Enchanted technology
Tom and I went to hear Bach's Mass in B Minor at the Performing Arts Center last night. Several of our friends sing in the Cuesta Master Chorale so we go to their performances about once a year. This time it was a huge production with a whole orchestra and five soloists.The PAC is a massive hall but Tom had chosen perfect seats: the fifth row in the middle. We could see perfectly and the acoustics couldn't have been better.
The first few pieces were a delight. Then my left hearing aid decided it was enjoying the music so much it wanted to sing along. At the end of the next few pieces, during the pause before the next one started, it sang its own solo in feedback. It would have been less of an issue if people had applauded between sections but that isn't the way it's done. I know how to deal with the feedback because these aids are prone to it, but it involves cupping my hand over the aid and letting it feed back to its heart's content. I couldn't do that there.
So my hearing aid sang to the whole hall, all by itself. As soon as I heard it I switched it off and on again, which shut it right up. At the end of each piece, I was ready. Off-on. That worked for a while. Then my right aid got the idea and it started singing along with the left one. It took both hands to switch them off and on. This continued for a few more pieces, and then they got even braver and started singing along with the music instead of waiting till the end.
By this time the concert was nearly over. I felt there was no option other than to take them right out. I listened to the last two and a half pieces with naked ears.
What an experience! Suddenly the Mass in B Minor, which is pretty bombastic at the end, with a choir of several hundred voices, a pipe organ, a brass section, the timpani, all as loud as they can be, was so quiet! All that sound dropped away incredibly dramatically! I could see all the mouths of the singers open wide at the back, but it took considerable concentration to tell whether they were actually making any noise! I could hear the soloists, who were ten or twelve feet in front of me, but they all had such tiny little voices! And the orchestra! The bows were moving across the strings of all those violins without making a sound. The brass section came in to a degree, and the bass viol and the drums were pretty audible. The second to last piece was a miniature alto solo accompanied by a silent cello. In the very last piece, everyone on the stage was very busy singing, playing, swaying, moving, but for me it could have been a nearly empty stage with only the five
soloists in the front singing in their tiny voices, and the trumpets and drums and the deep bass viol in the distance.
It occurred to me that you could draw an audiogram out of what what I could and couldn't hear in that setting.
On the way home I let my hearing aids sing until they were done, but really, if I wasn't so attached to them, I would have made them stay in the thinking corner for a long time after behaving so badly.
The first few pieces were a delight. Then my left hearing aid decided it was enjoying the music so much it wanted to sing along. At the end of the next few pieces, during the pause before the next one started, it sang its own solo in feedback. It would have been less of an issue if people had applauded between sections but that isn't the way it's done. I know how to deal with the feedback because these aids are prone to it, but it involves cupping my hand over the aid and letting it feed back to its heart's content. I couldn't do that there.
So my hearing aid sang to the whole hall, all by itself. As soon as I heard it I switched it off and on again, which shut it right up. At the end of each piece, I was ready. Off-on. That worked for a while. Then my right aid got the idea and it started singing along with the left one. It took both hands to switch them off and on. This continued for a few more pieces, and then they got even braver and started singing along with the music instead of waiting till the end.
By this time the concert was nearly over. I felt there was no option other than to take them right out. I listened to the last two and a half pieces with naked ears.
What an experience! Suddenly the Mass in B Minor, which is pretty bombastic at the end, with a choir of several hundred voices, a pipe organ, a brass section, the timpani, all as loud as they can be, was so quiet! All that sound dropped away incredibly dramatically! I could see all the mouths of the singers open wide at the back, but it took considerable concentration to tell whether they were actually making any noise! I could hear the soloists, who were ten or twelve feet in front of me, but they all had such tiny little voices! And the orchestra! The bows were moving across the strings of all those violins without making a sound. The brass section came in to a degree, and the bass viol and the drums were pretty audible. The second to last piece was a miniature alto solo accompanied by a silent cello. In the very last piece, everyone on the stage was very busy singing, playing, swaying, moving, but for me it could have been a nearly empty stage with only the five
soloists in the front singing in their tiny voices, and the trumpets and drums and the deep bass viol in the distance.
It occurred to me that you could draw an audiogram out of what what I could and couldn't hear in that setting.
On the way home I let my hearing aids sing until they were done, but really, if I wasn't so attached to them, I would have made them stay in the thinking corner for a long time after behaving so badly.
posted by Eve at 3:35 PM
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