It’s Just Not Crickets

I’ve noticed that a rather old piece of ‘science’ trivia is floating around the social feeds again, and I thought this might be a good Hummadruz opportunity to dispel the myths surrounding it once and for all.

The story is this (as reported breathlessly on many incredulous sites but in this case we’ll be using text from

Composer Jim Wilson has recorded the sound of crickets and then slowed down the recording, revealing something so amazing. The crickets sound like they are singing the most angelic chorus in perfect harmony. Though it sounds like human voices, everything you hear in the recording is the crickets themselves.

Here’s a version of the the recording on Soundcloud:

What you’re hearing is the supposed slowed down crickets, with the original speed crickets layered over the top. It certainly does sound eerie and somewhat choral. Amazing huh? The reportage of this phenomenon is frequently accompanied by this endorsement by Tom Waits:

Tom Waits (on Jim Wilson): “Wilson, he’s always playing with time. I heard a recording recently of crickets slowed way down. It sounds like a choir, it sounds like angel music. Something sparkling, celestial with full harmony and bass parts – you wouldn’t believe it. It’s like a sweeping chorus of heaven, and it’s just slowed down, they didn’t manipulate the tape at all. So I think when Wilson slows people down, it gives you a chance to watch them moving through space. And there’s something to be said for slowing down the world.”

The hyperbole that goes with the piece almost invariably makes much of the claim that the slowed down crickets are not altered in any way apart from the direct change in pitch, but is such a claim believable?

As a professional sound designer and composer of nearly 40 years experience, I’ve had a quite a bit to do with the sounds of crickets in my time. I’ve composed several works comprised of manipulated insect and bird sounds, and I’ve spent many long hours on numerous projects building unusual atmospherics from crickets and frogs. I know cricket sounds better than most people on the planet.

And the sounds in that clip from Jim Wilson don’t sound like merely slowed-down crickets to me. But hey, you don’t have to take my word for it. Let’s do some science!

Since the clip includes the sounds of crickets running at normal speed layered over the top of the slow ones, then it follows that we could just slow the whole thing down again and get the same effect, right? The low crickets would drop right down out of audible range, but the normal speed crickets would themselves become the magical choir sounds. So let’s try it:

Hmm. Just a single low tone. No three part harmonies there, nor any beautiful modal intervals like in the Jim Wilson version. To me this is not so surprising, because I’ve used this technique a thousand times – slowing crickets down inevitably delivers you a single tonal version of the original. Sometimes you might get rhythmic pulsing, or grinding noises, but that’s about it, and it’s always at one constant pitch.

If you know anything about how crickets make their sounds, none of this will be  surprising to you either. Like most insects that generate some kind of chirruping or rasping or droning sound, crickets use a mechanism called stridulation to create their loud noise. This is one of the most basic ways that a sound can be generated: friction of one body part rubbing on another creates vibration. It’s essentially a variation on the effect you get by running your fingernails up and down a washboard.

Insects can achieve stridulation in a variety of ways, but in nearly all cases, they will, through limits of their anatomy, achieve just one basic pitch, or ‘note’ – just as we’ve seen in the slowed-down example above. For them to be yielding complex melodic structures like those in the Jim Wilson track, requires an explanation that I’m sure you will find as irksome as I do: that different crickets are making different pitches and that they’re then co-operating to create choral masterworks in human melodic modes. Specifically in Western liturgical scales, at that. If that’s what’s going on here, then there are at least a half dozen major scientific discoveries waiting for an enterprising biologist to claim.

The truth is well to the contrary. When you hear insects making noise, they’re far from being co-operative. They have no interest at all in harmonising with their pals to sing the glory of God. They are in fact competing with one another. Aggressively. For sex. The loudest and most impressive gets the prize. That is all.

So, how do we explain, then, the eerie vocal harmonising in the Jim Wilson recordings? In my opinion, as a composer and performer who is very accomplished in these techniques, the answer is completely obvious. The simple, single note tonal drones of crickets lend themselves perfectly to being raw material for a popular modern instrument: the sampler. With a music sampler, a sound can be tuned across the musical scale in such a way that it can be played on any note desired. I believe that Jim Wilson has taken the monotonal cricket sounds as his basic building blocks and then played whatever melodies and harmonies he wanted with them.

