Permanent Feedback with Sustain

Do you know what I really don't like about having tinnitus and hearing loss? I mean, other than the obvious frustrations that come from not being able to participate in every conversation I am involved in, or missing the beautiful subtle nuances of each and every person's speaking style? Or, working with kids, and having to ask them to repeat themselves? Or, being on a hike in the middle of a beautiful forest, far from any civilization, or the white noise that civilization creates, searching for peace and quiet, and instead hearing a constant ringing in my ears? Or, you know, thinking the bartender is cool, but only being able to catch about half of what he is saying, even though he is speaking loudly, because he speaks in a thick Scottish brogue? (okay, maybe I am not alone at all on that last one)
The rock music. I mean, I still love rock music, don't get me wrong. That's the problem. I love loud rock music. I love to go to shows, to be totally surrounded by the "wall of sound" that a great rock band can produce. To be rocking out - for it to be so loud at a show that it feels like you are swimming through the bass and drums, surfacing to occasionally catch a breath of vocals, then diving down beneath the music again, to be submerged in rock.
I used to see a lot of bands that used volume, as well as substance, in their music, to create audible textures. This concept of textures, layers - it always reminds me of a story I heard about the album recording of Sister Ray by the Velvet Underground. John Cale, Lou Reed and Sterling Morrison had a competition during the song, to see who could play the loudest. The noise that that drug driven factory percussive instrument extension produces evolves from a volume contest. And can you imagine having seen that live? Having heard it? Having felt it?
I never got the chance to see the Velvet Underground live. I don't think I was alive for that possiblity, even. Not counting any reunion type tours. But I had my fair share of opportunities to see, rock out to, and fall for, bands that utilized a similar technique. Maybe not always a volume contest, but a more controlled version of the same idea. A planned escalation in volume, contrasted with a period of calm, quiet, contrived melody. Crescendo. Pianissimo. Am I remembering my musical terms right?
Tonight I went to get a burger and a beer at the local brewery. On a side note, the Boulder Creek Brewery is sad these days. Not much of a brewery. Apparently, there was an explosion of some sort in their brew kettle area, and now the brewer does not work there anymore, and there is a bunch of equipment just lying quiet. Sad. I think they will resume brewing one of these days. In the mean time, I was really hoping for a Santa Cruz Mtn brewery organic IPA, which, btw, is a pretty good beer. But I arrived to an empty bar - excepting the above mentioned bartender - and on ordering an IPA found that they were out. So Black Butte Porter instead. And while drinking my beer, and eating my burger, the bartender told me the theoretical reason that the bar was empty on this Cinco de Mayo Tuesday evening. Apparenty, his friend's band was playing down the street at Joe's. Joe's is the local dive bar. I've had some experience there, and so I decided that when I was done with my burger I would have another beer down the street. I would hope Joe's had a better selection of IPAs, and I would go rock out to this band that the bartender was telling me about.
I arrived at Joe's to an unfamiliar wall of sound. Couldn't hear a thing other than the music, as soon as I crossed a line about 15 feet away from the door to the bar. I saw that, unfortunately, the only IPA they had on tap was Red Hook's Longhammer IPA. I try to make it a policy of mine not to drink Red Hook beers. I think they are owned by Budweiser. Let's not even talk about who owns Budweiser. I'm not actually sure, but I know they are big and evil. I am pretty sure it's not Budweiser. Besides, apparently Budweiser donates money to CAMP. Which isn't cool.
Based on the high volume of things, in general, in Joe's, I decided maybe I would use sign language to send my beer request to the bartender. Hold my hands together, then stretch them as far apart as possible. Then swing an imaginary hammer towards an imaginary nail in the very real bar. I don't know actual sign language, but I hope to learn one day soon. Instead, I just yelled my beer request to him, and he got the message. On a side note, that beer cost $4.25, and I paid with a $5 bill, and I don't know about you, but I just don't feel right leaving a bartender three quarters instead of a dollar.
