
Brains Process Speech and Singing Differently
By , Allison Parshall, Fonda Mwangi & Madison Goldberg
Rachel Feltman: For Scientific American 's Science Quickly, I'm Rachel Feltman. We're wrapping up our week of summer reruns with one of my absolute favorite Science Quickly episodes. Back in October, SciAm associate news editor Allison Parshall took us on a fascinating sonic journey through the evolution of song. What turns speech into music, and why did humans start singing in the first place? A couple of 2024 studies offered a few clues.
Allison, thanks for coming back on the pod. Always a pleasure to have you.
Allison Parshall: Thanks for having me.
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Feltman: So I hear we're going to talk about music today.
Parshall: We are going to talk about music, my favorite topic; I think your favorite topic, too—I mean, I don't want to put words in your mouth.
Feltman: Yeah, I'm a fan, yeah.
Parshall: Yeah, yeah. Well, I guess I would love to know if you have a favorite folk song.
Feltman: That is a really tough question because I love, you know, folk music and all of its weird modern subgenres. But if I had to pick one that jumps out that I'm like, 'I know this is genuinely at least a version of an old folk song and not, like, something Bob Dylan wrote,' would be 'In the Pines,' which I probably love mostly because I grew up kind of in the pines, in the [New Jersey] Pine Barrens, so feels, you know, appropriate.
Parshall: Will you sing it for me?
Feltman: Oh, don't make me sing, don't make me sing. Okay, yes.
Parshall: Yay, okay! I'm sat.
Feltman (singing): ' In the pines, in the pines, where the sun don't even shine / I'd shiver the whole night through / My girl, my girl, don't lie to me / Tell me, 'Where did you sleep last night?''
That's it; that's the song.
Parshall: Clapping, yay! Oh, that was lovely. Honestly, I didn't know if I expected you to sing it.
Feltman: If you ask me to sing, I'm gonna sing.
Parshall: I'm very happy. Well, I will not be singing my favorite folk song—I don't even know if it qualifies as a folk song—but my grandma used to sing us a lullaby, and that lullaby was 'The Battle Hymn of the Republic,' like, 'Mine eyes have seen the glory,' or whatever. Yeah, so I think that's my favorite one, but I don't know if it qualifies.
[CLIP: 'Handwriting,' by Frank Jonsson ]
Parshall: But I'm definitely not the only person, like, asking this question; I'm asking it to you for a reason. There's this group of musicologists from around the world that have been basically going around to each other and asking each other the same thing: 'Can you sing me a traditional song from your culture?'
And they're in search of the answer to this really fundamental question about music, which is: 'Why do humans across the whole world, in every culture, sing?' This is something that musicologists and evolutionary biologists have been asking for centuries, like, at least as far back as Darwin. And this year we had two cool new cross-cultural studies that have helped us get a little bit closer to an answer. And actually they've really changed how I think about the way that we humans communicate with one another, so I'm really happy to tell you about them.
Feltman: Yeah, why do we sing? What theories are we working with?
Parshall: Well, okay, so there's generally two schools of thought. One is that singing is kind of an evolutionary accident—like, we evolved to speak, which is genuinely evolutionarily helpful, and then singing kind of just came along as a bonus.
Feltman: That is a pretty sweet bonus.
Parshall: I agree. It's like we get the vocal apparatus to do the speaking, and then the singing comes along. And the people who buy into this theory like to say that music is nothing more than, quote, 'auditory cheesecake,' which is a turn of phrase that has long irked Patrick Savage. He's a comparative musicologist at the University of Auckland in New Zealand.
Patrick Savage: It's just like a drug or a cheesecake: It's nice to have, but you don't really need it. It could vanish from existence, and no one would care, you know?
So that kind of pisses off a lot of us who care deeply about music and think it has deep value. But it's kind of a challenge—like, can we show that there are any real, consistent differences between music and language?
Parshall: Savage took this challenge very seriously because, if you couldn't tell, he belongs to the other school of thought about music's origins: that singing served some sort of evolutionary purpose in its own right, that it wasn't just a bonus. And if that were true, if music weren't just a by-product of language but played, like, an actual role in how we evolved, you'd expect to see similarities across human societies in what singing is and how it functions in a way that is different from speech.
Feltman: Yeah, that makes sense and also sounds like an extremely massive research project.
[CLIP: 'None of My Business,' by Arthur Benson ]
Parshall: Yeah, I don't envy them the job of having to go around and try to perfectly represent the globe, but they made a solid attempt. They got to work recruiting colleagues to submit samples of them singing a traditional tune of their choice. And through what I can only describe as a truly heroic act of coordination—I can only imagine the e-mail threads—he and a small team of collaborators received data from 75 total participants from 55 language backgrounds and all six populated continents.
Feltman: Wow.
