Long Live Stereo!
I’ve had an unusual sensitivity to sound since childhood. I’m not talking about emotional experiences with music. I’ve always known that my hearing is somehow different from most people’s, but I never really knew how to describe it.
Going to the cinema is practically unbearable for me. I think the last movie I saw in a cinema was one of the Polish adaptations of a school reading assignment.
When my boyfriend and I moved in together, I eventually had to ask him to unplug his 5.1 system from the TV. When the sound was loud enough for me to hear all the details properly, it became painful. Not dizzying, not confusing — just unbearably sharp. Turning the volume down wasn’t a solution either, because then I could no longer hear the details.
Sometimes all it takes is cutlery falling onto the floor or the sound of plates being placed on the IKEA table to trigger an immediate, unbearable pressure in my ears. I automatically hunch my shoulders, almost as if I were physically defending myself from some kind of attack.
Interestingly, ordinary stereo through headphones is completely fine for me.
While listening to different editions and mixes of Steven Wilson’s new live album, I started connecting the dots by consciously comparing Stereo, 5.1, Dolby Atmos and Binaural. The pattern became very clear:
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Stereo — all fine. Binaural, Dolby Atmos, 5.1 — like a hundred tiny drills randomly deciding to drill into my skull, each at its own moment. God damn it, Harvey.
It was a really interesting discovery for me, because it made me realize that the problem isn’t simply that I “don’t like it when it’s loud.” The playback volume was the same.
My standard hearing test is normal, apart from the natural age-related changes. And yet my experience is real: being able to hear well and being able to tolerate all types of sound are not necessarily the same thing.
So I started reading about decreased sound tolerance, hyperacusis and so-called pain hyperacusis. I’m not diagnosing myself — but for the first time, I found some language that helps describe something I’ve struggled to explain for a very long time.
I have to admit, I envy those who can fully enjoy the extra spatial dimension in music. And I don’t have to force myself to listen in a way that causes me pain.
So, yes — long live stereo, and long live the composition and production skills of the people who can create an entire universe and an illusion of space with just two channels.
Headphone Dust has not only helped me find a gift for my boyfriend’s birthday (luckily, we’re a progressive-music-loving household), but the album itself has also unexpectedly helped me, quite literally, catalogue something about my own ears through their different mixes.
The investigation continues…
