Mapping the Drone.

Sonic Agents in Urban Soundscapes

by Fritz Schlüter

Published in:

Petr Gibas, Karolína Pauknerová and Marco Stella et al. (eds.) (2011):

Non-humans in Social Science: Animals, Spaces, Things. Cerveny

Kostelec: Pavel Mervart, p. 117-136.

ISBN 978-80-7465-010-9

Mapping the Drone. Sonic Agents in Urban Soundscapes

Fritz Schlüter

Abstract

The term soundscape, coined by Canadian musicologist and composer R. Murray Schafer, refers

to the entirety of sounds being audible in a certain region. Opening up a lively discussion about

an 'acoustic ecology' in the 1970s, the concept of the soundscape also helped to establish a new

field for cultural-anthropological research. This paper focuses on the urban soundscape as far as

it is shaped by engine and traffic sounds that are often referred to as 'noise.'

As an analytical tool, I am providing a pragmatic concept of sonic agents which will be used in the

following to denote all active contributors to a given universe of sound – be they human or non-

human (or hybrid). What if we take this metaphor seriously and try to identify different species

of sonic agents in the city? Further developing a term originally coined by Schafer ([1977] 2006),

the most important sonic species in the city seems to be the drone, a sonic agent which is

constantly generating a certain level of noise – may it be a refrigerator or other cooling system,

an internal-combustion engine or a neon light. If we understand the drone as a certain species

of sonic agents, its primary habitat would be the city. How to map their spatial distribution

across the urban fabric? And how to keep record of their behavioural patterns?

Some of the characteristics of sonic agents will be delineated on the basis of my own field

recordings – including the materiality of sonic events. Moreover, several visualization methods

will be considered as a means to study the urban drone – such as quantitative noise maps,

graphical time-cycles and traffic flow simulations.

Keywords: anthropology of the senses, field recording, material culture, noise, soundscape,

traffic, urban research

Mapping the Drone. Sonic Agents in Urban Soundscapes

Urban space can be thought of as a kind of hive, with a cellular social and physical ecology, that creates complex outcomes in terms of cyclical and spatially organised sonic geographies that flow, modulate, and change as the chronology of days and seasons pass. (Atkinson 2011, 25)

A cultural-anthropological investigation of the soundscape

What if a cultural-anthropologist in the field focuses his attention on what he can perceive with his

ears? How does a focus on aural perception affect the way we perceive our environment? And may this

sonic landscape not even serve as a distinct field for cultural-anthropological research?

The Canadian musicologist and composer R. Murray Schafer was among the first to think about

research in our everyday sonic environment. In his seminal book The Tuning of the World ([1977] 2006) he

investigates the historical changes of what he calls 'the soundscape.' Referring to the entirety of sounds

being audible in a certain region, the soundscape has become a key term in sound studies since then. As

Schafer observes, along with such major developments as industrialization and electrification, the sonic

environment of our cities has altered severely – and it continues to change.

Embedded in a greater Anthropology of the Senses more and more researchers are engaging with the

subject. Calling our attention to the transient sensuous qualities of our environment, the soundscape

makes up a promising field for cultural-anthropological investigation. This has been widely

acknowledged among sensuous anthropologists (such as Feld 1982, Ingold 2000, Herzfeld 2002, Atkinson

2007, Pink 2009, Spray 2011). A cultural-anthropological study of the soundscape calls basically for an

approach that uses multiple perspectives and methods such as field notes, sound maps, sound walks,

and field recordings.

