uncommon ambience

Sit in an enclosed bathroom for ten hours. It’s just you in a tiny room with a bath, the fan, and some drift. Whether you're studying, working, reading, sleeping, or unwinding after a long day, this immersive ambient soundscape provides the perfect background soundtrack. No talking, no interruptions—just pure bath in its own tiny bathroom vibe. Ignore the world.
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So, for my wife’s birthday, I took her to a boutique hotel with a small, fancy room with a bath inside of the overall bathroom so she could read and enjoy the quiet. I did not record during that time. We went downstairs to the restaurant, and that is when I set up the mic in the fancy little bathroom inside the bigger bathroom. (Also, I don’t want to ruin any illusion in regards to this episode—but no water was wasted.)
Speaking of my wife—I told her that in last week’s episode description I jokingly referred to myself as “Mr. Ambience.” And she was like, “That’s stupid.”
It started as a throwaway line and meandered into my heart.
Oh, while we’re on last week’s episode, which is awesome and you should pop over here. But we were talking about Pat Conroy, and I got to thinking: in another universe, Pat Conroy could have wound up in the NBA. He was a talented baller (and even once shared the court with Mr. NBA Logo Silhouette, Jerry West) if he hadn’t been moved around so much as a kid (see his also very good book My Losing Season).
Mr. Ambience. I like it. Makes me feel like I have a walking cane and a monocle—that I’m some kind of dapper son of a *****. That is Mr. Ambience. I bet if I were strolling the boutique hotel, swinging around a walking stick like I didn’t need it, focusing my monocle on railroad stocks and chatting aloud about my cottage on Lake Conemaugh, the staff would call me Mr. Ambience.
Oh, I (Mr. Ambience) have a quandary this week. I know I can’t be the only person who, sans any floss, got a piece of fingernail stuck between their teeth because, yeah, no dental floss. And you go from uncomfortable with food particle pressure and wedge a ****** fingernail in there too.
I wonder how often it happens to people who are not me (i.e., more normal). There was a time when I thought for sure I was the only doofus making issues worse like that for their teeth.

POP OFF ten hours of uninterrupted bubbles and assorted popping. Chill vinyl pops, soda pops, popcorn, bubbles, and a dash of drift. Whether you're studying, working, reading, sleeping, or unwinding after a long day, this immersive ambient soundscape provides the perfect background soundtrack. No talking, no interruptions—just pure poppin' vibes. Ignore the World.
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As I was working on the title for this week’s episode, I kept thinking of a comedic moment from media that I couldn't place... maybe cartoons? Where a doofus character keeps obnoxiously shouting “POP OFF!”
Oh, where are my manners? Welcome back to the section no one pays attention to. The uncommon ambience episode description! I am Mr. Ambience.
What? Do you want me to write up some immersive episode description? I have assembled a collection of popping sounds for ten hours—I don’t think anyone wants to read an old doofus' poetic affectation. "You are in a null space and in front of you is a soda bottle, if you drink it you will float..."
I would rather be inane in here. When I turned 23, I decided my ultimate mission on earth was to achieve the pinnacle of dumb. Not stupid, I like dumb. Dumb is low stakes—simultaneously funny and unfunny. The Tao of Dumb—thats what I wanted and still strive for. And that’s not to say I like that 23-year-old me. I’ve seen postings on LinkedIn, “I wish I had a Time Machine to go back and tell my younger self, you're ok…” Like that might work for virtuous people—if I had access to my younger self, I would slap the **** out of me. It’d be Looper without murder or hovering motorcycles.
“POP OFF!” What cartoon or movie was that from? And then it came to me—like seeing someone pushing an expensive stroller, and you peek in for the cuteness and there’s a ****** dog. Or a plastic baby.
I’m thinking of Pat Conroy’s The Lords of Discipline.
“POP OFF” was what the cadre shouted at freshmen when they wanted freshmen to speak... while hazing them at the Carolina Military Institute.
If you want to read a visceral horror novel masked as a not particularly compelling mystery (Conroy tells us about the guy who would have evidence on “the ten” early in the book and only a betrayal would force the main character to seek it, mystery solved)—read The Lords of Discipline. And I don’t want to undersell the mystery aspect of the book, because it isn't the star. The institution is the star (and i suspect a trauma dump from the author).
If Anton Chigurh was an institution of higher learning...
The Carolina Military Institute lashes out at those who question it. In the story, the protagonist recalls approaching his dorm during his freshman year, where his orientation leaders are waiting for him at a table. He’s a new student and has some questions about what to do after checking in—and is punched for asking.
It’s a horror novel. Imagine enrolling in a 1970s-era South Carolina military college (that’s just getting around to integration) and the ruthless hazing that awaits. This is old school military school terror.
Conroy is a favorite author of mine. He gives such a lush rendering to his scenes. The spaces he describes are immersive, making it all the more jarring when transitioning from the opulence and architectural beauty of South of Broad to the engulfing ick of hazing in a scalding-hot shower room.
We’re heading into spooky season, so if you want to be traumatized this fall, pick up The Lords of Discipline. (A better title would have been, Don't Tell Mom the Institute Murdered Me).
PS: If you’re looking for a tenuous 90’s hiphop connection to this week’s episode (that’s fun and won’t traumatize you) check out Bubblin’ by CRU.