Parshall: So each participant submitted four recordings: one of them singing the traditional tune, another one where they play it on an instrument, another one where they speak the lyrics and another one where they speak naturally—just basically giving a natural language sample of them describing the song that they picked. And Savage himself picked the tune that you might recognize called 'Scarborough Fair.' Let me play that for you.
[CLIP: Patrick Savage sings 'Scarborough Fair']
Feltman: It's a classic choice—can't knock it.
Parshall: Yeah, and I'm not immune to a little 'Scarborough Fair.' There were also more upbeat tunes that some of the English-speaking contributors submitted.
[CLIP: Tecumseh Fitch sings 'Rovin' Gambler']
Parshall: It makes me want to slap my knee and, like, play a fiddle. But that one was from Tecumseh Fitch. He's an American biologist currently at the University of Vienna.
And this next one that I picked to show you comes from Marin Naruse of the Amami Islands off southern Japan. She's actually a professional singer and cultural ambassador for the region.
[CLIP: Marin Naruse sings 'Asabanabushi']
Parshall: That vocal-flipping technique I just thought was so cool. And I was also totally taken by this next one from Neddiel Elcie Muñoz Millalonco. She's an Indigenous researcher and traditional singer from Chiloé Island in Chile, and here she is singing a traditional Huilliche song.
[CLIP: Neddiel Elcie Muñoz Millalonco sings 'Ñaumen pu llauken' ('Joy for the Gifts')]
Parshall: So that's just a little taste of what this data is like. There's way more where that came from, and it's all publicly available too, so you can check it out yourself. But the researchers after this, when they got the samples, got to work analyzing it. So hats off to Yuto Ozaki of Keio University in Japan. He's the lead author of the study, and to hear Pat Savage tell it, he spent, like, months just processing these audio files full time.
So by comparing the singing samples to the speech samples and then comparing those differences with each other, the researchers found that songs tended to be different than speech in a few key ways: they were slower, they were higher-pitched, and they had more stable pitches than speech.
[CLIP: 'The Farmhouse,' by Silver Maple ]
Feltman: Yeah, I guess that makes sense.
Parshall: Yeah, like, if you think about the way that maybe a lot of us think about the differences between singing and speech—which, again, we can't fully trust because there's so many different ways to sing and speak around the world—but it generally takes more time to sing a lyric than to speak it because we're lingering on each note for longer. And because we're lingering that means we're able to settle on specific pitches, like, instead of—where I'm speaking, I have this kind of low rumble that settles for less time on any specific pitch. I could also go dooo, and that is, for the most part, like, one specific pitch. It's less upsy and downsy. And then, also, we generally sing with higher pitches than we speak.
Feltman: Yeah, why is that?
Parshall: Maybe because when we speak we're kind of in this narrow, comfortable window toward the bottom of our vocal range. Like, right now, the way I'm speaking, I could go a little bit lower, but I couldn't go very much lower, whereas if I'm singing, I can go, like, octaves higher, probably, than the way I'm speaking right now.
I think it's partly just the way that we're built, but singing opens up that upper range to us—like, you know, the mi mi mi mi mi mi mi of it all. So these differences where we're hearing, you know, slower speeds, higher pitches, those are all interesting, but they feel kind of intuitive, and I didn't have a great way to understand what they were telling me kind of as a whole until I learned about this next study that I'm going to tell you about.
Feltman: Ooh, so what did they find?
Parshall: So this one actually had more of a neuroscience focus, whereas the other one was a little bit more anthropological. This one was conducted by Robert Zatorre of McGill University in Montréal and his colleagues. His team has been asking basically the same question as Savage's team but in a different way. So that's: Can we find commonalities in how cultures around the world speak versus how they sing?
Robert Zatorre: Do they have some kind of basic mechanism that all humans share? Or is it rather that they're purely cultural sort of artifacts—each culture has a way of speaking and a way of producing music, and there's really nothing in common between them? As a neuroscientist, what interests me in particular is whether there are brain mechanisms in common.
Parshall: And Zatorre wasn't going into this from scratch. His own research and research of others had shown that the left and right hemispheres of the brain might be involved differently in speaking versus singing.
Zatorre: An oversimplified version would be to say that speech depends on mechanisms in the left hemisphere of the brain, and music depends more on mechanisms in the right hemisphere of the brain. But I say that's oversimplified because it wouldn't really be correct to say that.
Parshall: So what is correct, though, according to Zatorre, is that there are certain acoustic qualities common in speech that are parsed on the left side of our brain and other acoustic qualities common in singing that are parsed on the right side.
Feltman: So pretty much all I know about left versus right brain is all the debunked stuff about being, like, left-brained or right-brained as a personality type. So could you unpack the actual neuroscience here a little bit?
Parshall: Yeah, the whole, like, 'Oh, I'm left-brained. Oh, I'm right-brained,' that's mostly been debunked. But it's true that parts of the two sides of the brain do specialize in totally different things sometimes, and here's what that means for processing sound.
