Last night an audiophile friend played me a song on his stereo. I got to choose the artist. Quickly it was Hector and Willie filling the room. My friend turned it up and up some more. The sound bounced off the Lithuanian tapestries, the Persian rug, the Paul McCobb side tables, the 19th century radiators, and me. If I had been sitting in a room with the whole orchestra pumping, it would’ve sounded … the same. The strangest thing - as loud as the music was, I didn’t wince in pain. I paused and waited for the noise level to bother me. It never did. And, no, I wasn’t swayed by my faves. The sound was fresh and clean. Divine. The way music should sound. But usually does not. My song took me for a smooth ride. When it ended, I asked about the magic.
Another ornament in the room based not on design, but rather on merit was, oh snap, a Grammy. This friend is a music producer. A sound technician. A sound scientist. He could only have the highest quality system, and meticulous sound panels that double as art – an elaborate set-up that necessitated home rewiring to handle the steam. His stereo cost more than a year’s salary for me and I will never encounter one like it in anyone else’s home. At least not in this ‘burb.
I had never heard pure sound before last night. Usually it comes in the form of noise pollution. Why do we say okay to loud concerts? What makes music better when the sound is distorted into ugly shapes? A Lemonheads show comes to mind as a physically painful experience: my ears were on fire throughout. It’s strangely acceptable to suffer the discomfort of hearing damage: the expected aftermath of a “great show.” Worse still is socializing while music is blaring. Double whammy on the nerve endings. How many people have literally screamed into my ears while standing on top of me to convey their message above the din of rockers or a fly DJ. Too many club nights and concerts to list, I’m a goner for hearing loss.
Perhaps sound quality awareness can become a thing?
In the 1970’s, you could drive down the highway, open a window and throw McDonald’s garbage into oblivion. Yikes! As kids, we’d turn back and watch it bounce around. Then Ranger Rick and Smokey the Bear started to make the rounds and raised anti-littering awareness. What about the sun? 1950’s mothers laid their babes on beach towels and let them nap at high noon because vitamin D was healthy. This I know because my grandmother, mother of nine, nurse, wife of doctor, avid beacher and swimmer, allowed it on the sand in front of the summer cottage. She wasn’t the only one. Obviously, now we know better. And, cigarettes. They were sexy for a century? I fake smoked candy cigarettes as a kid cause it was still a cultural norm. Kool-Aid and Twinkies? Plastic? Red meat? The list goes on. Now we know. But. Noise?! The conversation hasn’t begun.
My high frequency hearing is gone. This I know not from having it tested, but because I can’t hear the scan thermometer beep when I take my son’s temperature. Other high pitches also up in smoke. Even fifteen years ago, I noticed I couldn’t understand what people were talking about at large dinner table conversations in restaurants. The overhead noise deadened conversation to a conflated mumble of words and laughter, and I was lost. I assumed it was a language barrier because I was in another country with another language. In fact, the same thing happens in my own country and my own language. Restaurants are a particular mystery. Restaurateurs: half of what you’re selling is ambiance. Please put a few sound panels in to absorb the chaotic volume and let the patrons relax and have a calm word. And don’t get me started on mother effing leaf blowers.
Disclaimer: Sony Walkman user and abuser here. Working out or riding subways, trains, airplanes and buses were fine times for blasting music. Really, anytime was a good time. Friends gave friends mixed tapes, then CDs. A Walkman could wipe away the present tense and invite auditory euphoria. Turn it up. I did. I wasn’t alone. Then came working on a computer with headphones. People still do it, even though I quit.
Now with frail hearing, I’m interested in preservation. I have more questions for Peter about good vs. bad sound. Did the loud music last night damage my hearing? No, he said. It’s his life’s work to be the best he can be at it, among other things. He wears earplugs at sporting events, concerts, other loud places, like when drunk people start screaming - just kidding. I would say, he’s an advocate for clean sound. He makes it for a living and disseminates it to the people.
When will humanity decide it’s a good idea to turn the amps down and clean it up? Vote NO to noise pollution on November 6 ;-)