Most music is made and reproduced on the assumption that all listeners hear in the same way. Psychologists generally write about aural perception as though it is a single standardised thing. Acousticians normally design the sonic environment using uniform measures. Musicologists typically discuss music at it is meant to be heard, not as it actually is heard.
The reality, of course, is that almost all people hear differently from one another. BS ISO 226:2003 is the standard for otological normality and is taken to be the hearing of an 18-25 year old. After this age, presbycusis (age-related hearing loss) usually sets in, at rates that vary from person to person. On top of this comes a range of other potential losses, from noise-induced hearing loss to sensorineural disorders, from genetic problems to losses caused by trauma or medication. In other words, every single person is likely to have at least some hearing loss after the age of 25 and very many people have significant hearing difficulties. I am willing to bet that a substantial number of 18-25 year olds also have hearing problems!
Given this state of affairs, it is surprising that more is not spoken about aural diversity. In an era when diversity is such a hot topic in so many aspects of society and life in general, why is aural diversity so neglected? My friend Professor John Levack Drever has written about it quite a lot, but otherwise there seems to be a dearth of discussion of the subject. There is plenty on disability, of course, which is great, but for those who would not classify as disabled but nevertheless are aurally diverse: not so much. This affects musicians as much as anyone else. I am aware of many musicians and composers (myself included) who struggle with their hearing, but who nevertheless continue to make music that sounds as it should to “normal” ears. Perhaps it is time that we started to reflect more honestly on our own limitations and present these in our music?
I certainly find myself at a compositional crossroads. If I continue to create normal music, I will have to revert to writing dots on paper because I can no longer hear digital sound accurately enough. At least my aural imagination is intact. If, on the other hand, I want my music to reflect my own experiences, then I have to start engaging with my aural limitations by introducing into my sound world those elements that I actually hear (including such disturbing things as diplacusis and tinnitus). How to do this yet still create beautiful music is a real challenge.
In the meantime, I can envisage a series of musical events that celebrate aural diversity. Surely there are composers and musicians out there (including those with normal hearing!) who would wish to make music that reflects on or addresses itself to a range of hearing types? Perhaps this opens up a new possibility of bespoke music that is more than just the result of users fiddling with EQ and is intrinsically designed for the individual listener’s hearing abilities.