There’s nothing wrong with doing any of that, of course – there have been some wonderful musical explorations of this idea – but to promote it as some unexplained natural phenomenon with supernatural overtones is at least irrational, or at worst, exploitative.* And disappointingly human-centric.

The unadorned sounds of the natural world are beautiful in their own right and there is really no need to invoke human notions of value for them to be emotionally powerful. Learn to listen to those sounds for what they are. Here is a good starting point: the wonderful natural recordings of my good friend Andrew Skeoch through Listening Earth.

*Jim Wilson sells these recordings under the title ‘God’s Chorus of Crickets’. It is important to note that he himself does not anywhere make the claim that the recordings are just slowed down. To the contrary, these are his own words: “I discovered that when I slowed down this recording to various levels, this simple familiar sound began to morph into something very mystic and complex...”  The ‘various levels’ he’s talking about are chromatically tuned intervals. But he’s certainly not – as far as I’ve seen in my broad investigations – actively contradicting the numerous sites that claim the sounds have not been manipulated.



“Science Confirms That Freddie Mercury Was Basically The Most Amazing Singer Of All Time” screams one headline. “Freddie Mercury Is The Greatest Singer Of All Time, Because Science Said So” says another. “Queen’s Freddie Mercury Had One Of The Best Singing Voices Of All Time, According To Science” gushes a third. I’m sure you saw them in your social media feed in the last week or so.

So what’s the story then? Have scientists come up with some amazing new method for applying empirical assessment to artistic subjectivity? Has scientific endeavour somehow managed to ‘confirm’ that Freddie Mercury is indisputably the most accomplished singer in human history?

Well, as you might have guessed, not so much.

Let me say from the outset that, by a considerable agreement of subjective reckonings, Mercury is an amazing singer. His vocal prowess is all the more extraordinary in light of his lack of formal training; he was self taught instrumentally and vocally, and claimed not to be able to read music. We really don’t need science to be able to legitimise his talent, per se.

And indeed science is not even attempting to do any such thing. The hyperbole above is generated by the lamest corners of the social media press, after the recent publishing of a paper by Christian T. Herbst et al, from the Faculty of Science at Palacký University, Olomouc, in the Czech Republic. Herbst frames the intentions of the research like this:

“The purpose of this study was to conduct a viable analysis of publicly available data material, in order to arrive at more empirically based insights into Freddie Mercury’s voice production and singing style.”

So the researchers, who self-describe their work as ‘fan science’, take it as a given that Freddie is an awesome singer and are simply gathering some data to help understand – in a technical way – how he did his stuff.

To do so, they examined both his speaking and his singing voice, concentrating on its timbral qualities, vocal range, vibrato and vocal subharmonics. In addition, they had a trained singer emulate some of Mercury’s vocal stylings and observed the active vocal cords with an endoscope. It is all fairly fascinating in its own right, and the breathless exaggeration from some sections of the interwebs really does the science no favours.

So what do the results of their efforts tell us? Well, not a lot that an experienced singing teacher couldn’t have concluded just by listening, in all honesty. They found that Freddie’s vocal style encompasses a remarkable variety of techniques, including a faster than average vibrato, the occasional use of vocal subharmonics (mostly to add a growl or burr to his voice) a proficient control of phonation and an impressive vocal range (although not quite the four octaves often claimed).

The paper provides empirical details of all these things, although, surprisingly in my opinion,  not much investigation into Mercury’s falsetto, which was one of his most dramatic vocal accomplishments (Mercury showed an almost incomparable ability to elide from his upper vocal register into falsetto and back again with virtually no audible transition – singers will tell you that this is very difficult to do).*

So to sum up, we already knew that Freddie Mercury was a pretty astonishing singer. What this investigation does is shed a little bit of scientific light on how he did his thing. What it does not do is ‘prove’ anything about his standing in the dominion of wonderful singers through the ages. And truly, that task is simply not the concern of science.

You can read the full technical paper ‘Freddie Mercury—acoustic analysis of speaking fundamental frequency, vibrato, and subharmonics’ here.


*You can hear many examples of this in the early Queen albums Queen, Queen II and Sheer Heart Attack. It is notable on the songs Lily of the Valley, Nevermore and The March of the Black Queen. Mercury’s use of the technique diminished as the band became more conventionally ‘rock’ oriented in later years.

