Slow Radio

Honey is a 15-year-old fox-red labrador who lives in Edinburgh with her owner and her fellow labrador Breagh.

We hear the slowly shifting sounds of Honey's world, from her peaceful breathing as she sleeps, to waking and padding around the house, clicking down the garden path, and hearing the birds in the garden while she runs on the grass, before loudly munching her breakfast. Someone snaps her photo as she sniffs around the allotments, gets a tour of a plot, encounters some very excited dogs, and spends time staring into a crackling fire.

She hops into the car for a quick trip, has a walk round the park where she's on the sidelines of a ballgame, and enjoys a long grooming session in the garden (listen out for a passing bee). You'll also hear from her many friends including an eight-year-old who has known Honey her whole life, and a neighbour who realises that Honey has decided to give up on her training, even for treat Slow Radio

We start our journey from one of Almaty's Soviet-era train stations, Almaty-2, built in the 1930s, with its paintings by Kazakh and Russian artists and the multi-lingual Tower of Babel representing the journey's start, in conversations and tannoy announcements.

We hear the old Soviet engines arriving into the station, disgorging their passengers before awaiting a new intake; we hear the slow steady rhythm of the train, as passengers in varied states of boredom chat to each other and eat meals; we hear the sound of scalding water being decanted from the samovar, to make the harsh tea beloved in these parts for so many years; in the dining car we hear passengers sharing food, drink and stories, as they eat 'Plov' and other traditional food.

We step out of the train at various points along the route, such as Turkistan (an ancient trade centre along the Silk Road) and Shymkent, where hawkers with their wares wait to sell food and drink.

After 33 hours on board a train, we arrive at Aralsk, a thriving fishing port until environmental degradation and diversion of rivers for agriculture saw the sea massively shrink. We journey by car across the former seabed, see camels at oases and hear the howling winds that sweep across the vast plains and desert, before finally arriving at the gently lapping Aral Sea, a shadow of its former self.

Producer: Michael Rossi

Experience an immersive journey by train across the vast expanse of the Kazakh Steppe.

Setting off with an ?oud player singing folklore music during a post-wedding ceremony and followed by a walk to home where family is gathered at a dinner table chit-chatting about food and how it is prepared, the recent events that resulted in the death of martyrs in Palestine and the earthquake that occurred in Syria/Turkey. Progressing through the day, Yazan goes down to the city centre farmers market (Al-hisbeh) where a number of street vendors are shouting out the prices of their products.

Upon joining friends to hang out, the journey travels further to a jam session when surprisingly the rhythm of the community turns into a small choir.

The journey ends with Sufi singer Shadi Al-ahmad intoning his voice in his historical Palestinian home with a cross vault ceiling that accents his baritone.

A journey through Ramallah captures nature sounds and a community's musical rhythm.

Setting off with an ‘oud player singing folklore music during a post-wedding ceremony and followed by a walk to home where family is gathered at a dinner table chit-chatting about food and how it is prepared, the recent events that resulted in the death of martyrs in Palestine and the earthquake that occurred in Syria/Turkey. Progressing through the day, Yazan goes down to the city centre farmers market (Al-hisbeh) where a number of street vendors are shouting out the prices of their products.

Excerpts of this recording were originally broadcast on Late Junction on the 24th April 2018.

During this recording, you can hear binaurally captured sound of towpath life, moorhens nesting on the banks and the movement through the 800-metre-long Islington Tunnel. You also hear Gus manoeuvring through the city road lock. The piece ends with Gus' new neighbour reading a traditional canal song called ?The First Cargo,' compiled in Folk Tales from the Canal Side by Ian Douglas.

Producers: Hunter Charlton, Ben Tulloh, Kitty McCargo Walklate

Editor: Ben Tulloh

Follow a canal boat down the canal from Camden through the Islington Tunnel to Hoxton.

During this recording, you can hear binaurally captured sound of towpath life, moorhens nesting on the banks and the movement through the 800-metre-long Islington Tunnel. You also hear Gus manoeuvring through the city road lock. The piece ends with Gus' new neighbour reading a traditional canal song called ‘The First Cargo,' compiled in Folk Tales from the Canal Side by Ian Douglas.

During this recording, you can hear binaurally captured sound of towpath life, moorhens nesting on the banks and the movement through the 800-metre-long Islington Tunnel. You also hear Gus manoeuvring through the city road lock. The piece ends with Gus’ new neighbour reading a traditional canal song called ‘The First Cargo,’ compiled in Folk Tales from the Canal Side by Ian Douglas.

12 miles off the coast of North Devon, Lundy has long been a place of refuge. Once ruled by Barbary pirates and political plotters, the island's stormy history has blown over, leaving a peaceful haven, awash with wildlife, and home to just 20 people. Stepping ashore from the ferry, MS Oldenburg, we'll be castaways for the night, and our to guide us, is the island's nature warden, Dean Woodfin-Jones. Walking the blustery coastal path, it's time to meet the seabirds - from late spring they nest here in the cliffs, and have trebled in recent years. From the raucous cackles of guillemots and razorbills, to the cries of kittiwakes and growls of Atlantic Grey seals, Lundy's coastline is like a polyphonic party throughout the summer breeding season. But after dark, a different kind of magic happens. At midnight, the island's generator turns off and suddenly there's no light, no internet - only the weather and the eerie sounds that emerge from the stillness. We'll be visited by Manx shearwaters, take shelter at the top of a lighthouse, and hear a lone skylark usher in the dawn.

Produced by Amelia Parker for BBC Wales

Cast away to Lundy Island in the Bristol Channel, a haven for seabirds and seals.

12 miles off the coast of North Devon, Lundy has long been a place of refuge. Once ruled by Barbary pirates and political plotters, the island's stormy history has blown over, leaving a peaceful haven, awash with wildlife, and home to just 20 people. Stepping ashore from the ferry, MS Oldenburg, we'll be castaways for the night, and our to guide us, is the island's nature warden, Dean Woodfin-Jones. Walking the blustery coastal path, it's time to meet the seabirds - from late spring they nest here in the cliffs, and have trebled in recent years. From the raucous cackles of guillemots and razorbills, to the cries of kittiwakes and growls of Atlantic Grey seals, Lundy’s coastline is like a polyphonic party throughout the summer breeding season. But after dark, a different kind of magic happens. At midnight, the island’s generator turns off and suddenly there's no light, no internet - only the weather and the eerie sounds that emerge from the stillness. We'll be visited by Manx shearwaters, take shelter at the top of a lighthouse, and hear a lone skylark usher in the dawn.

To be advised.

Sound can't travel across the vacuum of space but that doesn't mean there's nothing out there to be heard. By converting light and other signals into sound through the process of sonification we can experience the beauty of the cosmos with our ears. This musical journey begins on Earth, looking up at the night sky, and then takes off to travel through the solar system and beyond, eventually reaching the edge of the observable universe. Throughout the journey you will hear the patterns, cycles, waves - and in some cases, even literal sound - of the vast universe beyond Earth's atmosphere.

A variety of sonification techniques are used to create this cosmic soundscape. Radio and magnetic waves detected by satellites and space probes are converted into mysterious sweeping sounds that are reminiscent of sci-fi soundtracks. Literal sound waves rumbling through the sun are made audible by bringing their frequencies into the human hearing range, resulting in a deep meditative drone. The spiralling rhythms and subtle harmonies of planetary systems are realised by actual instruments after speeding up their motions by many times. Fluctuating light received from pulsating stars can be heard as rich, flickering tones and in some special cases, as rhythmic heart beats. Even telescopic images of distant galaxies can be converted into music by mapping visual properties to sonic qualities. At the farthest extreme, we can recreate the primordial sound waves that resonated shortly after the big bang to hear the descending hum of our expanding universe.

The universe is a very musical place; we just need to know how to listen.

The sounds of the cosmos revealed by sonification of astronomical data.

Sound can’t travel across the vacuum of space but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing out there to be heard. By converting light and other signals into sound through the process of sonification we can experience the beauty of the cosmos with our ears. This musical journey begins on Earth, looking up at the night sky, and then takes off to travel through the solar system and beyond, eventually reaching the edge of the observable universe. Throughout the journey you will hear the patterns, cycles, waves - and in some cases, even literal sound - of the vast universe beyond Earth’s atmosphere.

This half-hour soundscape begins with the geese pecking at the frozen lake at the northern tip of Central Park with the occasional sound of a passer by who has braved the weather.

As we head north to Harlem, walking up Malcolm X Boulevard, an invitation into the warmth of the Abyssinian Baptist Church is welcome. It is no ordinary service but a celebration of Martin Luther King Jr and we hear sounds of the pastor and gospel choir as they join together in worship.

Heading back out into the bracing cold, Harlem is busier. More people are gathered on the streets with stereos playing music, and public transport still in operation, battling against the snow.

Sounds of live jazz emerge from local restaurants and wandering inside is a refuge from the weather, joining crowds of brunch-goers enjoying live music, drinks, food and the company of others.

It takes about half an hour to walk from Central Park to the Jackie Robinson Park, where a flight of swallows can be heard returning us to the sounds of nature that we heard at the beginning of our walk.

A Sunday stroll through the New York neighbourhood of Harlem on a cold winter's day.

Johann Sebastian Bach was just 20 years old when he set out on foot to walk the 250 miles to Lübeck, home to the great composer and organist Dietrich Buxtehude. Horatio Clare retraces the young composer's steps in an immersive episode of BBC Radio 3's Slow Radio podcast.

This episode of Slow Radio is adapted from Bach Walks, a five-part series on BBC Radio 3. For more information and to listen again, visit the Radio 3 website.

In the fourth of five slow-radio' walks in which writer Horatio Clare searches for Bach's footsteps - and his ghost - Horatio Clare searches for his footsteps - and his ghost - the route takes him along the banks of the River Ilmenau from Medingen to Bienebuttel.

In the third of five 'slow-radio' walks in which writer Horatio Clare searches for Bach's footsteps - and his ghost - the route takes us through the beeches of the Oderwald and on into the town of Wolfenbuttel.

In the second of five 'slow-radio' walks in which writer Horatio Clare searches for his footsteps - and his ghost - the putative route takes him into the Harz Mountains and up to its highest point, the Brocken Summit.

Using a unique approach that combines field recordings and photographs translated into audio, the Uruguayan and Berlin-based artist Dar퀀o Dornel, aka Kirap, takes listeners on a captivating journey through the city's hidden soundscapes.

Pictures of recognisable city places are translated into sound using audio software through Bitmap's code conversion. A wide range of sounds is generated using various sound design tools and techniques. These sounds are combined with field recordings from the same places, creating an immersive sound exploration trip.

The journey starts at an old Berlin district, where listeners are greeted by the songs of birds, we then explore a street market in Neuk怀lln, a demonstration on the old Prussian road, to finally listening to the day fading out at a train station, and welcoming the night at a known corner in Mitte.

Whether you are a local or a first-time visitor, this sound piece offers a fresh perspective on Berlin's urban landscape and a new way to experience the city by uncovering hidden features initially unnoticed. Take advantage of this chance to imaginatively travel to Berlin and discover the sonic landscape that makes this city unique.

A combination of field recordings and images translated to sound.

Uruguayan artist Dar퀀o Dornel, aka Kirap, reveals Berlin's hidden urban landscape features by combining visual images translated into sound and field recordings.

Using a unique approach that combines field recordings and photographs translated into audio, the Uruguayan and Berlin-based artist Dar?o Dornel, aka Kirap, takes listeners on a captivating journey through the city's hidden soundscapes.

The journey starts at an old Berlin district, where listeners are greeted by the songs of birds, we then explore a street market in Neuk?lln, a demonstration on the old Prussian road, to finally listening to the day fading out at a train station, and welcoming the night at a known corner in Mitte.

The sounds of the cattle treading a route travelled for hundreds of years provide a relaxing half hour that will transport you to the beauty and tranquillity of Ireland's west coast.

Producer: Alasdair Cross

Thanks to farmer, Timmy Linnane and to the Burrenbeo Trust

Bliss out to the sound of a herd of contented cattle being walked to their winter grazing.

When Winter comes most hill farmers take their cattle off the high ground and place them in sheds until Spring. Geology allows them to do things a little differently on the Burren. In County Clare on the west coast of Ireland, the Burren is a flower-rich limestone plateau. In Summer the rock absorbs the heat and, like a giant night storage heater, it radiates the warmth out in the Winter. That makes life pretty agreeable for the region’s beef cattle. Each year the season to move the cattle is marked by a festival. The local priest sprinkles holy water on their coats and a chosen farmer walks his pregnant cows up the green road to the mountain grazing, followed by hundreds of locals and tourists eager to see the delighted leaping of the cattle as they reach the fresh grazing of their Winter home.

The sounds of the cattle treading a route travelled for hundreds of years provide a relaxing half hour that will transport you to the beauty and tranquillity of Ireland’s west coast.

In this edition, Slow Radio collaborates with an art project taking place at Riley Square. The project is an exploration of what makes a neighbourhood a home, and sound recordings and interviews have been made by artists Georgiou & Tolley ? asking ?how places feel' .

~Slow Radio curates their recordings and builds on them, making a sound portrait of Riley Square; inviting us to step away from what we're doing and just listen.

