Even in seemingly desolate parts of nature, it is difficult to escape the modern city. This podcast is a series of meditative environmental recordings that capture nature as it is, in situ, a part of the metropolis and the metropolis an inextricable part of it. It is recorded on hikes to the peaks of the Angeles National Forest, on walks through Los Angeles parks, on excursions to dump sites at the edge of the city, and beyond.

“New Topophonics” takes its name from the influential 1975 exhibition “New Topographics: Photographs of a Man-Altered Landscape.” Unlike the Ansel Adams-style depictions of untainted nature, this new movement focused on the built landscape—architecture, motor vehicles, asphalt, concrete—alongside the natural world. By capturing the man-altered landscape, these photographs cast a critical eye on urbanism's destructive—and also constructive—environmental effects. “New Topophonics” captures a similar landscape, raising increasingly relevant questions about human interventions in the environment, and environmental interventions in human life.

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11. Island Lake: Cows in the Wild

Recorded near Island Lake in the Tahoe National Forest. It is late morning. On the hike out to the lake, the landscape is soothingly green and lush. The panorama of mountains, streams, and towering Jeffrey Pines with moss-covered trunks is a postcard image of wilderness. But in the distance is a noise, a soft clanging that is out of place. Perhaps music from an inconsiderate camper’s radio? Someone trying to scare off a bear? I hike toward the sound and eventually spot the source at the bottom of the hill, lazily eating alongside the lake: grazing cattle. Amid the more usual sights of the Sierra Mountains, the presence of cows is surprising. I slowly walk down the hill towards them, careful not to startle, and set up my recording gear at the edge of the lake. Among the sounds of lapping water, singing birds, and rustling leaves, the percussive clatter of the cowbells create rhythmic phrases that emerge and then vanish — the complicated, evolving, hypnotic polyrhythm of the bovines’ grazing gestures.

10. Los Angeles: The Train to the Sea (a special live performance for LADOT)

Recorded live, June 27, for the LA Dept. of Transportation's "Transformation Through Transportation" telethon, curated by Renée Reizman. Stay-at-home orders have had the unintended consequence of giving Angelenos a new vantage point of the city: that of the pedestrian. "The Train to the Sea" is a sound and poetry performance by me, Daniel Tovar, and Jenn Swann, reflecting on the post-pandemic LA landscape through observations and field recordings captured during our daily walks.

Daniel Tovar: Sounds (Make Noise 0-Coast, Moog Mother 32, and field recordings taken in Highland Park, Los Angeles, CA)

Jenn Swann: Words

9. Fusier Canyon: Oasis

Recorded in Angeles National Forest, Fusier Canyon. It is on a whim, a moment of spontaneity that seems so rare these days when all excursions outside the house are carefully planned, that I decide on a morning hike into the Angeles National Forest. This morning, like the previous few mornings, the air is cool, ideal for a hike. But after a few hours on the trail, unlike previous days, it becomes increasingly hot, rising from 70, to 80, to the mid 90s. I’m not prepared for this. The trail is largely free of tree-cover, winding through the sparse low-growing yuccas and other bushes that mark that unique transition from forest to desert so common in the ANF. I start to feel light-headed, but I know there is shade not too far ahead. After what seems like an increasingly dangerous 20 minutes or so, I finally get to the stream of water that runs down the center of the canyon. In the cool moist air beneath the tree canopy, I rest with the birds, bees, butterflies, and other insects escaping the intense Southern California sun. I set my mics up for a period that seems brief, but I learn later was a dazed 45 minutes. Listening back to the recordings now, they seem to convey that same woozy relaxation, an oasis of respite from a seething world.

8. DTLA: May 31 Protest

Recorded in DTLA near City Hall on Sunday, May 31. The streets are relatively empty while the city readies its show of state power. Eric Garcetti had announced the arrival of the National Guard the previous night, and here they are. Alongside cops in riot gear, rifle-clad, fatigue-wearing soldiers are posed around City Hall and paraded down the street in armored vehicles. Their sand-colored fatigues and cars look markedly out of place. It is an aesthetic that I associate with our wars in the Middle East. Alongside this visual projection of power is a sonic one: the patter of helicopters hovering above, clicks and tinny voices coming from police radios, and the constant yelp of sirens echoing through the corridors of high-rises. Garcetti and his Chief of Police Michael Moore have repeatedly emphasized their desire for “peace.” But these words are clearly farcical in juxtaposition to the blaring, anxiety-inducing sounds of the city.

