Addiction to Sound

Musing on the emotional turmoil that prompted my last post, I did some reflecting on the whole issue of music as an addiction.

I often say that I am "addicted" to performing; there's a part of me that lives from one solo singing opportunity to the next, and when there isn't one, on my calendar, I feel bereft.

But I am speaking about something different: an addiction to having a soundtrack in one's ears all the time.  As so many questionable social trends began, this began in the sixties.  I mean before that sometimes there was light "elevator music" in places other than elevators, say, waiting rooms at the dentist or restaurants.  And then of course there were restaurants, bars, and clubs, where the point was to hear music, often jazz or swing.

But it seemed that it was in the sixties that suddenly the young needed to be accompanied by a soundtrack wherever they went.  It began with transistor radios.  Suddenly people carried them around, filling every public space with someone else's choice of sound.  Some people were thoughtful enough to use ear buds (or whatever they were called then), but many were not.  Subway rides were painful.  And when the boom box came on the scene, all bets were off.  In certain neighborhoods the streets were full of loud music well into the night. I remember once going to Brighton Beach and having to listen to four different groups of people's different radio stations.

Blessedly, the advent of the Walkman with its head set calmed the waters.

But the question remained: why did all these young people need a soundtrack? It affected how they walked (always sort of bopping to a beat, jiggling their legs if they were sitting, or bobbling their heads), which carried over into occasions when they were not actually listening to sound.  What was wrong with the sounds of "life"? Why were those so threatening?

Most of the time, I don't want to hear music at all.  That might seem odd, as I am a musician, but I think it's because I am a musician that I only want to listen to the music I want to when I want to listen to it, and I find being forced to listen to someone else's music (especially if it has words that are not the words I want in my head at that moment) a lot more painful than listening to dogs barking, babies crying, or hammers and drills in the street.

It seems to be a generational thing: childish boomers again.  Milliennials are always engaged with their devices, but they seem to be as much engaged with images as with sound. I see them watching movies on their phones, blessedly with ear buds or head phones, or they are texting, which at least bespeaks engagement with another person. The don't have a "beat" in their gut making them jerk their bodies or bobble their heads. In fact, it has been several decades since I have had to hear anyone's soundtrack at all, which is what makes the man I referenced in my previous post such a polluter of the social environment.

I recall several earlier occasions when he was playing music that I didn't really find objectionable and he asked me "is this OK?"  I said yes, to try to separate the mildly annoying from the intolerable and choose my battles, but maybe I just wanted to fold my laundry in silence. Silence is meditative and conducive to unexpected insights. Someone else's soundtrack blocks my internal one.

As a musician, I never listen to music unless I am listening to music.  It is not "background".  If I want background to do housework by I will put on a tv news channel. 

Some Moments of Happiness, and an Angry Rant with Noplace to Go

First, I need to say that my mini-concert at the new senior facility went well.  I nailed the two high As in "The Drinking Song" and everything else went well.  The people seemed to really enjoy it.  Later in the year I will get in touch with the woman who coordinates these things and see if she wants us to come back.

And I loved the name of the program: Engage Life.  In addition to having concerts, they also have outings for the residents where they take them to museums.  Once again, it was reinforced that I have a "calling" to work with seniors that I hope will extend into my future if I am left behind by my angel.

I am also really really trying to love my "little life" which most of the time I do.

As for the rant, I am writing it down here because I don't know what else to do with it.  I wrote a letter to the Times section "Social Qs" but have no idea if it will be answered let alone printed (I didn't even get an automated response, which I found odd, as I did when I wrote to The Ethicist a few years ago.  They answered, but did not print, my question.)

As I've probably mentioned numerous times before, I live in a NYC apartment building in which half of the tenants (all rent regulated) have lived for 20, 30, or more years.  For the most part we are a cohesive and supportive community and are committed to "speaking with one voice" if we have to communicate with the building management.

Unfortunately, I have a neighbor, someone I detest (he is simply a "type" that I detest) mostly because he treats the communal laundry room as his personal "man cave" and any time I go down there to do laundry he is blasting loud music.  I have no idea what it is; once he told me what he was playing was the "Velvet Underground".  There are several issues here.  First, I dislike most of the music he plays.  Second, in this era of technology, he should be using ear buds.  (I suggested this to him but he said he doesn't like them because he wants to be aware of his surroundings! He's kidding, right? He couldn't even hear if someone said "hello".)  Third, no one should be playing music in a public place.  Fourth, no one should be playing music that loud if they don't want to end up deaf.  But fifth and most importantly I see the whole thing as a form of male aggression.

Any time I come down there if he has music on, he does turn it off, saying "I didn't know you were coming down here."  To me that's not enough.  That is making it about me.  That I'm "too sensitive" so he will be "nice".  The typical male/female trope of men taking space (auditory included) and then accommodating to women who don't like it rather than just not doing it in the first place!! 

I am at my wits end about this.  Actually, when the new building manager took over, they circulated a list of do's and dont's (unfortunately they attached it to people's leases, which is illegal) that covered a wide range of topics including (this is legal if posted in a lobby) that people were not allowed to play music in public places.  I mentioned it to my neighbor, who claims he never saw it, which might be true.  I was going to email it to him but decided against it because it also referred to  people not making noise in their apartments.  That's a rats' nest I don't want to stir up.  I have never gotten complaints about my singing, even the ten minutes I spend warming up at 7:45 before leaving to sing in the 9 am service once a month.  And in fairness, I have never complained about noise coming from anyone else's apartment,  which I hear occasionally: everything from loud rock music (never past 9 pm and not as loud as it is when I'm actually standing next to it in the laundry room) to a little girl and her father screaming at each other.

I suppose now with the advent of women speaking out, I have come to see the behavior of this neighbor as assaultive.  He's giving the finger to civilized adult society, like a teenager (he's almost 70).  And what I hate equally is he's always trying to "engage" with me in some way.  Once at a tenants' meeting, for example, he told me I looked like a skinhead because my jeans were rolled up (hello I'm short!!!) and I had on red socks.  What kind of idiotic comment was that? What did he think he was trying to do? All it did was make me feel aggressed against. 

I think why I hate him so much is that he thinks he's hip and cool and has committed the unforgiveable sin of thinking that I will like him because he is hip and cool.  I don't do hip and cool.  I sing Bach.