I’ve been checking out the audio holdings in the National Jukebox recently and they’re very interesting! Most aren’t good enough to post here—they’re too damaged. They were mostly recorded on scratched wax cylinders. The scratches create a static noise. Add to that, the recording techniques used then are primitive by today’s standards. Often it’s difficult to hear what is said or sung over all the unintentional noise. Suffice it to say, this was long before Phil Spector came up with his Wall of Sound idea!

I found two recordings that are pretty well-preserved. One of the songs, Senza Nisciuno, is by the great tenor Enrico Caruso! The literal translation of the title is “without anyone” but the English title is Forsaken. It was recorded in September 1919.  This was Take 4, if little details interest you!

The other song is French and it’s called Pourquoi me Reveiller ? by Edmond Clément. There’s no English translation but it means something like “Why Wake Up?”

Any audio recorded prior to 1930 feels very outside of our modern world so it’s paired with some photos that were taken within the same time period—and yet a world away from the music.  The first picture shows an elderly person seated beneath a large, intricate carving. It’s labeled: “Spinning thread on bare knee. Old Witch Doctor, Skenna River Indians.”

The idea of witch doctors is darkly fascinating to me. Of course, it may only be a colorful way to describe a homeopathic doctor who uses natural remedies but some people have powers that are beyond the province of modern medicine. They might treat other complaints, so to speak, and they’ve sworn no Hippocratic oath! I’d probably be too afraid to visit a witch doctor.

There is a Skeena River in British Columbia where two native tribes lived. I think that is where this photo was taken. According to Wikipedia, “Since ancient times, the Skeena has been an important transportation artery, particularly for the Tsimshian and the Gitxsan—whose names mean ‘inside the River of Mist’ and ‘people of the River of Mist,’ respectively.”

And I found another photo of native people in a canoe on the Skeena River.

Going back to the music. In some ways, I appreciate the static and the low-fi nature of these recordings. It makes them feel more haunting and authentic, as though the singers and musicians exist now and they’re communicating from far away, from some place we can’t reach.

Since the 1990s, most pop music has an electronic component that’s made in the studio by a machine–it’s a feature of the recording. It’s flawless because it’s not human, but it’s the humanity that made it interesting in the first place. It’s the same idea as airbrushed photos. You get an idealized image or sound—but not the real thing. Oddly enough, it would be very difficult for our advanced equipment to duplicate the sound quality of these recordings. Their flaws are a seal of authenticity.

Maybe our flaws are the most interesting thing about us.