7/28 Thunder! Pack your umbrella for ten hours of uninterrupted severe weather (with drift and drums). So if you dig rain, percussion, thunder, a little bit of vinyl hiss paired with wind, this episode is for you. Whether you're studying, working, reading, sleeping, or unwinding after a long day, this immersive ambient soundscape provides the perfect background soundtrack. No talking, no interruptions—just pure summer storm energy. Ignore the World.
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And just FYI, this one starts quiet and builds to the deluge. I toned down the thunder, so it's all rumbles—no jump-scare stuff. This Mid-Atlantic thunderstorm was recorded on 7/28 in my thunderstorm recording studio (my dreadful, much-repeated dad term for "shed").

As with many people, I have a personal relationship with severe weather. Gawd, what a terrible sentence. Why does everything need a setup? I mean, we do this: "Hark, I have poetry in my setup, and now I may list my bonafides." Can't just start listing a bunch of named storms and then, "I was there, man."

I have some experience with Mother Nature's power. Hurricane Hugo in Camden, SC (1989), Hurricane Bob in Edgartown (1991), and Snowmageddon on a D.C.-area highway. Snowmageddon, for me, was eight hours to get from Rosslyn to Ashburn, and around the halfway point I got out on the toll road and took a pee in front of everyone.

Hell, I was even in a derecho, and WTOP retweeted a few of my photos (so exciting). I like severe weather.

Actually, I like the moments leading up to severe weather. It's like the lift hill of a roller coaster—it builds excitement (and is my favorite part because it's slow).

When I got a weather alert on my phone telling me to take shelter... I didn't do that. I ran to the shed with a microphone.

Then I came back into the house and took a shower.

No, I'm kidding. Yeesh, now that I look it up on Reddit... taking a shower during a thunderstorm could be a bad idea. Apparently some dude was zapped unconscious while showering in a golf clubhouse.

Quint's lament. This week we have ten hours of uninterrupted waves from Menemsha (recorded here), with Jaws vibes. I imagined the fictional Amity fishing community coming to grips with the unfortunate events of 51 years ago (and how that would audibly work out as a soundscape). So: mild melancholy and chill thrills.
This immersive ambient soundscape provides the perfect background soundtrack. No talking, no interruptions—just pure Menemsha waves, familiar note combinations, and drift. Ignore the world.
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I spotted candy corns for sale at my local grocer. I’m calling it—summer is over. I said something to that effect to my wife on a recent trip to the supermarket. Her look was incredulous, with a hint of middle finger. “It’s July.”
“Sure… late July,” I corrected. “Very late.” (I left unsaid, "Eggnog will be on sale soon.")
My wife was wearing her Quint-themed baseball T-shirt we picked up last year while watching the MV Sharks versus the North Shore Navigators. It was the Jaws 50th Anniversary game—the teams had been renamed for the promotion: the Amity Sharks versus the Quint Navigators. And, as with the film, the Quint Navigators went down swinging (they lost).
Look—I’m trying to explain how I decided to use my Menemsha beach recording from this year. I had my 3 a.m. waves a few weeks back, but folks didn’t seem too jazzed on just waves. So I got the idea in the supermarket pasta aisle to add some Jaws homage to the composition. After all, I have recordings from Quint’s base of operations.
Menemsha is a real fishing village and looks so convincingly fisherman that all the movie needed to do was aim a camera at it to establish Quint’s fisherman bona fides.
My wife loves Quint; her "movie character" crush. And I get it, the character is Charles Bronson of the ocean.
If the Gorton’s Fisherman was Matlock, Quint would be Ace Ventura: Pet Detective (if Ace Ventura had survived a horrific shark attack in the Pacific).
PS: I wrote this after a very long day... And this is our second Jaws themed episode. Also the Gorton’s Fisherman can go hard AF.

Appledore 2 (Van Damme queued)! This week we have ten hours of uninterrupted small-island ocean vibes from off the coast of northern New England. Distant calm waves, birds, and buoys. Whether you're studying, working, reading, sleeping, or unwinding after a long day, this immersive ambient soundscape provides the perfect background soundtrack. No talking, no interruptions—just pure island isolation. Ignore the World.
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Special thanks to my twin for capturing this audio. The recording took place on a June afternoon earlier this year. And a note to the kids out there: if you do science stuff, you get to go to cool places. My sister has parlayed her marine ecology career into research trips overseas—to a ton of Europe, Central and South America, and Appledore.
Appledore is a tiny Maine island off the coast of New Hampshire. It’s Maine because the state line follows the Piscataqua River into the ocean and splits the island group between the two states. So New Hampshire has Star Island and White Island. And Maine has Cedar, Appledore, and (grizzly axe murders) Smuttynose.
It’s difficult to separate Smuttynose from its history. So I would suggest getting the history from J. Dennis Robinson’s book Mystery on the Isle of Shoals. It's a Smuttynose historian’s view of the island. (The book begins hundreds of millions of years ago and quickly leads to the events of March 5, 1873.)
The motivation of Robinson's book feels less like, "Here is some history of an island and its terrible events," and more like someone needs to correct the record after a novelist flipped the history to exonerate the axe murderer and blame the woman who survived the attack (in the fictional book—and later film—The Weight of Water).
Interestingly, John Wilkes Booth’s brother, Edwin Booth, has a cameo in Isle of Shoals history. He showed up on Star Island a few years after the Smuttynose murders (and after his brother murdered Lincoln) to stay at the (then) new Oceanic Hotel. Edwin had nothing to do with the Smuttynose murders—but if I wrote The Weight of Water 2, I’d pin the **** on that dude.