Ambient Sounds Quotes

On 'Honeybabysweetiedoll' I used a Whammy, a Boss OC-3 octave box, a Sustainer and a Line 6 DL4 Delay Modeler. That's only on the intro, where all those weird noises are happening.

I never made a distinction, really, between music and sound. Let me explain what I mean by that. I grew up near to a train station, and the sound of the trains became a very important part of my world. It was a very musical sound to me.

Flights are a good way to catch up on podcasts, but I'll listen to some jazz to fall asleep.

Cocktail music is accepted as audible wallpaper.

I occasionally meet people and they say, 'Oh, I was born to Discreet Music'... They always have very weird eyes, those people.

The one sound I think of when I think about dreaming is the harp glissando, which is this really atmospheric run up and down the scale that's really dreamy.

My songs used to be significantly more bizarre. I used to play a big electric piano and a loop pedal. I was really into Regina Spektor, and I liked her narrative lyrics that were quite off the wall. I used to layer things up and try and replicate what I'd been doing with my bedroom recordings.

I love exploring the hypnotic elements of music, and because of that there are very long tracks on 'Immunity.'

I've got a canvas, I've got a scene, let’s fill that with sound.

Sound sounds are terrible in the city, but it's great to listen and to walk and listen to people talk to each other. There are birds. You hear spring. I like listening to the city.

Game music has a purpose and it does incorporate sound effects.

[My House By The Water] is a nice instrumental track. The sound of the water is from the same place where the front photo was taken. I live really close to the airport, so there's also planes going over. It's kind of to remind me of living in there, because I'm not gonna be living in there for very much longer.

There's no place you can go on the prairie that you don't hear the white noise of the wind, steady and rough as surf curling along a non-existant shore.

Music has to be sort of ignorable sometimes.

Still photographs often differ from life more by their silence than by the immobility of their subjects. Landscape pictures tend to converge with life, however, on summer nights, when the sounds outside, after we call in children and close garage doors, are small - the whir of moths, the snap of a stick.

The folk that you get on Radio 1 isn't the sort of thing that I'm into: it's kind of too uptempo and jaunty for me. I prefer a bit of atmosphere and a bit of darkness.

We hear the ambient noise of children singing. We hear lions and tigers roar. Hyenas laugh. Some jungle bird or howler monkey declares its existence, screeching a maniac's gibberish. Our entire world, always doing battle against the silence and obscurity of death.

The drone is a very fundamental part of my music, although it's not always present.

I need music while taking a bath. I need it in the car.

Seabear's love of soft folk sounds is unquestionable, but that doesn't stop the Icelandic band from infusing its music with layers of instrumentation.

Your house sounds like a train at midday, the wasps buzz, the saucepans sing, the waterfall enumerates the deeds of the dew . . .

Sometimes I turn the TV just below where you can hear it and write down what I think they might be saying by the mumbles and rhythms.

With guitar, I'd always mixed more sounds that occur in hip-hop, or occur on Crystal Method records, or occur at the zoo - so I've never been sort of tethered or have limited myself to the traditional rock n' roll vocabulary.

I literally cannot work without music.

I like really sparse electronics, lush arrangements, and interesting chord structures.