Noise Cancelling Shnozphones

Yesterday a friend sent me a link to this crowdfunder on Indiegogo, with the appended question: “This has to be ludicrous BS, right?”

The alleged ludicrous BS is a device called Silent Partner which claims to ‘quiet snoring noise’ (we’ll examine those exact words in a bit) through the mechanism of Active Noise Cancelling (or the popular acronym ANC).

You will be familiar with ANC if you’ve ever worn a pair of noise-cancelling headphones on a plane. Pop those suckers on, and the sound of the plane vanishes almost magically. You can actually hear the in-flight movie soundtrack.

The technology behind those headphones is really quite simple, and has been known for over half a century. In this post we’ll delve a little into how noise cancellation works, what it’s used for, and why Silent Partner is almost certainly BS. Not as ludicrous as it first appears perhaps, but let me just say that I’m not pitching in to the Indiegogo campaign any time soon.

The Acoustic Principle Behind Noise Cancellation

As you probably know, sound propagates through a medium via waves. Most people have seen graphic representations of soundwaves these days. They look something like this:

Screen Shot 2016-03-10 at 11.11.53 AM

That’s a fairly complex soundwave. The simplest manifestation of a sound is a sine wave. This one represents a pure tone, like you might hear if you strike a tuning fork:


The red bar shows you the frequency (pitch) of the sound and the green bar marks out the amplitude (loudness). I’ve marked the highest and lowest amplitude with an arbitrary value to aid explanation. One thing to understand – and is easy to see in this simple sine wave – is that as a wave propagates, it changes its amplitude value across the zero axis; there is a time when the amplitude has a positive value, and a time when it has a negative value. This is called the phase of the wave, and this is true of all waves, not just sound waves. So in this case, the frequency of the sound stays exactly the same (a constant pitch), but the amplitude is wavering between positive and negative, as it does in all sound waves.

You can’t hear this constant amplitude change. You are only aware of the overall amplitude between the peak and the trough of the sound – this is the volume, or loudness, of the sound.

Somewhere, some time ago – no-one really knows when, but we can guess it was likely to around the beginning of electronic sound recording – someone discovered that it is possible to artificially ‘flip’ the phase of a recorded sound wave.*


Here’s the thing: this flipped sound wave will sound to your ear exactly the same as the one we depicted above. EXACTLY. If I played them to you one after the other, you would not be able to tell which one was which. However, if we artificially combine both these waves so that they are coherent – that is, they start at precisely the same time, and stay in step with one another – then the positive value of the first peak of the sine wave is completely cancelled out by the negative value of the first trough of its phase-reversed counterpart. It’s just simple mathematics: you add +1 to -1 and you get zero. The result is total silence. The positive ‘loud’ bit of one wave totally cancels the negative ‘loud’ bit of the other.

The first time this was demonstrated to me as a sound student, I was astonished. It seems like a weird kind of audio magic. Nevertheless, it’s just a property of wave mechanics, and we use this phase cancellation trick in numerous different ways in the pro audio business.

How Does Phase Cancellation Work in ANC Headphones?

Even though we’ve been looking at an example of a pure sine wave, phase cancellation works on any complex audio wave you care to submit to it. You take a recording of Kanye West, flip it out of phase and recombine it with the original and zap, perfect silence. An exemplary case of nature balancing itself for the better good.

The only condition is that the two waveforms must be completely in step with one another – coherent.

One day it occurred to someone that it might just be possible to accomplish this trick in real time, with live sound. This is how it would work in theory: you’d aim a 180º out-of-phase microphone at a sound and pump it through a speaker in the vicinity of the actual sound. The amplified phase-inverted sound would interact with the real sound and cancel it out. And indeed, it does work. Sort of. It’s very dependant upon where the listener is positioned in respect of both the phase-inverted source and the real sound. Too close to one or the other and the necessary coherence between the two sounds gets out of step. The effect completely vanishes. It works, then, as long as you tell your listener to sit exactly there, and don’t move your head even the tiniest bit. Not particularly satisfactory for most practical purposes.**

If only you could stick the inverted phase sound right at the listener’s ear drum, where it would arrive at precisely the same time as the real life sound… and of course, you can do almost exactly that, providing that the listener is wearing headphones.

