Time Square is not my favorite part of New York City, but today that's where I'm headed.

Okay, there's this thing supposed to be. I don't actually know where I'm supposed to be going.

Alright, so it's on Broadway between 45th and 46th. Okay, this way.

It's a perfect early fall day in Manhattan.

Oh, there's Elmo. Oh, this is where all the characters are. There's Spider-Man, Mickey, there's Minnie, Hulk.

I am not here to take in the usual sites of the area, the hustle and bustle, Broadway show, the M&M store.

I'm here because I'm looking for a great and a sound.

Obviously, there are a lot of greats and sounds in Time Square, but I'm looking for one in particular.

Oh, maybe I haven't gone quite far enough yet. Oh, wait, here's a big grade.

There's a hum down here, I'm not really hearing it.

Maybe I do hear it. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, this is it, for sure.

I'm Johanna Mayer and this is Atlas Obscura, a celebration of the world's strange, incredible, and wondrous places.

Today, a trip to Time Square, in search of a sound, after this.

I had to really, really listen for that, but I've probably walked over this.

It takes me a second to find the hum I'm looking for, but once I do, I cannot unhear it.

There's nothing to draw your attention to the sound. No plaque, no signage, but the hum is actually a piece of art.

It's a decades old sound installation by an experimental composer named Max Newhouse.

He was a pioneer in the world of sound art, and he wanted to make work that, quote,

didn't require indoctrination. In other words, art that didn't require learning about it in a textbook or visiting some tucked away gallery.

The piece is officially called Time Square, but it's often just referred to as the hum.

The sound rises up out of a grate on a pedestrian triangle on one of the busiest sections of one of the busiest streets in the entire world.

It's right in the thick of the bright lights and ads where the ball drops on New Year's Eve.

...