Can You Hear That Smell?

Or do you smell that sound?

Common Stinkhorn (Phallus impudicus) Source: Birger Fricke via Wikimedia Commons

I was frying an egg the other morning (admittedly a luxury here in the U.S. these days because of the avian flu crisis we find ourselves in). I made sure to enjoy every bite thoroughly, but the ‘smell of egg’ lingered for hours.

You know that smell, right? That all-enveloping, sulfuric, vinegary, rotten vegetable smell that takes over the room and decides to be a squatter for the day?

What does that smell sound like to you? If you listened closely to the smell, what would you hear?

To me its pitch is relatively high while cooking, almost booming, and its volume is loud until over time someone eventually says “turn it down!” Its tone feels monotone, as if humming and has a quality that’s deep and echoes throughout the house. It feels like a steady drumbeat that plays for hours, always reminding me that it’s there.

Now what if I asked you to flip it - imagine a sound - what does it smell like?

Take this sound here. Have a listen…

After hearing this, could you imagine the sound being the smell of a fried egg?

How much is what you hear influenced by what you smell? And how much of what you smell is influenced by what you hear? Because when you hear a sound, there’s always a smell in the space. And when you notice a smell, there’s always a sound, too.

To be clear, I’m not talking about synesthesia here. I’m just asking you to use your senses of smell and hearing in a more focused way. Pay attention to one, and then incorporate the other. What do you notice? What feels connected? What feels mismatched?

I encourage you to take a moment to consider how scent and sound are informing your everyday perceptions. Observe how a negative smell impacts the sounds you’re hearing at that moment. Or, vice versa, how a shrill or annoying sound shapes the smellscape you find yourself in.

And if you really want to explore this interplay of smell and sound further, I invite you to hear a fascinating conversation I had with visual artist, singer, and writer Siôn Parkinson about the stinkhorn mushroom (pictured at the top), which is the foulest smelling fungus on the planet.

We talk about his newly released book Stinkhorn: How Nature’s Most Foul-Smelling Mushroom Can Change The Way We Listen which is a meditation on sound, and invites readers to listen through the nose and open the mind to the musical potential in unpleasant odors.

I know a mushroom might be a weird entry into the interplay of sound and smell, but the exploration is absolutely fascinating. I believe you’ll really enjoy the conversation and it will make you think about your senses in new ways.

You'll hear why Siôn got interested in mushrooms and how he first came across the stinkhorn. And he explains the difference between “Stink” and “stink” and how sound is informed by smell.

What’s most fascinating though is his description of what the common stinkhorn looks like, how it smells, and what role sound plays for the fungus.

He also talks about his experience with phantosmia, and how olfactory and auditory hallucinations, while feeling crippling, have been an important part of his journey.

You can hear this episode and many more on Apple podcast, Spotify, Amazon Music, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Leave a comment and let me know what you thought of the episode, as well as how you experience smell and sound together.