrospect, but was actually really irritating at the time. It feels like life itself has become absent, and all that remains are the sounds of machinery. Is this a Twilight Zone episode?

Sonic Sirens

Monday, April 6th

As I sat down for dinner with my dad and my sister the usually calm evening atmosphere of the town was interrupted by multiple sirens. It sounded like the sirens were coming from multiple vehicles, likely ambulances and firetrucks. After about thirty seconds, the sound of the sirens was still occurring, and getting increasingly louder. I stepped out into the sun room where I could see people from the houses on the ground level below who had also come outside because of the sirens. I was surprised by how long this lasted, even coming from NYC where sirens often fade into the background for me, I found myself growing anxious the longer this continued. At one point the whirlwind of sirens became more aggressive and loud as the source of the sound seemed to come closer, before it eventually trailed off. This has become new sound in my daily life, given that I also heard sirens the next day.

Reflections in an empty shop window in Hudson, NY

(Photo by Aemilia Harbutt)

Reflection of my apartment's sun room from the kitchen

(Photo by Charles Harbutt)

Monday, April 20th

I heard ambulance sirens again very late at night which immediately made me feel alarmed and uneasy. It’s probably because I’ve realized, or at least I think, that most of the sirens I hear are ambulances on the way to tend to sick people. I think I also feel concerned from the sound because there is such a lack of environmental sound around me these days, and this is one of the only constant sounds I hear, which is unfortunate especially considering I’m used to hearing sirens all the time in New York. And while I long to go outside and see people going about their day, it's times like this when I become fearful and panicked about the death and illness that surrounds me. It seems like the sound of sirens has accreted a new meaning for me in the midst of COVID-19.

In the article "'Ebola in Town': Creating Musical Connections in Liberian Communities during the 2014 Crisis in West Africa," (Africa Today Vol. 63, No. 3) Ruth M. Stone examines the music and sonic atmosphere of Liberia during the Ebola outbreak from 2014-2016. Of sirens, Stone writes:

"The sirens evolved to create fear and terror as people heard them sounding quite constantly in Monrovia day after day. In ordinary times, sirens would signal all kinds of things, including the approach of the motorcade of a government or diplomatic official, so people would not pay much attention to them but in the new circumstances, sirens put people on edge. These warnings sonically reinforced the lurking danger that was passing on the street. A nearby patient posed a threat to people. And as these sirens repeatedly sounded, they multiplied the felt anxiety. One could no longer tune them out and ignore them. By 2016, they were less noticeable and mainly announced the passing of an important entourage, but on several occasions, people pointed out to me how those sounds still stirred anxious feelings." (Stone, 85)

Not only does this indicate that a different health crisis on a different continent could elicit similar reactions to sirens, but it seems like this particular sound has now been imbued with new meaning because of its association with "lurking danger" during the height of the Ebola crisis in Liberia. I've already become more accustomed to the constant reminder of death and illness that the sound of sirens signifies to me...will this remain when we recover from our COVID-19 pandemic?

The visceral reaction I experience when hearing sirens, and the discomfort I feel by the heightened sounds of "nothing" (whether that be the hum of the sounds of nature outside or kitchen appliances) is a persistent reminder of the constant isolation that comes with the implementation of shelter-in-place during COVID-19.

Connective Tissue:

The Metropolitan Opera Nightly Streams

Yet, there are some redeeming sonic experiences I've encountered. The increase in opportunities to stream music, and the arts in general, has been instrumental in keeping me sane. Further, it helps me feel more connected to people from whom I've been estranged because we can all watch at the same time, which works to recreate the feeling of community that comes with experiencing music together.

My mom and I share a love for opera, and we actually had plans to go to the Met during my spring break which didn't pan out due to COVID-19. The Met's new nightly streams not only give us a hint of normalcy during our disrupted lives, but the shared experience of watching them at the same time works to make us feel connected since she is living in Brooklyn, NYC and I'm in upstate New York.

My cat, Kimchi, watching a Met Opera livestream of Gaetano Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor in NYC

(Photo by Grace Row)

Soon after I arrived back home from school, the Met announced that they would have to cancel the rest of their season due to COVID-19. The Met is usually a huge part of my life, and it's one of the main reasons I travel back home on breaks from school. Soon, however, the Met made a quick decision to host free streaming of opera on their website every night that they would have had an in-person performance. It’s worth noting that the first couple days of initial streams were met with so many viewers that the website crashed often. More people than the Met had anticipated were interested in viewing opera, so the Met had to quickly increase their bandwidth and make the necessary technological changes to accommodate such a large viewership.

For me, this is interesting and perhaps speaks to the state of opera in the 21st century, which often comes with connotations of archaism and classism, but once made free and easily available: it’s clear that people are interested in opera. Perhaps this points to other barriers (money, location, etc.) that prevent more people from attending opera in regular circumstances. Also, the Met has implemented “Viewer’s Choice” night: the opera streamed every Friday night is one that the public voted on through a link the week before. This is interesting because it invites the public into the decisions of which operas are available.

The Met’s free nightly streaming also comes with a “weekly guide” (like this one from the week of May 11th) that walks the public through a general synopsis of the opera, as well as history either pertaining to its composition or history at the Met itself. This allows people who are less familiar with opera to get a little bit of educative material to see which operas they might be interested in: which may perhaps increase the retention rate of opera-goers (versus a first-time opera-goer who sees an opera that they don’t like and ends up never returning).

Overall, I think the Met is making great strides to remain relevant and present in the virtual world amid COVID-19. Further, the implementation of free, regularly scheduled streaming helps act as "connective tissue" between opera-lovers and opera-newbies alike. This works at both the level of these broader communities, and also at a personal one between me and my mom.

Conclusion

Empty street corner: Lafayette St. and Astor Place, NYC

(Photo by Grace Row)

The sonic experiences most significant to me while sheltering-in-place in upstate New York were sirens and those that implied lack of activity/lack of life. In this project these are exemplified by atmospheric sounds of birds that are more audible now that there is little activity in my area, and the sirens of emergency vehicles that have become all the more present in m y life. These sonic moments elicited in me fear and panic regarding our current health crisis. I found solace in the Metropolitan Opera’s nightly livestreams as they brought music into my home and helped me connect with (now) distant family and friends.

In the Guardian article "Stayin’ alive! How music has fought pandemics for 2,700 years," Ed Prideaux writes: "Now that we’re equipped with technology, science and a global identity, music may be more valuable – and more necessary – than ever." Further, he quotes Dr. Chris Macklin, formerly a musicology professor specializing in music of plagues, “music was not a luxury in times of epidemic uncertainty – it was a necessity”.