Adventures in Archeophony - The Prequel

My very first post on TLRM in July 2008 stemmed from a brunch conversation that I had with my friend Dave Giovannoni in Toronto. As I reported in the post, Dave is an archeophonist, but he didn't know it at the time. Dave and his colleagues at FirstSounds.org had made archeophonic history last year by discovering the earliest known recorded sounds, predating Edison by some 20 years. Their sleuthing has continued -- and in the last 12 months, they have moved the history of recorded sound back even further, having identified earlier recordings long lost in French archives. These recordings are now reproduced at their site.

Dave and his colleague Patrick Feaster provided a detailed and entertaining look into their process of discovery at the 43rd annual conference of the Association for Recorded Sound Collections (a specialists' event if ever there was one) in Washington, DC in late May. Their quest featured some truly extraordinary challenges in dealing with French bureaucracy (yes, there's probably no news there, but it's always a bit sad -- and I say this as a Francophile -- to hear when the bureaucrats live up to their stereotypes).

The story of the first sound recordist, Leon Scott, is fascinating and sad. Leon Scott was desperate to preserve his legacy and protect his name, and he was crestfallen when, despite his personal pleas to Edison, the American would not even acknowledge Leon Scott's contributions to sound recording during his visits to France. Happily, Leon Scott's great grandson, Laurent Scott de Martinville, surfaced during the news coverage of Dave's sound discoveries last year. Asked by the BBC whether the history of recorded sound would now have to be rewritten, Laurent said, with diplomatic understatement, "No, only a few sentences... but key ones."

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.