With this paper I hope to provide some new insights concerning the topological features of our sonic

environment. First of all, I want to conceive sound sources as sonic agents rather, i.e., as active

contributors to the soundscape (section 3). This concept may serve as a methodological de-

familiarization of the everyday, helping to decipher the complex composition of the soundscape – in

particular where generalized as noise (section 2). In the following sections we will not only listen to the

urban drone (sections 4 and 5), we will also map its spatial distribution in the city (section 6). We will

chart some of its temporal patterns (section 7), and watch its spread across the globe (section 8).1

Noise is obscure

Studying the sonic environment I have to face one problem in every city, be it Lisboa, Gdańsk, London,

Prague, or Berlin: everywhere the urban soundscape is dominated by a certain type of sounds related to

1 The author would like to extend his thanks to Martha Blassnigg (University of Plymouth) for her invaluable advice.

traffic and transportation. The sounds of motor-cars, trains, or airplanes flood almost all open spaces,

thus masking the subtle voices of social interaction and even standardizing the soundscapes of different

cities. Usually we tend to classify these traffic sounds as noise. But what would be the consequence for

my field of research then? Labelling the vast majority of all sonic events in the city with a single term –

noise – does not seem to be appropriate for a thorough examination of the soundscape since it would run

contrary to any further analysis of these specific urban sounds. This is why I envisage a somewhat

different approach for the study of traffic sounds here.

Acoustician Karl D. Kryter defines noise as 'audible acoustic energy (or sound) that is unwanted because

it has adverse effects on people.' Those disturbances or annoyances are due to (1) inherently unpleasant

sensations of loudness, pitch, duration, and impulsiveness; and (2) interference with auditory

communications, sleep, work performances, etc. (Kryter 1994, 1). Many soundscape researchers concern

themselves with noise exposure in cities and its adverse effects on health (among others:

Chuengsatiansup 1999, Skånberg and Öhrström 2002, Öhrström et al. 2006) and I do not want to

question the sincerity of this dedication here. But frankly spoken, negative preconceptions about noise

are likely to obscure the ways in which it comes into existence.

Let me briefly refer to some examples to expound the problems of an unequivocal definition of noise. As

Karin Bijsterveld and others have shown, every assumption about noise draws upon a certain cultural

'symbolism of sound,' thus being part of a whole discourse about 'wanted' and 'unwanted' sound (see

Bijsterveld 2001, see also Payer 2007). This also comprises positive connotations of power and progress

with loud sounds or noise. Conflicts about noise, then, always involve certain ideological concerns. Even

R. Murray Schafer's groundbreaking soundscape study relied upon a somewhat ideological distinction

between pleasant, natural, 'hi-fi'-soundscapes on the one hand and annoying, urban, 'lo-fi'-soundscapes

on the other ([1977] 2006, 43ff). As sound artist Sophie Arkette criticises,

Schafer has envisaged clear-cut divisions regarding the separation of natural from man-made. But the distinction may not be as clear-cut as he might suppose. For example, the mobile phone is, under the Schaferian definition, classed within the man-made domain, while birdsong is classed in the natural domain. What happens when birdsong imitates mobile-phone jingles? (Arkette 2004, 162)

And one could add: what happens if mobile-phone jingles imitate birdsong? Moreover, noise is not

always 'unwanted' at all.

A motor-cyclist, for instance, does not involuntarily bear the misery of his noisy machine – quite the

contrary: the brute sound of his motor-bike appears to be welcome. Maybe we could even understand

the roar of his engine as an act of communication. With this instrument the motor-cyclist tries to

convey something – although this message may be as rough as a rebellious outcry.2 Obviously, what we

2 This is closely related to Ben Chappell's findings about the 'everyday cruising practices of lowrider car customizers' in Austin, Texas. Their unmistakable sonic presence in the streets also includes certain car honk patterns which are used as a sonic 'signature' to distinguish different 'clubs' of cruisers. Needless to say that this is also meant to serve as some kind of provocation. Local authorities in turn try to 'criminalize' the lowriders (Chappell 2010, 25f).

judge as noise is always dependent on our own point of view.

These few examples may serve as some proof that noise is a principally ambiguous concept. If we think

of market places, public crowds, subway stations, night clubs, and sports stadia – why do we still choose

to live in such noisy cities? However disturbing this particular mixture of sounds may be on the one

hand, it certainly belongs to the attracting forces of the metropolis on the other.

