Immersed in sound (immersed in anything) we leave the dull, petty parts of life behind. In a drone, perhaps we find space to experience human feelings without the need to explain or apologise to ourselves. Or maybe if we’re lucky we disappear altogether.
In singing or humming a single note in unison, everyone must relinquish control. There is no room for solipsism. The only reference is the length of your breath and the sound of your neighbours, strangers though they may be. In doing this, we are drawn closer to each other without the complications of navigating social norms.
Drones also challenge us to stay put – to not insist upon endless variation even when it is available to us. We have both loved drones since we were very little – they are everywhere, in the sound of vacuum cleaners, microwaves, cars, computer fans and construction sites. Drones are such an old part of music, but you can sing folk music to the drone of a chest freezer.
In our music, drones can instigate communion, self-erasure, immanence, and time travel; the drone is a hard worker.