Deep Inside An Italian Cave, You Can Hear Music Of The Spheres
And it's going to change everything for you.
In Calcata Vecchia, an artists’ colony about sixty miles north of Rome, there is a cave nestled inside a hill that was excavated by the ancient Etruscans. Housed within the cave is the Grotta Sonora, or sound cave, truly one of the most remarkable places in Italy. Despite living in Calcata Vecchia for two years, we stumbled upon it quite by accident, and the experience of hearing new, harmonically exquisite, otherworldly sounds—music made with gongs, harp bowls, and handmade experimental instruments—has never left me.
Musician/artisans Madhava Carrara and Margherita Cioffi greeted us warmly. A feeling of wellness and tranquility came over me as I wandered through the cave, admiring some truly beautiful instruments that could have easily passed for works of art.
But then Madhava or Margherita would pick up a soft mallet or a rubber ball and elicit sounds I had never heard before, more than temple music or sacred Indian intonations, more than mere music itself.
In such a space, you actually feel the sonic vibrations resonating through your body, and to profound effect. You fall instantly under their thrall. Time stands still. You are completely and utterly present. There is no striving, no worry. You simply give yourself over, and without wishing to sound like some tie-dye-wearing bong-philospher, I’d say you simply vibrate in unison with another like vibration.
Using a wide variety of shapes and materials, including recycled waste materials, Madhava and Margherita create sound experiences that stubbornly hold out against my paltry attempts to describe them. At one point, they seated me directly behind a large gong, percussed it, and I could actually feel my sternum vibrating in harmony with the sound waves.
There’s an involvement with these instruments that goes far beyond passive enjoyment. You immerse yourself in sounds for which you have no previous “audio template,” which means you receive them as a blank slate. The experience is so perspective-bending, you don’t want it to stop. You become Nipper, the RCA Victor dog, tilting its head at the sound of “His Master’s Voice.”
It is an extraordinary journey you take inside Grotta Sonora, blissfully awash in sound, nestled inside the warm womb of an Etruscan cave that overlooks a valley. There are no synths, no Autotune, no instruments you even have names for. This is uncharted territory. It is worth the effort it might take, say, an American visitor to get out there, and is far more rewarding than tramping around the Colosseum or eating lunch at some tourist-menu restaurant.
Grotta Sonora has no American equivalent. It embodies the very reason people like to travel. And I am firmly of the opinion that sounds like these have the power to heal whatever ails you.
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The world is a vast and wondrous place. Have you ever had an acoustic experience that left you different than you were before? Even if it was listening to Led Zeppelin for the first time, I want to hear about it. Please leave your comments below.
I may be a decent enough writer, but I'm also a reasonably competent guitarist. I can still remember the first time I heard Spandau Ballet's "Through The Barricades" over a pair of Bose headphones. Though the song never got any traction in the US, it was huge in England. It grabbed me by the heart from the first note and held me tight until the very last. I'm currently learning how to play it on my acoustic guitar, which is really something of a sonic crime- the equivalent of losing your virginity to the Swedish Bikini Team and then taking a vow of chastity.
As I'm writing this, I'm listening to it again, and...amazing....
Nothing so dramatic as what you describe here, but I did have an amazing experience with sound and music once.
The first weekend of every October, there is a mini-Ren Faire at "Stronghold Castle" (see link below.) It is populated by many people and performers familiar from the vastly larger Bristol faire, just over the line in Wisconsin.
Well, one weekend it rained. And Rained. And Rained.
Not hard, but relentlessly. So performers all moved inside, and shows that would have taken place in a glade were now happening in a stairwell.
It was magical.
You had no idea what you might encounter turning a corner. All the walls were "live" (which is to say, nothing muffled or softened the echo). Yet the structure would stop sound almost like a switch was thrown for turning a corner or closing a door. It felt like you'd never be able to recreate those experiences ever again, in no small part because it was all improvised, and this was the "first" time for those of us wandering the castle and grounds.