So ANC headphones have a little microphone on each earphone, which captures almost the identical sound that is heading toward your eardrums. That sound is then amplified to the exact same amplitude as the original, and inverted in phase. It arrives at your eardrum at the same time as the real sound, effectively cancelling it out. It’s a very cool trick, but it’s highly reliant on the microphone and the speaker diaphragm being very close together, and both those things being as close to your eardrum as is technically – and biologically – feasible.

That All Sounds Plausible! What’s the Problem with Silent Partner?

This is where things get a little more complex than they have been so far, but you already know most of what you need to know to follow me.

I’m speculating that this is how Silent Partner is intended to work: the sound of the sleeper’s snoring is picked up by some microphones – I assume this is what is designated as the sensor in the rather lite ‘technical specifications’. The captured audio is then phase-inverted, amplified and played back through the speakers and ‘resonance chamber’, where it presumably combines with the sound of the actual snoring with the intention of cancelling it out.

You can see one big problem already: as I’ve mentioned above, the most effective sound cancelling happens if the coherent waveforms arrive as close to the listener’s ear as is achievable. In this case, we have something of a distance between the snoring source and the beleaguered sleeping partner – plenty of distance for the waveforms to dis-cohere, and also plenty of distance for another wave-related phenomenon to come into play. I’m talking here about polarisation. Without getting too technical about it, waves are not just two-dimensional like the representations in the graphs above. They are fully 3D, and so for exact noise cancellation to happen effectively, the waves and their anti-phase cohorts must be fully coherent in those three dimensions. This is really hard to achieve in a real-world environment, even with precise, point-source sound. It’s especially hard to achieve when you consider the nature of snoring, which doesn’t actually come from just the nose, as anyone who’s slept with a snorer knows. So, even in the best possible technical case, with the Silent Partner reproducing the snoring sound in every tiny detail of frequency and amplitude, it’s not going to be aligned in proper polarity and coherence with the sounds coming from the nose, throat and chest cavity of the snorer. It just can’t be.

The first clue we have that the makers of Silent Partner are either unaware of this issue (odd, since they supposedly trialled a proof of concept in May 2015), or worse, are being disingenuous about it, is in the video clip. It pertains to their demonstration of the ‘Silent Zone’ around the snorer. In the clip you see a ‘scientist’ holding a decibel meter close to the nose of the snoring person, and showing how the sound level drops as you get further away. Well, yes, this is exactly what you’d expect with normal snoring – sound falls off with distance according to the well known properties of the Inverse Square Law. But this is not what you’d expect to see if the Silent Partner was working as claimed. What you’d actually observe is no change in the sound level. The noise-cancellation effects should be in play – and in fact optimal – right at the source of the snoring. The sound level test in the video is showing us nothing at all but what you’d expect to see with natural snoring.

In fact, the whole meter thing is quite amusing if you know anything about sound. If the meter is measuring decibels (and I’ve no reason to think that it’s measuring anything else – that’s what sound level meters usually use) it’s showing that the snoring volume is dropping from about 84dB to 60dB. To give you a sense of that in terms that might be more familiar, that’s about the level of noise in a moderate factory or a busy road, down to the level of a normal conversation. I’d expect average snoring to have less effect on a dB meter! It’s certainly not an endorsement of a Silent Partner working as claimed.

And all this assumes, as I said, a best-possible case: that the Silent Partner is exactly reproducing the snoring sound. I’m skeptical that it could do even that. Snoring is made up of highly complex human sounds, and is not just one rhythm or frequency. And, as I’ve also pointed out, it doesn’t just come from the nose and mouth, so the entire upper body can contribute to the frequency characteristics. I would be very surprised if tiny components such as those in the Silent Partner – even with resonance chambers – could deliver an acceptable frequency response to enable the kind of phase and frequency matching required for this technique to work.

Aside from all the sound stuff, something just feels really fishy about this whole thing. First of all, the snoring-relief market is chock full of pseudoscience, which indicates an area of high subjectivity and therefore exploitable credulity. You can get anti-snoring pills, anti-snoring rings, anti-snoring pillows, anti-snoring homeopathy, anti-snoring acupuncture and so on and so on, none of them based on even the most delicate whiff of science. So it’s a field rich for the pickings, as they say.

