A theater critic tackles his hearing loss

Now hear this! 

When it comes to the performing arts, the ears have it.

But sometimes they need a little help.

I’m a theater critic with hearing aids. A recent development — but let’s not get ahead of our story. Let's rewind the tale before my audio augmentation.

My hearing deteriorated for a variety of reasons. An exploding bike tire; too many rock concerts; earplugs gone bad. Whatever the causes, the loss wasn’t that bad at first. But it gradually got worse, like so many turns of the screw.

Conversations were harder to catch in crowds. Talk in the next room was impossible. But the screw kept turning. Until people talking right in front of me became harder to follow. I’d hear most of what they said. But there were always missing words.

Initially, I could figure it out. Despite my increasing hearing loss, I could still fill in the gaps in one-on-one conversations. But live theater was a different animal. It got to the point where the actors on stage all sounded like Charlie Brown’s parents. I had to face the music … or the silence.

I had a big-time case of hearing loss.

For a professional reviewer, that’s a pain. But what could I do?

After years of dragging my feet, I checked into the Marlowe Center for Hearing. Dr. Sarah Chicorelli, one of their resident audiologists, tested my ears. I scored bad grades on both the left and right ears. The graphs of their hearing ranges resembled steep cliffs. The diagnosis: “Profound hearing loss.” Damn. But earthly salvation was at hand …

After additional tests, Dr. Chicorelli fixed me up with hearing aids. Trial versions, at first. But they worked. 

What should I expect? “Many patients experience a dramatic difference in audio quality,” she said. “It can be life-changing, especially to lovers of music and theater.”

Dr. Chicorelli’s words stuck a chord with me. And proved to be right.

I loved the new sonic clarity. My new devices filled in the conversational blanks. I stopped saying “What?” all the time. Ian Anderson and my other prog-rock pals sounded great. 

The difference was, indeed, dramatic. Hey! Come to think of it, I was a lover of music and theater. That gave me an idea … Why not put the devices to work? Professionally, that is.

Hearing loss had impacted my job as a critic. Would my new hearing aids make it better? To find out, I’d put them to the test with a before-and-after piece on the Asolo Conservatory's recent production of "Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet." 

With that professional goal in mind, I got two tickets to the Bard's take on star-crossed lovers. I attended one before I got my new, tiny audio gear and the other after. Boy, did I get an earful. Along with a humbling lesson.

Image courtesy of Sorcha Augustine

Here’s my before and after story.

Ear Before

Sans hearing aids, I’d caught the emotional vibe of Shakespeare’s play on my first go-round. Theater isn’t algebra, folks. What the characters feel counts. Well-trained actors don’t need words to share their feelings. The Conservatory’s student prodigies had a well-stocked toolbox of nonverbal communication. 

Thanks to body language, intonation and speech rhythms, I caught the feelings of Shakespeare’s play. But my naked ears fumbled Shakespeare’s ideas. When your ears go bad, it’s like reading fine print without reading glasses. Words blur. And words are the delivery system of a playwright’s concepts. With Shakespeare’s ideas, that’s heavy freight.

I missed a lot the first time. But I didn’t know what I was missing.

Until my second go-round.

Ear After

For my “Romeo and Juliet” redux, I came equipped with hearing aids. But that’s not all I had. Using my iPhone app, I tuned into the theater’s audio system. This time around, I didn’t miss a word. Or the Shakespearean ideas they delivered. Including a few dirty jokes …

Sampson: When I have fought with the men, I will be civil with the maids; I will cut off their heads.

Gregory: The heads of the maids?

Sampson: Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads. Take it in what sense thou wilt.

On my second pass, I didn’t miss the innuendo.

I’d had a general sense of Shakespeare’s prurient puns the first time. They were crystal clear the second time. That surprised me. It’s the difference between listening to an argument behind walls in the next room — and one right in front of you in the same room.

For a critic, that clarity was a revelation.

Now, I finally knew what I’d been missing — and what my procrastination had cost me. Hearing assistance vastly improved my plunge into Shakespeare’s sonic world. The difference was dramatic, and it’s perfect for my job.

But I don’t want to oversell it.

Today’s hearing aids use cutting-edge digital technology. But let’s be clear: That edge is going to move. Tomorrow’s hearing aids will get even better. Even when they do, they’ll fall far short of Mother Nature's original high-fidelity audio equipment. You're basically sticking teeny tiny little speakers in your earholes. But do it anyway. It’s far better than noise, babble, and silence.

Bionic ears definitely boost audio art appreciation. The $5,000 price tag wasn't exactly in my budget, but you can't put a price on being able to hear clearly, especially if your livelihood depends on it. 

Hearing aids also help connect you to other human beings.

That’s good too.