Guest: One thing at a time

Last Modified: Wednesday, March 20, 2013 at 6:12 p.m.

Sydney Smith, 19th century British writer and bon vivant, described a colleague as having "occasional flashes of silence that make his conversation perfectly delightful." Do we appreciate the "flashes of silence" so vital to our creativity and concentration -- and to our sanity? And make for delightful conversation?


Multitasking may be a way of life for many stressed citizens, but it is a devious and dangerous devil.

Sarasota is currently debating the parameters of noise downtown, where some claim "rattling rooms," "blasting" and electric bass "booming" from car speakers and outdoor entertainment disturb privacy. Supporters have lined up on both sides of the sound fence. However, whether we like it or not, noise governs and blasts into our ears in all contexts. Silence and privacy have become the two most precious elements for modern man, ingredients we take for granted -- unless they disappear or are threatened. We must rigorously guard them both.

Often, a total stranger or outsider can make cogent arguments on local, or even wider, issues. It may be useful for natives to hear an outsider (from Europe) put in her two cents' (or euros') worth. I have listened with pleasure to the sounds of the USA in Sarasota for seven seasons: the local opera, concerts, theater and many jazz concerts, as my husband is a jazz musician. The beaches are gloriously without boom boxes and one rarely hears a racket from cars on the road. It is, however, another source of noise that irritates and confuses us, and sets our senses on edge.

The flashes of silence Sydney Smith admires are virtually absent on television. Everything has a soundtrack. What makes for confusion and sensory overload on TV? The background music -- one cannot in truth call it music -- rather repetitive chants and mantras, blasted during almost all commercials, news, spots.

Even revered stations like History 2 and national public television now lace informative reports with these unceasing soundtracks. They are behind and underneath everything. It has become a contagion here. The upshot: Viewers cannot hear the spoken word above "music," which is just as loud if not louder than the narrative or information being put forth. Is the purpose of these chants to mesmerize viewers? Do they want to deafen us? Do they consciously want to blot out the messages of their products or the points of the news item or historical report? For that is exactly what they are doing.

We often ask each other during and after commercials what product was being advertised or what the narrator of reports and stories has tried to elucidate. Many of the ads are absurd, let's face it. But it would help comprehension if one could hear the speaker. Loud background music has blotted him or her out. Therefore the whole point of listening to narratives on ancient Egyptians or Syrian opposition groups is lost. Information gives way to an aural mishmash. Excellent reportage is drowned out. One cannot turn up the volume without also turning up the mishmash. It is as if a moment of concentration or boredom is not permissible. And what is wrong with boredom?

The senses are attacked from everywhere. Why are we so aware of these multitrack horrors? We are not in Sarasota for the whole year, so insidious changes and developments like these multitracks hit our eardrums even more poignantly. In Denmark, the soundtrack-overload contagion has not caught on as yet.

Multitasking may be a way of life for many stressed citizens. But one can make the claim that multitasking amplifies stress. Multitrack on television, where one expects pictures to illustrate news and other information, only defeats its own purpose. No one, not even a youngster weaned on multiple devices, is able to do three things while watching TV: View moving images and understand two or more noise tracks – and take away satisfaction or penetration. Multitasking is a devious and dangerous devil.

What of the joys of uni-tracking, uni-tasking -- sitting at one's computer without background music to create a poem, an essay, a personal letter? Driving a car or attending a concert without the beeps and jingles of phones and texts, which can be rather dangerous in certain contexts, as we have read. Switching on television solely to be informed and entertained, the way it used to be?

Bring back long flashes of silence and the necessary boredom that are essentials for concentrating on anything of value, for organizing our existence and creating something we can be proud of.

P.S. Neither my husband nor I are at all hard of hearing -- yet!

Ellen Bick Asmussen in an American-born poet, author and literary critic who works out of Denmark most of the year.

This story appeared in print on page A8


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