[CLIP: 'Let There Be Rain,' by Silver Maple ]
Parshall: Speech contains a lot of time-based, or temporal, information, meaning that the signal of what you hear, even as I'm talking now, is changing from, like, millisecond to millisecond and, importantly, that those changes are meaningful. Like, each letter or phoneme that I'm pronouncing goes by super quickly, but if I swapped one for the other—like said 'bat' instead of 'cat'—that would totally change the meaning, and that happens super quick. So those tiny time frames really matter when we're talking about speech, and that kind of quick-changing information is processed more on the left side of the brain.
Singing, on the other hand, contains a lot of spectral information, which is processed more on the right side of the brain. So when I say 'spectral,' I'm referring to the spectrum of sound waves from super low pitch to, like, super high. Those aren't at all encompassing of the spectrum.
Feltman: Yeah, that was the whole spectrum of sound.
Parshall: I can go way lower than—yeah, it goes way lower than what you think you're hearing and way higher than what you think you're hearing. But that information of that spectrum, it kind of contains the 'color,' or the timbre, that allows you to distinguish between, for example, a saxophone and a clarinet or even, you know, your voice and my voice if you were listening.
You can really hear this difference in some audio samples that Zatorre sent over from his studies. So basically, for one of these studies, they hired a soprano to sing some melodies and then used computer algorithms to mess with the quality of her voice.
So here's the original audio.
[CLIP: Audio of singing from a study by Zatorre and his colleagues: 'I think she has a soft and lovely voice.']
Parshall: Then they digitally altered the recordings to degrade that temporal, or timing, information. That's kind of like the musical equivalent of slurring your speech or the audio equivalent of making an image blurry. They basically make all of those time cues that are so important for speech blur into each other.
[CLIP: Same audio from the study with temporal degradation]
Feltman: Ooh, freaky.
Parshall: Yeah, it's, like, delightfully alien, I would say. You'll notice that you actually can't hear the lyrics, but you can still kind of hear the melody, right? You could probably distinguish it from another melody, and that's not the case when you do something different and instead of the temporal information, you degrade the spectral information—that's the sound's color.
So here's what it sounds like when they take out all that spectral information.
[CLIP: Same audio from the study with spectral degradation]
Feltman: Whoa.
Parshall: Yeah, like, the only thing I can compare it to are, like, the Daleks from Doctor Who.
Feltman: Totally, yeah.
Parshall: I love it, and I hate it.
So in this one you can hear the lyrics, but you can't hear the melody at all. So it's kind of the inverse. And you can hear that both of these dimensions of sound—the temporal and the spectral—are really important for both song and speech. Like, you would not want to listen to my voice for very long if I sounded like a Dalek. But generally speech relies more on that temporal information, and song relies more on the spectral information.
Feltman: And this is true across different cultures, too?
Parshall: Yeah, so in a study published this summer, Zatorre's team found that this distinction holds true across 21 cultures, and they surveyed urban, rural and smaller-scale societies from around the world. And despite how different some of these languages and singing traditions are from each other, it held true that songs had more spectral information and speech had more temporal information overall.
And so, since we can link these differences to different methods of processing in the brain, there's actually a potential biological mechanism in humans that separates music from speech.
Zatorre: So the story we're trying to tell is that we have two communication systems that are kind of parallel: one is speaking; [the] other is music. And our brains have two separate specializations: one for music, one for speech. But it's not for music or for speech per se; it's for the acoustics that are most relevant for speech versus the acoustics that are most relevant for music.
Parshall: Yeah, and it kind of makes sense to me that we'd have these two parallel communication systems because they basically allow us two separate channels to convey totally different types of information. And, like, imagine how long this podcast would be if I sang everything instead of speaking it. And then imagine that I couldn't incorporate language at all, like, via lyrics, and I just had to do it with notes. That's just impossible—unless we came up with some elaborate code. But then also imagine trying to sit here and explain to me your favorite song in words and all the feelings it brings up for you and why you love it. Like, could you do that?
Feltman: Probably not. It would be really hard.
Parshall: Probably not. It's conveying—there's, like, something extra that you're conveying with song that just resists being conveyed via speech.
So all that to say, 'auditory cheesecake,' quote, unquote—music as this little accidental cherry on top of language—that doesn't seem to be the right way of thinking about why we sing. Here's Savage again.
Savage: It suggests that it's not just a by-product—like, there's something that is causing them to be consistently different in all these different cultures. Like, they're kind of functionally specialized for something. But what that something is is very speculative.
[CLIP: 'Those Rainy Days,' by Elm Lake ]
Parshall: That speculative X factor that he's talking about, that reason why we evolved to sing, if you had to come up with a theory, Rachel, what would it be?
