Cities and Memory - remixing the world

From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a collection of reel-to-reel tape recordings of songs and musical instruments made by journalist Lois Mitchison in Cameroon during 1958.

Recorded by Sonja Lois Mitchison.

Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.

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Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

Drawn to the Circle began with a field recording of a boar tusk horn calling people into a full circle. The sound comes from Malekula Island in Vanuatu, performed by Melteg Ike and Mal Maru of the Big Nambas cultural group, and recorded by Raymond Clausen in 1962. When I first heard it, I was struck by how two players became one sound. It felt less like music and more like an invitation — a call to gather.

The idea of the circle stayed with me. A circle has no front or back, and no one stands above another. Across cultures, people meet in circles to listen, to share, and to mark time together. In this recording, the call draws people inward, toward community. I spent time researching the Big Nambas people and the island of Malekula, using archival material from the Pitt Rivers Museum. Looking at landscapes and objects helped me imagine the life around the sound. The piece came together quickly after that, shaped by thoughts about what connects us as humans. I found myself wondering how a call rooted in one community could arrive here with me in Athens, and how it might speak to my own sense of belonging.

When composing, I treated the field recording as something living. The cello and voices follow its texture and tone, moving with it rather than leading it. My partner and baby daughter participated in the process and helped me record some of the percussion. Their presence became part of the piece, making the act of recording feel communal — less like producing a track, and more like standing in a circle together and responding to the call.

Working with this recording has been a privilege. It has reminded me how deeply human the act of gathering is, and how sound can carry that impulse across place, time, and generation.

"Merer Pake": nDavu trumpet signal reimagined by Ana Habesh.

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Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

When I first heard "Mekana discussing a case of adultery", I really wanted to know more about the background to the recording. My research led me a to 1983 Granada Television Programme from the Disappearing Worlds Series which introduced the idea of "Benge", the poison oracle used by the Azande People of Central Africa to answer questions relating to, amongst others, infidelity. It was also vividly described by Evans-Pritchard as the process of administering poison to a baby chicken and waiting to see if it died or survived to determine guilt or innocence. Everything I watched or read focussed on the process of reaching this verdict, but there was never an exploration of the actual people involved. There must be a story behind these cases of forbidden love, in a culture where such feelings were prohibited and sometimes punishable by death.
 
I wanted "Broken" to tell the story of this forbidden love, the feelings of loss the accused must have felt as they discovered they could never share a life together, but at the same time being indelibly connected throughout the rest of their lives. I try to paint that picture within the lyric whilst also acknowledging the cultural relevance of Benge with references of poison, feathers and confessions.

The qualities of the wax recording are a perfect backdrop and can be consistently heard throughout. This helps to contextualise the themes of the song, particularly in terms of history, culture and tradition.

Mekana discussing a case of adultery reimagined by Simon Holmes.

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Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

“The Hills Remember” is a concept piece on the “domination paradigm” — a cultural logic shared across systems of oppression. The work explores the intersections of religious nationalism, religious violence and colonisation, authoritarianism, capitalism, misogyny, domestic and child abuse, gender- and sexuality-based violence, racial oppression, and rape culture — systems all linked by hierarchies of power justified through ideological and cultural narratives that normalise inequality and violence as methods of destabilisation and control.

Initially inspired by a field recording from circa 1916–1919 of the Angami Naga singing their love song “Lozoruu, Hoiyi Ollie", the project took on a life of its own when artist Savannah Rae (Fawn Response) sat with the recording while researching the tribe and its historical context. After listening deeply to the emotion in the performance and reflecting on the lyrics — “though the villages are separated the herds graze together, upon the ridge there is a great stone to sit upon” — within the context of the religious colonization the Angami endured, Savannah was moved to research both the culture of the Angami people and the role religious colonization played in subverting it.

Through this research, she discovered an unlikely through-line linking one of the religious crusaders responsible for the Christian indoctrination of the Angami Naga to the religious-based trauma she experienced as a child at the hands of radical televangelists. With a background as a therapeutic educator and trauma and behavioural specialist, Savannah broadened her inquiry to better understand the overlapping psychosocial mechanisms driving religious colonisation and extremism, religious nationalism, child abuse, sexual abuse, and exploitation.

