7 inches in length, 39 in breadth, and 15 in thickness. These are the dimensions of the 2nd of 3 stones Charles Darwin describes in his explanation of how worms, through their subterranean moving-about of soil and the ejection of castings into the vegetable mould, do over time contribute to the sinking of large stones and other objects into the earth. He estimates that this particular stone would need 262 years to see its upper level flush with the planet’s surface. Citing that “porous cinders, burnt marl, chalk and quartz pebbles” sunk to similar depths over a common time period, he estimates that an objects specific gravity does not speed or slow the process. The sinking is the work of worms.

Pretty amazing stuff – and within the pages of The Formation of Vegetable Mould through the action of worms with observations of their habits,  Darwin speaks highly of the little night-crawlers, “It may be doubted whether there are many other animals which have played so important a part in the history of the world, as have these lowly organized creatures”.

According to the study worms are among other things, deaf. “They took not the least notice of the shrill notes from a metal whistle, which was repeatedly sounded near them; nor did they of the deepest and loudest tones of a bassoon. They were indifferent to shouts, if care was taken that the breath did not strike them. When placed on a table close to the keys of a piano, which was played as loudly as possible, they remained perfectly quiet.”

Let us pause for a moment. Close your eyes and imagine Charles Darwin, the noble and educated son of a wealthy society doctor and popularized grandfather of evolutionary theory, playing what are by today’s standards the core elements in an experimental noise performance, to a dish full of worms. Imagine if he’d had a Din Datin Dudero, and Hammid Drake on drums!
 
He elaborates, “…they are extremely sensitive to vibrations…When the pots containing two worms which had remained quite indifferent to the sound of the piano, were placed on this instrument, and the note C in the bass clef was struck, both instantly retreated into their burrows. …when G above the line in the treble clef was struck they again retreated…on another night one worm dashed into its burrow on a very high note being struck only once, and the other worm when C in the treble clef was struck.” With Darwin’s detailed account instruments, notes and style, his text really does begin to feel less like a study of sensory responsiveness and more a musical score.

A Proposal.

A large stone, perhaps 20% taller than the tallest player and twice as wide, is placed in a room’s center. It rests in a box, wooden  - with the construction and style of a common sandbox. It is filled with soil, in which lives some number of worms appropriate to the dimensions of the box. On each side of the stone sits one member of our quartet. Metal whistle, bassoon, piano, and voice. This is at least, how I envision a concert hall setting. For small performances you might use a smaller stone such as the one previously described.  

Players are be given copies of Darwin’s text in advance, with those sections related to the work highlighted. The work could have specific movements or be freer. Perhaps they first play the sound of the stone, then of worms’ arrival, and lastly of the sinking. Or perhaps they individually represent earth, stone, worm, and rain. I leave this intentionally open to promote variation over time.

Our piano player has some room for interpretation. Based on the text above, he/she may sometimes simply play “as loudly as possible” - whereas at other moments may be restricted to or focus on C in the bass clef, G above the line in the treble clef, C in the treble clef, and one mysterious “very high note”. More restricted, our bassoon player may only play the deepest and loudest tones, while we hear shrill notes only from the metal whistle. Our vocalist is allowed “shouts” – but with no specific instruction regarding content, volume, duation, etc.

I’m not yet sure how long the work should last. When I watch folks like C. Spencer Yeh or Elliot Sharp perform it seems they have an intuition I lack – they just know when it’s done. So for my part, I’ll leave matters of duration, transitions, and the specific interplay between instruments up to the experts. Slowly Sinking In is a public domain score, so feel free to try it out sometime. Lastly, as Darwin’s text is already in the public domain, it might be nice to give a copy to all who attend your performance.