Feltman: I mean, when I think about reasons to sing that I, like, can't imagine humanity just not doing, I don't know—I picture people soothing babies; people celebrating with each other; people, like, engaging in spiritual practice; like, standing outside a crush's window with a boom box. Singing is a thing we do to get each other's attention and share an emotional experience.
Parshall: Yeah, I think that sharing feels really important, and I feel like I have a similar intuition. And that's basically what Savage thinks, too: that music has played some sort of social role. So that could be really wholesome, like the boom box or us bonding together, singing songs around a campfire. Or—I mean, it could be less wholesome. It could be, like, us singing war songs before we do battle with our enemies.
This is one of those evolutionary hypotheses, as many of them are, that it's kind of impossible to fully prove or disprove. It's really hard to get evidence that would be able to say, 'Oh, we sing because it, you know, bonds us closer together.' But it's very compelling.
Feltman: Yeah. So just to recap: we know that we have these two very different ways, from a neuroscience perspective, of conveying information. We've got this, you know, melodic musical, and then we've got this, like, very straightforward speech. And sure, we can't go back in a time machine and ask, you know, our distant ancestors, 'Why're you singing? Why're you doing that?' So what's next? How do we move this research forward?
Parshall: It can be a little tricky, obviously, to come up with specific proof, but one of Savage's co-authors is hoping to find some clues in an upcoming experiment.
So her name is Suzanne Purdy, and she's a psychologist also at the University of Auckland in New Zealand. And she's involved with something called the CeleBRation Choir. And this choir is super cool because it's made up of people [with communication difficulties, including people] who have what's called aphasia, so their ability to speak has been impacted by events like a stroke or like Parkinson's. But one of the very interesting things about aphasia is, oftentimes, people's ability to sing remains intact. So that might be because it is relying on different parts of the brain—you know, more varied parts of the brain—than speech does.
Suzanne Purdy: When being with the CeleBRation Choir, with people struggling to communicate verbally, but then hearing them sing, [it's] so beautiful and amazing. And our research has shown how it's therapeutic in terms of feeling connected and valuable and able to be in a room and impress people with your singing, even when something terrible has happened in your life.
Parshall: So I actually have a recording to share with you of the choir because I think it's super cool.
[CLIP: The CeleBRation Choir sings 'Celebration,' by Ben Fernandez ]
Parshall: So partly inspired by her experiences with the CeleBRation Choir, Purdy and her team are currently developing an experiment where they test whether singing can actually make us feel more connected to each other. So they're going to bring in students and have them sing together and then compare that to the experiences of students who have just talked together in a group. And then they'll measure their feelings of connectedness to each other. And they're planning to actually do this cross-culturally, too. So they're going to do this for groups of Māori students, Māori being the Indigenous people of New Zealand, and then students of European descent to see if there are any cultural differences in the impact of singing together.
Purdy: It's the kind of thing that, you know, companies do with team-building exercises. They don't usually get people to sing, do they? But they do get people to problem-solve or to talk together. So this—part of this next phase is: Can you achieve the same level of social cohesion through just coming together with a shared purpose without singing? Or does the singing add a special quality, and is that more effective?
Parshall: Okay, I can't tell if the idea of a company team-building choir sounds fun or like the worst idea ever, but I do have a feeling that it would be kind of effective.
Feltman: Yeah, I mean, I guess it's not so different from a karaoke night. And, you know, what brings people together more than a karaoke night?
Parshall: That's a good point. Why did I not think of karaoke night? Okay, we're gonna have to go to our boss with this one. I think it could be really fun.
It is just still a hypothesis whether music really did evolve—or singing, specifically, really did evolve to bond us together. Like, again, this is not something we have necessarily a lot of proof for. And even if this study that Purdy is developing comes up and shows, you know, these groups of students did feel more bonded together when they sang versus when they spoke, that's still only just, like, a little bit of clues and proof.
Feltman: Right, that could just show that we gained this incredible benefit from singing over time. It doesn't necessarily tell us that that's why it evolved.
Parshall: Right. But then I'm always fighting against myself—the instinct to be like, 'Oh, but it's true,' because it feels true, right?
Feltman: It does feel true.
Parshall: Like, based off of my personal experience and a lot of people around me, it feels like, you know, when you're in a concert and you look around and you feel, like, the oneness of the world when you're all singing together in this packed stadium, music, regardless of what science shows, it does have these effects on us personally.
Feltman: Yeah, and we can definitely get a better understanding of why it's so important.
Parshall: Yeah, like, regardless of how we got here, regardless of how we evolved, we can still look at the impact it has on us now.
Feltman: It's interesting, I've been thinking this whole time—my sister does shape-note singing, which is this old musical notation style that was basically created so that people who were not otherwise musically literate could, like, all come and sing together in a group at, like, a moment's notice. And it has, like, a big following these days, and people just get together and open these giant old books of, like, mostly Shaker songs and stuff. And I find the shape-note stuff very confusing. It's very confusing until you learn it, and then it's allegedly easier than reading other music.
