While he is in his downstairs studio making loud musical sounds, I am upstairs in the loft where I have strategically placed my studio. I can hear him but now we do not share the same area. This is so much better as I can think and he doesn’t need to hear me asking him to please turn down the volume.
When I used to sing for my bread and butter, I stood on stages where my position always ended up in front of the drums with my ears on the same level as the crash cymbals. Naturally, the bass amplifier was behind me and the guitar amplifier was to my right. The keyboards were usually further to the right. It is true that we had monitors for the vocals and that they were on the floor, facing upwards.
They might have thought this was fair, my having the monitors, but they always seemed to keep turning up the little buttons on their instruments. As the evening wore on and the dancing revelers were singing and shouting, I would be surrounded by a cacophony of music, noise and an overabundance of levels. My brain had to process these, my ears felt overwhelmed and I had the distinct disadvantage of having to expend loads of energy to force more sound out in order to compete with their beer induced frenzies. No wonder I used to sleep twelve and fourteen hours a day.
We were excellent musicians and kept the crowds going, but it took it’s toll on my vocal chords and my ear drums. It has been over a decade since I performed and I find myself hankering for the stage once more. There is still a lot of music left inside me and I am toying with the idea of getting another band together. It truly is a great release of pent-up emotions and creative juices.
By the way, I might have had to compete with their sound levels but I had so many good times that I suppose I wouldn’t have traded them at all. Memories when they are good are the spice of life.