Without question, noise can be quite annoying or – as psychologist Detlev Ipsen puts it – involve an

experience of 'frustration': spotting those same traffic sounds everywhere may be comparable to

hearing 'the same story several times' (Ipsen 2002, 191). Now trying to veer away from those negative

connotations I began to look for some analytical tool that would help me to conceive traffic noise as

something new or unknown, as a rich and complex structure. With this chapter I am looking for a way

to tell this 'same story' differently. So first of all, who are the ones that perform and create the

soundscape?

A new concept: sonic agents

Highlighting the role of the active contributors to what is generally labelled as 'noise' means to partially

transgress the subjective – or even the anthropocentric – perspective on the soundscape. Although this

is not an actor-network study, I appreciate the capability of actor-network theory to create a certain

sense of constructivism, fluidity, and interrelations in all things – including the conceptual symmetry

between humans and non-humans.

If we hear a motor-car approaching, what do we hear? It is the drone of its engine, the sound of the

tyres on the street surface. From the perspective of acoustics we could describe this car as a sound source

with its own morphological characteristics, emitting sound that propagates into the environment. With

respect to the focus of this volume we could describe it as a human, a non-human, or a hybrid sound

source. But I do not concern myself too much with the ontological status of the sound source – in fact, I

want to go beyond the clear human/non-human distinction here. It is not the sound source as a

physical, compound object that I am interested in. I will rather focus on the sound itself.

If we hear the sound of an airplane, it is not 'the airplane' that we hear, we perceive certain patterns of

air vibrations. These air vibrations are the result of a complex intermingling of events happening inside

the airplane engine, between wings and air, dependent on size and speed of the airplane, on wind

regime and many other environmental features. What, then, is 'the sound source' here? Instead of

simply relating (or reducing) sound to a tangible, physical sound source I am more interested in the

specific form of energy that we are able to perceive as sound and how these sound fields are distributed

across space and time. Listening, then, is an encounter with someone – or something – that creates this

sonic energy – including airplanes, creaky windows, the rain, steam engines, crickets, and violins. This

is why I would like to call them sonic agents. In terms of sound, even engines or electronic devices

somehow seem to be awake, and I would argue that – besides physical movement – sound is a

characteristic that makes things seem to be alive. At the very moment a thing emits a sound, it seems to

gain a certain amount of vitality.

In fact, I consider the term 'sound source' – the technical term in acoustics – as hardly appropriate for

any cultural-anthropological study of the soundscape. As an abstract concept the term 'sound source'

tends to standardize sonic phenomena, treating sound as a rather passive consequence, a predictable

emergence of physical modalities. In contrast, the concept of the sonic agent emphasizes the active,

performative role that a 'sound source' plays. Sonic agents – whether human, non-human, or hybrid –

are the ones that actively shape the urban soundscape.

This concept may serve as a methodological tool for the de-familiarization of our everyday experience.

But what if we take this metaphor more seriously? What if we try to identify different species of sonic

agents and even study their behavioural patterns? In the following sections I would like to suggest some

new ways for studying the traffic, engine, and machine sounds that vastly dominate the urban

soundscape – that is in particular: the drone.

A particular sonic species: the drone

When the French philosopher Jean-François Augoyard and Henry Torgue, his colleague at CRESSON, 3

mention the drone effect in their encyclopedia Sonic Experience. A Guide to Everyday Sounds, they refer to a

sonic phenomenon created by an ensemble of distant sound sources (2006, here 40ff). The urban drone

for them is a continuous layer of noise, created by traffic and industry, that is, a certain level of low-

frequency sound that is prevalent in the background of the soundscape.

A field recording that I took on top of the tower of St. Mary's church in Gdańsk, Poland, in 2010 may

come quite close to what Augoyard and Torgue addressed with the drone effect: the tower is about 75

meters high. The microphone pointed to the sky so that it primarily recorded the indirect sound

reflections of the drone arising from the city below [Listen to the sound example The drone of

Gdańsk4].