Furthermore, Silent Partner deploys a technique beloved of purveyors of said pseudoscience: it piggybacks on something that to the layperson sounds credible and possible, but brushes a lot of actual dirt under the Carpet of Mystery: “It’s like magic!” boasts the hyperbole – a claim which is actually probably quite true, because it would be magic if it worked, since it defies the laws of physics. Like many pseudoscientific gadgets and gew-gaws, it fails to provide any real science to substantiate its claims, just a lot of hints at how it might work based on other things that do work. ***

There are many other red flags:

• The Silent Partner website is full of exhortations to Order Now! I don’t know about you, but for me this may as well say Give Us Your Money Quick, Before The Truthful Reviews Start Rolling In! Although the Indiegogo timeline includes a proof-of-concept as of May 2015, there is no indication that this showed any kind of convincing result. If it was my product, I’d really want to demonstrate that the thing worked. Not that it seems to matter, evidently, since the campaign is already way over-funded.

•There is a vagueness about the whole affair that is offputting. As we saw at the outset, the gadget claims to ‘quiet’ snoring – but that’s a very subjective thing. Nowhere do we find any definitive terms about how much it will quiet the snoring. The one piece of solid empirical data comes from the decibel meter in the videop clip, and I can tell you, that’s not showing any ‘quieting’.****

•The ‘team members’ for the campaign include far too many marketing and advertising people for my liking. Because that’s what the whole thing smacks mostly of – marketing.

•There are some uncomfortable legal problems. The Indiegogo campaign for Silent Partner holds a disclaimer that says

“Participation in this campaign is in accordance with the Terms and Conditions listed on the Silent Partner website.”

As of this writing, there are no Terms and Conditions listed on the Silent Partner website. There is a link there, alright, or at least words saying ‘Terms and Conditions’, but clicking on them does nothing. I could not find any such terms elsewhere on the very spare site. I think you can see that this is a legal disaster. People who have contributed to the Indiegogo campaign have agreed to do so under non-existent terms. Or terms that don’t exist yet. The makers of Silent Partner could, at any time, write a contract that simply says “I agree that the product might not work as stated and I understand that I will not get my money back under any circumstances”. And then make the link active.*****

In this legal respect, I also feel that Silent Partner might be wandering into the dubious area of being a medical device. This is a highly-controlled and legally rigid field. I’m sure they will vehemently deny it is such a device, but snoring can be a sign of underlying medical problems, and it’s an issue that you should take up with your doctor if it’s a significant detriment to your sleep [to be fair, the FAQ on the Indiegogo campaign site does indicate that you should consult your doctor if you have sleep apnea, but sleep apnea is only one of quite a few serious snoring-related problems].

To Wrap Up

My professional audio experience and technical knowledge tells me that Silent Partner is quite unlikely to show results in the manner claimed. Indiegogo provides little redress for failed campaigns, and especially for investors getting their money back. This, and the fact that there are no Terms and Conditions listed anywhere on the Indiegogo page or on the Silent Partner official site should make someone think twice before spending their money on this product.

But hey, you did learn a thing or two about noise cancellation and acoustic science, right, so your time here has not been entirely without benefit…


*It is possible to hear naturally-occurring phase related phenomena. For this to happen, a sound needs to be combined with a copy of itself in such a way that it has some semblance of coherence and phase alignment. The most common manifestation of this is with reverberation or echo. You may have experienced this as a kind of ‘dead’ spot with your tv sound, perhaps; when you sit in a particular spot in the room, the sound seems to be muted and quiet, compared to most other places in the room. This is because the phase-changed reflections off the wall are combining with the actual tv sound to effect a phase-cancellation situation. It will never be as perfect as an electronically contrived version, but it can be quite profound given the right circumstances.

**Car manufacturers in concert with electronics firms like Harman and Siemens – have been playing with ANC for a fair few years now. Because the concern here is mostly with inhibiting road rumble, it’s actually not out of the question that it can work; longer, lower waveforms are less directional for the human ear, and so the necessity for the listener to be in a ‘sweet spot’ is not nearly so critical. Nevertheless, the technical requirements are still complex, and it hasn’t so far caught on in a big way.

***It also uses technical waffle: “subwavelength active noise cancellation” is an entirely meaningless term. Sub what wavelength? The clip with the decibel meter is technical waffle too, which as we’ve seen means precisely nothing.