Riley Square was a big shopping attraction for decades, but retail has struggled in recent years. During that time the community has changed too. The area is now home to a community from across the world.

Their words and memories are our guide as we hear the concrete and the busyness of city life, the sound of wind whistling around tower blocks, and moments of beauty and calm.

Producer: Melvin Rickarby

A Must Try Softer Production

The sounds of Coventry's Riley Square.

In this edition, Slow Radio collaborates with an art project taking place at Riley Square. The project is an exploration of what makes a neighbourhood a home, and sound recordings and interviews have been made by artists Georgiou & Tolley – asking ‘how places feel' .

A sound portrait of Riley Square, Coventry

City life and moments of calm – a sound portrait of Riley Square in Coventry, recorded with artists Georgiou & Tolley.

In this edition, Slow Radio collaborates with an art project taking place at Riley Square. The project is an exploration of what makes a neighbourhood a home, and sound recordings and interviews have been made by artists Georgiou & Tolley – asking ‘how places feel’ .

~Slow Radio curates their recordings and builds on them, making a sound portrait of Riley Square; inviting us to step away from what we’re doing and just listen.

In this edition, Slow Radio collaborates with an art project taking place at Riley Square. The project is an exploration of what makes a neighbourhood a home, and sound recordings and interviews have been made by artists Georgiou & Tolley - asking ‘how places feel' .

Also joining us on the climb will be Derry-born dancer Zoe Ramsey. She was introduced to the sport by Dan and was instantly hooked. While their climbing styles might be as different as the art they create both see parallels between what they do in the studio and what they do on the rockface. Moving, balancing and extending for Zoe, drawing a line through a vertical landscape for Dan.

With the jangle of the metal wedges they use to protect their ascent hanging from their climbing harnesses and the 'thwip' of the rope running out we join the pair as they inch their way up the cliff face with the Irish sea roaring far below in a journey from the deep blue of the water to the pale blue of the sky.

Producer: Peter McManus

Tie on to the rope of artist and climber Dan Shipsides to go sea cliff climbing.

This episode of Slow Radio was originally podcasted in October 2017. We're grateful to the monks of Pluscarden Abbey for access to their collections of plainsong.

In this leisurely half hour, we witness the musical arrival of a freight train as it crosses the public highway into downtown Nashville. The rattle of the tracks and sonorous horn dissolve into the sounds of Broadway, the strip where every premises has windows open onto the street, spilling music out to draw tourists in. And between the bars, buskers plug the gaps.

It takes about half an hour to walk up and down Broadway from the Cumberland River - past honky tonks throbbing with Dolly Parton and Lynyrd Skynyrd covers, street renditions of Louis's Wonderful World and pedal-powered bars pumping out hits for bachelorette parties.

The sounds which compete for our attention within this cacophony provide as vivid a snapshot of contemporary Nashville as the freight train horn that sits so snugly within this cityscape, framing the downtown walk.

Produced by Hannah Dean with recordings by Alan Hall.

A Falling Tree production for BBC Radio 3.

A stroll down Broadway accompanied by sounds synonymous with the American South.

In this leisurely half hour, we witness the musical arrival of a freight train as it crosses the public highway into downtown Nashville. The rattle of the tracks and sonorous horn dissolve into the sounds of Broadway, the strip where every premises has windows open onto the street, spilling music out to draw tourists in. And between the bars, buskers plug the gaps.

It takes about half an hour to walk up and down Broadway from the Cumberland River - past honky tonks throbbing with Dolly Parton and Lynyrd Skynyrd covers, street renditions of Louis's Wonderful World and pedal-powered bars pumping out hits for bachelorette parties.

The sounds which compete for our attention within this cacophony provide as vivid a snapshot of contemporary Nashville as the freight train horn that sits so snugly within this cityscape, framing the downtown walk.

Produced by Hannah Dean with recordings by Alan Hall.

A Falling Tree production for BBC Radio 3.

Inge Thomson is a musician and composer who was brought up on Fair Isle and spent her childhood playing in rock pools and birdwatching. Her music has been influenced deeply by not only the traditional music of Fair Isle, but the sounds she grew up hearing around her - lapwings, the ever present and changing wind and the sea around her.

In this Slow Radio piece, producer Helen Needham accompanies Inge to Fair Isle after an absence of eight months. They explore the island together, from clifftop to cave, capturing the unique sounds of this special place. They also stop by the knitting studio of Marie Bruhat to capture her at work on her contemporary Fair Isle pieces. And finally we hear a sound composition created specially for BBC Radio 3 by Inge featuring sounds from Fair Isle.

Produced in Aberdeen by Helen Needham

Sound Composition by Inge Thomson

Mixed by Ron McCaskill

The ever-present and changing sound of the wind on Fair Isle.

Composer Iain Chambers creates a radiophonic sequence from the huge recording archive of the pan-EU Sounds of Changes project, a collaboration between 6 major European museums to document the huge change within our acoustic landscape.

From a walk through the narrow lanes of Dadar Flower Market as it springs into life in the early hours, to a hair-raising, ear-bending ride on an auto-rickshaw whizzing through traffic; from grandparents frolicking in the ocean surf, to the twilight hum of Bollywood blaring from inside of every taxi; hawkers by the sea, the roaring swell of commuters at Chhatrapaji Shivaji Terminus... and the frenzied joy of the Ganpati Visarjen (Ganesh Festival).

This is an aural trip like no other.

--

We begin at 3am - perhaps the only few short moments this city truly sleeps, with only the hum of electric lights and an arid breeze for company. Our first destination comes into focus: Dadar Flower Market - one of the largest on earth. Vast bundles of every bloom imaginable arrive and are tossed from high platforms - accompanied by yells and cries as they're ferried to stalls, and sellers begin their patter. As the sun rises, we're whisked to Mumbai's main train station, Chhatrapaji Shivaji Terminus, as it too sparks into life. Tannoy announcements in Marathi, English and Hindi pepper the preternatural calm as gradually, great diesel juggernaut huff and puff in... and tens of thousands of commuters huff, puff and rush out.

It's time to escape - via a hair-raising journey by tuk-tuk - to the ?Gateway of India?, Mumbai's harbour. Mid-morning, beside the sea, and commuters of a different kind - fishermen returning home - are bringing in their boats as tourists gawp and snap and are hawked at. A brief moment of repose in the back of a taxi is broken by the surreal and vivid sounds of local FM radio - complete with a swooning Bollywood soundtrack - as we arrive at Mumbai's beach, Chowpatty Gurgaon: a place where canoodling lovers rub shoulders with chattering pensioners, businessmen in suits weave past yelping children flying kites - all set to the thrum of sweepers on the boardwalk and the pulsing waves of the Indian Ocean.

Finally, as the sun goes down, we join the crowds filling every street in the city to celebrate the annual Ganpati Visarjen (Ganesh Festival) - immersed in the visceral sonic thrill of pulsating massed drums and celebration all around, as our journey ends. [Credit: 'Indian Ganpati Drums' by loganbking @ Freesound.org (CC BY 3.0)]

Producer: Steven Rajam

An Overcoat Media production for BBC Radio 3

An intimate, breath-close binaural portrait of the intoxicating Indian city of Mumbai.

It's time to escape - via a hair-raising journey by tuk-tuk - to the “Gateway of India”, Mumbai's harbour. Mid-morning, beside the sea, and commuters of a different kind - fishermen returning home - are bringing in their boats as tourists gawp and snap and are hawked at. A brief moment of repose in the back of a taxi is broken by the surreal and vivid sounds of local FM radio - complete with a swooning Bollywood soundtrack - as we arrive at Mumbai's beach, Chowpatty Gurgaon: a place where canoodling lovers rub shoulders with chattering pensioners, businessmen in suits weave past yelping children flying kites - all set to the thrum of sweepers on the boardwalk and the pulsing waves of the Indian Ocean.

It's time to escape - via a hair-raising journey by tuk-tuk - to the “Gateway of India??, Mumbai's harbour. Mid-morning, beside the sea, and commuters of a different kind - fishermen returning home - are bringing in their boats as tourists gawp and snap and are hawked at. A brief moment of repose in the back of a taxi is broken by the surreal and vivid sounds of local FM radio - complete with a swooning Bollywood soundtrack - as we arrive at Mumbai's beach, Chowpatty Gurgaon: a place where canoodling lovers rub shoulders with chattering pensioners, businessmen in suits weave past yelping children flying kites - all set to the thrum of sweepers on the boardwalk and the pulsing waves of the Indian Ocean.

Finally, as the sun goes down, we join the crowds filling every street in the city to celebrate the annual Ganpati Visarjen (Ganesh Festival) - immersed in the visceral sonic thrill of pulsating massed drums and celebration all around, as our journey ends. [Credit: Indian Ganpati Drums by loganbking @ Freesound.org (CC BY 3.0)]

We begin at 3am - perhaps the only few short moments this city truly sleeps, with only the hum of electric lights and an arid breeze for company. Our first destination comes into focus: Dadar Flower Market - one of the largest on earth. Vast bundles of every bloom imaginable arrive and are tossed from high platforms - accompanied by yells and cries as they’re ferried to stalls, and sellers begin their patter. As the sun rises, we're whisked to Mumbai’s main train station, Chhatrapaji Shivaji Terminus, as it too sparks into life. Tannoy announcements in Marathi, English and Hindi pepper the preternatural calm as gradually, great diesel juggernaut huff and puff in... and tens of thousands of commuters huff, puff and rush out.

It's time to escape - via a hair-raising journey by tuk-tuk - to the `Gateway of India`, Mumbai's harbour. Mid-morning, beside the sea, and commuters of a different kind - fishermen returning home - are bringing in their boats as tourists gawp and snap and are hawked at. A brief moment of repose in the back of a taxi is broken by the surreal and vivid sounds of local FM radio - complete with a swooning Bollywood soundtrack - as we arrive at Mumbai's beach, Chowpatty Gurgaon: a place where canoodling lovers rub shoulders with chattering pensioners, businessmen in suits weave past yelping children flying kites - all set to the thrum of sweepers on the boardwalk and the pulsing waves of the Indian Ocean.

We join Calum and Claire on their homeward journey, packing their bags, filling the car with all necessities and bidding farewell to their furry friend ?Lexie?, who is blissfully unaware of her owners' excitement as they turn their back on the city streets and hit the road to the isles.

On their way they stop off for quick refreshments and a pit stop, bargains and good food keeping Calum in fine tune singing along to popular island band ?Peat and Diesel? and their quirky, unorthodox lyrics.

Before long it's over the bridge to Skye, passing sunny Kyle for a short stop off at Claire's parents - where they receive a much longed-for embrace from her mother and grandfather. Then it's on the road again to Uig pier, gateway to the Outer Hebrides. A short walk to stretch tired legs, a phone call home, and a final dose of ferry queue panicking are par for the course, but all is well and they board the MV Hebrides to sail the last leg of their journey ? a trip across the Minch to North Uist, Calum's homeland.

Once again they become familiar with the smells and sounds of the car deck and ferry company Caledonian MacBrayne's on-board announcements. A walk on deck taking in the smell of the sea and the hills of North Uist in the distance is a sure sign that home is near at long last. From tourists to fellow exiles, tired passengers gather their belongings and make their way to their vehicles as the ferry berths at Lochmaddy. And finally, in the small hours and dim light of a summer morning, we hear Calum and Claire deal with an unusual traffic jam ? a neighbouring crofter's sheep on the road, the A867. But it's worth all the driving, sailing, snacking and singing when at long last, the young couple return to the warm welcoming party of Calum's parents.

A journey westwards from Scotland's biggest city to home in the Outer Hebrides.

We join Calum and Claire on their homeward journey, packing their bags, filling the car with all necessities and bidding farewell to their furry friend “Lexie”, who is blissfully unaware of her owners' excitement as they turn their back on the city streets and hit the road to the isles.

On their way they stop off for quick refreshments and a pit stop, bargains and good food keeping Calum in fine tune singing along to popular island band “Peat and Diesel” and their quirky, unorthodox lyrics.

Before long it's over the bridge to Skye, passing sunny Kyle for a short stop off at Claire's parents - where they receive a much longed-for embrace from her mother and grandfather. Then it's on the road again to Uig pier, gateway to the Outer Hebrides. A short walk to stretch tired legs, a phone call home, and a final dose of ferry queue panicking are par for the course, but all is well and they board the MV Hebrides to sail the last leg of their journey – a trip across the Minch to North Uist, Calum's homeland.

Once again they become familiar with the smells and sounds of the car deck and ferry company Caledonian MacBrayne's on-board announcements. A walk on deck taking in the smell of the sea and the hills of North Uist in the distance is a sure sign that home is near at long last. From tourists to fellow exiles, tired passengers gather their belongings and make their way to their vehicles as the ferry berths at Lochmaddy. And finally, in the small hours and dim light of a summer morning, we hear Calum and Claire deal with an unusual traffic jam – a neighbouring crofter's sheep on the road, the A867. But it's worth all the driving, sailing, snacking and singing when at long last, the young couple return to the warm welcoming party of Calum's parents.

