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- ESSAY, Page 84In One Ear, in the Other
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- By Lance Morrow
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- If everyone's life is a movie, every life may need a
- musical sound track: a heroic overall theme (like Lawrence of
- Arabia or Star Wars) and various mood pieces to accompany the
- separate moments -- romance, sorrow, shopping. There might be
- a bright reveille on waking, a theme to shower by, music for
- orange juice and coffee, bustling big-city notes, perhaps (like
- those in 1950s New York office-girl sagas such as The Best of
- Everything), by which to go to work. Winning an important
- contract might call forth Chariots of Fire. The approach of
- one's personal Great White Shark would be announced by an
- ominous sawing of cellos.
-
- It could be done. The technology exists. An aural implant,
- perhaps a pulse monitor so that the music would follow the
- body's beat . . .
-
- On second thought, it is a revolting idea. But at least the
- permeating noise would be customized. As things stand now, the
- brain is assaulted by an indiscriminate aerosol of sound that
- comes out of a can and spreads like a virus. Canned music is a
- sort of Legionnaire's disease seeping through the world's
- hotels: a Lawrence Welkish synthetic, a dense cloud of inanimate
- noodling. It drifts from elevator to lobby, from lobby to dining
- room and coffee shop, thence even to the men's room, then jumps
- from hotel to hotel, from city to city, from country to country,
- until no corner of the earth is safe from this blight of the
- sprightly, a technique of musical leveling that can make any
- music -- the Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, Mozart, 2 Live Crew,
- the Soviet anthem -- sound like Raindrops Keep Falling on My
- Head.
-
- Enlil, the Mesopotamian god of the atmosphere, sent down a
- flood upon the world because of "the intolerable uproar of
- mankind." Unwanted noise for some reason provokes irrational
- fantasies of revenge: either submit to noise or annihilate the
- source. If Enlil were still in office, not a square centimeter
- of the earth would be dry. The only sound would be a gentle
- global lapping of waves.
-
- Noise performs its function in nature: as a warning, for
- example, or a cry of pain, or as an aural accounting of reality
- (those are footsteps that you hear approaching, that is the
- surf, that is your boss). Noise by definition ought to be
- random, as life is random. If noise is programmed, deliberate,
- even institutionalized, it had better have a good reason. It had
- better be Bach.
-
- Noise is often a form of stupidity and an invasion of the
- mind. Nature left the side gates to the brain (the ears)
- incautiously open. Any passing Visigothic mob of decibels can
- come swarming in, marauding, overturning thoughts, wrecking the
- civilization.
-
- An infant's cry of distress is so pitched by nature that
- its urgency cannot be ignored. Thus life is served, the baby is
- fed. But certain other noises that cannot be ignored (the
- whooping car alarm, the political campaign) lead to madness,
- homicide or, in most of us, an exhausted disgust. The poor
- battered ear grows accustomed to the occupying armies.
-
- If noise assaulted a different sense, say, the sense of
- smell, then people would race from the room at the smell of
- jackhammers, boom boxes and certain long stretches of Wagner.
- Somehow the human nose has kept a comparative purity of
- response; it remains a proud, indignant organ. The ears,
- however, are defeated territory.
-
- Canned music settles over the mind like a terrible
- exhalation of "air fresheners." Noise becomes sinister when it
- ceases to be episode and becomes environment. When someone
- carries a loud radio onto a bus, what you have is an individual
- committing an aggression against his surroundings. But canned
- music is an assault of the surroundings against the individual.
- The environment itself commits the aggression and does so
- ironically in the guise of universal inoffensiveness.
-
- A funny effect: the raunch of rock 'n' roll comes to sound
- like the Church Lady. The Rolling Stones' I Can't Get No
- Satisfaction: dum dum dum dum...dum dum dum dum. Thus does
- detoxified music become most toxic, a lemon-scent, pine-suffused
- fallout.
-
- In Japan, WALK signs at intersections have been programmed
- to tinkle Comin' Through the Rye or other tunes for pedestrians
- as they cross the street. The effect is charming, at least to a
- stranger, because it is unexpected, a silly cross-cultural grace
- note, a line of sunlight. But canned, environmental, globally
- permeating noise fills no human need. Somehow it has achieved
- a life of its own. The world's hotel managers should pull the
- plug, to universal applause. Then everyone in the lobbies of the
- world could appreciate the subsequent sound of one hand
- clapping.
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