Danang is a cacophony of sound. Buildings are made of concrete to keep both contents and inhabitants cool when air is piping, therefore not even a whisper will go unnoticed. From my bedroom, I can clearly listen to the happenings of home dwellers, street walkers, motorbike buzzards, kid play, cats in heat, dogs barking, singing and 9 pm venders screaming “heaiiiaaaaa!” or “dooinong!” (I am still unsure as to what these people are selling. They carry their goods in covered baskets on the back of their mopeds. Perhaps one day I’ll head to the streets and ask.) Having lived in Brooklyn for ten years, where harsh noise simply becomes part of you, then moving to Portland, Oregon where trees buffer any sounds other than breeze and rain from penetrating fragile ears, It has taken me some time to adjust to the tumultuous din.
Rather than “getting used to” the noise, I have decided to deconstruct then reconstruct the noise. I have a handheld recorder, a microphone and a fancy computer on which I can record the sounds of Danang. The pieces I shall then string together into song.