Sleep sounds with no loop in them.

Low, soft and steady. Made fresh while you listen, so there is no seam to wait for.

The lowest sound on this site. Put headphones on; a phone speaker cannot reach it.

Steady rain without the rain. Even, mild, and never the same second twice.

The middle of the spectrum, where most of the outdoors lives.

Low and velvety, with a slow drift in it that has no pattern to find.

Moving air and a faint motor. No recording, so no click where it starts again.

Every frequency at once, minus the part that sounds like a detuned television.

A steady, enclosed hum. No seatbelt chime, no trolley, no announcement.

It rises and falls on a pattern with no repeat, as heard from indoors.

Soft noise that rises and falls every ten seconds or so, and never quite the same way.

One button each. Pink is rain; brown is the waterfall a mile behind it.

The brightest of the colours and one of the darkest, a button apart.

Equal energy per frequency against equal energy per octave. It is easier to hear than to read.

The middle of the spectrum against the bottom of it.

Green is pink with the two ends turned down.

The same low wash, with and without the hum underneath.

One is all hiss. The other has hardly any.

Both are low. Brown holds still; dark moves a little, slowly.

The noise takes care of the room. The second fader is for the racing.

This page starts with both: the low wash, and someone talking quietly over it.

A steady floor of sound, so a door closing down the hall is smaller than it was.

An outdoor sort of sound for an indoor sort of problem.

For when you have woken, and the day has started without your permission.

You do not need to switch it off. You need to give it something peaceful to do.

The screen is dark, the player is one button, and it turns itself off.

The noise is random. The recording of it is not.

No instructions, no breath counting, and no way to do it wrong.

The same company in the dark, without the ads, the laughing or the cliffhanger.

If white noise has begun to grate, there are gentler ways to fill a room.

They do not loop because they are not recordings. Your browser is making them now.

Silence is not empty. It is where everything else gets louder.

An audiobook wants to be finished. This does not mind either way.

A quiet voice with something to say, and no tapping on anything.

No melody to follow, no key change, and no track ending at the wrong moment.

Nobody here will ask you to notice your breath.

Boring on purpose, and boring in the right way, which is harder than it sounds.

A fan in the corner of a room, without the fan or the corner.

It is going to think about something. You may as well pick what.

You do not need to choose anything. Press play and put the phone face down.

Quiet, slow, and finished with you in four minutes.

Three buttons. It takes about three minutes to find out which sort of sleeper you are.

History that finished happening a long time ago, read at the speed of a slow walk.

A long way from anything that has ever asked something of you.

Rivers, forests and deep water, described by someone in no hurry at all.

Small rooms, warm light, and people quietly good at their work.