Commonly known as a musical term, R. Murray Schafer was the first to mention the drone in relation to

the urban soundscape. Historically, this sonic phenomenon is relatively new. At the end of the 19 th

century new, more and more continuous sounds arise – such as the motor drone or the hum of electric

devices – which start to dominate the soundscape to this day: 'This [...] sound phenomenon, introduced

by the Industrial Revolution and greatly extended by the Electric Revolution, today subjects us to

permanent keynotes and swaths of broad-band noise, possessing little personality or sense of

progression' (Schafer [1977] 2006, 78).

3 Centre de recherche sur l'espace sonore et l'environnement urbain, Grenoble, France.4 [Listen to the sound example The drone of Gdańsk at http://sonicagents.wordpress.com/mapping-the-drone/ ]

Fig. 1: Graphic level recordings of typical flat-line and impact sounds according to Schafer ([1977] 2006, 79)

In comparison to sound events with longer histories – such as church bells, street vendors, the

hammering of a blacksmith, or horse carriages driving by – these new, homogeneous, and sustaining

sounds now were far more destined to merge and accumulate, thus creating a more or less diffuse 'noise

floor' (see fig. 1). As Bijsterveld puts it: 'The ambient level of noise increased in terms of decibels, and

was extended in terms of frequencies. Machines created ever-lasting, continuous noises: drones, the flat

lines in sound.' (2001, 37)

With the help of the sonic agents concept I propose to relate the term drone to the individual sonic

agent as well: neon lights, refrigerators, music boxes, or industrial plants, they all seem to possess a

certain sonic activity. When such a technical device is turned on, a sound field surrounding the sound

source is activated, making up a perceivable, sonic extension of the object beyond its physical

dimensions. This is the drone's spatial range, or sonic coverage. Depending on intensity and

environmental features, this area can be smaller or greater. Every sound source that constantly emits

such a certain level of noise – be it a refrigerator or other cooling system, or the engine of a car – can be

conceived as an individual drone. Monotony is what best characterizes the drone.

In addition to those stationary drones there are moving ones as well: if we hear a motor-car

approaching, what do we hear? First and foremost it is the drone of the internal-combustion engine in

combination with the sound of the tyres on the street surface. Usually, and particularly when

accompanied by other drones, the sound of the motor-car does not vary too much in its sonic

properties.

Listening to the drone

From a subjective listening perspective – being immersed in the urban soundscape – most of the drones

are arranged on a horizontal level around the listener. So when we hear a drone – or, indeed, several

drones – in the distance, it is almost impossible to discern them as separate sonic agents. They are

literally merged, creating an indefinable sonic haze somewhere out there. As the drones come closer,

they finally split into discernible sonic agents, passing the listener as individual drones. As they remove

themselves, they dissolve again, merging with the background drone of the city again.

The following sound example now explores drones from a different angle. The field recording results

from an ethnographic-artistic urban research and exhibition project, Sensing the Street,5 which was

conducted in Berlin from 2006-2008. Unlike the Gdańsk drone recording this field recording is radically

changed in duration as well as in tone pitch. These modifications are meant to contribute to the de-

familiarization of our everyday experience of traffic sounds. The recording has two parts: First, we hear

the recording replayed in quick motion. After 30 seconds, traffic sounds in slow motion will begin to tune

in [listen to the sound example Traffic noise, Berlin – time stretch manipulated6].

This recording may draw your attention to what could be called different patterns of the drone's

behaviour: in quick motion the traffic seems to turn into a bustling swarm of drones. You will notice a

certain temporal pattern which is actually triggered by the periodic changes of traffic lights.

Throughout the following sections we will further investigate such swarm-like behaviour of drones.

