Context: During our church renovation , the sound cabin got placed in a fairly auditorily isolated mezzanine floor connected to the main church hall. I (the sound-in charge) had therefore, to control sound, by previous experience and the distant musicians’ expressions . This poem was one of my requests to the authorities, to be allowed to bring down the sound system into the main hall…
Most who live in our present world
Of Beethoven, have been told;
A musician of unparalled skill
Who composed in those days of old.
But many probably never know-
The irony of his life;
That as time went by, he became fully deaf
By an age of forty five.
Well today, it seems the same
In our church's sound cabin,
We've been asked to control 'sound'
Perched where, almost none, comes in!
Controlling sound by gut feeling
Is taking on us a toll,
Quality never seems to be improving
So can we shift 'down', our Console?
Sprawling space, we do not need
As the current loft, we'll continue to hold.
Just a place 'down', to keep a little mixer in
And a bar stool, for our weary souls!
Of Beethoven, have been told;
A musician of unparalled skill
Who composed in those days of old.
But many probably never know-
The irony of his life;
That as time went by, he became fully deaf
By an age of forty five.
Well today, it seems the same
In our church's sound cabin,
We've been asked to control 'sound'
Perched where, almost none, comes in!
Controlling sound by gut feeling
Is taking on us a toll,
Quality never seems to be improving
So can we shift 'down', our Console?
Sprawling space, we do not need
As the current loft, we'll continue to hold.
Just a place 'down', to keep a little mixer in
And a bar stool, for our weary souls!