The band that was playing was set up about 5 feet away from me. They were turned up loud. Way louder than necessary. I remember more than once coming to this same bar years ago and discovering that the band was turned up way louder than necessary. But that band was definitely playing Skynyrd covers. This band, tonight, was playing originals. Their was a plugged in acoustic rythm guitar singer guy, with a pony tail, and a Boonville Beer Fest shirt. And ask me about the Boonville Beer Fest some day. I will tell you about it. What I rememebr, anyway. And there was a cool, older bass player. Also, a hard rocking amazingly talented and loud drummer. Who as also older. And cool. And a lead guitarist. Who was maybe not as cool. Maybe too good. Maybe drowning out the singer a bit. Maybe he had some money invested in his gear, and he knew he was the best guy in the group. Maybe he realized he was playing stoner rock for a stoner jam rock crowd. But probably he hadn't been stoned in years. Dressed all in black. Played a Gibson Les Paul. Etc.
I only stayed for two songs. They were actually okay. After a few beers, I didn't mind hearing them. I tapped my toe a bit, I think. I am not so judgemental about music as I used to be. But, I left after one beer. Even though I have to work tomorrow, my reason for leaving was not to get home quick, to go to bed as early as possible, to get my well-deserved beauty sleep. My reason was that they were too loud. I could not rock out to them anymore. The volume hurt my ears. Don't even try to talk to me tomorrow. Tomorrow, I will give the kids I am teaching a day-long challenge activity: They can only communicate to me without using words. If they want to tell me something, they have to figure out a way to say it without actually speaking. Writing, miming, whatever. Telepathy works. However they go about it is fine. Because I won't be able to hear what they are saying. All I will hear is "eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee"

Not really. I'm exagerrating. My ears will be more handicapped than usual tomorrow, because I rocked out tonight. But I will still be able to hear. You ask, and I respond: No, I haven't actually been to a doctor to have my hearing checked in as long as I can rememeber. Honestly, I'm a little scared. But, today I was riding the bus back from the beach with all the kids. Half asleep, but occasionally out of the corner of my eye catching a glimpse of the two girls sitting across from me. Two students, one asian girl and one very white blond girl with extremely thick glasses. I remembered that yesterday, when we were told about the students who were coming this week, our principal told us there would be one girl who was legally blind without her glasses. And it dawned on me while I was half asleep, gazing across the aisle at these two friends, that this girl I saw reading Garfield out of a comic strip book was the very same legally blind girl. I realized that lots and lots of people wear glasses. That in a way, not being able to see perfectly is comparable to not being able to hear perfectly. The realization that so many people wear glasses became a momentary stepping stool for me to work from. I realized that, maybe, if I really am experiencing hearing loss, like it seems that I am, it is not as extremely disabling and isolating a thing as I sometimes paint it to be . I mean, sure, it is the invisible disability. But really, to be fair, getting my ears tested is sort of like getting my eyes tested. I mean, different, in so many ways, but similar, in that there is technology that can help me get by.
What I really don't like about his looming disability of hearing loss - other than missing out on the silence of an old growth forest, that is - is not being able to really rock out anymore. I realize there are earplugs available. But really, can I not go randomly, without plugs, without protection, to a show anymore? Do I really need to wear big ear muffs every time I use a chainsaw? Can't I drive around with the windows rolled all the way down, and the stereo turned up to 11?
All things, including rock, in moderation. That's what I say. Learn earlier then I did to take care of all parts of your body. We are not guaranteed to operate perfectly forever. Maybe I have filled my quota of amplified music listening. Naah. But hey, do me a favor. Next time you see somebody at a rock show wearing ear plugs, don't laugh at them. And wait for set break or a quiet moment to talk to me. Because, really, I want to hear what you have to say. But your sentences will be swimming in a sea of feedback and sustain. But really, I really, really, want to hear what you have to say. Really. Even if you have to repeat yourself. Five times. Six, maybe. Don't believe me when I smile and nod. Ask me again. I want to have the conversation.
Or hey, better yet, let's all learn ASL.