After a break of over a year owing to Covid 19 Restrictions, Calum and Claire MacAulay travel back to their native Skye and North Uist for a long awaited reunion with family.

We join Calum and Claire on their homeward journey, packing their bags, filling the car with all necessities and bidding farewell to their furry friend “Lexie??, who is blissfully unaware of her owners' excitement as they turn their back on the city streets and hit the road to the isles.

On their way they stop off for quick refreshments and a pit stop, bargains and good food keeping Calum in fine tune singing along to popular island band “Peat and Diesel?? and their quirky, unorthodox lyrics.

Travelling nearly 300 miles by land and sea, across moorlands, by lochs and through villages, Calum (Malcolm) MacAulay and his wife Claire finally manage to make their homeward journey from Glasgow to Skye and then North Uist, having spent the last year pining for the sound of the sea and the warmth of their family homes. Like so many others during tight Covid-19 restrictions, the MacAulay’s felt imprisoned and exiled in the city - unable to travel back to their homeland.

We join Calum and Claire on their homeward journey, packing their bags, filling the car with all necessities and bidding farewell to their furry friend “Lexie”, who is blissfully unaware of her owners’ excitement as they turn their back on the city streets and hit the road to the isles.

Before long it’s over the bridge to Skye, passing sunny Kyle for a short stop off at Claire’s parents - where they receive a much longed-for embrace from her mother and grandfather. Then it’s on the road again to Uig pier, gateway to the Outer Hebrides. A short walk to stretch tired legs, a phone call home, and a final dose of ferry queue panicking are par for the course, but all is well and they board the MV Hebrides to sail the last leg of their journey – a trip across the Minch to North Uist, Calum’s homeland.

Once again they become familiar with the smells and sounds of the car deck and ferry company Caledonian MacBrayne’s on-board announcements. A walk on deck taking in the smell of the sea and the hills of North Uist in the distance is a sure sign that home is near at long last. From tourists to fellow exiles, tired passengers gather their belongings and make their way to their vehicles as the ferry berths at Lochmaddy. And finally, in the small hours and dim light of a summer morning, we hear Calum and Claire deal with an unusual traffic jam – a neighbouring crofter’s sheep on the road, the A867. But it’s worth all the driving, sailing, snacking and singing when at long last, the young couple return to the warm welcoming party of Calum’s parents.

We join Calum and Claire on their homeward journey, packing their bags, filling the car with all necessities and bidding farewell to their furry friend `Lexie`, who is blissfully unaware of her owners' excitement as they turn their back on the city streets and hit the road to the isles.

On their way they stop off for quick refreshments and a pit stop, bargains and good food keeping Calum in fine tune singing along to popular island band `Peat and Diesel` and their quirky, unorthodox lyrics.

Before long it's over the bridge to Skye, passing sunny Kyle for a short stop off at Claire's parents - where they receive a much longed-for embrace from her mother and grandfather. Then it's on the road again to Uig pier, gateway to the Outer Hebrides. A short walk to stretch tired legs, a phone call home, and a final dose of ferry queue panicking are par for the course, but all is well and they board the MV Hebrides to sail the last leg of their journey - a trip across the Minch to North Uist, Calum's homeland.

Once again they become familiar with the smells and sounds of the car deck and ferry company Caledonian MacBrayne's on-board announcements. A walk on deck taking in the smell of the sea and the hills of North Uist in the distance is a sure sign that home is near at long last. From tourists to fellow exiles, tired passengers gather their belongings and make their way to their vehicles as the ferry berths at Lochmaddy. And finally, in the small hours and dim light of a summer morning, we hear Calum and Claire deal with an unusual traffic jam - a neighbouring crofter's sheep on the road, the A867. But it's worth all the driving, sailing, snacking and singing when at long last, the young couple return to the warm welcoming party of Calum's parents.

Lockdown gave us the excuse to consider our own home environments in a new way. Household Gods takes this new focus further, exploring in depth and amplifying the sounds of domestic objects, arranged into a through-composed musique concr?te work.

This is a joyful sonic celebration of the domestic environment, starting in the present day, and travelling back in time to explore earlier homes, through historic sound research and sound design.

At times the domestic sound world is bustling, at others a haven of peace. We hear the technology that helps us cook, clean, relax, eat, pass time.

During lockdown, many of us rediscovered the hidden joy in the objects that surround us that we hadn't properly considered before our enforced isolation.

Composed and produced by Iain Chambers.

Composer Iain Chambers's celebration of the domestic soundworld

Lockdown gave us the excuse to consider our own home environments in a new way. Household Gods takes this new focus further, exploring in depth and amplifying the sounds of domestic objects, arranged into a through-composed musique concr耀te work.

Composer Iain Chambers’s celebration of the domestic sound world, starting in the present day before travelling back in time.

During lockdown, many of us rediscovered the hidden joy in the objects that surround us that we hadn’t properly considered before our enforced isolation.

An isolated farmhouse near Trawsfynydd was the birthplace of the iconic Welsh shepherd-poet Hedd Wyn. But there were hundreds more like him in this mountainous corner of Wales: the sons and daughters of tenant farmers, artisans and workers, who left school at 14 but were nurtured by the community, the chapel and the eisteddfod system, and emerged as writers skilled in the craft of strict metre poetry.

They left behind englynion - short poems in restricted syllables (like haiku), that often describe the landscape. Punctuating the serene Trawsfynydd soundscape, we intersperse englynion, by poets from the area, hearing them first in Welsh, and then in English. The poems, written a century ago and further back, draw on ancient traditions, and distil visual images into gems. Hedd Wyn's most admired is translated as: `I have walked by sweet streams in the nervous wind of the hill pastures, the sunlight a white arm about the old neck of the mountains.`

The impression is of a landscape haunted and re-populated by the poets that were moved during their lifetimes to write about their extraordinary surroundings - land they often worked hard on and tended themselves, and knew intimately.

With readings by poet and musician Gwyneth Glyn

A dawn chorus and poetry from Snowdonia

They left behind englynion – short poems in restricted syllables (like haiku), that often describe the landscape. Punctuating the serene Trawsfynydd soundscape, we intersperse englynion, by poets from the area, hearing them first in Welsh, and then in English. The poems, written a century ago and further back, draw on ancient traditions, and distil visual images into gems. Hedd Wyn's most admired is translated as: “I have walked by sweet streams in the nervous wind of the hill pastures, the sunlight a white arm about the old neck of the mountains.??

The impression is of a landscape haunted and re-populated by the poets that were moved during their lifetimes to write about their extraordinary surroundings – land they often worked hard on and tended themselves, and knew intimately.

They left behind englynion – short poems in restricted syllables (like haiku), that often describe the landscape. Punctuating the serene Trawsfynydd soundscape, we intersperse englynion, by poets from the area, hearing them first in Welsh, and then in English. The poems, written a century ago and further back, draw on ancient traditions, and distil visual images into gems. Hedd Wyn’s most admired is translated as: “I have walked by sweet streams in the nervous wind of the hill pastures, the sunlight a white arm about the old neck of the mountains.”

They left behind englynion ? short poems in restricted syllables (like haiku), that often describe the landscape. Punctuating the serene Trawsfynydd soundscape, we intersperse englynion, by poets from the area, hearing them first in Welsh, and then in English. The poems, written a century ago and further back, draw on ancient traditions, and distil visual images into gems. Hedd Wyn's most admired is translated as: ?I have walked by sweet streams in the nervous wind of the hill pastures, the sunlight a white arm about the old neck of the mountains.?

The impression is of a landscape haunted and re-populated by the poets that were moved during their lifetimes to write about their extraordinary surroundings ? land they often worked hard on and tended themselves, and knew intimately.

They left behind englynion – short poems in restricted syllables (like haiku), that often describe the landscape. Punctuating the serene Trawsfynydd soundscape, we intersperse englynion, by poets from the area, hearing them first in Welsh, and then in English. The poems, written a century ago and further back, draw on ancient traditions, and distil visual images into gems. Hedd Wyn's most admired is translated as: “I have walked by sweet streams in the nervous wind of the hill pastures, the sunlight a white arm about the old neck of the mountains.”

They left behind englynion ? short poems in restricted syllables (like haiku), that often describe the landscape. Punctuating the serene Trawsfynydd soundscape, we intersperse englynion, by poets from the area, hearing them first in Welsh, and then in English. The poems, written a century ago and further back, draw on ancient traditions, and distil visual images into gems. Hedd Wyn?s most admired is translated as: ?I have walked by sweet streams in the nervous wind of the hill pastures, the sunlight a white arm about the old neck of the mountains.?

Hugh Huddy discovers the night-time soundscape of a woodland in Suffolk by placing a binaural recording box in a tree and leaving it there overnight. Listening back to the recording, the secret life of the dark woods slowly reveals itself.

Producer: Cathy Robinson for BBC Wales

Hugh Huddy places a recording box in a tree and discovers the secrets of a wood at night.

Hugh Huddy discovers the night time soundscape of a woodland in Suffolk by placing a binaural recording box in a tree and leaving it there overnight. Listening back to the recording, the secret life of the dark woods slowly reveals itself.

The deities, or murtis, as they are known in Hinduism, represent the different aspects of God - in the form of beautifully carved statues. They are worshipped and cared for as the physical representations of God.

This episode of Slow Radio takes us to the Shree Sanatan Mandir, a Hindu temple in Leicester, where we recorded sounds from inside the temple across a whole Saturday. The mandir is one of the oldest and largest mainstream Hindu temples in Leicester, housed in a former Baptist chapel. There is one main ?prayer hall', home to 5 main shrines. But there are 17 shrines in all, representing the major Hindu deities including, amongst others, Krishna and his consort Radha; Ram and his wife Sita, his brother Laxman; as well as Hanuman, Ganesha, Shiva and Ambamata. In the wider temple building there are also other meeting rooms and halls.

During the recording you'll hear worship across the day - singing and prayer, readings from sacred texts, meditation for the women's group and quiet times for private devotion or chatting to the priest. You'll also hear Illa Majithia and Anil Chauhan from the temple committee explaining some of the sounds.

But the programme starts with the sound of volunteers cleaning the temple at daybreak, as the priest opens the curtains around the shrines, waking the deities, before washing them, dressing them in fresh clothes and decorating them with garlands of fresh flowers brought by the devotees, who are gathering for early morning worship.

Produced by Jo Dwyer. This is a Loftus Media production.

Following the rhythm of worship in a Hindu temple across a whole day.

This episode of Slow Radio takes us to the Shree Sanatan Mandir, a Hindu temple in Leicester, where we recorded sounds from inside the temple across a whole Saturday. The mandir is one of the oldest and largest mainstream Hindu temples in Leicester, housed in a former Baptist chapel. There is one main ‘prayer hall', home to 5 main shrines. But there are 17 shrines in all, representing the major Hindu deities including, amongst others, Krishna and his consort Radha; Ram and his wife Sita, his brother Laxman; as well as Hanuman, Ganesha, Shiva and Ambamata. In the wider temple building there are also other meeting rooms and halls.

There’s a gentle rhythm to everyday life in a Hindu temple, that follows carefully choreographed rituals linked to the care of the deities - creating a rich aural texture from dawn when the gods are woken, to nightfall when they sleep. The sounds wax and wane; each part of the day has its own soundscape, and the priest presides over it all. You’ll hear the constant sound of bells as a backdrop, rung by devotees as they approach the shrines, focussing their minds and alerting the deities to their presence.

This episode of Slow Radio takes us to the Shree Sanatan Mandir, a Hindu temple in Leicester, where we recorded sounds from inside the temple across a whole Saturday. The mandir is one of the oldest and largest mainstream Hindu temples in Leicester, housed in a former Baptist chapel. There is one main ‘prayer hall’, home to 5 main shrines. But there are 17 shrines in all, representing the major Hindu deities including, amongst others, Krishna and his consort Radha; Ram and his wife Sita, his brother Laxman; as well as Hanuman, Ganesha, Shiva and Ambamata. In the wider temple building there are also other meeting rooms and halls.

During the recording you’ll hear worship across the day - singing and prayer, readings from sacred texts, meditation for the women’s group and quiet times for private devotion or chatting to the priest. You’ll also hear Illa Majithia and Anil Chauhan from the temple committee explaining some of the sounds.

In the company of Betty Goines, who grew up on a shanty boat during the depression, Wes Modes takes his recreated shanty out on to the river, to gather stories for his Secret History of American River People project, and to live a life under the cosy tin roof of his shanty - close to the water, and all the elements..

Producer: Catherine Robinson for BBC Wales

A sonic journey into signal fires as a warning system and emblem of hope.

Producer: Catherine Robinson for BBC Wales

Just before dawn on a Sunday, she enters an church complex - all below ground level - where hundreds of pilgrims gather in white robes, incense burns, and drums and incantations fill the air.

Ethiopian Orthodox priests lead ceremonies and devotees pray with eyes closed and palms stretched upwards. As day breaks, birdsong and light filter into the scene and slowly pilgrims start to drift away.

To hear Redzi's Ethiopian journey in full go to BBC Sounds and search for 'Journey of a Lifetime

This episode of Slow Radio was originally podcasted in October 2017. We're grateful to the monks of Pluscarden Abbey for access to their collections of plainsong.