As the research deepened, and in recognising the scope required to create a piece that could meaningfully hold this material, Savannah enlisted the support of longtime friends and musical collaborators Oliver Ignatius (musician, producer, engineer, and owner of Holy Fang Studios), and Brian Ducey (musician and assistant engineer at Holy Fang Studios). Additional support included original works and samples related to the concept from friend and writer, comedian, and musician Joe DeRosa, as well as friends and musical collaborators Mitch Wells (Thou, Big Garden), Craig Oubre (High, Big Garden), drummer Tyler Coburn (Thou, Bursting), and contributions from her sister Jess and niece Willow.

The composition includes multiple historical audio samples of sermons related to religious colonisation and nationalism, including those specific to the Angami; samples of Angami songs and dances; research compiled and read by Savannah — sped up in places to bypass the conscious mind; scripture and first-person religious colonisation accounts processed through AI voices; prayers; references to Angami folklore; field recordings of native birds; original songs and excerpts inspired by the emotional resonance of the work; original poetry; a channeled hymnal; and a question posed by a seven-year-old child in modernity, already questioning those who use religion to justify atrocity.

Juxtaposing elements of noise with sound healing and music therapy, the piece sonically mirrors emotional modulation —seeking to hold the weight of deeply disturbing truths without becoming stuck in that heaviness, and instead modeling how to feel it and allow it to move through us as a path toward empowered expression. It is a channeled and researched effort to unpack and honour the context of something as hyper-specific as the historical field recording of the Angami, into a space that is universally resonant and urgently applicable today.

An extended cut will follow and will be pressed to vinyl. In the meantime, and in all times, please remember gentleness; please remember peace.

"Lozorüü" - Angami Naga love song reimagined by Fawn Response

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Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

I selected the recording of a night forest in the Central African Republic without looking at the description, simply because it sounded magical. I usually search the recorded sounds for inspiration to tell stories that are more or less personal, but this time it was different. As I started reading about the origin of the sound, chosen solely for its magical aspect, I found myself lost in the discovery of a real-life hero who devoted his life to the collection, protection and conservation of the sounds and culture of the Bayaka people. I met legendary ethnomusicologist and fantastic human being, Louis Sarno. 

From that moment, I felt that I could not use the rainforest sound as a simple backdrop for my personal musing, I felt the need to bring back to life the magic of the forest and the love and passion that Louis Sarno devoted to his life’s work. The word "magic" that drew me to select this specific recording, kept echoing in my head, so I let the magic guide me, and what could be more magical than an incantation? 

At that point, it was simply a matter of filling in the elements usually found in an incantation: the desired effect, capturing and preserving the sounds of life; the ingredients, all freely found in the dream of a night forest; the spell, pronounced in the name of Louis Sarno’s life work; the special effects, unmissable touches for someone devoted to sounds; and finally the real-live love and poetry of life itself. 

Likimbi forest camp late at night reimagined by M Cristina Marras.

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Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

A talea is both faithful and transformed. It remains genetically identical to the source, yet grows into something new through a different environment. It is not preservation or betrayal. It is organic continuation, the way traditional music has always moved through time and space.

Our composition embodies the talea principle by maintaining an unbroken genetic thread to the source field recording while allowing that material to flourish in an entirely new sonic environment. The original recording serves not as a piece to be preserved intact, but as living genetic material — its essential characteristics, its rhythmic DNA, remain present throughout our transformation. Yet just as a talea cutting develops new leaves, new branches, new forms of expression when planted in different soil, our work has reimagined these elements through a compositional language that could not have existed in the original context.

The melodic contours, harmonic implications, or rhythmic gestures embedded in the field recording have been interiorised and then allowed to grow according to new rules — different timbral choices, altered temporal frameworks, reimagined spatial relationships. What makes this approach powerful is that the connection remains audible and traceable; listeners can sense the rootedness even as they encounter something unmistakably fresh and contemporary.

This method honours how musical traditions have always evolved — not through static repetition, but through the kind of generative transmission that the talea metaphor captures so precisely. Our composition demonstrates that fidelity to source material and creative innovation are not opposing forces but complementary aspects of the same organic process. The original recording lives on, not as a frozen artifact, but as active creative DNA that continues to generate new musical possibilities through our intervention.

