I Hate Your Music
And your YouTube video and your phone conversation and your . . .
What is the logic that led you to believe that I wanted to listen to your iPhone? Did you lose your airpods? Don’t you have a pair of headphones? Actually, I think you do. But, for some reason, I think you believe that you have a right to my sonic space.
This is not the first time you have tried to take my silence away from me. Back in the 70s when the boom box came along, you thought it was ok to play it at ear-splitting volume on the subway, in the park, at the beach, wherever I might be enjoying not listening to your soundtrack.
But then there was a blessed, little pause. First the Walkman, then the iPod presented the idea that it might be cool to keep your sounds to yourself. And, for a little while, public space was truly public because silence belonged to everyone. Your sounds were your business, not mine. I didn’t mind if you occasionally sang along with the soundtrack I couldn’t hear. You were just being enthusiastic. And I applaud enthusiasm whenever it is truly heartfelt and a private matter between you and your unheard music.
Now, however, the covenant between public silence and private thought has been broken. I’m not sure when you first decided this was ok. Maybe it started with the cellphone itself. Maybe the idea…