Wildlife sound recordist Chris Watson captures the changing soundscape from dusk to dawn, when you can see very little but hear everything; from the close up sounds of insects to the far-carrying contact calls of spotted hyenas.

Producer Sarah Blunt

Dawn to Dusk in the Kalahari Desert - a timelapse recorded by Chris Watson.

Kalahari means ‘large thirst' in the local language and between November and February summer temperatures can reach well over 40 degrees centigrade. To avoid the dry desiccating heat much of the wildlife has adopted nocturnal habits. Wildlife sound recordist Chris Watson captures the changing soundscape from dusk to dawn, when you can see very little but hear everything; from the close up sounds of insects to the far-carrying contact calls of spotted hyenas. Producer Sarah Blunt

Kalahari means ‘large thirst’ in the local language and between November and February summer temperatures can reach well over 40 degrees centigrade. To avoid the dry desiccating heat much of the wildlife has adopted nocturnal habits. Wildlife sound recordist Chris Watson captures the changing soundscape from dusk to dawn, when you can see very little but hear everything; from the close up sounds of insects to the far-carrying contact calls of spotted hyenas. Producer Sarah Blunt

This episode of Slow Radio was originally podcasted in October 2017. We're grateful to the monks of Pluscarden Abbey for access to their collections of plainsong.

I. Allegro: In Marrakech medina we take a walk through a maze of streets and stalls before arriving out onto the iconic Jemaa el-Fnaa square. Here, we're met with the hypnotising sound of pungi flutes and, as the sun sets, of gnawa musicians, jesters and Said Anazoure's intricate banjo playing.

II. Largo: We leave the city behind to seek refuge in the mountainous region of Ourika. Here, we hear sounds of village life, as well as the distant voices of children reciting the Koran from behind the school's door.

III. Scherzo: Having crossed the Atlas mountains, we descend towards the Draa Valley and its oasis, tuning in to the sound of the palmeries just outside Zagora. As night falls, crickets take their place alongside the mating calls of cats under the stars.

IV. Finale: We resume our drive, headed for a village outside Aït Benhaddou. A local family invites us to spend the night inside their tigmi, a traditional house, and attend an Ahwach ceremony with the musicians of Ahwach Asfalou.

With special thanks to Hamid Boukhch, Said Anazoure, Ahwach Asfalou (Mme Ijja, Hiba, Iken, Oumaghlif, Bendrisse, Hanafi, Ait houssa, Tabrahimte, Belmadan, Mr Haji, Mr Ifliisse, Almsalla, Belaabass, Benhdouch, Boularia, Ait Bikouch, Khalfi) and Alexa Kruger.

Produced by Andrea Campisi and Silvia Malnati

A Reduced Listening production for BBC Radio 3

Travels across the southeast of Morocco: a sonic road trip in four movements.

From the medina of Marrakech to the palmeries of Zagora, a sonic road trip in four movements across the southeast of Morocco.

Music binds together the voices of people living with dementias and their carers as they talk candidly and movingly about their everyday lives and comment on the world around them in a continuous 6 hour unpresented sequence of words and music.

David Papp, producer

Voices originally recorded by Created Out of Mind (an interdisciplinary team at Wellcome set up to challenge and shape perceptions and understandings of dementias through science and the creative arts) as part of series of podcasts, Talking Life.

The writer and poet Nan Shepherd spent all her life living in the outskirts of Aberdeen in the north east of Scotland close to the River Dee. She had a deep passion for the hills and spent much of her free time exploring the mountains of the Cairngorms. She wrote her iconic love letter to these wild places 'The Living Mountain' during the Second World War, but it lay untouched in a drawer until 1977 when it was finally published. In recent years, it has become one of the most celebrated pieces of nature writing ever to be written.

Nan describes the watercourses of the Cairngorm massif in incredible detail, including her beloved Dee which she followed to its source close to the top of Britain's third highest mountain, Braeriach. Producer Helen Needham undertakes that journey and captures the sounds of the places Nan writes about with readings from 'The Living Mountain'.

An elemental journey into the heart of the Cairngorms.

Inspired by Emily Dickinson's beautiful poem ?Nature is what we see - ? which invites us to contemplate our surroundings and listen to the natural world in all its variety.

The sounds of the city ? the freedom and excitement - take us towards evocations of nature and paradise.

An Overcoat Media production, produced by Melvin Rickarby.

Reader: Sue Brown

A slow radio escape into nature inspired by the poetry of Emily Dickinson.

A slow radio escape, into the freedom and excitement of the city, and beyond.

Inspired by Emily Dickinson's beautiful poem “Nature is what we see - ” which invites us to contemplate our surroundings and listen to the natural world in all its variety.

The sounds of the city – the freedom and excitement - take us towards evocations of nature and paradise.

An Overcoat Media production, produced by Melvin Rickarby.

Reader: Sue Brown

A slow radio escape into nature inspired by the poetry of Emily Dickinson.

A slow radio escape, into the freedom and excitement of the city, and beyond.

Inspired by Emily Dickinson's beautiful poem - ?Nature is what we see - ¦ - ? which invites us to contemplate our surroundings and listen to the natural world in all its variety.

The sounds of the city - ? the freedom and excitement - take us towards evocations of nature and paradise.

An Overcoat Media production, produced by Melvin Rickarby.

Reader: Sue Brown

A slow radio escape into nature inspired by the poetry of Emily Dickinson.

A slow radio escape, into the freedom and excitement of the city, and beyond.

Inspired by Emily Dickinson’s beautiful poem “Nature is what we se Slow Radio

The eerie sound of skimming stones on a frozen lake, music made from huge pieces of driftwood on the beach, the delicate tones of the traditional indigenous Ainu instrument, the Tonkori, plus improvised music from in and around Menu Earth Lab located within a series of experimental architectural spaces.

Production and Field Recordings by Nick Luscombe

Improvised musical and vocal performances by Makoto Nomura, Hawhawke and friends.

A Must Try Softer Production

Tokyo-based DJ and broadcaster Nick Luscombe explores the sound of winter in Japan.

Following on from Nick’s Japanese springtime soundscape from Tokyo last year, for this episode, we travel to the frozen north of the country - to Hokkaido, where we will be hearing the results of a research retreat featuring Japanese sound artist Makoto Nomura in collaboration with traditional and experimental musicians, all using the frozen wilderness as a musical instrument and sound source.

A magical late night listening experience - six musicians go into the Sussex woods to play nocturnal music with the nightingales, who gather there to sing at night each Spring. The soloists taking turns to respond musically to the nightingales are Clive Bell (Japanese bamboo flute); Laura Moody (cello and vocal); Sam Amidon, (violin and vocal), John Baily (rubab) with Veronica Doubleday (frame drum and vocal) ,and Sam Lee (vocal and harmonium). The entire programme takes place in the woods, recorded on one night in April. Verity Sharp presents, leading the listener into the wild nocturnal environment and describing the atmosphere, and folk singer and outdoorsman Sam Lee will explain the migratory behaviour of the birds, the character of their songs, and the habitats that they favour for singing.

This is a Slow Radio experience, immersing the listener in the remarkable and magical experience of the nocturnal songs of nightingales. They are rarely to be heard in England today, but this programme will lead your ears into one of the woods where they still migrate every Spring, to sing through the night.

And who knows what other sounds may be captured on the night - a fox bark, an owl hoot, frogs calling, the wind in the branches...

A magical late night listening experience - six musicians go into the Sussex woods to play nocturnal music with the nightingales, who gather there to sing at night each Spring. The soloists taking turns to respond musically to the nightingales are Clive Bell (Japanese bamboo flute); Laura Moody (cello and vocal); Sam Amidon, (violin and vocal), John Baily (rubab) with Veronica Doubleday (frame drum and vocal) ,and Sam Lee (vocal & harmonium). The entire programme takes place in the woods, recorded on one night in April. Verity Sharp presents, leading the listener into the wild nocturnal environment and describing the atmosphere, and folk singer and outdoorsman Sam Lee will explain the migratory behaviour of the birds, the character of their songs, and the habitats that they favour for singing.

A rare chance to hear nightingales singing, with musicians responding to them, in the Sussex woods. This is a Slow Radio experience, immersing the listener in the magical sound of this special songbird's nocturnal serenades. They are joined under the trees by Clive Bell playing Japanese bamboo flute, and by folk singer Sam Lee.

This field recording was made in collaboration with Sam Lee, who hosts Singing With Nightingales events every Spring at secret woodland locations in Southern England.

Nightingales singing with musicians in the Sussex woods at night.

Nightingales And Musicians In The Sussex Woods



And who knows what other sounds may be captured on the night - a fox bark, an owl hoot, frogs calling, the wind in the branches...

This field recording was made in collaboration with Sam Lee, who hosts Singing With Nightingales events every Spring at secret woodland locations in Southern England.

Nightingales singing with musicians in the Sussex woods at night.

On the beautiful Sandown Beach on the Isle of Wight stands a historic fort, now home to the Isle of Wight Zoo. It is run by the Wildheart Trust, which promotes the survival of endangered species, and is well-known as a centre for rescued big cats who, along with pocket-sized primates and other even smaller animals have a starring role in this portrayal of the sounds of the zoo.

The programme moves from dusk, as the animals prepare for sleep, through the small hours of the night, when the silence is punctuated by the sound of snoring, to dawn and the beginning of a new day.

~Slow Radio: Dusk to dawn at the Isle of Wight Zoo

On the beautiful Sandown Beach on the Isle of Wight stands a historic fort, now home to the Isle of Wight Zoo. It is run by the Wildheart Trust, which promotes the survival of endangered species, and is well known as a centre for rescued big cats who, along with pocket sized primates and other even smaller animals have a starring role in this portrayal of the sounds of the zoo. The programme moves from dusk, as the animals prepare for sleep, through the small hours of the night, when the silence is punctuated by the sound of snoring, to dawn and the beginning of a new day.

(The music is from the Symphonia Domestica, which Richard Strauss worked at while on holiday in Sandown in the early years of the last century, staying at a hotel just a few hundred yards from the zoo.)

~Slow Radio: Night-time at the Zoo

~Slow Radio: Dusk to dawn at the Isle of Wight Zoo.

On the beautiful Sandown Beach on the Isle of Wight stands a historic fort, now home to the Isle of Wight Zoo. It is run by the Wildheart Trust, which promotes the survival of endangered species, and is well known as a centre for rescued big cats who, along with pocket-sized primates and other even smaller animals have a starring role in this portrayal of the sounds of the zoo. The programme moves from dusk, as the animals prepare for sleep, through the small hours of the night, when the silence is punctuated by the sound of snoring, to dawn and the beginning of a new day.

Our sonic journey begins beneath a vast wind turbine, situated on the North Blyth Peninsula. We hear the rhythmic, atmospheric sounds of the spinning, whirring wind turbine blades, suspended between water. To the west, we hear ships travelling into the port of Blyth - still an important working port. To the east, we hear the crashing waves of the North Sea against the sea wall and screeching seagulls dive-bombing for fish.

We continue our journey north, following the hum of overhead electric wires and the roar of the dual carriageway up to the biomass power station in Lynemouth, a huge industrial building nestled alongside a beautiful coastline.

We then move into the town of Blyth through its cafes, bus stations and the high-street shopping centre before wandering back along to the port opposite the peninsula where our journey started. We hear the water lapping.

It is the geographical placement of this part of Northumberland that makes it such a rich place for renewable energy - the port, the sea, the wind and the space that has not been developed. Once a fertile ground for fossil fuels, the area has continued to be a place supporting industry, now in the form of renewable energy.

This soundscape reveals the way that human intervention can harness the power of our natural world, whilst also protecting and sustaining it.

Producer and Sound Designer: Calum Perrin

With thanks to Kevin Cochrane, lubrication engineer at Lynemouth Power Station for additional recordings.

A Loftus Media Production for BBC Radio 3

The sounds of\u00a0energy generation across the industrial heart of Northumberland.

This edition of Slow Radio focuses on the evolution of energy in Northumberland’s former industrial heartlands, from past eras of mining and coal-fired power stations to its present-day role as a leader in the green energy industry.

This site ? an isolated shingle spit on the Suffolk coast ? once played a key role in the UK's development of radar and ballistics. Since buying Orford Ness from the Ministry of Defence in 1993, the National Trust's policy has been one of 'managed decline' ? these buildings are now overrun by nature.

The excitement felt by Bletchley Park's wartime codebreakers was once felt here too: Britain's greatest scientific brains; 400 civilians; the unacknowledged thousands of Chinese migrant workers, were solving a singular puzzle: how to build a nuclear weapon. Bomb-making justified as deterrence.

Today, Orford Ness gives an insight into what a post-apocalyptic built environment might look and sound like. Air ducts once used to ventilate missile laboratories now burst open, exposing the packed nests of roosting birds.

This programme takes listeners into buildings that are otherwise out of bounds, revealing the abundant wildlife now ruling the roost in the bomb ballistics buildings ? we hear seagulls 'playing' the buildings with their cries; bees and skylarks; baby jackdaws duetting with the crunch of gravel footsteps; external metal stairwells transformed into aeolian harps: giant wind chimes peacefully intoning their pentatonic melodies towards the slow-moving vessels on the horizon.

