Sound is memory, testimony, and sometimes just a boring hiss inside one’s flat. From Stolpersteine to deep-sea mining – this dialogic essay reflects the potential and pitfalls of sound as an introduction to the new Norient publication Where Sound Becomes Witness in collaboration with Rewire festival 2025.
Dear Philipp,
It's 7.30am, still dark outside. The only sounds in my apartment are a creaking floor, hissing heater, and a squeaking door. I’ve known them for seven years, but this house has stood for 114. If I look carefully, I can try to «listen to what I see» and imagine the sounds that filled these rooms before.
Which sounds have lingered, which are new? Two ceiling holes hint at a child’s swing. Outside, three Stolpersteine bear the names of former residents, deported in World War II. The only former residents of whom I know the names. You write in the short intro of this publication:
«In a world where voices compete but rarely connect …».
I think it aptly describes a common feeling of polarization, and the need for spaces where many voices can be heard together. We also talked about a possible resurgence of singing in choirs in the cities where we live, possibly as an antidote for this feeling.
At Rewire festival this year, there will be a striking number of artists who will perform with choirs, such as Colin Self, Clarissa Connelly, Kali Malone, BITOI, and others. You continue the intro with «how can sound cut through the noise to bear witness, inspire solidarity, and reimagine our shared reality».
This resonates with the performance of Forensis and Bill Kouliglas. They will be performing a multi-sensory performance whose departure point is Forensis’s investigation into German colonialism in Namibia, which compels audience members to
«contemplate the price of colonial amnesia by highlighting voices and sounds that have been silenced or altered as a result of this history».
Looking forward to continuing this time-stretched conversation :)
All the best from a cold and foggy Rotterdam,
Katía
Dear Katía,
Thanks for your thoughtful letter. I envy your early start – I’m more of a night owl, though the soundscape at night often mirrors the early morning, when machines and objects take over. I love how different times of day shape our acoustic surroundings.
As I write at 12.37pm, my ears are overstimulated: Kali Malone’s mix on NTS blends with pop music, clattering coffee pots, conversations, and the low drone of cars on Hermannstraße. The experience might have been similar a century ago – minus electronic music.
Perhaps listening to musique concrète has trained my ears to perceive natural, human, and mechanical sounds as interconnected elements of a larger composition.
I can’t stop thinking about your speculation of the past sounds in your flat. It’s cynical, right? There is this old forge in Berlin-Neukölln, built in 1624. Its old walls have heard the first birds sing but also the first techno tunes – and in the meantime, the sounds of bombs and rifles.
I wonder what a sonic memorial would sound like – how we could «hear» the histories behind those names you saw on the Stolpersteine. Forensic Architecture’s work turns audio into testimony.
Their Rewire performance, uncovering silenced histories of colonial violence, feels urgent. Berlin’s polarization is unbearable, and only the far right benefits from the division. I truly believe everyone should sing in a choir – just to experience how voices can coexist, amplifying each other without erasure. Maybe Rewire’s choir performances inspire that sense of positive difference.
Looking forward to your thoughts and warm wishes from greyish Berlin,
Philipp
Dear Philipp,
Thank you for your inspiring letter! While reading about your listening experience, my ears start to listen to the surrounding sounds here in Rotterdam as part of a larger composition again too. It sounds a bit muffled though, as my ears are blocked due to a flu virus. It is interesting to think about what these old walls of the forge in Neukölln you mention must have heard since they were built, as material witnesses to their surroundings.
In reference to urban memorials such as the Stolpersteine, you wonder what a sonic version could be. A few days ago, the Ukrainian- and Netherlands-based sound artist Anna Khvyl sent me a voice message about her experience in Kyiv of a nearby bomb attack, as well as the everyday life rituals that people try to keep going, despite it all.
Later on we met at her studio in The Hague, and talked about how different bodies respond differently to sound, because of the sonic memories we carry with us. Some artists at Rewire also work with sound as a form of testimony to a world we are losing.
On the festival Sunday, I will talk with artists Sébastien Robert and Mark IJzerman about their performance Another Deep, which reflects on deep-sea mining in Svalbard (Norway) and its implications for the environment and indigenous ecosystems. They ask what the soundscape tells us about the impact of industrialization.
Warm wishes from a surprisingly sunny Rotterdam,
Katía
Dear Katía, I’m sorry you were sick. I was too – had to stay seven days trapped in my apartment, the silence at 11.17am can be fucking loud. I felt like I was trapped in a vacuum, from which I wasn't able to experience what I usually call reality.
I usually experience life through a split-screen: with the life I see on one side, and my internal life on the other, which seems always already filtered through what happens on the other screen. I guess it’s also because I studied sociology which is, in short: the ultimate brainfuck.
Since then, I have no longer trusted my subjective view. Here, the innocent little me, there, the big society. I wonder what happens when I replace split-screen with split-ears?
How much is what you hear not the pure sound but one filtered by the usual alienation? How much is it influenced by what you think others hear?
Gosh, how privileged I am to be able to draw abstractions from this harmless situation. If this scene of being sick in my apartment were in a war zone in Ukraine, like you describe Khvyl’s experience, detecting sounds would be a life-saving measure. Would I be able to distinguish an approaching drone from the abstract sound of the NTS mix?
In the interview we conducted with Forensis, they describe how sound can be a fundamental building block in shaping world views – particularly a decolonial perspective. Since sound is processed on a sensory level that is less cognitively controlled, it has an impact beyond mere rhetoric.
Your conversation with Sébastien Robert and Mark IJzerman about climate change sounds great. The writer Lutivini Majanja reflects upon this in a different yet resonant way. In her short fiction piece Unfinished Frequencies, she explores how sound, place, and human adaptation intertwine. Just as industrial noise reshapes the ocean’s depths, the pulsing basslines and mechanical hum of Bahati’s world reveal a shifting landscape of resourcefulness and the rhythms of everyday survival.
Speaking of rhythm: in García’s and Sonoro’s soundwalk piece through the waters of Bogotá, human and non-human voices narrate the story of Colombia’s capital. It’s fascinating, as if one can listen to the waters that flow through us all. Here I feel, the sound listens back quite thoroughly.
Have a great afternoon and talk soon,
Philipp
Dear Philipp,
I’m really sorry to hear you have been down with the flu. I hope you are feeling much better now! Last night I couldn’t sleep, and I had to think about what you wrote me about split-ears. How much of what you hear is influenced by what you think others may hear. I spent a long time listening without moving, trying to figure out whether I was sharing my apartment with a mouse or not.
I also thought about the loudness of silence that you described, which is something Radna Rumping refers to too in her essay on the active role of listening in a choral setting. Rewire is approaching soon, and I'm particularly looking forward to the mini-symposium curated by Xenia Benivolski and Rachael Rakes, on the question of «instrumental time». In their essay, they write: if clocks impose order, music defies it by warping, stretching, and breaking time through rhythm, improvisation, and shifting durations.
Looking forward to seeing you soon in The Hague!
Warmly,
Katía
