The crickets the wind in the trees make the softness of this wood. This is the hour up to 11pm. Starts with 10 minutes of a loud muntjac deer barking very close to the microphones. Owls in the distance follow and creatures creeping about. Two distinct gun shots at 15m 30s. At 30m 24s a pheasant scared calls out very loudly. The peace returns for the remainder. The church clock chimes 11 near the end. 

In a remote spot just below the Kerry Ridgeway in Powys Mid-Wales, where a stream runs along the bottom of a wooded gully beside a country road, lies some rural peace and tranquillity, and what must be the murmurs of the Ridgway, voiced in the trees. The Ridgway is an ancient trading route between Wales and England that never drops below 1000 feet. Recorded on a sunny afternoon in April 2019, catch the sheep being fed, occasional cars and farm vehicles passing by on the road above the gully, and the infectious call of the early blackbirds amongst chif chafs, hedge sparrows and wrens.

In a remote spot just below the Kerry Ridgeway in Powys Mid-Wales, where a stream runs along the bottom of a wooded gully beside a country road, lies some rural peace and tranquillity, and what must be the murmurs of the Ridgway, voiced in the trees. The Ridgway is an ancient trading route between Wales and England that never drops below 1000 feet. Recorded on a sunny afternoon last April catch the sheep being fed, occasional cars and farm vehicles passing by on the road above the gully, and the infectious call of the early blackbirds amongst chiffchaffs, hedge sparrows and wrens and bees.

Experience the mesmerising sound of the world passing by, recorded from outside and inside a couchette on a SNCF sleeper train one August night. Departure is from Paris Austerlitz just before 11pm. The train journeys through the night and takes 12 hours to get all the way across France to reach Port Bou in Spain. Hear the announcements and the train pausing in the early hours of the morning at Toulouse.   

June 2016. A summer thunderstorm is passing over North East London. The atmosphere is electric. It's the final hour of polling in the referendum to decide whether the UK remains or leaves the European Union.

Sheltering under a large umbrella in the back garden of our little terrace house, listening for the next roll of thunder. Long expectant gaps. Sharp pin prick drops landing in hundreds as brightly spatial clicks on the taught fabric. Then, slow crumpling rumbles that open up the vastness of the sky

Listener notes: this audio is recorded using high quality binaural microphones. They fit into each ear and capture very accurately the way we spatially hear sound. The only way to properly listen back to a binaural recording is using a pair of headphones. Set the playback volume low and gradually raise the volume until the level feels about what feels realistic in your experience of being out amongst the rain. 

An hour of pure immersive peace and quiet from that spot in the wood where nobody goes. This surround audio recording is unedited and just as it happened. Underneath the trees hear crickets, aircraft gently passing far above and the parish church chimes 10pm towards the end. Muntjac deer trot about and one begins to loudly call across the wood at the end. 

This time of year the sparsely wooded hills just above the now infamous Todbrook Reservoir in Whaley Bridge Derbyshire resound with the dawn chorus. Thrushes, wrens, robins amongst many other types of birds and a woodpecker and from a nearby farm the cockerel announces the arrival of a new day. Steep grass moorland, grazing sheep within gritstone walls slope down the valley towards the reservoir.

With some very loud thunderclaps this spring storm passes over the back garden. Sheltering in an old shed beside a high wall. The rain eases off and the birds keep singing happily. Towards the end an explosive thunderclap sets off a car alarm. Recorded a few years ago in binaural audio the garden is situated in Handsworth Wood Birmingham and sounds most realistic on headphones or earbuds.

It is just after half past eight in the evening in the Suffolk wood. The sun is setting. It is dusk, very warm and dry with light breezes. There are no people about. The A12, about four miles away provides a reliable hum. Aeroplanes lazily arc overhead. Crickets chirp, leaves move in the breeze, what may be muntjac deer creeps about. Listen out for the distant bell of St Marys Church, it can be heard striking nine.

Walking along a cliff path lined with crickets the sea appears, steep down to the right. There's no one around. There's time to listen. There's a dot on the horizon, a boat. Hardly moving. At 6m30s we move to a different location - down a flinty path and over deep sand to the water's edge. The water fizzes. Is the tide coming in, or out? At 13m45s, back up on the cliff path, warm grassy wafts and around the headland to another bay. At 19m06s, looking down from above the sea sounds different in this bay. A pontoon out in the swell occasionally rocks against its mooring. Finally at 24m55s, at the shoreline to sit and be close to the waves. The tide's feeling lazy. It is going out.