RO ON SPACE & SOUND – 7

SOUNDS OF BRANDS

Being in advertising has always made me think about my relationship with brands through a given day. Now, writing about Space & Sound makes me more acutely aware of my relationship with brands – through sounds.

As the early morning light vignettes the western skies, the iPhone alarm goes off. The resonant “ageng-kogeng-kogeng-geng” sound of a padded wooden Gamelan gong-beater is stifled halfway through the ring.

The kettle gurgles like a freshwater brook as it makes me my Bru Instant Coffee. I place the rice milk back in the refrigerator and it suddenly lets out a contented hum; if it were human, I’m almost sure it would snuggle up to me. I sit down to write this piece with my Macbook’s soft-touch keypad soothing my senses. It’s reassuring to hear that all the letters are appearing on the screen – as they should – without invading my space.

My Sonicare toothbrush buzzes, leaving each tooth squeaky-clean. As my blow-dryer blows my hair out into soft black silk, I wish it would be soundless like my Conair flatiron, which sometimes hisses at the wet strands.

In his previous post, Guy observes that music can both fill and create space. At the gym, it’s my very own world of auditory space through my iPod and my Bose headphones. I start on Level 2 with “Frenzy at The Feeder” by Brooks Williams, his complicated acoustic licks vying with Dan Crary’s flatpickin’ fretwork on “Dill Pickle Rag”. Level 3 meets the svelteness of “Cocktail Swing”. (Heavens, whatever did I do before Paul Englishby?) My endorphins escalate to the next level with a super-tight scratch, a tangoey mix oozing with vinyl soul by Gotan Project. Then, some pure gangsta rap, by one of its purest exponents Dr Dre, pounds into my ears. I identify with the fury at Level 6; it’s a strange mix of his anger and my elation. Sugar Ray Norcia winds me down, personally conveying his woes, and I wonder at how the Blues make me feel both low and high.

At night, Vedant turns on his new buy – the Venta Humidifier. I secretly think he has developed a “relationship” with it – not only because it moistens the air, but also because “it laps at the water gently all night like a thirsty puppy”, warming the cockles of his paternal heart.

How do brands or objects define your auditory space? What do they therefore mean to you?

Should a brand try to arrogate this space?