Feltman: But yeah, it's just amazing how connected people feel within, like, five minutes of sitting down together and singing together. We don't need researchers to tell us that that's a universal experience, but I think it's awesome that they're asking these questions to help us understand, you know, just why music is so important to us.
Allison, thank you so much for coming in to chat about this and for sharing all of these lovely musical snippets. I think that was my favorite part.
Parshall: Thank you so much for having me.
Feltman: That's all for today's episode, and that's a wrap on our week of greatest hits. We'll be back next week with something new.
Science Quickly is produced by me, Rachel Feltman, along with Fonda Mwangi, Kelso Harper and Jeff DelViscio. Today's episode was reported and co-hosted by Allison Parshall. Shayna Posses and Aaron Shattuck fact-check our show. Our theme music was composed by Dominic Smith. Subscribe to Scientific American for more up-to-date and in-depth science news.
For Scientific American, this is Rachel Feltman. Have a great weekend!
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This was my first reporting in a polar zone, and once you get there you realize that a big part of your safety and well-being really depends on the people who are there with you ... Feltman: Mm. DelViscio: And there was decades' worth of experience out there on the ice sheet, and we can talk about this, but it took a long time to actually get to where I was going, and that was a whole part of the process. But once I actually arrived on the ice sheet proper, I think the first day I was there, temperatures were right around –20 degrees Fahrenheit [about –28.9 degrees Celsius]. Feltman: Wow. DelViscio: And the first night I slept on it, I actually was at a place in the middle of the ice sheet, at a Danish ice-coring camp, in transit over to the, the final location where the GreenDrill team was doing their work, and they had these 6x6 [foot] tents called Arctic ovens—it was not an oven inside. But those were out right on the ice sheet. And they said, 'Well, camp is pretty full. You should probably go out and sleep in a tent because you need to get used to it. You're gonna be out here for a while.' And so I did that, and it was a real experience, that first night. DelViscio (tape): So I guess I kind of asked for this. I wanted to go here and do this story. It's fine [laughs]. It's just maybe a rough first go, but I can try to go to bed, see if I can get some sleep. This is what it is right now. This is good practice. There's actually a station here, so if I really get uncomfortable, I suppose I could go inside. That's not gonna be the case if we hit the field camp. Um, yeah, glorious reporting work in the polar arctic. Here we are. Goodnight day one on the Greenland ice sheet. DelViscio: It was about –20 outside and maybe about 10 degrees, 15 degrees better in the, in the tent, so all night about zero [degrees F, or about –17.8 degrees C], –5 [degrees F, or about –20.6 degrees C], –10 [degrees F, or about –23.3 degrees C], and it was also at about 8,500 feet [2,590.8 meters] on the top of the ice sheet ... Feltman: Mm. DelViscio: Which, you know, you're kind of on a mountain already; it's like being in the Rockies but on the top of a big, wide ice sheet. In every direction you look there's nothing—there's no features; there's nothing—and you're just laying on ice all night, and it, it was painful ... Feltman: Yeah. DelViscio: I'm not gonna lie about it; it was painful. And you have a sleeping bag that's rated at –40 degrees [F, or –40 degrees C], and you have a hot-water bottle that you put in to, to try to warm yourself up, but my face was sort of sticking out of the mummy-bag hole, and I would breathe and there would just be ice crystals forming on my beard and face ... Feltman: Wow. DelViscio: As I breathed out, so a little bit of a rough intro. But I did question why I was there. DelViscio (tape): Well, I made it through my first night. I wouldn't say it was pleasant—really cold the whole time [laughs]. That's—tough to get comfortable at any point. I don't know how people do this for long periods of time. Brutal, yeah. But I made it. DelViscio: But I did get through it, and there was a lot of experience, like I said, people who knew what they were doing, which really helped. Feltman: Yeah, well, you mentioned that getting out there took a really long time. How did you get there, and where did you end up? DelViscio: Yeah, so it's a process, and I had no idea how any of this worked before I, I got on the expedition, but typically, the U.S. military actually flies a lot of the science flights because there's a bit of history, and I—i n my feature you can read a little bit about that—because the U.S. military's been out on the, on the ice for decades for other reasons than ice-core research and climatology research but I went to a base in upstate New York, got on a big cargo plane ... Air Force announcer: In the event of a loss of pressurization issue, if you're to look over your left or right shoulder, there's a vertical rectangular panel on the wall ... DelViscio: Which flew to Kangerlussuaq, basically a staging location where all the science people kind of come in from all different parts of the world. You sort of sit there and you wait until the conditions are right so you can get onto another cargo plane ... DelViscio (tape): So this is it. We're in Kangerlussuaq, Greenland, and today we're shipping out to the ice. [CLIP: Sound of a Hercules C-130 cargo plane throttling up] DelViscio: Which then takes you and your whole crew out to, for us, a staging location, the Danish ice-coring site I mentioned, out