Producer: Iain Chambers

An Open Audio production for BBC Radio 3

This site – an isolated shingle spit on the Suffolk coast – once played a key role in the UK's development of radar and ballistics. Since buying Orford Ness from the Ministry of Defence in 1993, the National Trust's policy has been one of 'managed decline' – these buildings are now overrun by nature.

This programme takes listeners into buildings that are otherwise out of bounds, revealing the abundant wildlife now ruling the roost in the bomb ballistics buildings – we hear seagulls 'playing' the buildings with their cries; bees and skylarks; baby jackdaws duetting with the crunch of gravel footsteps; external metal stairwells transformed into aeolian harps: giant wind chimes peacefully intoning their pentatonic melodies towards the slow-moving vessels on the horizon.

This site - an isolated shingle spit on the Suffolk coast - once played a key role in the UK's development of radar and ballistics. Since buying Orford Ness from the Ministry of Defence in 1993, the National Trust's policy has been one of 'managed decline' - these buildings are now overrun by nature.

This programme takes listeners into buildings that are otherwise out of bounds, revealing the abundant wildlife now ruling the roost in the bomb ballistics buildings - we hear seagulls 'playing' the buildings with their cries; bees and skylarks; baby jackdaws duetting with the crunch of gravel footsteps; external metal stairwells transformed into aeolian harps: giant wind chimes peacefully intoning their pentatonic melodies towards the slow-moving vessels on the horizon.

Joe has recorded over 20 hours of close encounters with wild life and domestic animals, and this Slow Radio piece will take the chance to really zoom in on the incredible richness of sounds which he has recorded here over six months.

This is one of the most unique locations for untamed wild life and birds and this has enabled Joe to get right in there among the penguins, the seals, and the sea birds that cover the cliffs. He is also present at every part of the farmer's life - sawing the over grown horns of the sheep, birthing calves, and helping with the milking.

The landscape itself is as rich a sound terrain - from getting on and off the tiny boats, and fishing vessels, scrabbling down the cliffs or into the heart of the volcano itself.

This will be one of those rare things - an animal paradise for the ears.

Producer: Sara Jane Hall

Music from

Rogue's Gallery: Pirate Ballads, Sea Songs and Chanteys

Imaginary Songs From Tristan da Cunha by Deathprod

Wildlife in your ears from the world's most remote island community - Tristan da Cunha.

Take away the chill of northern climes, make sure you are close to the metal roof, and you get to hear the very essence of acoustic excitement; a rhythmic patterning that fills the air with excitement.

I've long been collecting sounds of rain on tin roofs; tin sheds under attack from the monsoons of Liberia; an unrelenting downpour on an open porch in a nutmeg plantation in Indonesia; a shanty boat in Tennessee under the full force of a lightning storm; a preacher exhorting his congregation to rejoice in the joys of God's gift of rain , in the midst of an almost deafening roar of rain,

Lay back, let the radio's magic shelter you from the storm.

Producer: Sara Jane Hall

Drench yourself in an acoustic downpour.

An antidote to today's frenzied world. Step back, let go, immerse yourself: it's time to go slow.

Listen to the sounds of birds, mountain climbing, monks chanting as you go about your day. A lo-fi celebration of pure sound.

I've long been collecting sounds of rain on tin roofs; tin sheds under attack from the monsoons of Liberia; an unrelenting downpour on an open porch in a nutmeg plantation in Indonesia; a shanty boat in Tennessee under the full force of a lightning storm; a preacher exhorting his congregation to rejoice in the joys of God’s gift of rain , in the midst of an almost deafening roar of rain,

Lay back, let the radio’s magic shelter you from the storm.

For this episode of Slow Radio, composer and sound artist Nina Perry has created an immersive soundscape, capturing the rhythm of rest and flow from sounds she recorded at the dream(ing) field lab 3-day retreat in the wild Somerset countryside. These found sounds are subtly abstracted to create an ambient dreamlike piece that encourages rest and relaxation. The audible natural world mingles with the bubbling laughter of black women and femmes ringing through the fields; the gentle emergence into the day marked by a dawn chorus of tents being unzipped, morning salutations and birdsong ? We hear glimpses of conversations, a herb walk to discover some of the native plants and their properties, before coming to rest on the earth at the roots of entwining trees.

Dream(ing) field lab is a Common Ground commission by Season for Change, a nationwide programme of artistic and cultural events that celebrate the environment and inspire urgent climate action. Led by Julie's Bicycle and Artsadmin, and supported by Arts Council England and Paul Hamlyn Foundation.

Composed and Produced by Nina Perry

Photography by Flannery Miller

An Open Audio Production for BBC Radio 3

In the dream(ing) field, black women and femmes re-vision their relationship with land.

For this episode of Slow Radio, composer and sound artist Nina Perry has created an immersive soundscape, capturing the rhythm of rest and flow from sounds she recorded at the dream(ing) field lab 3-day retreat in the wild Somerset countryside. These found sounds are subtly abstracted to create an ambient dreamlike piece that encourages rest and relaxation. The audible natural world mingles with the bubbling laughter of black women and femmes ringing through the fields; the gentle emergence into the day marked by a dawn chorus of tents being unzipped, morning salutations and birdsong – We hear glimpses of conversations, a herb walk to discover some of the native plants and their properties, before coming to rest on the earth at the roots of entwining trees.

Dream(ing) field lab is a Common Ground commission by Season for Change, a nationwide programme of artistic and cultural events that celebrate the environment and inspire urgent climate action. Led by Julie’s Bicycle and Artsadmin, and supported by Arts Council England and Paul Hamlyn Foundation.

For this episode of Slow Radio, composer and sound artist Nina Perry has created an immersive soundscape, capturing the rhythm of rest and flow from sounds she recorded at the dream(ing) field lab 3-day retreat in the wild Somerset countryside. These found sounds are subtly abstracted to create an ambient dreamlike piece that encourages rest and relaxation. The audible natural world mingles with the bubbling laughter of black women and femmes ringing through the fields; the gentle emergence into the day marked by a dawn chorus of tents being unzipped, morning salutations and birdsong - We hear glimpses of conversations, a herb walk to discover some of the native plants and their properties, before coming to rest on the earth at the roots of entwining trees.

We stand above a cove. The air is filled with the haunting cries of the grey seals below us, and a soap opera of their lives unfolds. Through the human-sounding calls of the pups, the grunts and splashes of the bull seals as they are looking to mate again, and the sea birds and lapping water, we're immersed in the sonic world of one of the most remarkable coastlines of Britain. Susan considers the mythical stories around the creatures through poetry and her own observations, the ways their lives have intertwined with human ones, and the ecological threats they face in reality.

Produced by Cathy Robinson for BBC Cymru Wales

The haunting cries of grey seals in Pembrokeshire and tales of selkie folk.

Writer and poet Susan Richardson invites us to a seal pupping beach on the Pembrokeshire coast; a world that has inspired tales of shape-shifting selkie folk and mermaids.

From the opening establishing shot - the sound of whistles and shunting engines, off in the distance - we are moved along in a river of wheeled luggage through the cathedral acoustics of a station building to take our seat in the carriage of the overnight train. The scenes are unhurried as bunks are unfolded and brief snatches of conversation overheard. We set off - a gentle accelerando of wheels and rails - and time stretches: there are no voices now, just the music of the train's motion through the night.

Produced by Phil Smith

A Reduced Listening production for BBC Radio 3

A collage of rhythm and movement as overnight trains weave their way across Ukraine.

Tune in, drop out. It's time to go slow.

A dream-like collage of rhythm and movement as overnight trains weave their way across Ukraine through sounds gathered in 2017.

In his book Writings About Music, from 1967, the composer Steve Reich writes about the idea to ?very gradually slow down a recorded sound to many times its original length without changing its pitch or timbre at all?. At the time the idea was a concept on paper, because it was technologically impossible to realise.

Inspired by this idea, the Stockholm-based Swedish artist Milo Lav?n explores the modern computers possibilities to slowing down sounds. Just as extreme slow motion in film allows one to see minute details, normally impossible to see, slow motion sounds let you hear details and harmonics that one would never notice otherwise. It lets one stay in the sonic moment and wander around to explore hidden aspects of the sound. The smallest sound can become a vast soundscape with subtle harmonies and undulating harmonics drifting through.

Sounds from a horn section in Berlin, an amateur choir in Stockholm and other musical sounds are here, step by step, slowed down to many times their original length and gradually revealing more and more of the sonic hidden world within.

Stockholm-based artist Milo Laven explores the world of slow motion sounds.

In his book Writings About Music, from 1967, the composer Steve Reich writes about the idea to ”very gradually slow down a recorded sound to many times its original length without changing its pitch or timbre at all”. At the time the idea was a concept on paper, because it was technologically impossible to realise.

Inspired by this idea, the Stockholm-based Swedish artist Milo Lav退n explores the modern computers possibilities to slowing down sounds. Just as extreme slow motion in film allows one to see minute details, normally impossible to see, slow motion sounds let you hear details and harmonics that one would never notice otherwise. It lets one stay in the sonic moment and wander around to explore hidden aspects of the sound. The smallest sound can become a vast soundscape with subtle harmonies and undulating harmonics drifting through.

In his book Writings About Music, from 1967, the composer Steve Reich writes about the idea to ??very gradually slow down a recorded sound to many times its original length without changing its pitch or timbre at all??. At the time the idea was a concept on paper, because it was technologically impossible to realise.

In his book Writings About Music, from 1967, the composer Steve Reich writes about the idea to `very gradually slow down a recorded sound to many times its original length without changing its pitch or timbre at all`. At the time the idea was a concept on paper, because it was technologically impossible to realise.

Take your ears on a binaural summer holiday through the Mallorcan town of Soller.

In the days before radar, it was difficult to detect the presence of enemy aircraft. So, as an experiment, a group of large, smooth concrete structures was built on the Romney Marsh as an early warning system against German air attack during WWI. The giant concrete bowls were designed to capture, amplify and focus sound. Using a listening trumpet or, some years later, a microphone, an operator could then plot the distance of the enemy. These sound mirrors were made redundant by the invention of radar, but they still stand, in the middle of a nature reserve, itself a bio-diverse habitat which is home to an array of outstanding wildlife.

In the 60s, such structures were regarded as wartime litter; some of them were destroyed. But after years of neglect, they are increasingly cherished. People stumble upon them and are taken aback, asking each other what on earth they might be. Children get close to them, touch them, and talk to them. Words spoken at one end of the curved wall can be heard at the other end, 200 feet away. The sound mirrors seem to bring out the best in people – there is always lots of laughter. This episode of slow radio was recorded during open days earlier this year.

Echoes from the sea and the sky: a visit to the Romney Marsh acoustic mirrors.

In the days before radar, it was difficult to detect the presence of enemy aircraft. So, as an experiment, a group of large, smooth concrete structures was built on the Romney Marsh as an early warning system against air attack. The giant concrete bowls were designed to capture, amplify and focus sound. Using a listening trumpet or, some years later, a microphone, an operator could then plot the distance of the enemy. These sound mirrors were made redundant by the invention of radar, but they still stand, in the middle of a nature reserve, itself a bio-diverse habitat which is home to an array of outstanding wildlife.

Echoes from the sea and the sky: a visit to the acoustic mirrors at Denge, on the Romney Marsh.

In the 60s, such structures were regarded as wartime litter; some of them were destroyed. But after years of neglect, they are increasingly cherished. People stumble upon them and are taken aback, asking each other what on earth they might be. Children get close to them, touch them, and talk to them. Words spoken at one end of the curved wall can be heard at the other end, 200 feet away. The sound mirrors seem to bring out the best in people ? there is always lots of laughter. This episode of slow radio was recorded during open days earlier this year.

In this new work, Iain sets up dialogues between the sounds of obsolete industrial technology employed in manufacturing, communications, transport and agriculture, along with domestic sounds from bygone eras.

Iain has worked with this sound archive for a number of years. His hoerspiel for Westdeutscher Rundfunk, 'The Eccentric Press', was a finalist in the 2016 Prix Palma Ars Acustica.

Here, the recordings are presented unmodified, in a through-composed, meditative sequence. We hear weaving looms giving way to typewriters; ticket-printing machines and foundries; obsolete computers and stationary steam engines. These previously-familiar, now long-forgotten sounds transport us back in time, evoking memories, and sometimes demanding consideration as quasi-musical material.

When our era is described to our ancestors, the pace of change will surely rival the industrial revolution. Sound of Changes documents this rapid change, as witnessed by the huge change in the acoustic landscape.

Cast list:

Tower clocks

Quartz clock ticking

Spirit duplicator

Manual cardboard cutter machine

Paper–cutting scissors

Card duplicating machine

Wall clock

Fire department bell

Lynotype line casting machine

Typographical printing machine

Trip hammer

Buttonhole machine

Ticket printing machine

Tumble-wash

Tug boat

Weaving machine

Braiding machine

Shuttle loom

Threshing with hand flails

Sawmill crankwheel

Angel chimes

Automatic telephones

Alarm clock

Pencil sharpener

Camera shutter release

Portable typewriters

Mechanical calculator

Cash register

Horizontal gang saw

Wire weaving loom

Stationary engine

Horizontal milling machine

Kessel sharpening machine

Floating mill, water wheel

Link bending machine

Pursemaker

A sequence of industrial and domestic sounds from across Europe by composer Iain Chambers

Paper?cutting scissors

Paper-cutting scissors

For several years, the sound artist and composer Tim Shaw has been recording the sounds of Jarrow Slake, at high and low tide, at ground level and underwater. He captures the sounds of industry, of passing ships, the different birds, the wind and the water. And the astonishing musical noises of the tiny aquatic creatures.

