Barmp! The Harbour Symphony marks a return to normality in St. John's

BARMP! 

Barmp barmp barmp! 

BARRRRMP! 

The St. John's International Sound Symposium — and its signature event, the Harbour Symphony — is back. 

I love the Sound Symposium. It's a festival of experimental music and sound, held every second year in St. John's, and it's been going for nearly 40 years.

If you're into avant garde classical music or jazz, there is something for you. If you enjoy the sounds of nature, there is something for you. If you are into the sonically unusual, there is a lot for you. Basically, the Sound Symposium meets you where you're at. 

The Harbour Symphony definitely meets you where you're at — especially if where you're at is within earshot of St. John's harbour. 

Every day of the festival, at 12:30 p.m., the horns of ships docked in port erupt in a co-ordinated musical score, creating an abstract sound composition. 

Some people really dig it, a few people find it irritating, and for all hands in St. John's, the Harbour Symphony is the sound of summer. 

But alas, not for the past few summers. The COVID-19 pandemic put a halt to most gatherings and planned events over the past couple of years. The 2020 Sound Symposium was silenced. Except for a one-off gig requested for a cruise ship, St. John's has been without the Harbour Symphony since the Sound Symposium of 2018. 

So when I got an email calling for volunteers to play in the 2022 Harbour Symphony, it felt like a sign. St. John's had finally arrived at some sort of post-pandemic normal! I was so excited, I signed up to play for two different symphonies on two different days. 

On both days, I met the other players, and Delf Maria Hohmann, the curator of the Harbour Symphony, on the St. John's waterfront at 11:15 a.m. 

Delf looks like a cross between a mad scientist and a summer camp counsellor, which basically sums up his job. He drafts musicians to compose the pieces, he wrangles the "orchestra" players, and he records each performance. On the logistics side, he spends months working with city and port authorities to get permission for the players to board vessels, climb up to the ships' bridges, and wail on their horns. 

On the days I am there, Delf distributes scores, and runs us through a rehearsal. We count minutes and seconds, and yell "barmp!" when our horns are to play.