Sound Bite

So on this one random Thursday night, through a series of unfortunate events, I found myself at Bonza Bay beach with an acquaintance of mine who was surrounded by about 13 beautiful women. It seemed that he had recruited me on his little escapade to occupy 12 of these lovely creatures whilst he focused on his one girlfriend.
I, being the cynic I am, bordering on mild schizophrenia, was rather unsettled by this whole setup. It was at night, it was chilly and there was just way too much booze flowing for anything constructive to come out of the evening’s activities. So I played Mr Shy Guy and decided to observe…
Anyway, back to the subject, it seemed that he had noticed that I was keeping to myself that evening so he decided to be accommodating. I appreciated that until he started his 15 minute monologue about himself, his money and his adventures. After those 15 minutes lapsed he went further, showing off his masculinity by the amount of noise his customized sound system could fart out of his Citi Golf 1.4. I couldn’t help but laugh at the clash of ironies that presented themselves to me as he aroused and stimulated himself with descriptions of his sonic grandeur: A very unusual ratio (2:13) of women to men; 12 of them were black and one was white who happened to be his girlfriend and, also, the only one who seemed to know how to dance; this seemingly educated gentleman with whom I was having a ‘conversation’ boasting about his sound system.

I know that ‘boys love their toys’ as is evident in my own lifestyle. I have a liking for chic, slick motorcars. I have a fetish for leather boots (as feminine as that may be). I have also recently acquired a mysterious fascination with beautiful cutlery and cooking utensils but that’s all just me. But what is it about guys and loud sound systems?
By loud, I don’t mean just upping the volume on any stereo – I’m talking about chaps who pay tens of thousands of Rands on amplifiers, tweeters, sub-woofers and all other things needed to make enemies of your white, dog-walking neighbours and that is not the end of it. You see, most of the affordable yet trendy cars like the Citi Golfs cannot accommodate such heavy vibrations so they have to be modified somewhat. The suspension needs to be altered to sustain the load, the windows need to be somehow reinforced so that they don’t fly away whilst you’re playing Metro Fm and, usually, the entire backseat is taken up by this monstrosity.
I don’t get it. I’ve tried, though, but I cannot derive any sense of satisfaction in getting a headache and mutilating my eardrums all in the name of fun or whatever you want to call it.
With most of these vehicles, you’d have to stand approximately 20 – 30 paces from the vehicle for you to actually enjoy the sound without sustaining injuries. Though, why would you want to do that, if you could lower the volume slightly and sit inside the car and maybe even drive whilst you’re listening to music?
Back to our conversation, I also realised that whilst his car was playing music, he had to keep the engine running otherwise the battery would be flat after about 30 minutes. That got me thinking. If, for example, we were having one of those typical all-night parties he’d have to be playing from his car for about 5 -7 hours straight whilst running his engine, revving it periodically. This would amount to about 10 – 15 litres of petrol consumed, which is the equivalent of about 120km of driving in the average Golf. If you then changed this into currency, you’d be looking at about R75 – R112.50 just to keep music playing for a few hours. I wouldn’t call myself a full-time cheapskate but would that be absolutely necessary?

My argument goes beyond racial divides.
I know that certain race groups from Durban and Cape Town tend to exaggerate my point for me and then go even beyond that so much so that the arm of the law has had to intervene by instilling decibel limits that could not be exceeded – and you thought that speeding was enough of a problem.
I once refused to board a taxi in Durban’s Point. Not because of the impressive graffiti art that decorated it and not because of the occupants. The real reason was that I heard and felt it approaching before I even saw it – it was no longer sonic, it was seismic. What bothered me even more was that there were some older folks who were obliged to board, for lack of better options, and bear all that madness. Of course, I would’ve boarded the taxi had the conductor offered me a sterilized pair of earplugs. Well, I would’ve thought about it, at least.

Since the creation of records or LP’s, I gathered that the point was to recreate a sound very similar to music being played live without the static or any ‘airy’ sounds in the background. Hence the development CD audio and MP3’s with varying bitrates. Alas, it seems that this is not the case. Sound clarity is no longer the commodity it once was with my people. The beauty of music without a destructive bass is no longer and we have to watch the chaps spending so much money on things that do not appreciate in value – but that is not a new concept as we still spend so much money on accessorizing so many other things that we see as extension of our selves.

This is still a learning process for me, part of my quest to understand my fellow man and maybe even understand myself better. Perhaps one day someone will help me understand and even convince me to cash in my retirement fund to build my own little monster so I can walk with my legs far apart as a man well-endowed should.