****An expert audio colleague of mine points out that the sound meter display in the video clip is actually an added visual effect. It’s hard to know what to make of this – the inference is of course that the creators of Silent Partner consciously chose the numbers that are being displayed – numbers that are, as we discussed previously, really only indicative of rather loud normal snoring. We could speculate that this a a kind of ‘cover your ass’ move, inasmuch as they can always point to it and say “This is all we promised it would do…”

*****There are a few non-active links on the site. It opens up the possibility of jiggery-pokery. In the past I’ve seen this problem and commented on it and then, mysteriously, the links work – and the content under them is as outrageous as you expect. I’m not saying the Silent Partner people are doing this, just that it does happen with rather alarming frequency with these kinds of products.

Horses Don’t Think

We’re all familiar with the phenomenon of pareidolia – the tendency of the human brain to try to make sense of random visual information by forming it into something we recognize (like the face of Jesus on a tortilla or a likeness of Mother Theresa on a cinnamon bun). Today on Hummadruz we’re going to look at an aural version of pareidolia which goes under the name of Electronic Voice Phenomena, or EVP.

EVP is the term given for the appearance of strange, indistinct human voices on previously recorded magnetic tape – voices that supposedly weren’t there when the original recording was made.

This phenomenon was first ‘discovered’ by Attila von Szalay, in the early 1940s. Von Szalay was a ‘ghost’ photographer and was looking for some additional corroboration of his belief in a spirit world. After making recordings of ‘silence’ on a reel-to-reel tape recorder, von Szalay claimed to have captured voices on his tapes, voices that he believed belonged to people who had died. With psychic researcher Raymond Bayless, he published his findings in the Journal of the American Society for Psychical Research in 1959.

In that same year, philosopher, film producer and birdwatcher Friedrich Jürgenson had made some recordings of bird sounds in the backyard of his Swedish house. On playing back those recordings, Jürgenson became convinced that they contained the voices of his deceased father and wife speaking to him, and he published his experiences in a book: Voices from Space. A few years later, Latvian author Konstantīns Raudive read Jürgenson’s book and, intrigued, contacted him. The two men began to make recordings of the ‘voices’ and compiled an astonishing 100,000 of them, which Raudive went on to document in his 1968 book Unhörbares wird hörbar (“What is inaudible becomes audible”), later published in English in 1971 as Breakthrough: An Amazing Experiment in Electronic Communication with the Dead. Over the course of their experiments, Jürgenson and Raudive became completely convinced that these faint voices that appeared in the etheric hiss of the magnetic tape were nothing less than the spirits of the dead attempting to make contact with us living folk. Furthermore, the two men were of the mind that they could actually communicate with these spirits by asking questions and then leaving pauses in which the voices might answer.

I have an original copy of Breakthrough. It is, I have to say, pretty much unreadable. A small portion of the book is given over to explanations of how the spirit voices are captured and to rambling accounts, daft philosophizing and pseudo-scientific jargon about the voices and hypnosis and psychology and acoustics and all manner of other abstruse matters.

The larger part of the book consists of transcripts of what the voices had to say. The thing that becomes apparent very quickly on reading them is that if these really are the spirits of the dead trying to communicate with us, then the dear departed have either all gone completely bonkers, or only the lunatics among them are bothering to keep in contact. To make things even more crazy, the messages Raudive and Jürgenson received were also polylingual, with the ‘spirits’ sometimes speaking in German, sometimes French, Swedish or Russian, and sometimes in Raudive’s own Latvian tongue. Often they alternated language on every second word. Here are just a smattering of the things the spirits wanted Raudive to know (you can read the interminable babbling of the spirits for yourself here, should you care to):

Nedoma zirgi (Horses don’t think)

Matei sip galva (Mother has a headache)

Tada flickes nakti (Such a girl at night!)

Golva! Golvas nav! Konstantin, Konstantin, esmu ar tevi vienmer (Head! No head! Konstantin, Konstantin, I am always with you)

Vi koordinati (We are co-ordinated)

Ka tu skrini var tupet? Furchtbar tu dzer, muns Koste! (How can you hover in the cupboard? You drink terribly, my Koste!)