in the middle of the ice 'cause it's too far to go directly to the site. DelViscio (tape): Okay, here we are: Greenland ice sheet. This is the EastGRIP [East Greenland Ice-Core Project] Danish site. It is cold. My camera's not loving this, but here we are. There's a station behind me and the sun just trying to peek through. Just came in on the Air National Guard C-130. They're pulling our stuff over. Here we go. DelViscio: Once you get on that smaller plane and, you know, manage all the weather and get out there in time, you sort of sit there and you kind of load up a smaller cargo plane ... [CLIP: Sound of a Twin Otter cargo plane throttling up] DelViscio: To take you yet another step, the final leg, to the GreenDrill site, which is out in the northeast part of Greenland—literally the middle of nowhere: hundreds of miles in every direction, there's just ice and you. [CLIP: Sound of wind blowing across the ice sheet at the GreenDrill camp] DelViscio: So it's a real production. It took about 20 flights for all ... Feltman: Wow. DelViscio: Of the people, logistics and gear. There's probably about 20,000 pounds' worth of gear, including the drilling equipment that we had to take. So it takes a week just to get there, and then you're sort of flat-out working once you actually do get there; the team knows that there's only so much time and there's a closing window, so it's kind of a scramble, but it's a long scramble just to get to there. Feltman: And where exactly are all those planes and gear going to? DelViscio: So they're going to a totally unpopulated part of the northeast Greenland ice sheet, but it was a really important location, and it was picked for a reason. Imagine this sort of large dome of ice. The way in which it actually moves—and it does move—is that snow falls on the top and sort of compresses, then spills out across the ice sheet, and part of that spill-out happens through these things called ice streams. And they're like a stream you would imagine in the water world, but they're just made of fully solid ice, and they're literally flowing away from the top of the ice sheet at a speed that's a lot faster than the surrounding ice, so you can actually see them in satellite data. And so we were positioned right at the edge of something called the Northeast Greenland Ice Stream, which drains about 12 to 16 percent of the ice sheet, so, like, basically over 10 percent of the water that's kind of going out and moving to the sea, getting into glaciers and then going into the ocean comes through this massive ice stream, which is really just this big tongue of ice moving faster than the surrounding parts of it. That location is really important to understand how the ice sheet loses its mass, and if you sample at just the right point, then you can understand, in this really critical portion of the ice sheet, exactly how that ice stream works in terms of keeping the ice either growing or shrinking, and right now it's really shrinking, so they wanna understand how these streams can play a part in pulling the ice sheet apart itself. Feltman: Yeah, let's talk more about the science. What kind of experiments are going on here? DelViscio: Yeah, so there's all of this ice, right? And in the past 60 years or so people have gone to the Greenland ice sheet to basically pull these long tubes of ice out of the ice sheet itself and use the ice as a record of climate change because ice is laid down yearly and it's basically like a tree ring ... Feltman: Mm-hmm. DelViscio: But in an ice sheet. And if you pull out large sections of it from the middle of the ice sheet, you can get up to [roughly] 125,000 years of climate: the snow falls, it compresses it captures the air that was above it at the time in little air bubbles, so the ice cores are these records of climate going into the past. Everyone was always focused on the ice, since the, like, '60s: 'What can the ice tell us about climate? How can we connect it up to other records of climate change and paleoclimate in the other parts of the world?' But no one, or very few people, looked underneath it. And the important part about being underneath the ice sheet is that the rock itself that's under the ice sheet tells you something about when it's had ice on it and when it hasn't, and when it hasn't is a really important part of that because if we're wondering about how the ice sheet breaks up, we really have to know how quickly that's happened in the past. And at this point science has very little idea about how that actually works. So what they did was: We were out there with these small drills, packed up in kind of containers. You take the drill and you drill all the way through the ice ... [CLIP: Sound of the Winkie Drill drilling through the ice sheet] DelViscio: And you're not happy when you get to the bottom of it—you stop, and then you keep going, and you pull the rock out from underneath the ice. The game here is to do measurements on that rock and see what it will tell you about when this place had ice and when it didn't. There is kind of a great quote from one of the co-principal investigators on the project that really kind of summed up why they started doing this. Here's what he had to say. Joerg Schaefer: [In] 2016 was the first study that was led by us that shows that you have these tools, these geochemical isotopic tools, to interview bedrock, and the bedrock actually talks to us. Since then it's clear to us, at least, that that's a new branch of science that is absolutely critical—it's really at the interface of basic geochemical and climate science and societal impact. It's one of these rare occasions that there is direct contact between basic research and scientific