The following is a fictional personal anecdote about the hydraulophone. The anecdote is designed to incorporate interesting facts about hydraulophones (and bonus facts too!) and leave you with an understanding of an instrument you may have never heard of. The setting is Ontario Science Centre, Canada. The weather is warm with a slight breeze coming from the northwest. My reason for travelling so far from home: to hear the Ontario Science Center’s hydraulophone in action with my own two ears. I arrive on the scene, the wind still waltzing, dancing with my hair and the bellbottoms on my jeans. The hydraulophone arrives within my sight, and I notice it is taller than the ones I have seen in water parks and hot tubs, other places where ambitious artists and engineers have erected them. It’s certainly more elegant than the lego shaped hydraulophone at the entrance to the legoland waterpark in Carlsbad California.
I step towards it, but hesitate. Its elegance pushes me to ponder its absence from elegant music. I wonder why, even though it plays with the harmonic purity of a flute, weightless nostalgia of a harp, and smooth body of a violin it never became a staple of the concert hall. My mind jumps back to reality, and I continue toward the instrument, watching the reflection of the sun in the steam-engine-like metal pipes that stand guard behind the flowing keys. Before I reach the hydraulophone, I lose myself in thought again, noting the irony that an instrument which evokes such serenity, constantly shushing listeners like a small waterfall in the amazon, drawing them to listen for the birds chirping and the monkeys jumping and its serene tones, usually finds itself at hectic water parks, amusement parks, or in draining hot tubs.
While I am lost in thought, I neglect to notice Ryan Janzen, notable hydraulist, walk up from behind me and begin to play the hydraulophone. He plays a new song he is composing for the hydraulophone, pulling my attention back to the Science Centre. He stands at the pipe parallel to the ground with holes where water streams flow. His fingers plug the water streams, drawing the smooth notes as the water flows more quickly through the other holes. He plays a melody with a hand that dances through the water. The other hand plays chords and bathes in the flow from the surrounding streams. As I sit down on a nearby bench, I close my eyes and lose myself in the steady sound of melody, chords, and a flowing stream.
That was a fictional personal anecdote about the hydraulophone, the instrument that will no doubt be the talk of excitable groups of college radio dj’s throughout Carleton’s campus in the coming week. It is often referred to as a woodwater instrument and it operates much like a woodwind. I am certainly no expert in physics yet, (I am enrolled in Introduction to Fluids and Waves) but to my understanding, a current of water flows through a tube with an unchanging volume. As holes are covered, pressure builds up in the tube, which vibrates as more water tries to escape from the holes than can. Hydraulophones come in many variations; some even have reeds that vibrate at the holes. I would urge an excitable dj looking to be a part of a group discussing hydraulophones to note that a hydraulophone is an entirely acoustic instrument.
Here is a video of the hydraulophone at work: Ryan Janzen Plays Pachelbel’s Canon