Making Records: Home Recordings c. 1890-1920
The most interesting Death is not the End set in a minute, ‘Making Records: Home Recordings c. 1890-1920’ collects some of the earliest wax cylinder recordings known to exist, pulled from a collection housed at the University of California’s archive. Featuring candid conversations, radio broadcasts and musical snippets from the turn of the 19th century, it's all buried under layers of static woo that gives a sort of Alan Lomax meets Conet Project vibe, valuable as a historical document, but also as an almost mystical piece of sound art.
For the last four decades, sound historian David Giovannoni and anthropology professor Donald R. Hill have been building an archive of vernacular wax recordings, intimate early snapshots of American life captured on early phonographic technology. These wax cylinder-based recorders emerged in the commercial marketplace in the late 1890s, and lasted a few decades until they were phased out by more reliable devices. As Giovannoni notes in his press release, it was the first time in human history that we could take "sonic selfies". The set is a pared down look at Giovannoni's collection, currently housed at the University of California and comprising over 500 recordings of animal sounds, private chats, crying babies, reverberating chorals, fiddle improvisations - all sorts.
It's a history lesson, first and foremost, a chance to dip into the home life of regular Americans at the turn of the century. But there's something about the quality of these recordings that makes them especially compelling. Thomas Edison's cylinder phonograph gives everything a distinct feel - you've all heard his 1877 "Mary had a little lamb" skit - and turns the music, dialog and environmental captures into heaving, textural miracles. The rotation of the cylinder provides a faint rhythm - something that's only enhanced when the recordings feature any kind of feedback - and all the dust and recording artefacts slather the adjacent sounds in hoarse, gravelly glitches and static. As such, a relatively mundane French language lesson becomes a galloping, fuzzy mess of oscillating cracks, and a guitar solo is almost drowned out by squelchy whirrs.
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The most interesting Death is not the End set in a minute, ‘Making Records: Home Recordings c. 1890-1920’ collects some of the earliest wax cylinder recordings known to exist, pulled from a collection housed at the University of California’s archive. Featuring candid conversations, radio broadcasts and musical snippets from the turn of the 19th century, it's all buried under layers of static woo that gives a sort of Alan Lomax meets Conet Project vibe, valuable as a historical document, but also as an almost mystical piece of sound art.
For the last four decades, sound historian David Giovannoni and anthropology professor Donald R. Hill have been building an archive of vernacular wax recordings, intimate early snapshots of American life captured on early phonographic technology. These wax cylinder-based recorders emerged in the commercial marketplace in the late 1890s, and lasted a few decades until they were phased out by more reliable devices. As Giovannoni notes in his press release, it was the first time in human history that we could take "sonic selfies". The set is a pared down look at Giovannoni's collection, currently housed at the University of California and comprising over 500 recordings of animal sounds, private chats, crying babies, reverberating chorals, fiddle improvisations - all sorts.
It's a history lesson, first and foremost, a chance to dip into the home life of regular Americans at the turn of the century. But there's something about the quality of these recordings that makes them especially compelling. Thomas Edison's cylinder phonograph gives everything a distinct feel - you've all heard his 1877 "Mary had a little lamb" skit - and turns the music, dialog and environmental captures into heaving, textural miracles. The rotation of the cylinder provides a faint rhythm - something that's only enhanced when the recordings feature any kind of feedback - and all the dust and recording artefacts slather the adjacent sounds in hoarse, gravelly glitches and static. As such, a relatively mundane French language lesson becomes a galloping, fuzzy mess of oscillating cracks, and a guitar solo is almost drowned out by squelchy whirrs.
The most interesting Death is not the End set in a minute, ‘Making Records: Home Recordings c. 1890-1920’ collects some of the earliest wax cylinder recordings known to exist, pulled from a collection housed at the University of California’s archive. Featuring candid conversations, radio broadcasts and musical snippets from the turn of the 19th century, it's all buried under layers of static woo that gives a sort of Alan Lomax meets Conet Project vibe, valuable as a historical document, but also as an almost mystical piece of sound art.
For the last four decades, sound historian David Giovannoni and anthropology professor Donald R. Hill have been building an archive of vernacular wax recordings, intimate early snapshots of American life captured on early phonographic technology. These wax cylinder-based recorders emerged in the commercial marketplace in the late 1890s, and lasted a few decades until they were phased out by more reliable devices. As Giovannoni notes in his press release, it was the first time in human history that we could take "sonic selfies". The set is a pared down look at Giovannoni's collection, currently housed at the University of California and comprising over 500 recordings of animal sounds, private chats, crying babies, reverberating chorals, fiddle improvisations - all sorts.
