Pining away for good music?

When You Put Tree Rings on a Record Player, The Sound Is Unexpectedly Beautiful.

What if the sounds of trees could actually be translated? Bartholomäus Traubeck has created something unique that would translate tree rings into music by playing them on a record player.

h/t Snowball the Sourpuss.

34 Comments on Pining away for good music?

  1. When played at 78 rpm it sounds like Alvin.
    At 16 2/3 rpm it sounds like whales screwing.

    I guess this is another one of those “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder” kind of things.

  2. If trees played KISS songs:

    Spruce It Up
    Hemlock’s On Fire
    Let’s Put The Axe In Sex
    Leaves Are Falling

  3. I tried doing that with some of my trees and it was a real birch, the other one just made an ash of itself.

  4. Only if you listen to the lamestream media and all their bs and Trump hating and America as it was founded lies. I think it was more like the dead parrot sketch from Monty Python, he’s just pining for the fjords. Or maybe someone thinks he’s a pine nut.

  5. No but rocks do. Where’s Sisyphus when we need him the most to keep endlessly pushing that rock up a hill only to have it keep rolling back on him every time. That pretty much summarizes the democrap party to keep doing the same thing over and over hoping for different results, they’re insane with lust for power and control of all of the American people and humanity in general.

  6. You guys crack me up! Little late to the keyboard this morning. This tree sounds a bit like thelonious monk!
    Couldn’t one rig up the same thing and “play” a turd? Just wondering what one might sound like………not!

  7. If you played a turd it would sound like Cheech and Chong talking about a dog pinching a loaf and stink like shit as well. But it would still sound better than hip hop and crap music.

  8. Yeah, but I wonder what it sounds like without the piano.

    Thelonius Monk? I can see that. Just add a little Charlie Rouss on saxophone and you got it.

  9. Did anyone bother to ask Treebeard what tree music sounds like? Maybe it sounds like the beautiful music played on a beautifully crafted wooden violin or a guitar or other musical instruments made from wood.

  10. Evidently a trees life is kind of sucky to inspire such a painful melody. Blown by wind, beaten by rain, scorched by the sun etc.

  11. …that thumbnail just reminded me of one of the oddest things I ever saw a man do with a tree.

    …there’s a School District building across from my house, and since it’s not where they actually put the juvenile inmates, it’s kept up fairly well and nicely landscaped, with remnant architecture from 100 years ago when people actually CARED about even PUBLIC buildings and had pride in what they were doing. It did used to be a school, but I suppose the larcenist who run the school district decided it was too pretty for mere students, so they took the best for themselves, as Democrats always seem to do. Socialists they may be, but they somehow always end up being more equal than others…

    …anyway, it was nicely landscaped around the building, and the SD employed an army of folks who are stereotypically celebrated more for their yard work skills than their citizenship paperwork, including a number of largish oak trees lining the semicircular walkway in front of the building. All this is fairly normal.

    But one day, the Ice Cream man cometh.

    …this was not like a Mr. Softee or a Kona Ice or anything legit like that, it was more of a guy who had a bread truck, roughly cut a hole in the side, put some coolers inside and slapped some stickers outside, and generally gave the impression that he was going to either kidnap your kids or sell them some pot, depending on whether you’re familiar with the Cheech and Chong movie concerning that concept or not, it was just a small step up from a white van with “FREE CANDY” scrawled on it in easily erasable grease paint, it was so jackleg.

    But pot, ice cream, and kidnapping were not on his agenda THIS day. He wasn’t even ringing his bell.

    …the intersection is a “T” with the dead-end part facing the SD building and its trees, and this truck ran the stop sign, took the turn on three wheels (this bread truck had dualies, so it counts), slammed to the curb just past the right side stop sign, and parked facing towards traffic which is not legal here, and disgorged its driver.