After listening both individually and collectively to the original field recording, and consulting the accompanying material, we recorded multiple improvisations in an eight-hour studio session, then chose our favourite take.

Musicians:
Francesco Ganassin: clarinet, electronics, dziga loop (custom made electronic instrument)
Enrico Milani: cello, objects
Sergio Marchesini: piano, electronics
Andrea Ruggeri: percussion, electronics
Gianluca Segato: lap steel guitar, electronics
Alberto Zuanon: double bass

Geedal in the forest with male voices reimagined by Sonic Investigation Unit.

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Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a large collection of cassette tape and digital audio tape recordings of Bayaka music and soundscapes made by ethnomusicologist Louis Sarno mainly in the Central African Republic (and the Republic of Congo) between 1986 and 2009.

Recorded by Louis Sarno.

Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.

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Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

Researching this sound and the U’wa people gave me an opportunity to scratch the surface of their deeply complex seasonal customs, involving dance, storytelling and performance. Ann Osborn (the sound recordist) documents this in her study "The Four Seasons of the U'wa: A Chibcha Ritual Ecology in the Colombian Andes".

What I learned inspired me to tell a new story. In this piece you hear about Ray Collective, a dance group who couldn't be more culturally, temporally or geographically removed from the U’wa, but for whom performative seasonal ritual is the connective tissue. 

Looking back on it, I can see how this piece subconsciously reflected my wrangling with the ethics of this project and concerns I had around cultural appropriation. It's interesting that even in Ray Collective, where members are drawing from and reworking a shared UK-based cultural/folk heritage, similar themes about what constitutes respectful reinterpretation and what is fair to use or repurpose came up a lot. 

It got me thinking about themes like rightfulness, ownership, permission and agency - and more specifically, how female and non-binary people relate to these within the context of a British cultural heritage that has for the most part, precluded their meaningful involvement. 
This may sound heady in retrospect, but ultimately, I set out to make peace that was fun, and in which the listener would get a sense of the real and present joy experienced within Ray Collective. 

I can see why it might feel problematic that I'm in any way drawing a line between the complex mythos of the U’wa culture and a group of women mucking about in Bournemouth, but my intent was purely to focus on commonality - the need to gather, dance and create rituals in harmony with the rhythm of the seasons. 

All of the instruments/sounds you are hearing in this piece have been created by sampling recordings from Ray collective sessions (usually people singing the word Sun) and mixing them with the U’wa sound (which from my research, I believe is a conch shell signalling the beginning of a ritual performance). I've never used this sampling technique, nor really made bits of bed music for a piece before, and it was a really tough but rewarding process. 

The voice you hear speaking is Lizzie Maries, founder of Ray collective. I cut so much nuanced and insightful discussion from our interview and hope she'll forgive me. 

I should also credit both Lorna Rees who composed the 'Singing for Sun' refrain that crops up a lot, and Billy Nomates, Ray Collective's composer- you hear a rough sample of her song at the close of this piece. And of course, all the wonderful Rays for humouring me and my recorder. 

U'wa drones reimagined by Laura Irving.

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Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

Geedal (bow harp) played in the forest with male voices accompanying.

From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a large collection of cassette tape and digital audio tape recordings of Bayaka music and soundscapes made by ethnomusicologist Louis Sarno mainly in the Central African Republic (and the Republic of Congo) between 1986 and 2009.

Recorded by Louis Sarno.

Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.

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Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds

"Lozorüü" (tune: "Hoiyi Olle"): an Angami Naga love song performed by two men and two young women ("Though the villages are separated the herds graze together./ Upon the ridge there is a great stone to sit on").

From the sound collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, being from a collection of wax cylinder recordings of Naga (Angami, Sümi, Lotha, Chang and Sangtam) songs made by administrator and anthropologist John Hutton in India between 1915 and 1919.

Recorded by John Henry Hutton.

Copyright Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford.

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Part of the project A Century of Sounds, reimagining 100 sounds covering 100 years from the collections of the Pitt Rivers Museum at the University of Oxford. Explore the full project at citiesandmemory.com/century-sounds