Convenor: Bradley Rink, University of the Western Cape

12 October – 11 November 2021

 

Sound is an everyday aspect of the urban fabric and experience.  Urbanists broadly, and mobilities scholars more specifically argue that cities develop and thrive on movements and circulations of humans, non-human animals, capital, objects and information.  Yet, the sounds that accompany these mobilities have received less attention.  The sonic dimensions of mobility signal movement, stillness, vector, intention and subjectivity—amongst others.  The sonic aspects of mobility are evident in everyday experience of the city, from the mundane to the extraordinary.  The banal sound of a hooting car can signal conflict, contestation or even sociability; while the chime produced by the bell on a bus signals a desire to stop.  In Cape Town, as well as other African cities, the unmistakable shouts of the taxi guardjies provide a sonic map of the city as the conductor touts for passengers and announces destinations.  Other sounds may be seemingly out-of-place such as the sounds of singing mobile congregants in trains or sermons from self-styled preachers on buses.  All of these sounds serve critical roles in movement and stillness, and help to shape our understanding not only of how mobilities are initiated, terminated, and more broadly sensed, but also our understanding of urban cultures and identities.  As markers of cityness, sound and its related soundscapes are individual, ephemeral and place-specific while also being imbued with meaning and purpose.  Sound contributes to our memories and imaginaries of mobility and eludes systems of representation.  The co-incidence of sound and mobilities must therefore be understood within their spatial, temporal and  cultural contexts.  In this Critical Urbanisms seminar we will explore the following questions as they relate to mobilities, sound and cities:

 

More than simply hearing the city, we are attempting to listen to the city with a critical ear toward the urban fabric and experience.

I stop my steps in front of a coffee shop nestled between Kloof street with its bars and restaurant and Kloof Nek Road that crawls up towards the "neck" of table mountain before it descends to the rich Camps Bay.  The houses here are either apartment blocs or old victorian houses in which affluent young families live or students from rich families sharing a place. This is one part of Cape Town in which the coloniality manages to confuse you about your geographic location. 

The outdoor sitting area of the café is equipped with small speakers from which patrons and passers-by are made to listen to French Chansons. An employee slams the car door shut after he off-loaded produce. Cars drive past me – some sound like they have a strong motor, those are the shiny ones. Other cars make a sound because they are transporting a metallic ladder slamming against the rails of the bakkie (pick-up truck). A huge truck's breaks screech like I have never heard before as it descends down the hill past the coffee shop. Someone claps their hands rhythmically while walking. A dog's paw-steps, faintly on the pavement. Whatever I try and listen to, my attention returns to the French chanson. It tries to bring the patrons' attention back to the "serenity" of the  Cafe's space - of the small sonic bubble away from the unnerving "city sounds". It's a "recreational" bubble for those people - like me- with enough money to spend 40 ZAR on a macadamia flat white, after which they can hop into their cars to go back to their airconditioned offices or their cozy home office where they work behind their laptops – secluded again from the screeching breaks and rattling ladders that make up the soundtrack of people spending their days in the streets without French chansons.