A DEAFENING NOISE

Maybe it’s age and intolerance to the sort of Meat Loaf levels of sound I welcomed when younger but I’ve recently noticed an uncomfortable increase in sound levels.

Close your eyes and listen. The decibel level of intolerance, of feigned jollity, misfortune being described as OMG catastrophe, of birdsong (even the seagulls have upped their screams of protest) and the sound levels on TV – getting louder and more intrusive. Restaurants I used to love now make me fear I’m getting deaf (I must go to Specsavers for a hearing test) as I have to lip read to understand what my companion is saying. 

But it occurred to me this phenomenon is not about me at all. It’s about a world where everyone is permanently on broadcast. Whether this is on radio stations that are springing up like daffodils in spring, on podcasts, blogging (sorry I’m guilty too but I’m thinking maybe I should reduce the noise level by stopping this practice) and wherever there are people…giving opinions, breaking news, spreading rumours, protesting, having arguments, celebrating goals or birthdays … making noise, NOISE, NOISE.

It's invaded politics. The House of Commons was always, of course, a noisy place. But it’s got worse. Suddenly we have “noisy government.” It set off two weeks ago in high spirits like a Ferrari driver in a built up area going from 0 -60 in 4 seconds. Very noisy. Exhilarating for the Prime Minister and Chancellor. But ill-thought through and certainly dangerous. All noise. No navigation. No steering, failed brakes and would’ve failed the breath test. Like Toad of Toad Hall all “poop, poop” and not a thought about other people.

From a Russian perspective the war in Ukraine is “a story told by an idiot, full of sound and fury signifying nothing” as Putin - the contemporary Macbeth - might put it.  The cost for Ukraine so far is estimated at £330 billion including rebuild costs and for Russia - who knows but a likely much larger sum. A lot of very big bangs for getting nowhere in particular. In heaven the gods are shaking their heads and muttering quietly “they’ve all gone crackers.” 

It's not new of course but it is louder. I remember a long time ago hearing someone who had a big and important job being called “a big noise.” It was always men who were the noisiest ones – big lunch-filled stomachs, red porty noses and loud braying voices. Until Liz whose voice like the sound of a mosquito insistently whining away…”liz,liz,liz”…. A new noise.

Even the weather has got louder with the devastating impact of Storm Ian on the south eastern states of America with wind speeds of 155mph and water surges of up to 15 feet. Terrifyingly waterlogged electric cars are imploding as their batteries corrode. Recently here we had sheet lightning and thunderclaps so loud they woke people up.

Yet not all noise is bad. After a particularly rousing version of Vaughan Williams’ “Sea Symphony” at the Brighton Festival to an ecstatic reception I wondered if quieter pieces like Debussy’s Clair de Lune eventually be dismissed for  having “not enough impact”.

We need a spell of less.

Silent retreats.

Greek islands like Kythonos and Alonnisos.

A spell away from city life.

No TV. No radio. No news.

Greta Garbo was famous for saying “I want to be alone” and retired from films aged 36. But she was a rather tragic melancholic.

I don’t want to be alone. I just want a bit of quiet. A bit of relief from the shrieking urgency of 2022.