The house lights finally dimmed and the stage lights came up. The audience stopped talking and fidgeting, and our eyes burned holes on the stage, willing Alfie Boe to come out and start singing. (If you haven’t heard of him, I’m happy to wait while you take a moment to look him up.)
I don’t normally ‘do’ concerts; my ears and brain find it painfully difficult to sort through the voices, instruments and background noise and make meaning of the music. But I was willing to risk this for Alfie Boe. So last night, there were we were, making our way from parking lot to the theatre, pushing horizontally through the razor-sharp rain and wind of Hurricane Sandy. Inside, we dripped along with several hundred other sopping fans, waiting for the theatre doors to open for the British ‘Les Miz’ star’s last concert stop of his first-ever North American tour.
I was apprehensive, hoping that this time the acoustical gods would favor me with a concert I could enjoy. I asked a staff person about the availability of an assistive listening device.
Guy: “Excuse me – a what?”
Me: “A device, that I would wear, to help me hear.”
Guy: “No, we don’t. It’s a small venue and you’re in the fourth row, really close to the stage. You won’t need one.”
I could have responded: “Ya think? You clearly don’t understand hearing loss. Mr. Boe has a mustache AND a North Country accent that I won’t understand. (Sung lyrics don’t seem to have an accent – why is that?) And, like many singers, he sometimes keeps his lips so close to the mike that he might as well eat it!”
But instead of my normal lecture, I settled for a hairy eyeball which he didn’t hang around to see. (Note to self: write complaint letter to the venue and ask them to offer assistive devices for future patrons with hearing loss.) Entering the theatre, we found an almost-bare concert stage, just a few instruments and microphones awaiting their musicians. This was good news – no blasting pyrotechnics. Even better – we were very close to the stage.
But Alfie’s spoken accent did pose a problem for me. Let me rephrase that – when Alfie talked, I couldn’t understand a word. The rest of the audience were clearly hearing people who had no problem understanding Alfie and his apparently great sense of humor. Sigh. I had to resort to one of my classic, but least favorite, communication strategies. Every time the audience laughed at something, I tapped my friend’s arm – “Whad-he-say? Whad-he-say!?” After 40 years of Best Friends 4Ever, she knew resistance was futile and graciously repeated for me, although it pulled her away from the action.
But oh, the music! I heard it, I got it! The music made up for the words I couldn’t understand. The acoustics were fabulous – not too loud – and the musical arrangements, musicians and Boe’s amazing voice and energy transported me into a bluesy-jazzy-rocky-rolly-classical, amazing evening of music. Oh, what a night!
Years ago, I paid $400 to hear Streisand’s Final-Forever-Farewell Tour (I must have misunderstood something, because she’s touring again now). She performed in the Air Canada Centre where the acoustics were designed for hockey fights and basketball slam-dunks, not singers. To make things worse, the temporary metal stairs in the aisles shook and roared with the footsteps of 30,000 people in search of food and the loo. But because the venue was so large and the audience could barely see Barbra on stage, we also got to watch her on at least two jumbo-screens that made lip-reading easy. She likes to eat the mike, too.
Concert magic happened at the HLAA convention in Nashville a couple of years ago when 400 of us went to the Grand Ol’ Opry. That night, for the first time in its history, the Opry provided captioning for the show. I don’t normally care for country music, but that concert, performed in an acoustically perfect venue, took our breath away. As people seldom able to access the full majestic force of live musical performance, we were ecstatic and humbled by its beauty. HLAA people. those who were there that night, still talk about it.
People with hearing loss often grieve for the music that we’ve lost to our disability. We want our music back, and we want to enjoy concerts. Here are some Tips for Best Possible Concert Enjoyment:
- Seeing the whites of performers’ eyes means you can read their lips and emotions, too. In small venues, sit as close as possible to the stage (but out of harm’s way of jumbo-speakers.) In large venues, use binoculars or watch the large screens, or both.
- Ask about assistive listening devices that bring the music and spoken word into your ears.
- If the music is too loud, ask yourself why am I here? If you still want to stay, replace your hearing aids with earplugs. If the concert is that loud, you may still hear it, and earplugs will protect what you’ve got left.
- At concerts, we’re often already familiar with the music, making it easier to understand the lyrics. However, if the performer is new to you, try listening to the songs and/or reading the lyrics before the concert.
- Captioned concerts are more accessible and take nothing away from the music. Advocate for captioning at a concert that you want to enjoy.
- Choose concerts at smaller venues that have a reputation for superb acoustics.
- When all else fails, hold a private concert for yourself – put on headphones, turn on the music and enjoy.
