Do you miss the strain, the traffic, the tension? Do you view your new terrain with a touch of condescension?
—Dave Frishberg, “Do You Miss New York?”
Living in New York can spoil you rotten. If you’re away from the city for a summer break in East Hampton, or on a whirlwind business trip to Milan or Tokyo, or if you’ve pulled up stakes and moved to the suburbs for good (or bad), it’s impossible not to judge everything out there—from restaurants to rat size—by New York standards.
Now, thanks to Air Mail, you need never leave.
Inspired by the innovative 1970s album series Environments, which comprised recordings of the sounds of nature—seashores, thunderstorms, wind—for calming, therapeutic ends, Air Mail Environments: New York offers the natural sounds of New York City—car horns, dinner conversation, hurried commuters—to provide an auditory keepsake, a jolt of adrenaline, for those exiled from its avenues.
So turn up the volume, go about your business, and be in New York wherever you are.
1.
Morning Rush Hour at Grand Central Terminal
From the Metro-North and 4, 5, 6, 7, and S they come, an up-tempo, syncopated footfall, accented with the amble of police officers, the shuffling feet of the dispossessed, and the stop-start rhythms of selfie-grabbing tourists. The day has begun in New York City.
2.
The Subway
Down to the 5 train we go, past the buskers and turnstiles and into the hiss, the trundle, the thrum of the platform. Through the opening doors, grab a seat or hold tight, and there’s the rattle and screech that’s as familiar as a heartbeat. Overlaying it all, a wisp of coughs, sniffles, and subdued conversation as you stream through the corpuscles of the city.
3.
The Rose Main Reading Room, at the New York Public Library
The cicada chatter of laptop keyboards, the scrape and creak of heavy carved chairs, the murmurs of confusion at the information desk. The thump of books on long wooden tables, the yawning, and the perpetual draft of conditioned air sweeping down from the painted heights across the heads of readers and sleepers alike.
4.
Washington Square Park
The fountain is dry, but it’s filled with the clack hammer of skateboards. Stereos cut in and out, a guitar player sings softly in the East. There are screeches of delight, grandstanding, bragging, and weed sellers hyping their goods. On the outer paths, birds do their own bragging, a grandmother chases her granddaughter, and the relaxed patter of chess hustlers signals yet another checkmate.
5.
The Temple of Dendur, at the Met
Even now, 2,000 years on, people still travel to its door. Outside the Roman Egyptian ruins, which are surrounded by a limpid pool and flank the museum’s vast glass wall, the ancient reverberates amid the modern. Even the graffiti scratched on the temple’s sandstone goes back centuries. Is this a view of the past, or a vision of New York’s future? Which graffiti-smeared building of our present will be visited by future denizens seeking knowledge, amazement, or simply a chance to stay dry on a Tuesday morning in June?
6.
The Staten Island Ferry
Clang of metal, squawk of radio, the cry and whistle of the ferry crew. The throb of motors drowns out the gulls as they plunge into the foam and splash of the wake. The passengers’ voices come from Europe, Africa, Asia, South America—why not just call them the voices of New York?—cooing at the skyline, the Statue of Liberty, the whole scene of which they are, for a moment, a part.
7.
The Ramble at Central Park
Edging into Central Park from Central Park West, you exchange the tap of tarmac for the crunch of leaf. Amid the twisting paths, a stream endlessly passes by. Here you are alone, but not too alone. On the far-off streets a taxi honks, a distant plane lets out a muted roar. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a radio starts playing. Welcome to the urban tranquil.
8.
Jackson Pollock’s One: Number 31, 1950 at MoMA
A sneeze! The doors slide open, and you’re in. Floorboards creak, shoes squeak, couples lean toward one another whispering. Some peer at the wall text in search of illumination; others slump onto the bench seat, defeated. A walkie-talkie sounds. If you’re looking for silent contemplation, you won’t get it here—but do you think Pollock was silent as he crouched and splattered his canvas into life? Look at the painting’s lines intertwining, spinning off, circling round again, stopping. It’s a portrait of its own viewers.
9.
The Grand Central Oyster Bar
Orders are placed, oysters are shucked, plates are laid, bills are closed, cutlery jangles, and above all, and behind all, and beneath all, the chatter. It resonates around the arched ceilings like an ever present, upbeat Gregorian chant, a hymn of jokes, boasts, digs, gossip, slander, love: the New York cantata.
10.
The Lobby at the Metropolitan Opera
The crowd brushes by, expectant, excited, guided—no!—commanded by ushers with a well-honed mixture of brio and gruffness. The warning chimes sound. The crowd’s anxiety cranks up a notch. Everyone starts to move more hurriedly. But you are still waiting. The crowd starts to thin and empty, and from afar you hear the sound of the orchestra tuning up. The last few stragglers arrive. Where is your date?
George Pendle is an Editor at Large at AIR MAIL