Sounding Jarrow Slake is a Slow Radio piece composed of these remarkable sounds, punctuated by bare fragments of information about the history - social, industrial and natural - of this remarkable place.

Producers: Tim Shaw and Julian May

The remarkable sounds of Jarrow Slake, above the surface and below, at high and low tide.

For several years, the sound artist and composer Tim Shaw has been recording the sounds of Jarrow Slake, at high and low tide, at ground level and under water. He captures the sounds of industry, of passing ships, the different birds, the wind and the water. And the astonishing musical noises of the tiny aquatic creatures.

Composer Iain Chambers creates a radiophonic sequence from the huge recording archive of the pan-EU Sounds of Changes project, a collaboration between 6 major European museums to document the huge change within our acoustic landscape.

In this new work, Iain sets up dialogues between the sounds of obsolete industrial technology employed in manufacturing, communications, transport and agriculture, along with domestic sounds from bygone eras.

Iain has worked with this sound archive for a number of years. His hoerspiel for Westdeutscher Rundfunk, 'The Eccentric Press', was a finalist in the 2016 Prix Palma Ars Acustica.

Here, the recordings are presented unmodified, in a through-composed, meditative sequence. We hear weaving looms giving way to typewriters; ticket-printing machines and foundries; obsolete computers and stationary steam engines. These previously-familiar, now long-forgotten sounds transport us back in time, evoking memories, and sometimes demanding consideration as quasi-musical material.

When our era is described to our ancestors, the pace of change will surely rival the industrial revolution. Sound of Changes documents this rapid change, as witnessed by the huge change in the acoustic landscape.

In this episode, there are the mesmerising sounds of storm Erik tearing through the rigging and halyards on the boats in Blyth harbour, Northumberland.

We glide to Ouse Washes in the Fenland country where Bewick's swans, coots, lapwings, reed buntings and skylarks fill the air with song.

And in the evening heavy seas of Gossabrough on Yell Island, Northern Shetland, there are eiders, Arctic terns, fulmars, skylarks and wrens.

The music includes Tom Waits's No One Knows I'm Gone performed by The Unthanks, Troyte (Elgar's evocation of a thunderstorm), Hoagy Carmichael's Skylark, Alan Hovhaness's Prayer of St. Gregory and Jim Ghedi's folk masterwork Fortingall Yew.

With field recordings by Karen Hall, Tim Dowling, Stefan Taylor and Chris Watson.

With field recordings by Chris Watson, Jan Henslow, Richard Reich, Tim Lomas, Canon Daniel Inman and Nicholas Adams.

With field recordings by Chris Watson, Heather Wright and Tom and Jan Perrett.

With field recordings by Chris Watson, Susan Toogood, Jackie Fearnley and Anthony Sellors.

Includes listener recordings made by Michael Bawtree and Paul Miles, BBC Natural History Unit recordings from Tim Bevan and Paul Reddish, and several made by sound recordist Chris Watson.

With field recordings by Kevin Tomkins, Julian Tanner, Tom Perrett and Ollie Marks.

With field recordings by Chris Watson, Maria Margaronis, Sharon Sanderson and Hward Seaton.

With field recordings by Gill French, Chris Watson, Eddie Breeveld, Alan Ward and Tom Dowling.

With field recordings by Chris Watson, Matthew Rose, Callum and Kate in Southwest Ross-shire and Jane and Tim from Plympton, Devon.

With field recordings by Hugh Manistree, Grace Niska Atkins, Christopher Hammond and Dave Reid.

With field recordings by Chris Watson, Timothy Dowling, Martin Handley, and Steve Urquhart.

With field recordings by Les Pratt, Bronwen Buckeridge, Chris Watson, and Stephanie Lyons.

With field recordings by Mary Edwards and Scott Armbruster, John Mears, Robin Mills and Pete Kirkman.

The first of two programmes walking the North Sea coast. As the rising December sun brings warmth and light to the coast in the depths of winter, Horatio takes delight in the minute detail of the plants, the wildlife, the sounds and wide east coast vistas he experiences on the walks. Suffused with music reflecting the feel and mood of the coastline, he captures the ever changing light and shifting seas and sands of these liminal places.

HORATIO CLARE chases the sunrise along the Pilgrim's Path to Holy Island.

The second of two programmes walking the North Sea coast. As the rising winter sun brings warmth and light to the coast in the middle of winter, Horatio takes delight in the minute detail of the plants, the wildlife, the sounds and wide East Coast vistas he experiences on the walks. Suffused with music reflecting the feel and mood of the coastline, he captures the ever changing light and shifting seas and sands of these liminal places.

HORATIO CLARE welcomes a Lincolnshire dawn across The Wash.

BBC TV's Winterwatch presenter - natural historian Gillian Burke - chooses music and natural sounds from the BBC Sound Effects Library that encourage her own personal wellbeing.

This soundscape includes gentle lapping of waves, the sound of wind rustling the leaves of ash trees in a wood, and the calls of doves and nocturnal crickets, which remind her of her childhood in Kenya.

There's also music by William Grant Still, Gustav Holst, Bill Evans, Aretha Franklin, Matthew Halsall and the Rev Milton Brunson.

Part of the BBC's Soundscapes for Wellbeing project - for more information go to bbc.co.uk/soundsapesforwellbeing

Winterwatch's Gillian Burke with music and natural sounds that help with her wellbeing.

It begins inside the north bascule chamber of Tower Bridge, a brick-lined void where we hear the descent and raising of a huge counterweight.

Next we hear the wash of passing boats at an old coal jetty in Greenwich, then the clattering of flagpoles in the wind at the mouth of the Royal Albert Dock. Since the recording was made, the flagpoles have been removed during the Dock's redevelopment into a marina surrounded by new housing. Further east, there are the bangs and pops of a clay pigeon range on the Dartford Marshes heard from across the river. They're among the last audible survivors of the river's gunpowder age of wildfowling and cannon batteries.

The river matures into an estuary at the start of Sea Reach by Canvey Island, where repeated blasts of an oil refinery's siren make a vast and mournful noise. Pigeons coo and scuffle in a derelict building on the Kent shore as a prelude to the abundant sounds of wild fowl and insects on the Allhallows Marshes on a bright summer's afternoon.

Waves lap quietly at the shore before night falls, then a marsh frogs' chorus joins the deep hum of container ships passing to and from the deepwater docks at Tilbury. Along the estuary the sounds of nature are always intermingled with those of industry and transport, perhaps prophetic of the future of the natural world in general.

The journey ends at low tide on the Maplin Sands in Essex, a quiet wasteland of puddles and worm casts stretching to the horizon.

Producer: Ian Rawes

Executive Producer: Iain Chambers

An Open Audio production for BBC Radio 3

A journey along the Thames from Tower Bridge to the North Sea by field recordist Ian Rawes

The evocative sounds of Durham Cathedral recorded in a single day. Huge spaces in a remarkable 12th-century building, the 300-year-old bells and quiet moments in smaller spaces.

We spent a whole day recording sounds from early morning when the cathedral is opened up at 7.00 am; the contemplative early morning spoken service; visitors to the huge nave of the cathedral; quieter moments in the smaller spaces of cathedral cloisters; the magnificent bells calling the congregation to prayer; the bustle of the cafe at lunchtime; the cathedral choir and organ; and the cathedral settling back down again to silence as it's locked up again at the end of the day.

We spent a whole day recording sounds from early morning when the cathedral is opened up at 7.00 am; the contemplative early morning spoken service; visitors to the huge nave of the cathedral; quieter moments in the smaller spaces of cathedral cloisters; the magnificent bells calling the congregation to prayer; the bustle of the cafe at lunchtime; the cathedral choir and organ; and the cathedral settling back down again to silence as it's locked up again at the end of the day.

The evocative sounds of Durham Cathedral recorded across a single day.

In this edition of Slow Radio, we tumble inside the delicate mechanism of the clock - our attempt to contain and mark the steady rush of time itself. Musical and rhythmic, this surreal audio composition moves between the meditative beat of a single timepiece through to a cacophonous eruption of melodious chimes and cuckoos. The Clock will air just after Big Ben's midnight chimes play out on the BBC, 100 years after London's most famous clock was first broadcast on New Year's Eve 1923.

Featuring audio first recorded for the documentary Time Flies on BBC Radio 4, as well as new recordings and compositions built from the sounds of Big Ben's internal mechanism and ringing bells.

Produced by Eleanor McDowall

A Falling Tree production for BBC Radio 3

Time unravels in this hypnotic audio journey inside the delicate mechanism of the clock.

Time unravels in this hypnotic audio journey, as we tumble inside the delicate mechanism of the clock.

We hear the sounds of cycling as the trip unfolds, from the mesmeric ticking of a freewheel to a spectacular swoosh as a group of riders zooms past. The surroundings become increasingly rural as we get closer and closer to sunrise, allowing nocturnal wildlife and the dawn chorus to make an appearance before we arrive at Dunwich's famous shingle beach and meet the roar of the North Sea.

A Tandem Production for BBC Radio 3

Experience a night-time journey from central London to the Suffolk coast, on a bicycle.

Every July on the Saturday closest to the full moon, thousands of cyclists ride overnight from central London to the Suffolk coast. It’s a journey like no other: setting off in the late evening from a bustling pub in Hackney, they cycle through the night and arrive as dawn breaks on Dunwich beach - a distance of around 120 miles.

We hear the sounds of cycling as the trip unfolds, from the mesmeric ticking of a freewheel to a spectacular swoosh as a group of riders zooms past. The surroundings become increasingly rural as we get closer and closer to sunrise, allowing nocturnal wildlife and the dawn chorus to make an appearance before we arrive at Dunwich’s famous shingle beach and meet the roar of the North Sea.

We take a journey back in time to recreate the golden age of steam, travelling on the Flying Scotsman from Manchester to Carlisle. We have privileged access to the footplate of this iconic engine which weighs 100 tonnes and is nearly 100 years old. We hear coal being shovelled from the tender into the crackling fire, and the driver operating the train as it speeds along the track at up to 60 miles an hour. The train stops for water and we hear the chatter of the crew. We take a take an almost cinematic journey inside the moving train from carriage to carriage with snatches of the voices of passengers as we go. And we follow a waitress as she collects plates from diners on the train and takes them to the galley kitchen where fine food is prepared. We end our journey in Carlisle where our driver signs off before handing over to another driver for the return journey.

An evocative and immersive journey on the Flying Scotsman from Manchester to Carlisle.

As the country comes out of long periods of enforced lockdown, it's good to be reminded of the fun things that bring people together, and escape to a happy place, with reminders of holidays, childhood, excitement and wonder.

The Pleasure Beach at Great Yarmouth is a family-run business that has stood on the sea front for over a hundred years. It mixes the latest fairground ride technology with vintage favourites.

This Slow Radio experience takes in one of the first days of opening after the fairground's Covid-enforced shutdown.

So forget your troubles for half an hour and come and ride on the Big Apple Coaster, the carousel and the dodgems; take a fairy tale trip on a mechanical snail, dare to visit the Haunted Hotel, and watch out for the Barrel of Laughs.

Producer: Sam Hickling

As the country comes out of long periods of enforced lockdown, it's good to be reminded of the fun things that bring people together, and escape to a happy place, with reminders of holidays, childhood, excitement and wonder.

The Pleasure Beach at Great Yarmouth is a family-run business that has stood on the sea front for over a hundred years. It mixes the latest fairground ride technology with vintage favourites.

This Slow Radio experience takes in one of the first days of opening after the fairground's Covid-enforced shutdown.

So forget your troubles for half an hour and come and ride on the Big Apple Coaster, the carousel and the dodgems; take a fairy tale trip on a mechanical snail, dare to visit the Haunted Hotel, and watch out for the Barrel of Laughs.

Producer: Sam Hickling

Using field recordings from deep within glaciers, along with the sounds of the natural world around them, this programme charts an imagined journey of snow and glacier from mountain top to valley floor.

Over the course of that journey we hear the sound world change and the increasing impact of human activity on the landscape - the wilderness of the high slopes replaced by the noise of tourism and traffic. There is an irony to the fact that the people who choose to visit the mountains because they love them are also contributing to their changing environment.

These unique glacier recordings have been made by Ugo Nanni, researcher at the University of Oslo who specialises in the stability of Arctic glaciers, and field recordist Clovis Tisserand.

Producer: Barnaby Gordon

Charting the progress of glaciers through recordings from deep within and around them.

The town, bordered by the River Deben, has had a reputation as a centre for boat-building, rope-making and sail-making since the Middle Ages, with Francis Drake having ships built here.

