Soundwalk

Chad Crouch
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Soundwalk combines roving field recordings with an original musical score. Each episode introduces you to a sound-rich environment, and embarks on an immersive listening journey. chadcrouch.substack.com

  1. 2 dgn geleden

    Maple Pass Soundwalk

    This is a free preview of a paid episode. To hear more, visit chadcrouch.substack.com Maple Pass is a mountain pass loop trail in North Cascades National Park. It’s 6.8 miles, rated hard, and scores a 4.9/5 on alltrails.com. It’s about as good as it gets, really. I went there with my son a year ago now, to the day. It was great. Clear skies, warm sun, wildflowers in bloom, birds singing. A few weeks ago I mentioned a nearby hike, Cascade Pass, that didn’t go down quite like we hoped. This one happily exceeded all expectations. The trail rises from Rainy Pass, a subordinate saddle to the Cascade range divide about 5 miles to the east, at Washington Pass. Here the Pacific Crest Trail crosses Hwy 20 on its final 60 mile push toward the Canadian border. Emerging from the subalpine conifers, the trail traverses alongside Lake Ann, an emerald pool in a cirque with a picturesque tiny island. I am a slower climber than my son but I tried to keep apace, fighting the urge to stop and just listen for a spell. Warbling Vireo, Hermit Thrush, Western Wood Pewee, Dark-eyed Junco, Canada Jay and the peculiarly raspy (to my ear) Mountain Chickadee are heard along the trail. And, of course, the scrunch, scrunch of footsteps on the coarse trail. Climbing to Maple Pass, the trail affords vistas of the stunning North Cascades. Red Indian paintbrush, lupines, and bistort are scattered among the granite boulder shards on the ridge. It’s the type of scene that brings to mind the lyric, “the hills are alive with the sound of music”. My score picks up on this ebullient vibe by reaching for a painterly sound palette: big, reverb-drenched synth pads and undulating swarms of synthesized bell tones evoke the panoramic views adorned with colorful life on the margins. This is not intimate piano suite fare. It’s a popular hike on a summer day, and we certainly were not alone. The environmental audio has been spliced to focus on the biophony, as has been the case for most of my soundwalks. When we made it back to the trailhead I was astonished at how quick we made the transit. We shaved one or two hours off the estimated hike time, and yet time seemed to slip so slowly while we were out there. Thanks for reading and listening along. If you find yourself in the North Cascades and have the time and ability, don’t pass this hike up! Maple Pass Soundwalk is available on all music streaming services today, July 10th, 2026.

    7 min.
  2. Wildwood Trail Soundwalk

    26 jun

    Wildwood Trail Soundwalk

    It’s funny how arrivals can turn into quiet affairs. Like, say, you’re walking along a trail with a friend and you get to a view or a waterfall or something and then slip into quiet. That’s how I’m feeling with this arrival. It is the arrival of my first LP, and the sound recording it contains, which both captures and takes inspiration from The Wildwood Trail in Portland, Oregon’s Forest Park. To recap, it’s a 30 mile linear trail through a 5000+ acre forest in the city. I’ve written quite a lot about it: its magnetism, its quirks, its creation, its history, its wildlife, the volunteers that keep the trails clear, and the art that it inspires. You can read up on it while listening to the forest ambience in every quarter, in my ten part series: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and this one makes 10. It’s virtual forest bathing! And now, well, here we are. The end of the trail, the launch of the album, and also a new beginning. It’s kind of strange to have an artifact after creating so many soundwalks memorialized only in pixels and a digital ephemera. This is a tactile thing in comparison, and while not as simple to distribute, it’s reassuring on some level. It turned out pretty good, if I do say so myself. It’s really amazing how the material holds the sound. It's all contained in the microscopic ridges of the infinitesimal canyon that spirals along the surface of the vinyl disc. I was curious how long that tiny canyon is, if you stretched it out and measured it, so I turned to Claude to work it out. It obliged my story problem in two seconds and spit out: approximately 3000 meters or 1.86 miles. I don’t know why, but I found that fascinating; picturing the groove like a gossamer ribbon spooling out on the Wildwood Trail itself for nearly 2 miles, shimmering in the wind like a sound wave. I must pay my respect and gratitude to the kind people at MusicOregon’s Echo Fund, and The Portland Office of Arts and Culture. Without an Echo Fund Grant this would not have come to pass. Thank you, Thank you. And to all of you who are reading this and who have shared moments of my journey or listened to my music, thank you. I hope this finds you well. Wildwood Trail Soundwalk is available on all music streaming services today June 26th, 2026. Find the limited run LP on Bandcamp. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit chadcrouch.substack.com/subscribe

