Archeophonist

My friend Dave is an archeophonist. He did not know that until this morning.

We were in Toronto - six of us, including Dave, Dale and our spouses - enjoying several consecutive sunny 80-degree days in this very walkable and pleasant international city.

Over Sunday brunch at a place on Church Street, we discussed an important contribution that Dave had made to the history of recorded sound. Earlier this year, he discovered the earliest known sound recording, dating from 1860. It earned a front-page exclusive in The New York Times, and he formally unveiled the recording to a roomful of experts and press at Stanford.

Finding Edouard Leon-Scott de Martinville's paper-based recordings, and figuring out how to coax sound from them, was an impressive feat of sleuthing, connecting the dots of history and science. (My wife played a tiny coincidental role in Dave's discovery -- it improbably involves the book River of Doubt, which tells the story of Teddy Roosevelt's post-presidential Amazonian expedition, but it would take a while to explain here.)

With this discovery, every text on the history of sound was immediately rendered incorrect. As Dave described the research that went into this discovery, I commented that there was something of Indiana Jones about it.

As we finished our coffee this morning, I said to Dave, "So, if someone asked you to describe in a phrase what exactly you do, what would you tell them?"

We kicked around a few thoughts. Then I picked up the CD of historic jazz recordings that Dave had given me when we sat down. It includes some rare recordings from his personal collection.

I noticed that the CD was on the Archeophone label. It is a specialty label, two of whose historical releases have been nominated for Grammys in the last two years, with a win for best historical recording in 2007. (Dave was a major contributor to these CDs.)

"Dave," I said, "I'm struck by the name of this record label. Obviously it has it roots in 'archeo,' meaning someone who digs into history and human culture, and 'phone,' meaning sound or hearing.

"So why don't you call yourself an 'archeophonist'?"

Dave loved the word. Having coined it, I'll take the liberty of putting forward the proper pronunciation: ar'-kee-OFF'-uh-nist.

So for my inaugural blog entry, as I recognize my friend's achievements in the history of recorded sounds, I'm pleased to have the word "archeophonist" appear on the World Wide Web for the first time.