Kosta, van, pietiek ar muziku (Kosta, friend, it is sufficient with the music)

Nomierinies, te Erde oben (Calm yourself; up here is the earth)

…and on and on and on for hundreds of pages with thousands of other incomprehensible and/or dreary snippets. The voices seem entirely incapable of stringing together more that about a half a dozen words into any semblence of coherence. Frankly, if you accept that EVP has any credibility at all, the afterlife comes across as some kind of huge dull and sprawling cocktail party filled with the kind of people you’d step in front of buses to avoid. All on acid.

I know you’re dying to hear some examples of what I’m talking about, so here are some clips from recordings made in the 1970s by EVP researcher Raymond Cass, who is a well known figure among the EVP community, and whose recordings have been collected in recent times on the CD The Ghost Orchid. In each these examples, Mr Cass tells you what you should be hearing. Now go to another page on the same site and see if you can figure out what any of these voices are saying.

As quaint as it all sounds, EVP is not merely an archaic remnant of fin de siecle spiritualism. There are numerous EVP societies still in existence, some even progressing on from analog magnetic tape methodology to embrace new media such as digital audio recording and computer technology. In addition, the phenomenon appears in popular culture from time to time, such as in the film White Noise (where it formed the basis for a lot of extra silliness) and in tv shows such as Fact or Faked. Paranormal Files (where it is invoked to provide silliness in its own right). And, of course, the wonderful eclectic ramble of the internet has seen to it that EVP, like so many other misguided interpretations of the world, continues to have some traction among the less rationally minded.

The mechanisms for recording EVP vary considerably, but they all basically boil down to one thing – getting a recording of something that has a vague enough informational content to allow the listener to impose a personal interpretation on it. Mostly this is done by creating a recording that has a very high noise floor. In audio terms, noise manifests as an evenly distributed amount of random audio information – you would be familiar with it as the sound you hear along with the static that you see on a tv screen that isn’t tuned to a channel. In early EVP recordings, this kind of sound was quite likely to occur on a recording because in those days electronic sound equipment was much more prone to high levels of system interference and tape noise than today. An early EVP researcher might typically proceed by making a recording with a microphone in a sealed cabinet in a quiet room, or even by dispensing with the microphone entirely and simply setting the recorder running with the gain turned up high. This would pretty much ensure plenty of wide bandwidth noise in the end result, along with the amplification of any electrical hums, buzzes, whines and static that can easily be induced in these old electronic systems.

The application of this kind of technique in the late 1940s and early 1950s coincided with another helpful element for EVP: the rise of radio broadcasting. When these old tape machines were recording with the gain turned right up, there was a very high likelihood that they might pick up and amplify extraneous radio signals. These faint signals – in those days more often than not consisting of  spoken word – would wax and wane under the threshhold of the noise floor and background hum and voila! – on listening back to the ‘blank’ tape: ‘spirit’ voices.

The funny thing is, to me this seems so obviously all that is happening that it’s hard to understand how anyone can think it’s anything else, but in the ’40s and ’50s (and being generous, even in the early ’60s) I’m willing to accept that it possibly could have seemed more mysterious. These days, though, with the explanation readily at hand and easily demonstrated, it’s perplexing that anyone can still maintain a belief that EVP is any kind of communication from the spirit world. There are so many questions that must be answered before Occam’s Razor can be blunted here: Why are the spirit voices always so indistinct and their words so open to interpretation? How is it that they sound so much like snippets from terrestrial radio broadcasts? Why do they speak in platitudes and non-sequiturs and can hardly ever manage a  sensible or meaningful sentence? In short, why do they seem so much more like the vague dissemblings of spirit mediums and the abstruse meanderings of astrologers than concise communications from sentient beings? Even if we accept that the vague vocal mutterings are from spirits of the dead, what is the point of talking to them if they make no sense?

Like many matters of pseudoscience and superstition, most of the EVP phenomenon comes down to the peculiar psychology of the human brain. There is no doubt that practitioners and exponents of EVP want their recordings to be evidence of life after death. This powerful influence sways their judgement in such a way that the phenomena of pareidolia (discerning patterns in randomness) and apophenia (finding significance in unconnected and meaningless events) conspire to provide, for them, persuasive evidence for their already-formed beliefs, even in the face of a much more likely and scientifically demonstrable explanation.

This will become a core theme of the matters we will go on to examine in Hummadruz, there is no doubt.