This Sound Event Series Encourages Angelenos to Explore Their Surroundings and Listen to Everything
One Sunday afternoon in May, the sounds of Oakland-based singer and producer Tyler Holmes and local artist San Cha drifted through the air at L.A. State Historic Park, intermingling with barking dogs and shouting children, colliding with '90s hip-hop at the end of a mound that separated the concert from a roller skate meet-up.
As Holmes' set went on, their music became part of the rich, aural tapestry of this public space, something that could be enjoyed whether you were actually attending the event or if you were, like plenty of people that day, simply spending some downtime at the park. Holmes' performance was a meditative affair — a world away from the pomp and circumstance of attending a concert; instead, its mood and style fit with the promise of Floating, a year-old outdoor sound event series that aims to allow everyone to "actively participate in the art of deep listening."
At its core, Floating operates with a mission of bringing people together outside for events that range from jazz performance to experimental electronic concerts to sound baths. Since its inception in August of 2021, though, Floating has become a means of encouraging both artists and audiences to interact with their immediate surroundings and explore the varied corners of the greater Los Angeles area. Helmed by a team with extensive experience in event production, Floating has lured crowds into Bronson Canyon and out to Zorthian Ranch. The organizers have hosted shows against the spectacular views from Baldwin Hills Scenic Overlook and Griffith Park's Wisdom Tree. Plus, Floating is actively working to bring more unexpected locations to Southern California audiences looking for a different kind of sound experience; they're hoping to extend their reach from Ojai to Joshua Tree.
"The idea was that everyone should spend more time outside," says Floating founder Brian Schopfel on a recent Zoom call from Chicago. "You get so many physiological and psychological benefits from simply stepping outdoors, music or not. That was the original impetus for even starting this."
There is a lot of research indicating that spending time outside is good for us for myriad reasons, including, according to an article from the American Psychological Association, reducing stress and improving cognition. Schopfel himself found that going outside was beneficial while recovering from "massive burnout" after years working on experiential projects in the advertising and brand space. He had this initial idea in 2019, launched a precursor to Floating at the end of 2020 and tried a few different approaches to bringing people together before landing on sound. "The thing that felt best was sound," he explains. "Consuming sound outdoors feels really good."
"Feel" is a word that Schopfel and Floating collaborators Jessyca Estrada and Noah Klein use a lot during this interview. That makes sense. Sound is about more than hearing. Consider how your body responds to certain rhythms, how familiar riffs and melodies trigger memory or how specific tones, like the ping of your phone's text notifications, can instantly impact your mood. Sound is powerful, even when we aren't conscious of the force it has over us.
Floating officially began its series of what Schopfel calls "nomadic, involuntarily meditative sound experiences" on Aug. 8, 2021 at Storrier Stearns Japanese Garden in Pasadena with performances from Dustin Wong and Jeremiah Chiu and Yialmelic Frequencies. "That was so incredibly joyous, being able to see so many of L.A.'s arts communities come together, as well as people who truly had no idea what was happening," says Klein, who has previously produced events for MOMA PS1 and MOCA's Geffen Contemporary, "they just heard about a really nice musical gathering in a green space that was new to them."
On a Thursday evening in July, a multi-generational crowd filled up the courtyard at the Philosophical Research Society's Los Feliz campus. The event? A performance from vocalist Amirtha Kidambi and saxophone player Darius Jones based on the writings of Sun Ra. Before Kidambi and Jones played, guests had the chance to step inside PRS's library, a treasure trove of texts related to philosophy, spirituality and mythology, or visit the Hansell Gallery situated behind the back parking lot, to see the current exhibition from artist Elizabeth T. Vazquez. The performance itself provided an opportunity to listen as Kidambi and Jones' music resonated with the architecture of this 1930s building, an L.A. historic cultural monument designed by Robert Stacy-Judd that incorporates elements of Mayan design.
While sound at Floating events can be a catalyst for people to get out and explore locations they may not already know, the opposite holds true as well. With their events held in public spaces, like the Tyler Holmes/San Cha show at L.A. State Historic Park last May, Floating becomes part of a larger soundscape made by and for the public in that location at that moment. This is one way Floating differs from traditional outdoor concerts. The performances don't overpower the rest of the sounds occurring in the space at that time. Instead, they're made to converge with their surroundings.
"In a world of festivals, where we're oversaturated with giant stages and PAs being blasted into our faces and that's all you hear, going and hearing the natural soundscapes around you…it's a breath of fresh air," says Estrada, who previously spent over 20 years in event and festival production and helped build Goldenvoice's festival division.
There are two branches of Floating events. There are the Soundscapes, which are the concert-like gatherings, such as the Tyler Holmes/San Cha show at L.A. State Historic Park and the Amirtha Kidambi and Darius Jones performance in the Philosophical Research Society courtyard. Then there are the sound baths, where practitioners use instruments like singing bowls that are more commonly associated with meditation practices. Schopfel uses the sound baths at Pasadena's Arlington Gardens, where the audience might hear other people in the space or helicopters hovering above them, as an example of how the performance and the destination intersect. "Every sound adds one thing or another because it's really about feeling present and acknowledging we're here," he explains. "We're being here. There's nothing to do, we're just here."
All of this creates a unique listening experience. For performers, this can present an opportunity to play with the acoustics of non-traditional spaces and play in ways that they haven't in other settings. For listeners, it means that the experiences will include every surrounding chirp, rustle and buzz, all of which can vary based on the season, the weather and any seemingly unrelated activity that might be happening in one pocket of Los Angeles on any given day.
As Schopfel says, "The whole soundscape is the environment that we're in."
