The word "clangour" in literature is frequently used to evoke a sense of overwhelming, disruptive noise that marks moments of both mechanical and human tumult. In H. G. Wells’s work, for example, the abrupt cessation of clamorous motion in a shed’s rolling noise hints at a sudden pause after chaos [1], while another passage layers the hum of machinery with the faint presence of human voices [2]. Thomas Carlyle, in his historical narrative of the French Revolution, repeatedly employs “clangour” to underscore the relentless, jarring sound of debate, assembly, and even the clashing of arms—reflecting an environment charged with both political fervor and violent strife [3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10]. Similarly, historical and romantic literature by Livy and Walter Scott uses the term to denote the resounding collective noise of military might, from the synchronized clash of barbarian patrols [11] to the echoing blast of a trumpet on the battlefield [12].