    Out from the shadows of the saggy springed supsiciousmobile sprung a spliffer that I would continue the “S” parade and dub Shaggy, but considerably more hirsute than that imaginary worthy, and without a talking dog for comic relief. Think what an ageing Cousin It would look like with a gray-striped ginger ponytail, a wifebeater, cutoff jean shorts, and SOME demarcation between his facial hair, and you wouldn’t be far off. This vaguely menacing menester was wise to land driver’s door to the curb because he was QUITE focused on his mission and blind to all that moved around him, and so this saved oncoming traffic from having to avoid the Wookie that was on fleet foot bail from the still-shuddering vehicle. This fellow was utterly focused and ran just as quickly as he possibly could from his truck to the object of his obsession, and would have full-body tackled any sweet tooth that had rashly approached for his wares had he been parked long enough to draw a crowd.

    And what was the object of his obsession?

    One of the oak trees.

    He threw himself on one of the three to the right of center, the middle child as I recall it, and put his arms around its bole and MUST have squeezed bark chips into his flesh to the bone. He then released his grasp on this doubtlessly startled deciduous, and slid down its trunk to its root, where he proceeded to have a conversation with it.

    And no, I don’t know what was said. I got my fill of crazy in my earlier career, and as such I had an acute attack of not really wanting to explore Entish pillow talk. He had run AWAY from the direction of my house, and that was sufficient for me, as long as he didn’t reverse course, but knowing that crazy people can do literally ANYTHING, I kept a weather eye on him for the duration.

    Apparently satisfied that the tree had been sufficiently updated with the doings in his life, he stood up, gave it one final squeeze, and meanered calmly back to his chariot as though he was returning to Grandma’s driveway after a heated round of milk and cookies, then got into his erstwhile refugee from a Butternut parking lot and drove off.

    To this day, I have no idea what that meant.

    I walked over to the tree in question after ensuring he was not in a sight line to suspect me of attempting to cuckold his lover, and saw nothing extraordinary about this particular example of the Lord’s arboreal handiwork. I have seen times when someone has buried a loved one’s ashes, or simply sprinkled them, at the feet of an object of some significance to them, but they usually commemorate this with some sort of marker, carving, SOMETHING. Apart from a few tufts of frosted ginger arm hair, as though an old, wispy bear had scratched his back on both sides, I saw nothing of moment on or around it. It just sat there and grew, and didn’t have anything in particular to say to ME, although I imagine it would have cried out for a power-washer if it COULD.

    …in any case, although many years have passed since then, I have neither seen nor been told of a return of this custard vending Sasquatch to what SEEMED to be his favorite forest friend. Perhaps he found love with another, perhaps he was arrested for the pile of children’s shoes they found in the back of his van, perhaps he made sufficient in pot sales to move the Seattle and worship Sequoyas, I don’t know how his story ends.

    …But I DO know how the TREE’S story ends.

    …a few months later, during a wild sort of autumnal storm, this tree was struck by lightning, shearing off a large upper branch and dropping it harshly through the rest of the tree’s canopy. The next day the Spanish Squad arrived and deemed it too damaged to survive safely, and took it down very professionally over the course of the next several days.

    I figured if ANYTHING would bring out its lovelorn Lorax it would be THAT, but he did not appear, failing to give the tree a voice or any OTHER anthropomorphism.

    I always half-expect him to come roaring up in his truck, latticed by the rust of the decades now, to rediscover his faith only to find his inamorata has left the building for good, but that anguished cry has never been raised. I like to think that his heart was split at the very instant his Entwife’s limb was and that they are together forever in-a-gadda-da-vida, but that’s just the romantic in me…

  12. Please,
    The tree rings are visual queues for the fancy software
    Take a cross section of a person and you will get a similar result.
    Use a cross section of a boulder and get the same thing

  13. Poor Lazlo
    APRIL 6, 2020 AT 1:44 PM

    …there may be some legal issues that interfere with your musical enjoyment if you start cross-sectioning PEOPLE for your listening enjoyment, @PL…

    …unless you’re an abortionist, of course, always a Democrat exemption when it comes even tp murder…

  14. SNS, nice tale. Freaky but nice.

    Heard this one in forestry school:

    A tree sprouted out of the forest floor and began to thrive. One old tree said to another, “What do you think that youngster is?”

    The other old timer said, “I’m not sure but I can tell you this. His daddy was a son of a beech, and his mom was the best piece of ash in this forest,”


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