It's a history lesson, first and foremost, a chance to dip into the home life of regular Americans at the turn of the century. But there's something about the quality of these recordings that makes them especially compelling. Thomas Edison's cylinder phonograph gives everything a distinct feel - you've all heard his 1877 "Mary had a little lamb" skit - and turns the music, dialog and environmental captures into heaving, textural miracles. The rotation of the cylinder provides a faint rhythm - something that's only enhanced when the recordings feature any kind of feedback - and all the dust and recording artefacts slather the adjacent sounds in hoarse, gravelly glitches and static. As such, a relatively mundane French language lesson becomes a galloping, fuzzy mess of oscillating cracks, and a guitar solo is almost drowned out by squelchy whirrs.
The most interesting Death is not the End set in a minute, ‘Making Records: Home Recordings c. 1890-1920’ collects some of the earliest wax cylinder recordings known to exist, pulled from a collection housed at the University of California’s archive. Featuring candid conversations, radio broadcasts and musical snippets from the turn of the 19th century, it's all buried under layers of static woo that gives a sort of Alan Lomax meets Conet Project vibe, valuable as a historical document, but also as an almost mystical piece of sound art.
For the last four decades, sound historian David Giovannoni and anthropology professor Donald R. Hill have been building an archive of vernacular wax recordings, intimate early snapshots of American life captured on early phonographic technology. These wax cylinder-based recorders emerged in the commercial marketplace in the late 1890s, and lasted a few decades until they were phased out by more reliable devices. As Giovannoni notes in his press release, it was the first time in human history that we could take "sonic selfies". The set is a pared down look at Giovannoni's collection, currently housed at the University of California and comprising over 500 recordings of animal sounds, private chats, crying babies, reverberating chorals, fiddle improvisations - all sorts.
It's a history lesson, first and foremost, a chance to dip into the home life of regular Americans at the turn of the century. But there's something about the quality of these recordings that makes them especially compelling. Thomas Edison's cylinder phonograph gives everything a distinct feel - you've all heard his 1877 "Mary had a little lamb" skit - and turns the music, dialog and environmental captures into heaving, textural miracles. The rotation of the cylinder provides a faint rhythm - something that's only enhanced when the recordings feature any kind of feedback - and all the dust and recording artefacts slather the adjacent sounds in hoarse, gravelly glitches and static. As such, a relatively mundane French language lesson becomes a galloping, fuzzy mess of oscillating cracks, and a guitar solo is almost drowned out by squelchy whirrs.
90 Minutes Long. Cover image text excerpt taken from 'How to Make Records at Home with an Edison Phonograph', 1910. Comes with a download of the full set dropped to your account.
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The most interesting Death is not the End set in a minute, ‘Making Records: Home Recordings c. 1890-1920’ collects some of the earliest wax cylinder recordings known to exist, pulled from a collection housed at the University of California’s archive. Featuring candid conversations, radio broadcasts and musical snippets from the turn of the 19th century, it's all buried under layers of static woo that gives a sort of Alan Lomax meets Conet Project vibe, valuable as a historical document, but also as an almost mystical piece of sound art.
For the last four decades, sound historian David Giovannoni and anthropology professor Donald R. Hill have been building an archive of vernacular wax recordings, intimate early snapshots of American life captured on early phonographic technology. These wax cylinder-based recorders emerged in the commercial marketplace in the late 1890s, and lasted a few decades until they were phased out by more reliable devices. As Giovannoni notes in his press release, it was the first time in human history that we could take "sonic selfies". The set is a pared down look at Giovannoni's collection, currently housed at the University of California and comprising over 500 recordings of animal sounds, private chats, crying babies, reverberating chorals, fiddle improvisations - all sorts.
It's a history lesson, first and foremost, a chance to dip into the home life of regular Americans at the turn of the century. But there's something about the quality of these recordings that makes them especially compelling. Thomas Edison's cylinder phonograph gives everything a distinct feel - you've all heard his 1877 "Mary had a little lamb" skit - and turns the music, dialog and environmental captures into heaving, textural miracles. The rotation of the cylinder provides a faint rhythm - something that's only enhanced when the recordings feature any kind of feedback - and all the dust and recording artefacts slather the adjacent sounds in hoarse, gravelly glitches and static. As such, a relatively mundane French language lesson becomes a galloping, fuzzy mess of oscillating cracks, and a guitar solo is almost drowned out by squelchy whirrs.