Learning to Leave the Silence Alone
Until fairly recently, I rarely left the house without headphones. Music was, and still is, a big part of my life after all. It also accompanied almost everything I did. Walking, commuting, shopping, travelling - every journey, big or small, became an opportunity to listen to another album or revisit an old favorite. It wasn't something I consciously thought about. It was simply how I moved through the world. It felt like something that was pretty much standard.
But then - it happened. A breaking point. Not sure how to describe it. Was it a panic attack? Being overstimulated? Something in me broke. The music was just not the same anymore. It felt hollow, less like a part of a daily structure but more like a nuisance. It made me wonder how my own music would react to that. And, in fact, it did - overstimulated brain reached out for pre-existing material. This was something I took almost too seriously.
But then, in the most dire time, I decided to try a small experiment.
Instead of reaching for my headphones every time I went outside, I started wearing earplugs instead. The goal wasn't to block the world out. It was to see whether I could break the habit of constantly listening to music, of that overstimulation. Break it into small pieces. I wanted to find out whether I actually needed a soundtrack for every walk, or whether I'd simply become accustomed to having one.
Eventually, even the earplugs disappeared. These days I often walk without either. Just the sounds of the environment - or, occasionally, very little at all.
Around the same time, I also began experiencing auditory hallucinations related to my psychological condition. They are a relatively recent part of my life, and they have inevitably changed the way I think about sound and how music should function. There are moments when silence isn't entirely silent, and there are days when adding even more auditory information simply feels exhausting or overwhelming. Learning to spend time without constant music has become less about denying myself something enjoyable and more about giving my mind fewer things to process.
Unexpectedly, this experiment changed my relationship with music itself. Now granted, for someone who composes and creates music, it may sound strange, but I don't actually listen to very much anymore. As I write this, I've listened to only two new album released this year. Additionally I have only heard some small bits here and there, but nothing that I would describe as the conscious act of listening. Not because contemporary music has become less interesting to me, but because I no longer feel compelled to keep up with every new release. The slog and the backlog always grew in size. Now I feel content with not knowing all that much. And it is quite a freeing experience.
For years I assumed listening widely was part of being a composer. Every recommendation, every new album, every artist seemed worth exploring. I worried that if I stopped listening so much, I'd slowly become disconnected from music itself.
But actually the opposite happened. The less I listened, the more meaningful listening became.
When music is no longer a constant companion, it regains its ability to surprise, to make your mind wonder, to be able to focus on some details. Albums stop blending together. Individual pieces stay with me longer and make me think more analytically. I find myself returning to recordings months later instead of immediately looking for something new.
This became true in my mind - scarcity gives attention value.
I've also noticed a change in my own composing. Without a continuous stream of other people's music occupying my mind, I hear my own ideas more clearly. They feel more rounded, ready to be used, less focused on keeping up with the musical Jonses. Musical decisions feel less influenced by whatever I've recently been listening to. There is more room for my own instincts to develop without immediately comparing them to someone else's work.
Silence, it turns out, is remarkably productive.
Walking without headphones has become one of the few parts of the day where my thoughts are allowed to unfold uninterrupted. Sometimes ideas for new pieces appear. Sometimes solutions to existing compositions become obvious. Sometimes a new sound of the environment gives an idea completely unrelated topic. Sometimes nothing happens at all, and that is also good.
I've become comfortable with that.
There is another benefit I didn't expect. Without music filling every moment, I began noticing the surrounding world again.
The rhythm of footsteps. Wind moving through trees. The distant sound of trains. Birdsong. Fragments of conversations. Pigments that are applied to this particular moment in time, no more, no less.
None of these sounds are trying to entertain me. They simply exist. And because they ask nothing of me, I find them strangely calming.
Perhaps this is another consequence of getting older. I no longer feel the need to optimize every moment (what a horrible concept anyway!). A walk doesn't need a soundtrack. Waiting doesn't need distraction.
Quiet doesn't need fixing.
That doesn't mean music has become less important. If anything, it has become more important precisely because it occupies just a sliver of my day.
When I decide to listen to an album now, I actually listen. Not while checking my phone. Not while walking somewhere. Not as background noise for something else. The music receives my full attention, and I think it deserves nothing less.
The irony isn't lost on me. I spend countless hours making ambient or atmospheric music, yet I spend far fewer hours listening to it than I once did. Perhaps creating and consuming don't need to exist in equal measure?
This year has been less about discovering new music and more about rediscovering silence. I've found that silence isn't simply the absence of sound. It's the absence of constant input.
The freedom to let my own thoughts unfold without immediately replacing them with someone else's. For someone who once felt compelled to carry music everywhere, that has become one of the most valuable changes I've made.
So, maybe, we should shutdown our earhole devices in order to truly listen?