Phenomena researches sonic enigmas and collaborates with experts in pursuit of an overlapping art + science.

As patriotic celebrations come to a close, the last extended weekend of the summer leaving behind red, white and blue in supermarket clearance aisles, one of the sounds of the summer begins to dissipate with it. The primary fascination in the construction of these displays are the shapes and colors that project splendor onto the faces below them. Less considered, however, is the sound produced in those fleeting moments.

The score of the firework can be divided into two parts, the explosion and the whistle. The usual chemical which produces the sound is flash powder, which is a substance composed of an oxidizer metal mixture (Conklin, Mocella 212). It is responsible for producing two things, the bright flash of light, along with the loud bang. In regards to typical American celebratory fireworks, this mainly consists of potassium perchlorate, sulfur, and aluminium (Conklin, Mocella 213). The whistling is a completely separate component to the firework, produced by compressing chemicals, usually potassium along with benzoic acid or a substitute of it (Conklin, Mocella 214). Therefore, the construction of sound is a matter of the chemical composition of the firework in addition to the way in which it is encased. There are however, additional outliers aside from the two simple elements of flash and sound mixture. Certain chemicals allow for the production of specific effects. Magnalium for instance, is responsible for the fireworks which produce sparks and hence crackle when fired into the air.

In your traditional firework, the booming residue of the chemical reaction is a result not of the explosion itself but rather by “the release of large quantities of gas” (Russell 101). The distribution of this sound begins at the centered area of impact and extends outward just as the visual would suggest, fading along with the energy produced. Fireworks themselves are not considered to be denotations and therefore, although they can be heard and seen, they cannot be felt. According to the Office for Product Safety & Standards of the United Kingdom, there is an 120db safety limit on these types of pyrotechnics which also contributes to the limited spatial impact.

Like any marvel, it does not come without its consequences. The sonic environmental impact is one commonly experienced by those with auditory sensitivities as well as distressed pets. Just as affected if not more is wildlife, disturbed by not only the noise but also by the risk of wildfires which have been of great concern as a result of record breaking temperatures and drought.

Why is it then that, at the very least, despite silent fireworks being available for over 30 years, the traditional kind still litter our ears on humid nights? Even though the sound of fireworks can be altered separately to its visual aspect, decreasing the sound still demands that its size and altitude be compromised.

There is something to be said about the splendor of the explosiveness, pressurizing into a precipitation-like release, rays of light disappearing as they fall to earth, the echo of their trajectory looming in the distance. It is the abrasive sonics of explosives which, crescendoing from the most serene point in the symphony, punctuates Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture into public memory.

Could we expect a purely pyrotechnic orchestra in our future? Perhaps in an alternate reality in which these bombastic displays are less destructive and unsustainable, this might be an optimistic outlook. In this one, perhaps that auditory satiety could come from a post productive effort.

It is harder, however, to replicate the sounds that exist on the outskirts of the firework. The nervous laughter caused by the adrenaline rush of the igniter, jogging giddy to the line of safety. The gasps from astonished mouths emerging as the expected explosion expels into darkness, claps celebrating chemical reactions. The chatter spread across the block, families grouped together, commenting on the shapes and colors. I, the silent observer experiencing from a distance, listening to my breath between the lulls of reloading.

In this unionizing force there exists an element of nostalgia, for a time in which there was nothing asked of oneself aside from finding ways to spend the hot day. This is not a reasoning by which to advocate for a tradition that is very destructive in many ways, but rather a reflection of where these attachments may lie amidst these consequences. An explanation for why we can find such violent sounds so comforting.