Neuroscientists study our love for deep bass sounds

Have you ever wondered why bass-range instruments tend to lay down musical rhythms, while instruments with a higher pitch often handle the melody?

According to new research from Laurel Trainor and colleagues at the McMaster Institute for Music and The Mind, this is no accident, but rather a result of the physiology of hearing.

In other words, when the bass is loud and rock solid, we have an easier time following along to the rhythm of a song.

Read more

What are vocal types?

A lot of people ask me in my inbox ” What is a vocal type” or most of the times “What’s my vocal type?” So, today I am going to tell you how to figure out your vocal type without having to read an article that has 25 paragraphs and has words you don’t understand. Let’s get started!

Keep reading

I’m probably wrong about this but...

I have a feeling that if the bass clarinet was called the tenor clarinet or the baritone clarinet (and let’s be honest, the bass’s range is really more baritone than bass) it would be taken more seriously and would, in general, have much more interesting parts. People see bass and think “Oh, it can only do basslines!”

Hey Brother

“For you, there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do…”

His voice was easily drowned out by the song that droned out of the speakers around the fallen fallen angel. The rest of the lyrics died on his lips near instantly when he realized that, fading to a melodious albeit repetitive hum. The radio kept up the work for him, though. The music thundered through the apartment in all rooms. The stereo system was, thanks to illegally obtained money, of the highest caliber and his music surrounded him like a security blanket. He surely needed it, or so he hoped. At least it would be worth it then. 

But with every trumpet howl and bass drop his ears rang with pain, struggling against the over-stimulation. It didn’t matter. And if his eardrums shattered, it didn’t matter. The music was still not loud enough. Amduscias winced visibly when the radio launched into Bastille’s Laura Palmer with a worryingly loud beat. As soon as the vocals joined in he was flying to turn down the volume. Jittery hands fumbled with the many buttons until his ears ceased their stinging. 

The ex-king, ex-demon, ex-everything as far as he was concerned, lingered by the stereo system and stared down at the pulsing speaker textile, alive with the beat of the music behind it. He wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes or when the self-loathing had set in but here he was now, head lowered and hands holding on to the counter with a white-knuckled grip. 

He couldn’t even bear music anymore. All he was able to endure were goddamn whispers. He had never before understood how it hurt to have your hearing assaulted with viciousness, he had never been able to compare it to any sort of experience he had. The shame and degradation hit him hard, disgusted him. But he endured all the same. 

The demon turned human had somehow survived the night although he could not have said how. He faintly remembered copious amounts of alcohol and soporifics. Apparently that hadn’t been a healthy mix, though. And thus the former great king of Hell witnessed firsthand what it felt like to throw up, a lot. Well, as long as he got done. 

Now he had managed to eat something and keep it down, which was his victory of the day. Further had he indulged his paranoia by painting a few protection sigils on sheets of paper whenever he found the strength to do so, as some sort of occupational therapy. It felt queer to be on the painting side of the deal but everything was wrong anyway. The sigils wouldn’t do anything against Hell’s highborn rulers, aka his social environment, but it would keep the critter out. The effort was futile seeing as the building was completely warded but it made him feel better anyway. Halfway through his third seal he had suddenly wondered if he really should bother with the notion. Amduscias wasn’t used to being left alone for so long. Shouldn’t he allow them to find him? Maybe they would help him. And maybe God himself would step out of his wardrobe and declare him the messiah reborn. Human emotions, seriously. They’d be rather dead than lonely. 

Oku hange pe ‘uhiki'i tofua'a ko 'ene fa'e by rengelphoto Like mother like calf.

While listening to music and whale watching off of the coast of Tongatapu we heard and felt a mixture of cetacean vibrations from beyond the human soprano to bass range coming from a nearby mother and calf.

I went in the ocean with the sun almost setting. The water was colder than normal so I increased shutter speed to to avoid any involuntary camera shakes. They swam past me as I managed to hold it together for a couple of shots.

do you ever find a song you really really like

and then spend like three hours looking for the hIGHEST QUALITY VERSION THAT EXISTS

because damn it if my ears aren’t vibrating from the wide range of bass to treble it’s not HQ enough