Quiet Down!

New York is loud. It's the rumble of the train, the honk of the horn, the blare of the siren, the wail of the guitar from a street performer, the pounding of 4 million pairs of heels, the base from a boom box, the constant chatter of the people always around you. It's the white, incessant noise of the city. Like the blazing lights that shine off this island, the noise of New York is omnipresent.

For the most part, you don't really notice this constant noise. There are few exceptions, however. When you're waiting for the train, for example, listening to the latest Radio Lab on your i-pod. You can have the volume maxed out and you won't be able to hear a word if the express train rumbles by. Not one word.

Or if you're taking the subway home late on a Saturday night when everyone is wired and chatty. If you try to have a conversation with the person next to you, you'll have to raise your voice just to be heard and even then they won't hear everything even when they're right next to you.

I really started to notice the noise of New York after I lost my voice two Sundays in a row. I couldn't figure out the cause at first. I hadn't been to a rock show or anything and I hadn't been teaching a large number of classes. The only thing both weekend had in common were birthdays.

Both birthday parties were held at dark, trendy, intimate bars below 30th St. Both birthdays had packed the bar with interesting, lovely, lively people and both had loud music flowing trough the room in addition to the gin and whiskey. Loud Music + Great People = Damaged Vocal Chords. I found myself literally yelling into the ears of people I had just met. An evening of this creates a husky voice the next day. Ten years of it, though, can cause serious damage.

I have a dear friend who just went to the doctor last week to see why his voice was always raspy. It turns out he has developed nodules on his vocal chords that will only shrink if he keeps his speaking voice at a soft whisper for 3-4 weeks. I don't know how he is going to do it. We both agreed that any kind of socializing was completely out of the question. He can't even take his girlfriend to dinner. In New York, restaurants are small, tables are set within inches of each other, and most are usually packed. That means a romantic dinner for two often involves yelling at each other across the table. So dinner is out, bar hopping is out, and any kind of rock concert or sporting event that actually encourages yelling is, of course, out of the question.

He can't even have a conversation with someone while walking down the street. Such a mundane activity might seem benign, but between the roars and honks and blares of the city, you must project forcefully to be heard. After a while, you do this conversational yelling without even thinking about it. It's when you're forced to stop when it becomes a real challenge.

My friend is just going to have to lay low for a while. The city isn't accommodating for someone forced to whisper. Simply put, to succeed in New York, you have to be able to yell.