Hear me talkin' to you (speak up)

(© Malcolm Sinclair)

Why is it that I can sit in a small room (such as the upstairs bar in the Bridge Hotel, Newcastle) and listen to a seventeen piece band blowing treble fortissimo (such as SSBB) without fear of tinnitus and yet I can go into another other pub (not Wetherspoons who soon cottoned on to the fact that their customers could live without all those pesky decibels!) and have my hearing almost blasted to Kingdom Come by the current day equivalent of the jukebox? At least with a jukebox you had some degree of control as to what you were hearing.

Today, whilst I sat there enjoying a mild libation, the rest of the punters seemed oblivious to the assault on their eardrums - no doubt they grew up listening to T-Rex or Led Zep - whilst I was listening to Shearing, Garner or, if I  wanted noise, Stan Kenton. Kenton, to this lot, would probably seem like Max Jaffa's Palm Court Orchestra.  

Now I know that there are a lot of contemporary jazz groups who also turn up the volume to way beyond the average listener's comfort zone however, that is a case of forearmed is forewarned.

Getting back to the pub, earlier I had watched, somewhat disinterestedly, the rugger which is not really my scene but at least my ears weren't getting attacked by the 'Hits of the '70s'. However, after the game (the ball?) was over, the channel moved to a news programme which centred around the earthquake disaster in Morocco where over 2000 people are reported dead or missing. There were harrowing scenes of people frantically digging in the hope of rescuing a friend, a neighbour or anyone.

I was glued to the screen until the bar-person switched channels to an old Rod Stewart video - I ask you!

How I'd love to find a bar that served real ale and had the sounds of Ella, Frank, Peggy, Getz and a few others gently combining with good ale and, hopefully, sympathetic company as well as showing compassion.

Dream on - Lance