However, I would like to add some short remarks about the slow-motion part here that would possibly

pass unnoticed otherwise: with the recording replayed in slow motion, some subtle temporal patterns

are revealed, the stamping, hammering sounds of internal-combustion engines. Here, a certain

impression of what I would like to call the materiality of sonic events appears to be intensified so that this

slow-motion effect may best be comparable to a look through a magnifying glass. Let me elucidate this

in a few lines before we return to the major patterns of the drones. Sound – audible air vibrations – can

be apprehended as quite an accurate transmission of physical events. As Steven Connor puts it, 'we can

hear textures and qualities, or at least judge of them by their sounds, and we can thus hear the insides

of things, while we can only ever see their outsides' (Connor 2008, 2). First, by way of subtle frequency

patterns, sound indicates what materials were involved in creating the sonic event – say, a bell of

5 For online-documentation of this experimental project in Sensuous Anthropology, conducted by Prof. Rolf Lindner, see http://www.sensingthestreet.de

6 [Listen to the sound example Traffic noise, Berlin – time-stretch manipulated at http://sonicagents.wordpress.com/mapping-the-drone/ ] At the end of the recording there is a music-like pattern to beheard: an alternating linear fourth. It is a German ambulance siren, replayed very slowly.

bronze, or a wine glass. Even though those patterns might be too fast to be recognized consciously we

have learned how to interpret them. Second, sound does come in a sequential order, telling us quite

accurately about the temporal structure of the original event – like with three bell strikes, or a glass

hitting the floor and breaking into pieces. Curiously, even with the recording speed manipulated, a

strong impression of a materiality of these sounds persists, although it has changed to a certain extent.

In this case, the time stretch manipulation may even serve as some kind of sonic archaeology: listening

to the traffic sound in slow-motion we come to realize that somewhere deep inside the most recent

internal-combustion engines there still is an ancient single cylinder beating the time. And finally,

listening to the first deep horn blast in this recording, we also become aware that the ordinary signal-

horn of a car relies on the same functional principle as does a ship's horn: it merely differs in size.

But let us return to the drone and its macroscopic, swarm-like behaviour. How do drones contribute to

the 'sonic order of urban space' (Atkinson 2007), geographically as well as temporally?

Mapping the drone

Without doubt, motor-cars are among the most powerful sonic agents in the urban soundscape. Their

drone fills the street canyons and diffuses into the sky (see fig. 2). In such a way it contributes to a

persistent, widespread background noise level, perceptible even in the outskirts of a city.

Fig. 2: Propagation of traffic noise from a street canyon. Curves of identical sound pressure levels (Sedlbauer and Krus 2009, 139)

When mapping the spatial distribution of the drone across the urban environment we have to treat it in

a different way from tangible objects. Certainly the drone has some central, physical origin – i.e., the

sound source – but as a sonic phenomenon the drone is always spatially extended. It spreads across the

environment.

Surprisingly, some of the noise maps (see, for example, Defra 2007) recently developed by acousticians

may indeed display the geographical distribution of what I call the drone – at least to some extent. Since

the first noise measurements at the U.S.-American Bell Laboratories in the 1930s, increasingly

sophisticated methods have been deployed for an exact measurement and depiction of sound pressure

levels (for an overview see Kryter 1994 and Rossing 2007). Of particular interest to us are those noise

maps that are casting a bird's-eye view on the geographical distribution of noise sources – sometimes

even specifying different types of noise sources.

If you think of ships or airplanes, the automobile is not the only sonic agent responsible for the drone of

the city. Be they stationary or travelling, the drones add up to the overall noise level.

We always have to keep in mind that noise maps are based on average values of sound pressure levels,

representing different levels by different colours (Defra 2007). So they do not reveal too much about the

quality of the sounds measured. But if we consider these maps as a visualization of different sonic

agents with respect to their geographical distribution across the city, and if we assume that the drones

are making up the major part of the overall noise level in the city, these maps may be appropriate in

representing the spatial distribution of drones. We even get a notion of distinct pathways that are

frequently attended by travelling drones.

Since they are primarily responsible for the entire sound level of a city, I am particularly interested in

the behaviour of travelling drones in the city. However, many of the qualities making up the urban

soundscape are not included in noise maps – such as movement or temporal patterns.

