Sound and vibration are powerful things. The voice of soprano can, under certain conditions, shatter glass. Earthquakes can wreak havoc on the landscape. A talented musical performance can move you emotionally. A quiet whisper in your ear can cause you to totally melt (or you know, the opposite of melt) depending on the source and circumstances. Then there’s the legend of the so-called “Brown Note”, which I won’t get into futher, in order to maintain some sense of decorum.

We as matter, and as people, seem to be designed to respond to particular sounds and vibrations; it’s no wonder that many cultures incorporate certain sounds and frequencies into spirital practices.

I recently had the opportunity to see musician Phil Jones perform and talk a little about sound therapy and vibration. His psuedo-Hindu by way of Australian Aboriginal philosophy is approaching the “out there” limit for me personally (he’s a former 60s psychadelic blues/rock band frontman who does “vibration sound therapy” workshops featuring the digeridoo around the world, so his way of thinking makes sense given the scene he comes out of), but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t find some of the things he talked about sort of relevant*, and it got me thinking a little bit.

Now, I’m not personally very mystical in terms of spirituality, though there’s no denying that some of the most profoundly “religious” or “spiritual” experiences I’ve had involved sound in some way: the way the sound of a well-played trumpet hits me just right at the base of the skull; the way I can “feel” the wind off the Tidal Pool when I’m standing alone inside the Jefferson Memorial at dusk, the serene sense of quiet (that isn’t really quiet) when I’m standing on top of a mountain looking out across the miles laid out before me, the feeling of communal emotion when in the crowd at certain musical performances, be it the communal euphoria of a rock and roll show, or the communal peace at a sacred choral performance. I expect you, the reader, could fill in another half-dozen examples, because, odds are, you’re human as well, and that’s kind of the way we work.

Whether you buy into the mystical or supernatural properties of those feelings, there’s no denying that those sorts of things happen, and we feel them, and the common element to all of them is the idea of sound and vibration. Certain kinds of frequencies just do things to us, and science has managed to measure some of those effects.

A lot of the world’s spiritual practices have understood this for centuries – certain sounds heighten experience, or all allow the worshipper/celebrant to be open to feeling something greater than themselves. Those sounds are all reasonably similar – The Gregorian Chant, Mantras for meditation (“Om”), the music of Native American dances, the drone of the Digeridoo in Autralian Aboriginal tradition – I don’t think it’s a coincidence that they all incorporate the same general sort of low-droning sound that a person can “feel” as much as hear. And, for whatever reason, mystical or otherwise, it works – the sounds enhance the experience, and serve to “center” us in some way. Whether you call it “coming into harmony with the universal vibration” or simply finding a point of sympathetic resonance for the matter that constitutes your body, there is effect, and at least some of it is objectively measurable.

Even if you’re not looking for any sort of “religious experience”, an understanding of these sorts of principles could potentially be useful, just in terms of getting oneself in the right frame of mind.

Or, you know, to sell records: Take a listen to Mumford and Sons’ “Sigh No More“; these guys, whether consciously or not, totally understand the principle. The the instrumentation isn’t just “present” to serve the song; it surges over the listener like an ocean wave of sound. Sure, the song’s tempo tracks in there at probably just over 120 beats per minute, but all through the song’s running time, there are lots of long, droning low tones and resonating open strings that you can feel vibrating through your core (even through crappy headphones). The vocal layering is even sort of reminiscent of vocal chant, with lots of repeated melodic phrases and close harmony.

The whole album is like that, and it’s amazing. Is it any wonder it’s sold so well and gotten on all those best of lists? It’s been scientifically designed and engineered to hit people where they live.

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*I really struggled to avoid saying that “…some of the things he talked about resonated with me”. I figured I’d spare you all the pun.