    7 min.
  3. Cascade Pass Rain

    5 jun

    Cascade Pass Rain

    It was supposed to be the highlight of our trip. I spent a few days with my son hiking in the North Cascades last summer. The North Cascades is, according to one YouTuber who titled his video The Most Breathtaking Hike of my Life!, the “American Alps”. It’s also one of the least visited National Parks in the US lower 48. It ranks as the second-least, to be precise, after Isle Royale National Park in Michigan, a large island in Lake Superior which requires over 12 hours travel time from the closest major airport. All of this to say, it’s a mystery to me why so few people visit the North Cascades. We saved this hike for our last day, because we were staying on the east side of the range and the hike was on the west side. What we failed to comprehend was the east side forecast calling for clouds meant west side rain. The North Cascades operates like a giant squeegee, scraping the moisture from the cloud layer. And so it was, that the grand vistas of chromatic glacial valleys were replaced by a visibility of 100 feet or so; a blanket of silvery grey. The hike started at the end of a gravel spur road. The trail was essentially switchback after switchback for over 3 miles, gaining 1,700 feet in elevation as it climbed the SW flank of Sahale Mountain under a conifer canopy. Streams and seeps were alive with water coming down the slope. The canopy was a safe, warm refuge for the birds on that day. They called to each other as we climbed. I have to say, I was really enjoying the thick fog. The construction of the trail was superb; a nice even climb. The canopy filtered out the fine rain. I focused my attention on the near field wonders. The numerous little waterfalls were vivid landscapes in miniature. The wildflowers and mosses seemed to glow in the visibility deprivation tank. As we got closer to the exposed ridge traverse the fog thickened and heavy rain began to fall. It felt like we were in the clouds. “Every cloud has a silver lining,” according to the Milton poem that birthed the phrase. The metaphor of the bright cloud edge is taken here to mean every negative situation holds positive qualities, so long as you are able to notice them. We made the call to turn around before the pass, which was only a few hundred yards away. The experience didn’t match the expectations we set for it, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a disappointment for both of us. Still, it was memorable and special for its dreamlike quality. As the visible was minimized, the audible was maximized; ephemeral, resonant, and enveloping. Thanks for joining me here. Cascade Pass Rain is available on all music streaming services today June 5th, 2026. Also, the first two singles from my vinyl LP release Wildwood Trail Soundwalk are also out and available to stream. Find the limited run LP only on Bandcamp. (20% off pricing is extended through release day, June 26) Lastly, I posted Part 7 from my in-depth series on the Wildwood Trail a few days ago. So long for now! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit chadcrouch.substack.com/subscribe

    39 min.
  4. Paris Rain

    8 mei

    Paris Rain

    I alluded to a crop of urban soundwalk and soundscape recordings on the way a few weeks ago with Amsterdam Dawn. We’re still easing in with another Listening Spot treatment: a musical suite in conversation with a continuous environmental sound recording. This is Paris during an evening summer rain. It’s a vignette, recorded from a 5th floor room in the 3rd arrondissement. Just over 6 minutes long. The composition resembles the series of mini albums I offered up last year as Sleeping Animal. The Pianet electric piano meanders its way along, creating a scaffolding for various washes and textures. Something about the drips in the foreground and sizzle of puddles in the narrow street below are soothing. Paris Rain is available under the artist name Listening Spot on all streaming platforms Friday, May 8th, 2026. Thanks for reading and listening! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit chadcrouch.substack.com/subscribe