Timing the drone

Given the inherent temporal character of sonic events there is a growing body of literature on the

rhythmic structure of soundscapes (see, for example, Winkler 2002, Botteldooren et al. 2006, or

Gunderlach 2007). Some of these studies even provide time lines or time-cycles that chart periodic

changes in the soundscape (see fig. 3). These time lines often reveal an ebb-and-flow-like temporal

pattern with a peak in the day and a low at night. Even though the city – and with it the drone – may

literally never sleep, it usually tends to calm down a little at night.

Fig. 3 charts several sonic events, only some of which might be identified as drones. Interestingly, 'city

buses' and 'air traffic' are combined on a single line here, thus supporting the characterization of

different monotonic engine sounds as drones.

Depending on the location observed, the results of such time-cycles may differ significantly. Needless to

say that maps or time cycles cannot represent both spatial and temporal variations at the same time.

Their information has always to be put into context.

Fig. 3: The daily cycle of sounds at Chatham Village (Gunderlach 2007, 18)

Observing the drone

Considering the daily commuter flow, the city as a whole often features a centripetal and centrifugal

movement pattern – comparable to an organism breathing in and out. The city seems to attract and

intensify the drone in the mornings, bustling and steadily droning through the day. Towards night the

drone flows out again and disperses in the hinterland.

Those local as well as temporal shifts are hard to grasp with noise maps or time-cycles. For this purpose

I propose to consult some traffic flow simulations instead – though we have to be aware that they do not

rely on sound measurements but on statistical data.

A video simulation of airplane flights (Zurich University of Applied Sciences 2008) lifts our perspective

on a global focus. The simulation shows all scheduled flights over a 24h period worldwide. Every day

93,000 flights start from approximately 9,000 airports. So at all times there are between 8,000 and 13,000

airplanes in the air [See the video example Civil Air Traffic Worldwide7].

Although this simulation is not explicitly linked to noise it can still sensitize us to the fact that cities are

connected through global drone corridors. Naturally, the drones are not some extraterrestrial species

conquering the world's surface. Droning airplanes are a certain type of high-energy sonic agents that

we create and spread across the globe, so it is not surprising that their distribution clearly marks the

centres of our current capitalist world order: the video example reveals a considerable concentration of

airline flows across the U.S., Europe, and Asia as well as between those regions. For a more substantive

analysis of airline data – as evidence for global city networks – see Derudder, van Nuffel, and

7 [See the video example Civil Air Traffic Worldwide at http://sonicagents.wordpress.com/mapping-the-drone/ ]

Witlox 2009.

As suggested by these global airline flows, and together with the whole network of roads, freeways, and

railways, cities can reasonably be conceived as agglomerations and junctions of drone passages.

The following example shows the varying road traffic flows in the inner city. This simulation depicts the

average speeds of vehicles as they move through different channels in the city of Lisbon, Portugal

(relying on GPS data collected in October 2009). The movements of 1534 vehicles throughout one month

are condensed in a 24h day. The four snapshots in fig. 4 represent different points in time during this 24

hours period – as indicated by the counter in the upper left corner [See the video example

Visualizing traffic jam in Lisbon8].

Here, the average speeds are mapped with different colours: cool green signifies rapid transit arteries

(roughly, dark grey in fig. 4), red areas represent sluggish areas with slow traffic (light grey).

Fig. 4: Visualization of average speeds in Lisboa (Cruz 2010)

8 [See the video example Visualizing traffic jam in Lisbon at http://sonicagents.wordpress.com/mapping-the-drone/]

Again, it is not the sound that we observe here, but a simulation based on GPS data. Still, if we assume

that the intensity of the drone is dependent upon the traffic volume as well as on its speed, the

simulation is useful for our purpose. Most notably, it is apt to visualize some of the temporal patterns in

the actual traffic flows that are generally to be perceived through sound, including the recurrent

pattern of the city's centripetal/centrifugal forces attracting/dispelling the drone.