But what caught composer Iain Chambers's attention on a recent visit was the striking sound of the halyards of the many boats moored in Woodbridge boatyard. Audible from the platforms of the train station, when heard up-close they create a bewitching collage of pitches and rhythms. These rhythms are constantly in flux, as different boat masts interact with each other, played by the wind.

This Slow Radio episode takes us from the boatyard in Woodbridge, along the River Deben towards Melton and back again. Alongside field recordings of the estuary's curlews, dunlin, plover, redshank, avocets, lapwings, and sandpipers, we venture into a hidden sonic world made possible by contact microphones. These recordings allow us to hear the wind as a character itself, playing the taut halyards of boats, or exciting the large wire fences that border the river.

We hear the halyards pitched down, the patterns resembling a less clangorous relative of British church bell change-ringing, the pitches closer to Tibetan singing bowls.

Composed and produced by Iain Chambers

Recordings by Iain Chambers and Lisa Heledd Jones

An Open Audio production for BBC Radio 3

Iain Chambers records musical sounds along the river Deben amongst birdsong and boats.

'Composer Iain Chambers takes a sound walk along Suffolk's River Deben, meeting avocets and curlew, and culminating in the musical sounds of Woodbridge boatyard.'

This Slow Radio episode takes us from the boatyard in Woodbridge, along the River Deben towards Melton and back again. Alongside field recordings of the estuary’s curlews, dunlin, plover, redshank, avocets, lapwings, and sandpipers, we venture into a hidden sonic world made possible by contact microphones. These recordings allow us to hear the wind as a character itself, playing the taut halyards of boats, or exciting the large wire fences that border the river.

Many of the sounds of bees and beekeeping have barely changed for thousands of years, whereas others are distinctly modern. We'll hear single bees collecting nectar as they move from flower to flower, and clusters of bees jostling against each other inside a busy hive. The beekeeper releases puffs of smoke to calm his bees as he inspects their work and we can hear the subtle differences in buzzing between a colony with or without a queen.

Over in the workshop, or ?honey room', we witness the processes that transform a frame of honeycomb into a pot of honey, from the spinning of the frames to the filling of the jars.

A Tandem Production for BBC Radio 3

Immerse yourself in the sound world of honeybees.

Over in the workshop, or ‘honey room', we witness the processes that transform a frame of honeycomb into a pot of honey, from the spinning of the frames to the filling of the jars.

Beekeeper Anthony Smith looks after several hundred beehives across Herefordshire and south east Wales. This episode of Slow Radio takes us to one of his apiaries where we eavesdrop on Anthony’s activities. It’s the middle of the summer, and the bees are at their busiest.

Many of the sounds of bees and beekeeping have barely changed for thousands of years, whereas others are distinctly modern. We’ll hear single bees collecting nectar as they move from flower to flower, and clusters of bees jostling against each other inside a busy hive. The beekeeper releases puffs of smoke to calm his bees as he inspects their work and we can hear the subtle differences in buzzing between a colony with or without a queen.

Over in the workshop, or ‘honey room’, we witness the processes that transform a frame of honeycomb into a pot of honey, from the spinning of the frames to the filling of the jars.

In this slow radio edit, we hear a collage of forest sounds and local voices, travelling through Ālvdalen, exploring some of the mysteries of the language and its links to Sweden's ancient, Viking past.

Make sure a rainbow goes into your cider barrel,' says Matthew Bryant, filling his bucket with windfalls.

In the tin shed at the back of his house Bryant, the cider expert and author James Crowden and friends gather to turn apples into cider, in the slow old way - and Radio 3 gathers all the sounds of the process. Apples drum as they pour into an ancient apple mill. Someone cranks the wheel and crushed apples splatter out as pomace.

Matthew and James layer straw on the cider press, built in about 1850. They spread the pomace on the straw adding layers to build the 'cheese'. As the crew screws down the beam, apple juice gushes. They wind it up again. Matthew takes a huge knife, cuts the splayed sides of the crushed cheese, placing the trimmings on top. The pressing begins again, the torrent of juice subsides until it drips like raindrops from a thatched roof. John Keats witnessed this 200 years ago. In To Autumn he writes: 'Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,/ Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

The juice goes straight into the barrels. 'Just leave it,' Matthew says. 'The natural yeasts will work their wonders. As it ferments, it fizzes and hisses. When that singing has stopped, it's time to bung the barrel.

The cider will be drinkable by new year, but it's best left until you hear the cuckoo in the spring. 'What's wonderful,' says Matthew , 'is that that's when the trees are coming into blossom, and the whole thing is starting again.

Producer: Julian May

All the different sounds as Matthew Bryant turns apples to cider in the slow old way.

Britain has lost 90% of its traditional orchards. So, seven years ago the villagers of Haselbury Plucknett planted a Somerset orchard: 35 cider apple trees, all old varieties with names as gorgeous as their colours - Kingston Black, Sweet Crimson King, Slack-me-Girdle. 'Make sure a rainbow goes into your cider barrel,' says Matthew Bryant, filling his bucket with windfalls. In the tin shed at the back of his house Bryant, the cider expert and author James Crowden and friends gather to turn apples into cider, in the slow old way - and Radio 3 gathers all the sounds of the process. Apples drum as they pour into an ancient apple mill. Someone cranks the wheel and crushed apples splatter out as pomace. Matthew and James layer straw on the cider press, built in about 1850. They spread the pomace on the straw adding layers to build the 'cheese'. As the crew screws down the beam, apple juice gushes. They wind it up again. Matthew takes a huge knife, cuts the splayed sides of the crushed cheese, placing the trimmings on top. The pressing begins again, the torrent of juice subsides until it drips like raindrops from a thatched roof. John Keats witnessed this 200 years ago. In To Autumn he writes: 'Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,/ Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.' The juice goes straight into the barrels. 'Just leave it,' Matthew says. 'The natural yeasts will work their wonders. As it ferments, it fizzes and hisses. When that singing has stopped, it's time to bung the barrel.' The cider will be drinkable by new year, but it's best left until you hear the cuckoo in the spring. 'What's wonderful,' says Matthew , 'is that that's when the trees are coming into blossom, and the whole thing is starting again.' Producer: Julian May

As ecosystems collapse, a frightening number of species are falling silent. In a new series on Radio 4, The Last Songs of Gaia, Verity Sharp listens to how musicians and sound artists are responding. This edition of Slow Radio gives you the chance to immerse yourself in some of the featured soundscapes.

Composer and ornithologist Hollis Taylor spends months at a time recording at night in the Australian outback, surviving sinister encounters with pythons and ne'er-do-wells to capture the magical clarion-call of the pied butcherbird, whose endlessly inventive song has been much reduced in recent years of drought.

Jez Riley-French revels in exploring and revealing what is usually hidden to the human ear. His work includes the sounds of glaciers melting and mountains dissolving; here, he presents an extract from ?ink botanic', an attempt to track the journey of certain tree varieties. It includes the creaking of spruce, pines and aspens in Estonia, recordings of the inside of branches and of roots taking in water in East Yorkshire, and a clearance fire in Australia.

Percussionist and composer Lisa Schonberg has a background in entomology and has worked in the Amazon recording and researching the sounds that ants make. Her soundscape invites us to experience the Amazonian ecosystem from the ants' perspective - they chatter and stridulate in the foreground, with sounds of lawn machinery and machetes merging with the other wildlife in the reserve on the edge of Manaus.

Produced by Chris Elcombe

A Reduced Listening production for BBC Radio 3.

Sounds of animals and ecosystems under threat.

Jez Riley-French revels in exploring and revealing what is usually hidden to the human ear. His work includes the sounds of glaciers melting and mountains dissolving; here, he presents an extract from ‘ink botanic', an attempt to track the journey of certain tree varieties. It includes the creaking of spruce, pines and aspens in Estonia, recordings of the inside of branches and of roots taking in water in East Yorkshire, and a clearance fire in Australia.

Composer and ornithologist Hollis Taylor spends months at a time recording at night in the Australian outback, surviving sinister encounters with pythons and ne’er-do-wells to capture the magical clarion-call of the pied butcherbird, whose endlessly inventive song has been much reduced in recent years of drought.

Percussionist and composer Lisa Schonberg has a background in entomology and has worked in the Amazon recording and researching the sounds that ants make. Her soundscape invites us to experience the Amazonian ecosystem from the ants’ perspective - they chatter and stridulate in the foreground, with sounds of lawn machinery and machetes merging with the other wildlife in the reserve on the edge of Manaus.

This song - sung in Italian by a local choir - frames our ascent on foot to the top of the North Grigna. As the singers recount the story of the warrior, warning us of the dangers of the hike, we pass through woodlands of beech and larch trees, and encounter small pastures where sheep and donkeys graze. There are rain showers, steep slopes, scree and snowy paths to battle and rare encounters with other intrepid Alpinists. The target is the Rifugio Brioschi, a wooden hut at the peak of the mountain where fellow hikers raise a glass and share tales from the climb before turning in for the night.

With special thanks to the Coro Grigna (http://www.corogrigna.it) for allowing us to attend their weekly rehearsal and record La Leggenda della Grigna, and to fellow hikers Hannah Mackaness, Monica Malberti and Valentina Rossini.

Produced by Silvia Malnati

A Reduced Listening production for BBC Radio 3

Sounds of an ascent on foot to the summit of the imposing North Grigna Mountain in Italy.

Using the sounds of hundreds of Tibetan singing bowls, and a piece of music 20 minutes and 20 seconds long, processed by a simple algorithm, the resulting variations can be played without repetition for a millennium.

We encounter a fraction of that sonic journey, as Carnatic singer, artist and composer Supriya Nagarajan plays with time and sound, as she responds to and duets with Longplayer.

Longplayer: Journey of a Thousand Years

Tune in, drop out. It's time to go slow.

Experience 'Longplayer', the sound world at London's Trinity Buoy Wharf, intended to last a thousand years.

In this Slow Radio Christmas special, The Reindeer follows the epic travels of a reindeer mother and her young as they traverse the Nordic landscape. Created in close collaboration with the S?mi people and with as little human interference as possible, a specially created sound device attached by a necklace around the mother reindeer brings to life the audial day-to-day sounds of a reindeer herd.

From hooves softly treading snow, and the distant tinkling of reindeer bells through to the sounds of reindeers eating and sleeping in their natural habitats, The Reindeer allows listeners to become intimately acquainted with a creature that has become interwoven with tradition and imagery of Christmas time.

The recordings were made by Jakob Munck and Niklas Eur?n on two different occasions during summer/autumn 2022. One being in Sweden and the other in Finland.The method has involved close consultation with the reindeer herders in order to minimise the interference with the animals. No animal was harmed during the recording. Gear construction Fredrik Nordin, recordist Niklas Eur?n, post production Viktor Bergdahl. Thanks to the Sami village Ruvhten Sijt?, Mattias Kant and Sami Tiensuu.

The Reindeer follows the epic travels of a reindeer mother and her young.

In this Slow Radio Christmas special, The Reindeer follows the epic travels of a reindeer mother and her young as they traverse the Nordic landscape. Created in close collaboration with the Sကmi people and with as little human interference as possible, a specially created sound device attached by a necklace around the mother reindeer brings to life the audial day-to-day sounds of a reindeer herd.

The recordings were made by Jakob Munck and Niklas Eur退n on two different occasions during summer/autumn 2022. One being in Sweden and the other in Finland.The method has involved close consultation with the reindeer herders in order to minimise the interference with the animals. No animal was harmed during the recording. Gear construction Fredrik Nordin, recordist Niklas Eur退n, post production Viktor Bergdahl. Thanks to the Sami village Ruvhten Sijt退, Mattias Kant and Sami Tiensuu.

This episode of Slow Radio was originally podcasted in October 2017. We're grateful to the monks of Pluscarden Abbey for access to their collections of plainsong.

When a smattering of snow fell in London recently Greenwich Park erupted with people - of all ages - pouring like lava down the icy slopes below the Royal Observatory, on sledges, tin trays, even grill pans. There were snowball skirmishes and snow sculptures appeared. It was a wonderful sight, and even more arresting were the sounds - the cacophony of joy.

The park these days is 'full of noises, sounds and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not', the sounds of life and happiness. But, in the distance you hear, too, the sounds of sorrow - a church bell tolls and ambulances wail. Today's Slow Radio programme gathers all these - the birds, the dogs, the children, runners, boxers, ice, mud, rain, and the - almost - silence, capturing a winter's Sunday in the Park With...sound.

Producer: Julian May

A winter Sunday in the park with all its joyful sounds, and some that are sad.

Usually parks are places of pleasant diversion. But during the Covid lockdowns parks have become vital to people living in cities and towns. Our parks are where, still, children can play; people can sit, walk, run, even dance - and let off a little steam. When a smattering of snow fell in London recently people - of all ages - erupted into Greenwich Park, pouring like lava down the slopes on toboggans, grill pans and tin trays. There were snowball skirmishes and snow sculptures appeared. It was a wonderful sight, but even more arresting were the noises - a cacophony of joy. This Slow Radio programme gathers these and all the other sounds - the birds, the dogs, the wind in the trees and grass, and the almost silence. capturing the life of a winter's Sunday in the Park with...sound. But in the distance there are bells tolling and the wailing of ambulances. Covid, always in the back of our minds, lurks in the background of the soundscape we live in.