    6 min.
  5. Snow Lake Soundwalk

    1 mei

    Snow Lake Soundwalk

    We are back at Tahoma / Mount Rainier this week for another soundwalk. These hikes were made in June, 2024, on a weekend father and son getaway. The recordings were edited to focus on the natural soundscape (but you can make out four feet scuffling along the trail at certain points.) I’ve always felt a strong pull to Tahoma, having hiked around it on the Pacific Crest Trail in August, 1994. It snowed that August in the higher elevations; the biggest, wettest snowflakes I’ve ever seen and felt in my entire life. It snowed and rained for three days, and it was all I could do to keep my down sleeping bag dry. I was soaked. It’s one reason my experience of the mountain was so dreamlike. I sensed it, but I didn’t really see it. So it goes with mountains, and so it was that I was eager to see it and experience it with my son, thirty years later. We arrived late in the day. Skies were clear and the sun’s rays bathed the alpine meadow in golden light. The southeastern face of the mountain loomed over our shoulder as we climbed the trail to a picturesque bench. Birds were singing their hearts out. Western Warbling Vireo, Hermit Thrush, Fox Sparrow, Pine Siskin, Townsend’s Warbler, Yellow-rumped Warbler…. We had a snack there, and I set my recording hat 25 feet away to soak up the soundscape. Bench Lake sat below us; its placid crystal clear water reflecting the subalpine setting. Both Bench and Snow Lakes sit in a cirque—a giant amphitheater with the mountain at one end—that was formed over time by glacial erosion. This amphitheater effect, I think, can be discerned in the birdsong; almost like they chose the spot to amplify their crooning. Listening back, I’m struck at how the creek—Unicorn Creek—has the same urgent sound of Comet Falls; that wideband shhh of a young creek coursing through steep, boulder-strewn valleys. Such great names here. Approaching Snow Lake, the creek slowed as it moved through a shaded gully where snow still covered the trail. It was like something from a movie, painted in blue tones of snow reflecting the evening sky. We scrambled down to a boulder at the edge of Snow Lake and ate M&Ms. Snow Lake was quiet and so were we. Since then, my son has grown. Instead of two inches shorter, he is now at least two inches taller than me. In the time since, he’s also made significant progress on the piano, and is now composing songs that sound to me like they could have been written by the artists we both admire: Dustin O’Halloran, Joep Beving, Sergio Diaz De Rojas… It’s almost like life has been speeding up. The pace of change is dramatic. And yet I look at myself in the mirror, and I see the same person, with lines slightly more drawn. My changes are largely hidden from view, my advances scarcely measurable. People make pronouncements about how one decade of life will feel compared to another—as if we move through them all the same. “Make memories,” they say, as if it’s just that easy. Thanks for coming along. As always Snow Lake Soundwalk is available on all music streaming services today, May 1, 2026. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit chadcrouch.substack.com/subscribe

    32 min.
  6. Comet Falls

    9 apr

    Comet Falls

    This is a free preview of a paid episode. To hear more, visit chadcrouch.substack.com Comet Falls is on the south side of Tahoma (Mount Rainier) offering a nice four mile roundtrip hike, perfect for a day when the mountain is socked-in. It’s one of the most impressive falls that I’ve hiked to, dropping about 320 feet (98 m) in a vertical plunge from a hanging valley into a pretty subalpine canyon. I’ve mentioned this before, but I think waterfalls rarely translate the way you’d hope they would in sound. They’re so dazzling to look at, and it’s exhilarating to feel the rush of wind and spray near the bottom, but not all that interesting to listen to, it turns out. They kind of sound like FM radio static: Shhh. Most of them anyway. And alas, Comet Falls is no remarkable exception on that score. And so it goes most any waterfall may be more sonogenic when captured in a soundwalk format, as this captures a dimensionality that isn’t conveyed in a fixed point recording. The hike to Comet Falls follows Van Trump Creek through the canopy and along hillside openings with talus slopes, where you might find Pika (sounding a high-pitched peep). The wildlife was subdued under the grey sky on this day. Varied Thrush, Dark-eyed Junco, and Pacific Wren can be heard to the attentive listener in headphones, but this is mostly a water soundwalk. Our journey takes us to the waterfall viewpoint and follows a return path for a couple minutes. Another thing about waterfall sound: unless you get really close (like next to water splattering on rocks) it’s difficult to discern when you are “there”. This is another composition where I’m keeping to the low octaves of a particularly sonorous electric piano. (It would not sound good on a phone speaker.) I do this to preserve listening space for all the water and wildlife frequencies, and also because I just like the dark (as opposed to bright) vibe for this one. I’ve always thought that a waterfall walk would make an interesting canvas for a super-minimal synth score for droning synth pads and very slowly morphing pitches and timbres, mirroring the manifold sound of the waterfall’s creek outlet. This is not that, exactly. Though it occasionally goes there, it’s more melodic and approachable. Written in a D minor, the composition evokes the cloudy sky and the slow climb through the valley. The harmonics are ponderous, peppered as they are with sustained second chords, and textured with organ washes and soft, flutey synth pads. Thanks for reading and listening. Comet Falls Soundwalk is available on all music streaming services tomorrow April 10th, 2026.