impact and questions like climate and social justice, so it's a very—scientifically, an extremely exciting time. [In] the same moment I must say that everything we have found out so far is very scary. And I kind of have, [for] the first time ever in my career, I have datasets that I—take my sleep away at night, simply because they are so direct and tell me, 'Oof, this ice sheet is in so much trouble.' DelViscio: That's Joerg Schaefer from Columbia University. Feltman: What was it about those datasets that he found so troubling? DelViscio: Sure, so I just talked about that long ice core that they pulled from the middle of the ice sheet and using that as a record. In the 1990s one of those was pulled at a place called GISP2, which is the Greenland Ice Sheet Project 2 site. It was an American site, and they went further than anybody else had in the past, and once they got through the entirety of that ice, about 10,000 feet worth of ice, they pushed the drill farther, slammed it down into the rock and pulled some rocks out. Now, the ice core went off to be in thousands and thousands of other papers connected to records all over the world; the rock underneath went to a freezer and got stored, and people basically forgot about it. Joerg Schaefer and Jason Briner of the University at Buffalo, in the early 2010s they realized that that rock could tell you something, and now they had chemical tools to analyze that rock in a way that it hadn't [been] before. And so they went back and got that rock, they tested it, and in 2016 they published a paper that showed: at that site in the middle of the ice sheet, their chemical tests told them that it was ice-free within the last million years. That means the whole ice sheet was gone. Feltman: Wow. DelViscio: And that was way quicker than anybody thought was possible. And so that spurred this whole next step, which was: 'If we got more of these rocks from different parts of the ice sheet, what else will it tell us about how quickly this happens?' Jason Briner: The bed of the ice sheet contains a history of the ice that covers it—basically the words, the stories of the history of the ice sheet. It's a book of information down there that we want to read if we can get those samples. DelViscio: That's Jason Briner. So that was the seed of this whole thing. So if you stick this soda straw down into the rock and you pull it back out, you can test multiple locations, and it could tell you, 'Here there was no ice then. Here there was no ice then. Here there was no ice then,' around the ice sheet as a way to sort of test ... Feltman: Hmm. DelViscio: How it sort of shrinks back to its teeny-tiny state. Feltman: And how do you get that kind of signal out of a rock? DelViscio: It's complicated [laughs]. It—you know, I wasn't a chemistry major in, in school; I was a geology major. But one of the researchers in the field, Allie Balter-Kennedy, you know, she has a good way of thinking about it. Why don't I just pull Allie in to talk about how this signal comes into the rock? Allie Balter-Kennedy: So there's cosmic rays that come in from outer space at all times, and when they interact with rocks they create these nuclear reactions that create isotopes or nuclides that we don't otherwise find on Earth. And we know the rate at which those nuclides are produced, so if we can measure them, we can figure out how long that rock has been exposed to these cosmic rays—or, kind of in our field, how long that rock has been ice-free. And so when you do that underneath an ice sheet, you get a sense of when the last time the rock was exposed and also how long it was exposed for, so it's a pretty powerful method for learning about times when ice was smaller than it is now. DelViscio: These nuclides are the signal inside the rock. If you can tell how much of it is in the rock and how quickly those signals should decay, if you see jumps in that signal, you can tell that ice was over top of it and it stopped the barrage from the universe, so it turned the signal on and off. Feltman: Hmm. DelViscio: And that's sort of how they look at the signal, is like: 'Is it on; is it off? Is it on; is it off?' And that tells you, in a way: 'There was ice over top, or there wasn't. There was ice over top, or there wasn't.' Feltman: Wow, yes, that does sound very complicated [laughs] but also very cool. Did the team end up actually getting what they were after? DelViscio: Yeah, so it was kind of down to the line. After all the traveling and all the logistics, and there was some weather and delays, and there [were] cargo flights that couldn't land, basically, everything got compressed into about three weeks on the ice at the site. That's not a whole lot of time to do what they were trying to do. It's a spoiler alert, but if you read the feature, you'll hear about exactly how this happened, but they did end up getting not just one of these samples, but two ... Feltman: Hmm. DelViscio: From two different sites, which you can sort of test against each other to make sure you got the right stuff. All the way to the last few days before extraction they were drilling, trying to get the rock samples. But there was this moment out on the ice, right towards when we sort of wrapped up, where I remember it felt unseasonably warm. [CLIP: Sound of the members of the GreenDrill team around the Winkie Drill] DelViscio: It was about 25 degrees [F, or about –3.9 degrees C], which is balmy ... Feltman: Yeah. DelViscio: On the ice sheet. And honestly, the, the drill was just, after going through a couple rounds where it was tough going, sort of sliced like, you know, a knife through hot bread down to the ice and got the rock out, and they got this beautiful