We then travel south, to Loul退 in the Algarve, before crossing the sea to Morocco, and the sounds of the old Medina in Fez. It is the sound of the sea - across which invaders travelled and refugees and exiles escaped - that we end on.

Using an aural collage of clips, the half hour soundscape takes a journey from mountain stream to the sea, around Great Britain and Ireland. It utilises sounds from the Freshwater and Oceans episodes and begins with a specially recorded introduction by Sir David Attenborough.

From there the sounds of cascading streams and waterfalls give way to the call and shuffle of a common toad. Around the caves of County Cavan bats use sonar to navigate. Their ultrasonic clicks can be heard, slowed down. A cuckoo sings beside a chalk stream while a spider catches a pond skater in its web.

The distinctive low call of the bittern introduces the Suffolk reed beds, where great crested grebes perform a mating dance, beaks clashing. Further towards the sea, a colony of knot are scattered by a peregrine falcon, and in the Shetland Isles, a sea otter grunts and snorts around the rocks.

A thunderstorm at sea heralds a seal colony at Blakeney Point, Norfolk, where two males fight. Then the eerie calls of Manx shearwater, who visit each year from South America, are followed by the chatter of many gannets, in and out of water.

The Corryvreckan Whirlpool in Scotland pulls us under for an array of fantastical subaquatic sounds : cuttlefish, sea gooseberries, melon comb jelly; the squelch of a royal flush sea slug, spider crabs leaving their shells, and the scream of a scallop, devoured by a starfish. Dolphins break the surface, and a bluefin tuna skims across the waves before we sail out into Cardigan Bay.

Audio post-production: Wounded Buffalo

~Slow Radio producer: Sam Hickling

Wild Isles sound team:

Sound Editors ? Kate Hopkins, Tom Mercer

Dubbing Mixers ? Oliver Baldwin, Dan Brown, Olga Reed, Graham Wild

Sounds from the BBC television series Wild Isles, introduced by Sir David Attenborough.

Sound Editors – Kate Hopkins, Tom Mercer

Dubbing Mixers – Oliver Baldwin, Dan Brown, Olga Reed, Graham Wild

Sound Editors - Kate Hopkins, Tom Mercer

Dubbing Mixers - Oliver Baldwin, Dan Brown, Olga Reed, Graham Wild

This Slow Radio experience features sounds from the BBC television programme Wild Isles: a chance to revel in the extraordinary sounds recorded and created for the series, without voiceover or music.

Sound Editors – Kate Hopkins, Tom Mercer

Dubbing Mixers – Oliver Baldwin, Dan Brown, Olga Reed, Graham Wild

Originally broadcast in April 2023

Tune in, drop out. It's time to go slow.

The sounds of Britain's wildlife, taken from the BBC television series Wild Isles, with an introduction from Sir David Attenborough.

He made his habitation beside the water's music'. This line, from a poem by Martyn Crucefix, lodged in the mind of radio producer Julian May, inspiring an ambition - to collaborate with a brook to create a composition. By moving rocks and logs might the sounds of the stream be adjusted, 'tuned', and might a piece of music slowly emerge?

Tim Shaw is a sound artist and musician based in Newcastle. After auditioning several he finds a musical burn on a moor in Northumberland. He and Julian May record the sounds it makes, from the tiny tinkling trickle near its source to its disappearance under a bridge of resonant drainpipes, via niagarous waterfalls and sombre pools.

They intervene, building a ladder of rocks to create a chord as the water flows down. They use hydrophonic microphones, recording underwater to capture the music of the burn from its bed. They tie these hydrophones to bits of wood, letting them drift downstream as 'sound pooh-sticks'. There is life here; in a pool by the burn they record strange pings, the sounds of tiny aquatic creatures. Sploshing about in chest high waders they stretch a rod across the burn with microphones attached at intervals along it. Recording first one, then another they create stepping stones - in sound.

In the first part of the programme Tim and Julian gather the sounds and explain what they are up to. They then present the composition they (mostly Tim, the musician) make out of this, a piece in three movements for Northumbrian burn, rocks, logs, hail and aquatic beasts, a piece of slow radio -'The Water's Music'.

Producer: Julian May

Sound Artist: Tim Shaw

He made his habitation beside the water's music'. This line, from a poem by Martyn Crucefix, lodged in the mind of radio producer Julian May, inspiring an ambition - to collaborate with a brook to create a composition. By moving rocks and logs might the sounds of the stream be adjusted, 'tuned', and might a piece of music slowly emerge?

Tim Shaw is a sound artist and musician based in Newcastle. After auditioning several he finds a musical burn on a moor in Northumberland. He and Julian May record the sounds it makes, from the tiny tinkling trickle near its source to its disappearance under a bridge of resonant drainpipes, via niagarous waterfalls and sombre pools.

They intervene, building a ladder of rocks to create a chord as the water flows down. They use hydrophonic microphones, recording underwater to capture the music of the burn from its bed. They tie these hydrophones to bits of wood, letting them drift downstream as 'sound pooh-sticks'. There is life here; in a pool by the burn they record strange pings, the sounds of tiny aquatic creatures. Sploshing about in chest high waders they stretch a rod across the burn with microphones attached at intervals along it. Recording first one, then another they create stepping stones - in sound.

In the first part of the programme Tim and Julian gather the sounds and explain what they are up to. They then present the composition they (mostly Tim, the musician) make out of this, a piece in three movements for Northumbrian burn, rocks, logs, hail and aquatic beasts, a piece of slow radio -'The Water's Music'.

Producer: Julian May

A musical collaboration between sound artist, radio producer and a burn in Northumberland

He made his habitation beside the water's music'. This line, from a poem by Martyn Crucefix, lodged in the mind of radio producer Julian May, inspiring an ambition - to collaborate with a brook to create a composition. By moving rocks, pebbles, sticks that drift downstream might the sounds of the stream be adjusted, 'tuned' and might a piece of music slowly emerge?

They intervene, building a ladder of rocks to create a chord as the water flows down. This is dry stone wall country so Julian builds a small one across the burn while Tim records the changes it makes to the sounds.

They use hydrophonic microphones, recording underwater to capture the music of the burn from its bed. They tie these to bits of wood, letting them drift downstream as 'sound pooh-sticks'. There is life here; in a pool by the burn they record strange pings, the sounds of tiny aquatic creatures. Sploshing about on chest high waders they stretch a rod across the burn with microphones attached at intervals along it. Recording first one, then another they create stepping stones - in sound.

Through the sounds of three Port-of Spain gardens - her home by the river in Diego Martin, a garden in the lush valleys of St Ann's, to a house up in the hills, Elisha reflects on the rich tropical sounds of the island. Frogs, hummingbirds, parrots and occasional rainfall form a slowly shifting, vivid soundscape. We pass through cycles of warm sunshine, then heavy tropical rain, each change reflected in the types of calls we hear from the birdlife and frogs. These aren't rarefied idylls though - on a warm evening parrots noisily flock through, disturbing the peace. Sometimes a radio or the sound of a party drifts up from the valley below; dogs bark, cockerels crow.

Elisha describes the extent to which she's both sustained by, and living at the mercy of, the wildlife around her ? the parrots so loud she can't hear the TV, the frogs soothing her to sleep at night - and how the sounds evoke a strong sense of 'home' for her.

A gentle journey through the sounds of Trinidad with Elisha Efua Bartels.

Elisha describes the extent to which she's both sustained by, and living at the mercy of, the wildlife around her – the parrots so loud she can't hear the TV, the frogs soothing her to sleep at night - and how the sounds evoke a strong sense of 'home' for her.

Through the sounds of three Port-of Spain gardens - her home by the river in Diego Martin, a garden in the lush valleys of St Ann’s, to a house up in the hills, Elisha reflects on the rich tropical sounds of the island. Frogs, hummingbirds, parrots and occasional rainfall form a slowly shifting, vivid soundscape. We pass through cycles of warm sunshine, then heavy tropical rain, each change reflected in the types of calls we hear from the birdlife and frogs. These aren’t rarefied idylls though - on a warm evening parrots noisily flock through, disturbing the peace. Sometimes a radio or the sound of a party drifts up from the valley below; dogs bark, cockerels crow.

Elisha describes the extent to which she’s both sustained by, and living at the mercy of, the wildlife around her – the parrots so loud she can’t hear the TV, the frogs soothing her to sleep at night - and how the sounds evoke a strong sense of 'home' for her.

Elisha describes the extent to which she's both sustained by, and living at the mercy of, the wildlife around her - the parrots so loud she can't hear the TV, the frogs soothing her to sleep at night - and how the sounds evoke a strong sense of 'home' for her.

Transmitter is a production from Munck Studios with Matthew Herbert for BBC Radio 3, recorded by Pete Stollery, Hugh Jones, Dan Pollard, Ella Kay, Robbie McCammon, Pieter Dewulf and Cameron Naylor.

What do BBC transmitters hear at 11.30 at night?

Written and read by Owen Sheers

Sound design by Catherine Robinson

Produced by Emma Harding

New arts feature for BBC Radio 3.

Written and read by Owen Sheers

Sound design by Catherine Robinson

Produced by Emma Harding

Owen Sheers's radio poem explores the sound world of the underground spaces of Wales.

In this beautiful soundscape, Radio 3's Slow Radio takes you from the chime of Marangona at midday, along lapping canals and whispering alleyways, across piazzas and bridges, around this evocative city, until midnight, when the deep, resonant sound of the Marangona brings the day to an end.

Following the canals and alleyways of Venice, from midday to midnight.

There are 107 bell towers in Venice. Wherever you go in the city, the passage of time is measured by the echo of bells across rooftops. But the biggest bell of them all – the Marangona in St Mark's Basilica – only stirs into sound twice a day: at midday and midnight.

There are 107 bell towers in Venice. Wherever you go in the city the passage of time is measured by the echo of bells across rooftops. But the biggest bell of them all – the Marangona in St. Mark's Basilica – only stirs into sound twice a day: at midday and midnight.

In this beautiful soundscape Radio 3's Slow Radio takes you from the chime of Marangona at midday, along lapping canals and whispering alleyways, across piazzas and bridges, around this evocative city, until midnight, when the deep, resonant sound of the Marangona brings the day to an end.

In this beautiful soundscape, Radio 3’s Slow Radio takes you from the chime of Marangona at midday, along lapping canals and whispering alleyways, across piazzas and bridges, around this evocative city, until midnight, when the deep, resonant sound of the Marangona brings the day to an end.

There are 107 bell towers in Venice. Wherever you go in the city, the passage of time is measured by the echo of bells across rooftops. But the biggest bell of them all - the Marangona in St Mark's Basilica - only stirs into sound twice a day: at midday and midnight.

With the nights drawing in and leaves falling, this is a meditation on and an immersion in, the passing of time.

Starting in the library, the only silent room in the stately home, Dawn Barnes takes us on an acoustically-led journey through corridors of time, from the slow ticking of an ancient longcase clock to the ethereal chiming of a pocket watch.

Each clock makes a distinctive song of its own: the rustic ticking of lantern clock, the gossamer movement of a skeleton clock, the leisurely metallic descent of a rolling ball clock.

It's a serene voyage through changing fashions, duties, tastes and tones.

Led by the new sounds, we journey through the clunking, clicking energy of the electric clock room, pass by the early speaking clocks onto a heaving corridor of turret clocks being wound.

The programme builds as Dawn approaches the vaulted grand hall of the Museum of Timekeeping, crossing the gallery landing of hollow chimes, through striking and pealing, whirring and descending, until she reaches the crescendo of the midnight chimes.

Producer: Sarah Bowen

Journeying through tolling, ticking, chiming, striking, whirring corridors of clocks.

'Car parts, Chicken hearts/Golf clubs and lightweight darts/Mobile phones/Dinosaur bones/ A duffle coat and some Ice cream cones.'

The variety of the merchandise on offer in the market that stretches down Deptford High Street and round the corner to the Albany inspired a song by Men With Ven, a trio who had been market traders themselves.

'We're going Deptford Market/You ain't seen nothing like it/Leave the van/ There's nowhere left to park it...'

The variety of people buying and selling is impressive, too: Kentish greengrocers; Bengali halal butchers; Caribbean cosmetic specialists; Sikh carpet sellers; a Pole selling boots; Rastas getting on in years, their luxurious locks grey now, calling, 'Blessings be 'pon you,' to their Bredren across the street; West African women in colourful gravity-defying headwear, sucking their teeth at Bob the fishmonger, demanding he scale and gut the red snapper at no extra cost - 'Want me to cook it for you, too, darling?

'Prayer rugs and Royal Wedding Mugs/A lovely pair of Toby Jugs/Tiddlywinks and Cava, full strength lager/A jar of piccalilli and.../Shoes by Prada.'

Producer: Julian May

Sounds, music, conversation, recorded through the day along the length of Deptford Market.

'We’re going Deptford Market/You ain’t seen nothing like it/Leave the van/ There’s nowhere left to park it...'

This episode of Slow Radio was originally podcasted in October 2017. We're grateful to the monks of Pluscarden Abbey for access to their collections of plainsong.