Monday, January 29, 2007

Bailterspace, Swervedriver, Archers of Loaf, & rrriot girls

I probably play the TV a bit too loud late at night When I realize it, I turn it down. Nobody's complained. But I don't play music loud. Don't even have the equipment to do it. I think playing music loud in an apartment building is really inconsiderate, especially since one can always wear headphones & wreck one's eardrums without bothering anybody else.

The landlord was in the building late one afternoon while the African guy next door had his African pop cranked up. The landlord went nuts, had to bang on the door for 5 minutes just to get the guy's attention. I appreciate that this neighbor loves his music, & the music he loves isn't all that bad as simple pop music goes, & I'm glad he's not a crackhead with a hip hop soundtrack. But his favorite African pop has mostly one underlying rhythm: boom boom boom boomboom / boom boom boom boomboom. Above a certain volume, this rhythm is transferred through the intervening wall into my apartment minus every other part of the music. I think it's even amplified in the process, a floor to ceiling subwoofer. It becomes impossible to read, to write, to listen to the radio, to nap, to do anything. It makes me jittery, then ornery. I give this man his boom boom music at whatever volume he chooses on Sunday afternoons. Actually, he can play it whenever he wants so long as it remains in background over on my side of the wall. Last week, he apparently got into a bottle & was singing along with his music through a karaoke mic. I let that go. Maybe he was homesick. Occasionally, his two little kids get all worked up & yowl & jump around until one of them crashes into the other they start wailing.

Today I finally lost it. I was just trying to listen to the news & I had to wham the wall twice with my 800+ page Trouser Press Guide to '90s Rock, a book by the way that recommends a lot of music I like, & which the guy next door would definitely not want me playing at extreme volume. That made him mad, he turned the music down, then came over & banged on my door, but I wouldn't answer it, because, although he's as small guy, he was once in a domestic altercation with his wife that resulted in severe damage to his front door & a visit from the police. So maybe I'm taking a risk. Fact is, he could get worse from me: an angry, brooding silence. Everytime the landlord sees me, he asks how it's going with those neighbors. Up to now, I've never complained, & I'd rather not.

Comments:
After six relatively uneventful years on Irving St, I got into an escalating & increasingly desperate war with the apnea afflicted al queda operative in the apt above me. Yet I somehow negotiated a peaceful coexistence with the pothead guy next door, who was into guitar shred & violent video games. & never a bit of trouble with longtime resident Steve, who had a taste for amphetamine rockbilly yet was himself laid back & quiet.
 
I've decided that my hearing must not be as loud first thing in the morning. I say this because my tv and radio always seem so loud when I turn them back on later in the day, having done nothing to alter the volume in them meantime. Weird.
 
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