Voices from the Past
by Wim Vangrootloon
Studio editors: Jimmy Van Rietvelde / Dries Geusens
Production: Pat Donnez
Broadcast on Radio 1 (VRT)

9:12 of 27:01

When people die, their voice dies with them. Can you remember what the voice of your dead father sounded like, for instance? It seems we are unable to hold on to voices in our minds. While there might be a sort of echo, it always remains a vague memory. Here is a chorus of stories about voices now gone from the lives of four different people.

This excerpt starts nine minutes from the end of the piece, and runs through the end. You'll first hear from Jeanine, who lost her vocal cords to cancer, and now speaks through an electronic voice box.

    Singing along to music on tape: "Lonely Boy" (poor quality)

Jeanine: That was recorded 23 years ago. That's how old that tape is. It was recorded on an old machine; you can hear it by the quality.

    Singing along to music on tape: "Lonely Boy" (poor quality)

Jeanine: But at least I still have a memory of how my voice used to sound, so that's why I won’t throw it away. Never.

   Singing along to music on tape: "Lonely Boy" (poor quality)

Jeanine: It's nice to be able to listen to it again. But that's it. For the rest, I can live with the metallic voice sound. At least I can speak. That's all that matters to me. That's what counts.

    Singing along to music on tape:"Lonely Boy" (poor quality)
    Click of cassette recorder

Jeanine: I like to sing. I go to concerts a lot and sing along with the music. Nothing comes out, no sound, but I make the effort. And I enjoy myself.

    Tape with Angelo - Carine's son (poor quality)

Angelo: Grandad, it’s Angelo. Are you home? Otherwise give us a call back. Bye.

    Click of cassette recorder

Carine: Every time I hear it, I get shivers down my spine. Every time ... He was sitting on that chair doing his homework. I went and sat down next to him. The thing is I never did that, I normally never interfere when the children are doing their homework. But that time I did. He was doing his Dutch homework and had to look up words. He didn't have the text with him and he was pretending to be busy because he didn’t dare admit that he'd forgotten the text at school. I got pretty annoyed and said: "Damn you, have we got to go through all of this again!" I told him to get on his bike and cycle back to school to fetch it as punishment. To make it clear to him that the next time he shouldn’t forget his book. Less than ten minutes later he was run over by a car.

Kitty: A voice gives a person's character away more than other things. The small differences in intonation. When I listen carefully I can hear Jim exactly as he is.

Carine: In the beginning it’s already gratifying to at least have a photograph to look at. But it doesn't move...It doesn’t speak. It's just a sheet of paper.

Jean-Paul: I don't know how it works exactly. You remember that piece from Marcel Proust where he says that eating a piece of madeleine cake can prompt a whole load of childhood memories to come to the surface simply through that specific taste. I think the same goes for sound too, but at a deeper level.

Kitty: You give away your emotions. Hearing papa saying, "Manou, eat your food!" reminds me of how that used to irritate him. That's why we decided I'd stay with the children because I have more patience. It's something you don’t see on a photograph.

Carine: I have two photos: One from his first year at secondary school, and one from the second year. You can see how much he changed in just a year. We wonder what he’d look like now. Would he have a beard? Would he be clean-shaven? Would his voice have broken? Or maybe not? It’s impossible to imagine him now. You try to imagine it but it’s not good.

Jean-Paul: There's two recordings I can play you. One of them I know was recorded before his heart attack, the other after his heart attack. You can’t hear the difference. He doesn't stutter; he's not at a loss for words...The only difference is that his voice has become thinner. It's lost its power.

    Start of tape recorder: music
 
Jean-Paul: This is a recording from when he was in Africa.

    Father (IN FRENCH): I have always been particularly attracted...

   
Jean-Paul: Here he sounds pretty vigorous. Young, healthy, vital, a full voice.

    Father (IN FRENCH): We're scared when we have to walk in traffic. We're scared because we always    have   to hurry. Everything has to go too fast nowadays. Life doesn't follow a normal rhythm any more. Because of this, I have this message for the majority of painters...


Jean-Paul: There’s also a part ... yes, it's really a very nice part ... Once when my mother wasn't at home for a few days he recorded a tape and on it he had written in French, "condientiel." Confidential.

    Father continues under Jean-Paul's voice.
    Click of cassette recorder

Jean-Paul: When you come across a tape with "confidential" written on it you can't help but be inquisitive. It was my mother who eventually came across it. I would have been trembling with fear if I'd had to listen to it. Maybe he would have admitted to the world that he had been a part of the Great Train Robbery and that he still had a lot to answer for. But it wasn't anything like that. It was a sort of overview of his life. A short, concise autobiography recorded on tape. It's a very remarkable item.

    Click of cassette recorder

    Father (IN FRENCH): I am very happy because she's such a lovely person. We were born on exactly the same day except with 31 years in between. She is still very young and pretty. As for me, I've started to lose my hair. After all, I'm already 57 years old. I now have a third son. He's called Jean-Paul and he's already two years old. He's a good-looking little boy and is already making himself understood...

Jean-Paul: So he's saying that I'm two years old and a good-looking child...

    Father (IN FRENCH): And he's a good-looking boy

Jean-Paul: And he's a good-looking boy...

    Father (IN FRENCH): He's very nice and above all a real chatterbox....

Jean-Paul: ...a real chatterbox. It seems I talked too much according to him.

    Father (IN FRENCH): I'm making the most of the fact that my wife, Anne-Marie, has gone to Courtrai (Flemish town in West Flanders) to make this little recording which will fill up the tape...

Jean-Paul: I'm making the most of the fact that my wife, Anne-Marie, has gone to Kortijk, to record this.

    Father (IN FRENCH): I am very happy at the moment and like all happy people I have nothing more to say.

    Click of cassette recorder

    Father (IN FRENCH): Goodbye, goodbye everyone. John.

    Click of cassette recorder

Jean-Paul: I can't help feeling that these tapes ... Well, it's just like ... In fact it's a voice from the grave. At that time he was alive but now he's dead and I still miss him a lot. What would he have thought of so and so now? What would his opinion have been? But he isn't here. So all you've got are these dead tapes on which he says a few things. The only thing is he can't give you an answer to questions like: "Is she the right woman for me? Should I buy that house?" You won't find those answers on the tape. While on the one hand the tapes are of course interesting, on the other hand slightly painful because the whole thing is so one-sided.

Carine: The nicest thing would be to have him back immediately. But that is completely out of the question. I try to console myself and be happy that at least I still have the recording.

    Music: Jeanine sings along to Elvis Presley's "Love Me Tender"

end