Sound Effects: From Pleasant To Panic

Most people deal with the world in a dominantly visual manner. Yet for some of us, musicians and non-musicians, the sound-world, and its perception through the ear, prevails as the fundamental interaction-mode. The ear, as a pressure-sensitive organ, transfers the vibrational energy of air-borne sound waves (pressure changes) to the liquid medium of the middle ear, and then converts them into nerve impulses. Some people then see or feel colors, shapes, numbers, sense movement, or react in a physical and visceral manner, in addition to hearing a sound. The spectrum of sound effects ranges from a pleasant release of endorphins to a rush of panic-filled adrenaline. Here is my attempt to give a glimpse of the world as seen through one set of ears.

To me, most sudden and unexpected noises are sharp and swift-moving, and feel like a slap or hit to the body. An unexpected snap can trigger a passing flush of adrenal; a loud bang can feel like a whack to the knee-caps, with a shattering effect. In extreme cases, I turn pale and crumple like a limp noodle. I remember bike riding along a country road as a kid. A car gave a beep as it passed and up I flew over the handlebars. I was later rebuked for being silly; it had been “a friendly beep.” Although I have since learned to control my outward behavior, the inner effect is still just as strong. I experience a sudden cough, for example, as a black blob with sharp edges – capable of slicing right through the body. When someone heads down the stairway and lets the heavy fire door slam, two floors away I feel a slap on the back. Needless to say, I avoid festivities involving balloons and firecrackers.

Long, sustained sounds can also be uncomfortable. It may be because the ear doesn’t just take in vibrations, but expels energy, too. So it is as if the ear can’t breathe and exhale during a sustained sound. As a sound continues uninterrupted, I feel it accumulate and build to a sense of panic or outbreak of sweat. I experience the neighbor’s air-conditioning unit as an incessant, choking, brown wave of varying texture. It’s exhausting. When it does shut off, my shoulders suddenly slump with a release of tension from bracing against the sound. The rattle from passing trains is like being hit with clumps of small pebbles - and if it continues at length, it piles up and feels unbearable. The worst traffic sound? I swear an idling diesel truck can cause arrhythmic heart beats! For me, the growl-y sound is gray and mushy, like a constant flow of oatmeal body-slams.

I still have a vivid teenage memory of my brother, a tuba player, having a competition with a colleague to see who could hold a note the longest. Repeatedly, they played a single, long, low note on the tuba. Rather than be dutifully impressed, I broke into a panicked sweat, covered my ears, and fled the house. This audio-memory lingered like a bad dream for months. Around this time I took part in a performance of Shostakovich’s Fifth Symphony, in which the last seven pages of the score are one long, high-pitched, pulsation “A.” The combination of this well-composed and purposeful discomfort with the recent visceral memory was torturous – an intense physiological distress that I have difficulties describing even today.

Hearing “differently” makes for some odd situations. Most people turn the lights off and close their eyes when they concentrate, relax, or release their imagination. At yoga class, I unwind and meditate much better with eyes open and ears plugged. The vocal sounds of a classmate humming while meditating is like gusts of fine brown sand. The sound of heavy, deep breathing is white, like shaved ice, fuzzy yet slightly harsh. And then, someone coughs - and I’m spent.

Sometimes I wonder about adults pushing strollers, oblivious to the terrifyingly loud high-pitched squeak coming from a wheel. Your child gets squirmy and cries a lot in the stroller, huh? Should I mention to them that infant ears are much more sensitive than an adult’s? Could they imagine the existence of something they can’t hear? I was once awakened in the night by such a baby carriage squeal. From my seventh floor window I had a clear view of the situation below and soon realized it was a dog whistle. So I shouted down the location of the dog to the owners of this pet with selective hearing. My roommate thought I was crazy: for no apparent reason I had woken up and started yelling directions out the window.

Some people enjoy motorized gadgets: juicers, vacuum cleaners, coffee grinders, hair dryers, blenders, etc. Unfortunately, for me, these buzzing little motors spit out a torrent of dry, high-pitched hailstones. I don’t mind quietly mopping the floor, or buying pre-ground coffee beans. I’ve even learned to open a bottle of champagne with scarcely a pfft.

Sometimes, such bizarrely attentive ears are a good thing. Once while sitting in an airport enjoying a cool drink, the dinging sound of the ice cubes didn’t seem right. Upon investigation, I discovered a large chuck of glass had broken off the water pitcher and was masquerading as an ice cube.

Sound effects are obviously a blessing, too. The music profession allows me to work and create sound effects with other “crazy” ear-centered people. I continue to be astonished at the wonder of music and the amazing range of sound effects that orchestra players are capable of creating. During a rehearsal of a Bruckner symphony, I once asked a horn player to consider the composer’s request for playing loud and soft as meaning ‘up-close’ and ‘distant,’ respectively. She then proceeded to play ‘near’ with astonishing effect. Afterwards, her comment was simple, “I added more red.” [I love these people!]

You might assume that a conductor’s favorite sound is applause. But unfortunately clapping signals that a piece is over and done. End of music. My favorite sound? That chaotic moment after the oboist gives the string players a Concert A. That sudden whoosh of Concert A joined by other open-string sounds - all dancing at once. It is the sound of anticipation. The invitation to music - the most exquisite of human sound effects.