But this is no sleepover. We’re about to walk into one of the many sound baths L.A. has to offer. Once a fringe practice more likely to be found in a conference room at the Conscious Life Expo, sound baths have vibrated into the mainstream in recent years, popping up in yoga and meditation studios, public gardens, churches, beaches and even the occasional BDSM dungeon.
“When I started in 2003 there were hardly any sound baths in L.A.,” said Jamie Bechtold, a veteran practitioner and co-founder of the Soundbath Center in Eagle Rock, where she offers six to eight sound baths weekly. “Now every time I turn around, I see another one.”
With this proliferation has come many interpretations of the practice. At baseline, a sound bath is a roughly hourlong experience where participants lie down while listening to relaxing music. In practice, that music is whatever combination of crystal bowls, gongs, chimes, ocean drums and other drone-y instruments that meet a practitioner’s fancy. I’ve attended sound baths that featured electric guitars and synthesizers. A friend recently went to what was advertised as a sound bath but was actually an experimental jazz performance where attendees lay on the floor and microdosed magic mushrooms.
The origins of these sonic experiences are equally murky. Religions and cultures throughout human history have made use of the power of sound, but contemporary sound baths trace their beginning to the late 20th century and the early days of new-age music (think: Deuter and Iasos.) The crystal bowls that have become synonymous with the experience first came on the market in the 1980s.
“Sound baths are really a new cultural form, an invention that draws on all kinds of threads,” said Elisa Sobo, a medical anthropologist at San Diego State University who has been researching the phenomenon for the past few years. “It’s a mess if you try to unpack its roots.”
No one can say for sure when the first official sound bath took place, but the practice became more well known after Huell Howser highlighted sound baths held at the Integratron in the Mojave desert on his PBS show “California’s Gold” in 2001.
“It has grown exponentially since then across the U.S. and worldwide,” Bechtold said. “But Southern California is really the hub.”
As the number of sound baths in the Los Angeles area continues to grow, you’ll find a wide variety to choose from depending on the experience you’re seeking. Some embrace spirituality, inviting you to call in your angels and realign your chakras. Others are careful to create a secular space: no Buddhas, crystals, or incense — just you, your mat and the sound.
To help you navigate L.A.’s sprawling sound bath scene, we’ve assembled a list of some of our favorites that occur regularly and take place in locations both spectacular and simple. They include a contemplative four-hour mini-retreat at the ornate grounds of the Peace Awareness Labyrinth and Gardens, an energetic session on a seaside cliff in Malibu and a former time machine in the Mojave Desert.
No matter which you select, know that all that will be expected of you is to show up, lie down and let the sound carry you away.
— Deborah Netburn