Hold the Sitar, Back in October
The Dumb Sound of Empty Air
It probably shouldn’t be surprising that a day I’ve spent months building up to and counting down towards could still land with a shock. My final day at NPR: I turned in my badge, mailed back my recording kit, and watched NPR IT move soundlessly through the digital corridors revoking my access to the various Rough Translation accounts: Dropbox, GDrive, email. In those digital vaults are stored not only the mastered files of all the podcast episodes, but also all the archives: raw interviews, tracking sessions, and every draft script I’ve touched for seven years.
Archives. It’s a funny, pre-digital word. It casts an air of intentionality and value to what is 97% old shit that no one will ever need to listen to again. Still it stings. The day before my access was revoked, I randomly clicked on a raw file from April 2022, looking for a file that I wished had been in the archives but wasn’t. Out jumped my voice and the voice of producer Justine Yan, talking through the structure of what would become A Song For the Exhausted, the story reported by Emily Feng about a slacker hero in China.
On the recording, Justine and I are telling the story back to each other. We’re not playing tape. There’s no sound of Emily. No narration. This is just an edit conversation. (We recorded those too, sometimes, so in case we came up with a turn of phrase or a transition I could use in the writing). The word ‘edit’ makes it sound like I was making notes on a draft, and there probably was a draft at that point, but what we’re doing is more like telling & retelling the story, trying to get inside it, see it from different angles. Trying to put ourselves in the shoes of the characters, trying to wonder what they wonder about.
It’s probably my favorite part of making Rough Translation stories. This exercise in trying to get inside a tale. We finish the conversation, and the tape goes quiet. Justine has hung up the Zoom. There is a quiet clunk of headphones being put down on a table. A door closing. Footsteps on stairs. Mine, leaving the room, having forgotten to turn my recorder off. The silent tape continues for over an hour. Listening to empty air on a recorder is disorienting, like opening your eyes wide in a perfectly dark room. You’re straining to see something, even as you’re doubting your sense of sight. That was the sound on the tape, in the archives.
The long dumb sound of empty air.
Funny that that’s a recording I wish I could rescue now from the vault.
I rarely dwell on it here, but for the record: I think it was a huge mistake by NPR to let go of this show. And damn if it isn’t nice to hear you all say it, and say it, and say it more.
Soon, very soon, we’ll make something even more fun. Together.
But for this month, I need to take some time off. I’ll be quiet for the rest of September. I guess I need some more empty air to listen to.
(P.S. If you are a paying subscriber and you’d like me to comp you this month of no content, just reply to this email and I’ll happily take care of you.
See you very soon,
Gregory
P.P.S. The title of this post refers to our final episode of Rough Translation, a conversation with our theme composer John Ellis as well as Amira Gill and VASU who created our Love Commandos version of that theme. It’s a conversation about music, storytelling, and the challenges of making music with a sense of place. Take a listen.
P.P.P.S. Here’s a photo I took yesterday at sunrise from one of the highest points in Penang, Malaysia.
And here’s a link to some of the many comments from you that have made me grin with gratitude.
And yes, it was a huge mistake of NPR to let go of Rough Translation
Thank you so much for this podcast. Rough Translation was true to its mission, bringing stories from far off places that hit close to home. As a dual citizen of Mexico and the United States, I saw glimpses of myself in so many of the stories of people negotiating their identities in a variety of "in-between" spaces and identities, while finding myself captivated by the specific stories and experiences of those in your episodes. My wife (who came to the United States from Malaysia), sighed with happy relief listening to the "How to Speak Bad English" episode, feeling vindicated for all her efforts to learn a language bordering on the nonsensical like English, with so many eager to correct her slightest mistakes. When she joined the Army National Guard, I found myself playing your episodes on the Civ/Mil divide repeatedly, pondering the ways in which that juxtaposition plays itself out in our household ongoingly. I had a wonderful exchange with one Rough Translation producer, pitching a mini-series or spin-off on notions of disability worldwide (culture, legislation, innovation, etc.). It did not happen, but I was excited at the possibility and appreciate the willingness to reach out to me to explore possibilities in this area. Thank you for the journeys, the stories, the perspectives, and for never putting your thoughts or opinions in the mouths of others, but for seeking to be a conduit to those stories, perspectives, and lived experiences. For who you are and who we got to be by listening... Thank you.