Hi-Fi vs Lo-Fi
Murray Schafer
uses a term to define his idea of hi-fi sound vs. lo-fi sound. The term is
signal to noise ratio, which is apt for the context in which he distills this
idea. In the audio world hi fi systems pump out extreme detail and clarity of
the source material, due to a very high signal to noise ratio. A low signal to
noise ratio would yield less clarity within an audio source and abstruse any
meaning information within the source material. Schafer uses this signal to
noise ratio in the context of nature and the soundscapes within an environment.
He states in his work, The Rural
Landscape, “The quiet ambiance of the hi-fi soundscape allows the listen to
hear father into the distance just as the countryside exercises long-range
viewing” and “In a lo-fi soundscape individual signals are obscured in an over
dense population of sounds” (Schafer 43). I can recall a time when it was dead
of night and I was swimming in Lake Michigan. The ripples of water drifting
pass me were articulate and a slight breeze was easily heard. An unusual noise
came to the forefront; it was a flapping noise, like a bird, but more frantic
and decayed quicker. Once I was able to see briefly what was flying above me I
realized it was bats, zooming back and forth across the lake water. This hi-fi
soundscape was able to produce a rather quiet flap of a bat's wing into
something very detailed audibly; it was quite fascinating and completely scary
at the same time.
Later on in
Murray Schafer’s piece, The Rural
Landscape, he identifies a sound mark memory from his childhood growing up
on a farm of. He recalls listening to a hand pump churn cream into butter and
noting, “an almost imperceptible change in tone and texture occurred as the
slopping creamed gradually turned to butter” (Schafer 48). I grew up in a
suburban community, which didn't create much of a distinctive soundscape, but
what did was a sound mark of my youth growing into my teenage years of the howl
of my pure Beagle hound dog. It was a distinctive howl, not deep, but rather a
high-pitched croon, that of a young hound pup growing into its teenage years as
I grew into mine. The bark reminds me now of youth gaining responsibility and
becoming a person who is able to not just think of his self, but take care of
and tend to another creature. Her name was Pepper and she brought me immense
joy in my teenage years as a single child and gave purpose to my summer days
home alone or late afternoons coming home from school. She was a wild thing and
I would be wrong if I said I wasn’t just as wild as her and for that I am
grateful for a wonderful childhood raising a hound dog in the suburbs.
Cory R Gorman | Film 116 | Fall 2014 UW-Milwaukee