long core. Caleb Walcott-George: Heavy! Elliot Moravec: That there's genuine rock core. Walcott-George: Oh, baby. DelViscio: I just remember, Caleb Walcott-George, who was one of the scientists on the expedition, just, like, hoisted it like it was, like, this prized bass. Feltman: Yeah. DelViscio: And there was sort of this shout all around the camp. Walcott-George: Oh, too late [laughs]! Tanner Kuhl: I was just baiting ya. DelViscio: And when they closed the hole they had this liquor called Gammel Dansk, which is this Danish liqueur, but they call it 'driller's fluid.' Moravec: There it is. Forest Harmon: You gotta lace it right down in the casing, dude. DelViscio: And they poured one down the hole to close it out as a way to sort of give the hole something back. Moravec: Bottoms up. Walcott-George: You wanna see something I made? Moravec: That's all she wrote. Kuhl: Well-done. DelViscio: It was this really clean finish to what had been a pretty stressful couple weeks, just trying to get samples back with the window of time closing. So it was a, a nice moment out on the ice and, you know, just had music playing, and it felt like not the end of the world in the middle of an ice sheet but a tight-knit science camp where things were going right. Feltman: Yeah, that must've been really cool 'cause I feel like there's not a lot of field work where, when you get the thing you're looking for, it's, like, sturdy and hoistable [laughs], so that's fun. DelViscio: For sure. Feltman: And I'm sure, you know, there's gonna be years of follow-up research on this data, but what are they learning from their time in the field? DelViscio: They had a, a site in another part of Greenland from the year before where they did the same kind of work, and they're just at the point at where they're publishing that. And what it looks like is that there's this place called Prudhoe Dome, which is in the northwest part of Greenland, where there was this big ice dome, and what those tests told them was: it looked very probable within the Holocene, so in the last 10,000 years, that the ice was completely gone there. Feltman: Hmm. DelViscio: And it was a lot of ice to take away that quickly. Again, it's, you know, you're sort of going from this 2016 paper, which says a million years ago it was ice-free—a million years is a long time. Feltman: Yeah. DelViscio: But even a sample in a place where there's a whole lot of ice in the northwest of Greenland and having it gone within the last 10,000 years, with climatic conditions that are close to what we're experiencing now, that puts it on a 'our threat' kind of level. Feltman: Yeah. DelViscio: Because ultimately, you know, if the whole of the ice sheet melted, that's 24 feet of sea-level rise. That means massive migration, totally changes the surface of the planet. But you don't need 24 feet to really mess some stuff up. So even five inches or 10 inches or a foot and a half is kind of life-changing for coastal communities around the world. Every amount of exactitude they can get on how this thing changes, breaks up and melts is just a little bit more help for humanity in terms of planning for that kind of scenario, which, given the state of our climate, seems like we're gonna get more melt before we get it growing back, so it's definitely coming—the, the melt is coming; the flood is coming. Feltman: Well, thanks so much for coming on to share some of your Greenland story with us, Jeff. DelViscio: Of course, I was happy to freeze my butt off to get this story for our readers and listeners [laughs]. Feltman: That's all for today's episode. Science Quickly is produced by me, Rachel Feltman, along with Fonda Mwangi, Kelso Harper, Naeem Amarsy and Jeff DelViscio. This episode was edited and reported by Jeff DelViscio. You can check out his July/ August cover story, ' Greenland's Frozen Secret,' on the website now. We'll put a link to it in our show notes, too. Shayna Posses and Aaron Shattuck fact check our show. Our theme music was composed by Dominic Smith. Special thanks to the whole GreenDrill team, including Allie Balter-Kennedy, Caleb Walcott-George, Joerg Schaefer, Jason Briner, Tanner Kuhl, Forest Harmon, Elliot Moravec, Matt Anfinson, Barbara Olga Hild, Arnar Pall Gíslason and Zoe Courville for all their insights and support in the field. Jeff's reporting was supported by a grant from the Pulitzer Center and made possible through the assistance of the U.S. National Science Foundation Office of Polar Programs. For Science Quickly, this is Rachel Feltman.


Scientific American
3 days ago
- Scientific American
Spellements: Friday, July 25, 2025
How to Play Click the timer at the top of the game page to pause and see a clue to the science-related word in this puzzle! The objective of the game is to find words that can be made with the given letters such that all the words include the letter in the center. You can enter letters by clicking on them or typing them in. Press Enter to submit a word. Letters can be used multiple times in a single word, and words must contain four letters or more for this size layout. Select the Play Together icon in the navigation bar to invite a friend to work together on this puzzle. Pangrams, words which incorporate all the letters available, appear in bold and receive bonus points. One such word is always drawn from a recent Scientific American article—look out for a popup when you find it! You can view hints for words in the puzzle by hitting the life preserver icon in the game display. The dictionary we use for this game misses a lot of science words, such as apatite and coati. Let us know at games@ any extra science terms you found, along with your name and place of residence,