Conclusion

With this short examination of the urban drone I hope to decipher to a certain type of sonic events

which is often labelled as 'noise.' The concept of the drone as an active sonic agent shifts the emphasis

towards the making of a sound (rather than the perception of a sound), thus partially questioning the

anthropocentric perspective on the soundscape. For example, the sound of a freight train is a complex

coaction of several physical and material conditions involved on the one hand – like railway carriages,

more or less corroded rail tracks and so on – as well as between the many driving forces behind this

process on the other hand – such as gravity, the driver and the engine. This individual sonic agent (as

any other) has its own morphological characteristics, conveying rich sonic information about its

movements, size, and material composition.

Sonic agents are the actual contributors to the soundscape. As illustrated by the drone, even engines or

technical devices actively produce sound and may also show some 'behavioural patterns.' With maps,

time-cycles, and field recordings I have proposed some experimental methods for the study of those

rhythmical patterns and the spatial distribution of the drone. Obviously, our sonic environment calls

for a different spatial analysis than visual space. For example, by means of sound, cities stretch out

beyond their physical borders in many ways. This sonic extension into the surrounding landscape was

once achieved by church bells, thus demarcating the sphere of the civilized town (see Corbin 1999). In

early modern Europe the bronze bell could give its acoustical imprint to a whole era.

With the drone now, a class of historically new, monotonic noise sources, progressively increasing in

overall intensity throughout the 20th century, there is a new sonic agent conquering the soundscape.

Considering the sound of automobiles on a highway – a particular sonic interaction between asphalt

streets, pneumatic tyres, and internal-combustion engines in operation – can we conclude that the

drone forms the acoustical imprint of our times? Or was this era already gone at the dawn of the digital

age, which has brought about a whole different – and vastly differentiated – universe of sound?

Throughout history there has always been a close relation between our material culture and the

soundscape. In part, this relation seems to be contested now due to the proliferation of artificial sounds

introduced by digital devices.

A cultural-anthropological investigation of the changing soundscape calls our attention to the audible

features of everyday cultural practice. In this regard, the introduction of the sonic agent is an

experimental move aiming to extend the terminology of both cultural anthropology and sound studies.

Noise makes up a significant part of urban culture. Referring to the social implications of the

soundscape, urban sociologist Rowland Atkinson states that '[s]ound in urban space is both an ordered

and ordering force' (Atkinson 2011, 24). Within the complex 'sonic ecology' of a city

'… acoustic territories can be delineated and appear to have a variety of social functions and influences. Music, sound and noise can be seen as spatial and temporal territories in the city suggesting that for particular groups the soundscape has a profound effect on patterns of social association, physical movement and interaction' (Atkinson 2007, 1915).

For instance, Atkinson conceives the programmatic use of music in shops and public spaces – referred

to as 'functional music' or 'muzak' – as a means to brand space: 'Muzak is thereby used as an auditory

territorial marker' (Atkinson 2007, 1910), intended 'to “filter” users and consumers by taste and

patterns of consumption' (Atkinson 2007, 1914). But noise shapes this 'sonic order of urban space' as

well. House prices and rents, to take one example, are partly related to ambient noise levels. Quietude in

the city is a scarce good; the ability to shield oneself from sonic intrusions and interferences is unevenly

distributed, reflecting social inequalities. In summary, Atkinson points out that we are 'propelled,

guided, embraced or apparently rejected by sound in subtle ways. Sound affects people in ways that

then filters and sorts them across urban spaces in complex ways' (Atkinson 2011, 22). Due to the

prevailing emphasis on the 'non-human' share in our everyday practices in this volume, many questions

regarding the social impact and cultural meanings of sound had to be omitted here. In any case, they

should be subjected to further research. The force lines of the urban drone, as outlined in this chapter,

are but one part of this daily changing sonic ecology.

In this chapter I intended to argue for the sonic environment conceived as a transient, yet rich and

complex fabric, generated by innumerable sonic agents. Their sounds may be as subtle as a crumpled

paper rolling around in the wind – or as deafening as an airplane landing.

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