All sounds original recordings except archival recordings taken from:
1. Mayor Eric Garcetti and Los Angeles Police Chief Michael Moore’s press conference May 31
2. Zoom Police Commission meeting with Michael Moore
3. @mkultranews via @ionel_prodan
4. @mkultranews
5. Alluringskull (tiktok) via @AdoreDelano

7. Highland Park: Garden ASMR

Recorded in my backyard, Highland Park, Los Angeles. As the school semester ends and the shelter-in-place orders continue indefinitely, the world has steadily contracted. Walks around the neighborhood have become increasingly dull and without classes to teach and meetings to attend over Zoom, social interactions are confined to my household. Our weed and bougainvillea-ridden backyard provides a blessed bit of respite, socially isolated but sonically connected to the surrounding neighborhood. Maskless, I enjoy the intimate, delicate, ASMR-quality of gardening, framed by the birds, next-door neighbors, and traffic drone.

6. Angeles National Forest: Into Fusier Canyon

Recorded at dawn on a hike into Fusier Canyon. I begin the three-hour hike into Fusier Canyon in the dark. My flashlight illuminates a small circle of light ahead of me, tracing an occasionally washed-out trail carved into the side of a steep incline. In the daylight, you'd see a small stream, Golden Yarrow flowers, and spiky Chaparral Yucca in the canyon below—but right now all I can see is blackness. At daybreak, I arrive at a portion of the trail that straddles a ridge overlooking Vogel Canyon to the West and Fusier Canyon to the East. I attach a couple lav mics to a Chaparral on the side of the trail and start recording.

5. Angeles National Forest: Tujunga Creek

Recorded in Vogel Canyon near Big Tujunga Creek in the Angeles National Forest. As we begin our hike, the sun rises over distant peaks. Being outside feels illicit. We see several helicopters. Perhaps they are looking for people in restricted areas? Although unmarked, the trail seems well traveled, and passing someone here would be like passing them on an airplane aisle. As 7:30 rolls around, we hear voices in the distance and decide to turn around. Fortunately, we see no one on the way back down. Before leaving, we see another road and decide to explore Big Tujunga Creek, whose banks are wide and perfect for social distancing. We walk along the creek and sit on a rock, taking in the morning light and the sounds of the water. It’s not long before our soundscape is interrupted by a helicopter. But this time, instead of fading into the distance, the chopper gets louder and louder until it is flying directly over us. It flies off, but then turns back and flies overhead again, and then a third time, getting closer and closer to us with each pass. We take this as a sign and quickly gather our things. As we speed walk back to the car, we’re relieved to see the helicopter fly off for good.

4. San Simeon: Elephant Seals

Recorded off the CA 1 Hwy at the San Simeon Elephant Seal Vista Point. Headed to San Francisco from Los Angeles, my girlfriend and I turn off the highway into a parking lot overlooking the ocean. We join the small crowd gathered along the guardrails and look out onto the shore where the massive elephant seals lie on the sand. Their odd, oversized noses droop down over their top lips and into their mouths. Every now and then, they crane their heads up to the sky and emit vocalizations that sound like water emptying from a drain. Their appearance is extremely inelegant, though with the lulling repetition of the ocean waves as a backdrop, their guttural groans add an otherworldliness to a meditative sonic landscape.

3. Ernest E. Debs Regional Park: Morning Crows

Recorded on an early Sunday morning in the fields of Debs Park. Murders of crows dominate the park landscape. Gathering in trees, on picnic tables, and on the field they shriek and squabble over trash left by yesterday’s barbecues. Rush hour has just begun. The rumble of traffic and the whistle of a train are heard in the distance, signs of life that now, in the midst of a pandemic, seem nostalgic.

2. Deukmejian Wilderness: Dunsmuir Debris Basin

Recorded on a breezy day beneath the trees of the San Gabriel Mountains, overlooking the Dunsmuir Debris Basin. The distant 210 freeway provides a soothing, low frequency hum mixed with the gentle rustling of leaves. The elements of the environment move but you are still. Emphasized pitches present in the wind create a drone. Birds chirp on the branches above and, further down the mountain, the delicate, metallic clink of tractors spread the basin’s debris into what will be the foundation for a future public park.

1. Deukmejian Wilderness: Cooks Canyon

Recorded at day break in Cooks Canyon, just off of Cooks Canyon Trail in Deukmejian Wilderness Park, Glendale, CA. Although the 210 freeway is clearly audible for a majority of the trail hike, there is a stretch where it mercifully disappears from view and earshot. As you walk over the south crest of Cooks Canyon and begin the descent to the bottom of the canyon, the din of traffic dies away. The environment becomes quiet in the span of just a few steps. The bottom of the canyon has heavy tree cover and a quiet stream running through it. The recording catches the tail end of the morning bird chorus, the soft gurgling of the stream, and the bees that were out in force that morning.