Threshold Shift and the Screaming Blond

August 2006

I feel I must start this with a disclaimer: I have nothing against blondes as a subgroup of the human species. I understand the stereotype blondes engender – vapid, empty, self-absorbed, etc., and it just isn’t fair – usually.

I’ve known many blondes – and I’d like to offer a special “hello” to the blondes to which I have the honor of reading the soundman chronicles – you are all intelligent, attractive, warm and caring.

But, alas, ‘tis not always so.

As the principal soundman for the whacky and popular Beach Blanket Babylon, I have occasion of using my sense of hearing to effect what I hope is a pleasurable aural experience for patrons of our humble little production.

To that end, I am required to use what is generally known as “critical listening skills” in an effort to combine the various vibratory sources between 20 and 20,000 cycles per second present during a performance into a pleasing mixture of sound. There are many fancy and cool tools to assist me in this task, and I could not do my job without the help of these tools.

I am reminded of the time I was in upstate New York with Jesse Colin Young. It was a stormy Saturday night – no really, it was. Rain and wind whipped the trees outside the little club Jesse was to perform in that evening. About 20 minutes into his first set, we lost power. I sat there critically listening, entirely useless, as Jesse continued acoustically.

But I digress.

The point is that, even though my job requires a basic set of tools to accomplish, the principal tool I have is, of course, my hearing.

Huh? What’s that you say? (an old soundman joke, you’ve probably all heard it before… get it? heard it before… a pun on an old joke…)

Don’t worry – we’re getting to the part about the blond.

“Temporary Threshold Shift” is a phenomenon that we have all experienced. More pronounced examples are after coming home from a very loud rock concert and looking quizzically at a friend as he silently mouths words as if he is actually talking. The fact is, he is actually talking and you, dear rocker, have temporarily brought on mild deafness in your mad desire to rock on.

Fortunately, it is temporary, at least for awhile, and your hearing returns to normal, your friends start actually speaking the words once again. It is nature’s way of protecting your hearing so that you may rock another day. (Incidentally, it isn’t just rock musicians that have had issues with hearing loss. Try sitting in the middle of the brass section during a Wagner Opera… Huh? What’s that you say?)

Really, the part about the blond is just around the corner.

Being an experienced critical listener, as I claim to be, I am very familiar with my own personal patterns of temporary threshold shift, and count on it as I carry on my duties at Beach Blanket Babylon. Our average time-weighted SPL (sound pressure level) for the ninety minute performance is about 86 or 87 dBa, with transient peaks of over 100 dB. It’s loud, but not quite rock concert loud.

My hearing adjusts for the amplified level of the show material and I base my sound judgments – don’t you just love all these puns? – on my temporarily shifted hearing.

The biggest threat to my delicately balanced threshold shift is – you guessed it – screaming blonds.

More to the point, screaming blondes sitting at the table right next to the sound booth.

Even more to the point, screaming blondes sitting next to the sound booth that scream like a banshee at random intervals during the show, moved to said banshee-like screaming by some alcohol-fueled internal trigger, and not any apparent external action – such as the show up there on the stage.

This isn’t a loud guffaw at some hilarious joke, or the excited whoop of experiencing the exceptional talent on stage. No, this is the high-pitched Eiyeeee!!!! of someone that has just stepped into the path of a grizzly bear, or some other form of unexpected and imminent death.

By the end of the night last night, this may not have been that far from the truth: death by enraged soundman.

But no, I am a mild-mannered sort, so I endured. Of course, with each scream, the threshold shift in my left ear increased, altering my finely balanced hearing, making it more difficult to critically listen and accomplish the task at hand.

But I am a trained professional. I can take it.

However, there may come a time when the odd sight of a bearded, gray-haired man chasing a blond out of club Fugazi comes to pass.

It isn’t what it may look like. It’s just the soundman whose threshold has been shifted just a little too far.