Introduction to Musical Toronto

The ideas behind the course Musical Toronto have completed enthralled me, as I have been challenged to think about music and the production of sound outside the confines of Western art music. In some ways, this seems to be such backwards thinking for me, since all of this time, I've been taught to think of music as something that is refined, and created under the artistic mastery of someone who is skilled. Since the outset of this course, I have been challenged to think of sound as that which is produced in an environment in which humans play the role of passive objects, and are enveloped within a wall of sound in their daily surroundings yet have no bearing as to how it is produced.

Hence begins my discussion of soundscape, an analysis of my encounters with the acoustic environment of my everyday affairs.

To be honest, I do not really appreciate the sights and sounds that have taken over the southern end of the Annex, particularly the amount of sound that I am bombarded with as I exit onto Bedford from the St. George exit and walk towards the Faculty of Music. The amount of sound is overwhelming, as right when I have left the subway station filled with the language of busy commuters, I step out into the open expecting to be welcomed by a breath of a fresh air- a silence as overwhelming as the tunnel of noise in which I was previously trapped in. However, I am greeted by the sound of piercing drills penetrating the air with a ferocity that leaves shivers down my spine, which are quickly replaced by an annoyance prescribed by disturbance. Welcome to Yorkville, one of the most affluent neighborhoods in Toronto. It is currently undergoing change, and it makes no pardon for such, as morning after morning, the air is filled with the sound of construction workers busy working on their architectural renovations. The mornings are busiest in terms of road traffic. Everyone is bustling to and fro, and the sound of construction workers hard at work fills the air with dreadful noises. Across the street, in Philosopher's Walk, an inquisitive squirrel stops dead in her tracks as she tilts her head to look at me. Startled, I smile, and the split second silence is once again interrupted by the swish of my pants to which the squirrel responds with the continued cracking of her nut. A homeless person is doing his routinely breakfast scavenge as he digs through the cylindrical trash bins. The sound of paper bags crunching, and pop bottles hitting the sound of the garbage bin fills the air as the despondent soul scavenges ruthlessly for a satisfaction his taste buds have been craving since the French fry he had two dinners ago. The ears tingle with the sound of bells as bikers warn pedestrians of their descent down the slightly sloped sidewalk of Philosopher's Walk. The cheerful chirps of birds fill the air as the sun rises to fill the Earth with its warmth. Surely this is sound of the morning, bright and early in a place as remote as the park outside of the Faculty of Music at the University of Toronto.

In the afternoons, the section of Bloor parallel to the park side entrance of Philosopher's Walk is
filled with people who have all crawled out of their bunny holes of work for a bite to eat. It seems as if everyone on the street is carrying a conversation with someone, whether that be in person or on the phone. Nevertheless, the coffee shops, once again are overwhelmed with hordes of people chattering noisily to each other, complaining about the long line to get a simple order of coffee. An old man at Starbucks complains to an employee about the hordes of students who have taken over the couches and the tables at the small coffee shop which has filled to maximum capacity. As such, the afternoon is a time in which verbal complaints take up much of the soundscape of Toronto, in which there are too many people and too little space. The afternoon also seems to be the prime time for shopping as young people return from their Yorkville shopping trips with fancy shopping bags gently bumping into their soft knees and calves.
The click-clack of heels fill the air, and as people approach the intersection of Bloor and Avenue, they most certainly voice their strongly opinionated comment on the eccentricity of the ROM renovations. The squeals of jaywalkers also fill the air, as young naive students attempt to cross the road without disrupting traffic to a large degree.

The evenings are actually very quiet in relation to the mornings. The nearby coffee shop, Tim Hortons which was hounded with business in the morning houses few customers inside. Clearly, most of the students have already gone home. Thus, the park side setting outside of the faculty is nearly deserted. The construction workers have gone home for the night, and other than a low silent hum that resonates from the Royal Conservatory of Music, the construction work seems to have ceased for the night. The amount of cars driving on Bloor since the morning has decreased substantially, and this part of the city experiences a peaceful calm, until the awakening of traffic which accompanies the sound of chirping birds the next morning.