PTSD

Post Theatrical Sound Disorder 😊

There is a county fair going on down in the Valley.  I was sitting on the porch this afternoon and the wind was just right, and those (in)famous words drifted up to my house; “check one-two, check” . Shortly followed by a rythmic ‘booom,  boooom,  booooom’  

Ah, the sweet sounds of sound check. I could almost feel the faders under my fingers, the headset over one ear,  and one eye on the VU meters.  I vicariously reached out and cued my mic and asked for the snare, and up the hollar came the sound “Thwack!  Thwack! ” and I could hear the sound guy dialing in the reverb.   Shortly thereafter came the sounds of the bass player, and I could “see” exactly how the sound guy had laid out his board, what instruments, on what channel, and other than knowing how many vocals; knew I could run that show, point blank, and have everything dialed in during the first song.

I swear, that was absolutely the BEST job I have ever had.  Like any job, there were ups, downs,  good people bad people, good shows and shows you’d wish to never remember, but all in all, I absolutely loved what I did.

But it is not a job for getting old in.  Ears go.  Knees go.  And the endless travel is really more for the young n restless than a 50 sumpin with a lingering case of tinnitus.  But I has my memory, and days like today, I am right back there, pushing faders and feeling the blood pumping as the energy of it all blasts the air around me.  I may not have made the music, but I was as intergral to the show as the band on the stage.  And I was the one that mixed it right or mixed it up, and audience response told the band if I got it right.  It was (is) a feedback loop, and in some ways, quite addictive.  

Gotta say it.

ROCK ON!