    8 min.
  7. Amsterdam Dawn

    2 apr

    Amsterdam Dawn

    This is a free preview of a paid episode. To hear more, visit chadcrouch.substack.com On many a post I’ve told a story about how I found a spot somewhere, that despite being within an urban area, sounded as if it might be in the deep woods. As a practical matter this tends to rely on geologic and erosive forces creating canyons and acoustic gullies of one sort or the other. While I find this sort of thing interesting, I’m mindful it doesn’t spark other peoples imaginations quite like my own. So, it is with some reluctance that I advance this line of thinking yet again, but with a twist. Bear with me. One thing that is not abundant along the Netherlands coastline are hills, canyons, and gullies. It’s for this reason, the bicycle is embraced as a primary form of transportation for many (maybe most) people. Amsterdam is alive with cyclists in part because the flat landscape is so conducive to cycling. And, because more trips are made via bicycle, the inner city does not pulse with automobile traffic sounds in the same way that a hilly, post-industrial city might. San Fransisco, for example. Or wherever. All of this is background to presenting to you today the first of many soundscape and soundwalk recordings that embrace anthropogenic sounds (alongside the wildlife sounds) in these urban environments. Consider this an easing-in. We are getting our feet wet, so to speak, in the Oud Zuid district of Amsterdam, alongside the Noorder Amstelkanaal, as the city wakes up, on a summer day. Sirens mix with songbirds in a strangely musical way. Overall, though, it’s astonishingly quiet. The buildings and canals form an engineered canyon, of sorts. It’s well known that travel can spark a person to reconsider assumptions; to make new associations. I guess that can be said of my travels in Europe last summer, leading me to re-evaluate my approach to making environmental recordings. In some ways the cities sounded familiar to the one I call home. In others, quite distinct. On the whole, I was able to find new appreciation for these city sounds in general, hearing them with fresh ears. There is a futility in attempting to record soundscapes free of any anthropogenic sound. Our noisy machines routinely puncture the soundscapes of even the most remote locations. It comes as a relief to me, therefore, to chart a new course that embraces the totality of sound, with less rigidity. Amsterdam Dawn is available under the artist name Listening Spot on all streaming platforms tomorrow, Friday, April 3rd, 2026. Thank you for meeting me here; for listening and reading. There’s a lot to read and hear in this modern world. I’m grateful for your interest in my little corner.

    4 min.
  8. Spring Shower

    20 mrt

    Spring Shower

    Traveling around, I’ve become aware of how Pacific Northwest rain is different from rain patterns in other regions of the US. Take Texas, for example. Texas rain pours. Houses don’t have gutters there, presumably because they can’t engineer them large enough to accommodate the deluges reliably. Storm water infrastructure is three times the size of what I see around here. In contrast, Oregon rain is persistent. Drizzle can last for days. It’s kind of like the tortoise and the hare, I guess. This soundscape was recorded in Forest Park last year around this time, on a dead-end, unnamed trail that doesn’t see a lot of use, but nonetheless features a sturdy old bench. It is a pretty sweet listening spot for this reason, and this particular time slice offers a pretty accurate sound portrait of our soft rain. Our soft power. Did you know that the Pacific Temperate Rainforest—a bioregion extending from the northern California redwoods to the coastal forests along the gulf of Alaska—can pack more carbon per acre than a tropical rainforest like the Amazon? The Pacific Temperate Rainforest is the second-most dense biomass repository and carbon sink in the world (bested only by the Eucalyptus regnans forests of Victoria and Tasmania, Australia) and it’s what gives our Pacific Northwest rain its unique character (and sound). The Pacific Temperate Rainforest operates like a giant lung. Just as a lung draws in air, extracts what's vital, and releases what the body needs to stay alive, the Pacific Temperate Rainforest breathes on a continental scale, pulling carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere and locking it away in massive old-growth trunks, roots, and the deep organic soils beneath them, while exhaling oxygen and releasing moisture that cycles inland as rain. The forest doesn't just store carbon passively; it actively pumps water vapor into the atmosphere, seeding clouds and feeding rivers that sustain salmon, which in turn fertilize the forest floor when they die. It’s a closed loop where nothing is wasted. Spring Shower is available under the artist name Listening Spot on all streaming platforms Friday, March 20th, 2026. I’ve made it available here in its entirety with the idea it might be useful. Thanks for reading and listening! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit chadcrouch.substack.com/subscribe

    8 min.
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Info

Soundwalk combines roving field recordings with an original musical score. Each episode introduces you to a sound-rich environment, and embarks on an immersive listening journey. chadcrouch.substack.com

Informatie

  • Maker
    Chad Crouch
  • Jaren actief
    2022 - 2026
  • Afleveringen
    123
  • Beoordeling
    Veilig
  • Copyright
    © Chad Crouch
  • Website van aflevering
    Soundwalk

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