Can't Get You Out of my Head (by Sydney Harris)

Walking to the Ratty this morning for a 3 p.m. breakfast, I experienced a sudden irrepressible urge to hear Vampire Weekend’s “Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa.” Had I attempted to ignore this impulse, I suspect that my head would have exploded on site. Fortunately, my need was immediately satisfied by my personal headset, with which I have a complicated relationship. My serious and perhaps incurable addiction to music renders my headphones virtually indispensable. The prospect of my favorite bands joining me on my morning commute motivates me to get out of bed, especially in winter when I would otherwise refuse to step outside my dorm.

More than a just convenient tool, I contend that headphones are also a social phenomenon. With such an array of aesthetic and utilitarian variables, a person’s headset communicates almost as much about their character as the music piping through the earpieces. The potentially deafening earbuds that come standard with the ubiquitous iPod can say, “I’m a minimalist,” or, “My future ability to discern sounds does not concern me.” The message of flashier models is basically “I am an incredibly hip audiophile with no time to spare for you or the vapid conversation in which you may attempt to engage me.” The little white buds give me a headache, so my own headphones fall into this latter category, thereby introducing a psychological dilemma.

When I wear my headphones, other people have no idea that I tend to value the presence of live human beings over disembodied sound recordings. With my brain entirely devoted to music that no one else can hear, each person I meet is forced to compete with the Cure or PJ Harvey for my attention, and who could hope to prevail in such a battle? I visualize my friends succumbing to inferiority complexes, institutionalized for their feelings of inadequacy. Then again, my headphones do become quite handy when I encounter someone whose voice causes bile to rise in my throat. They also stimulate the voyeur in me; I delight in watching other people dance publicly to their music as wildly as they would in their own rooms. In my imagination, that girl carrying a Louis Vuitton tote secretly enjoys hardcore punk through her pristine earbuds, just as that huge football player silently taps his foot to Feist.

All in all, headphones are not inherently evil devices. What I really take issue with is the isolationism running rampant in our society of personal gadgets and text messages. Nevertheless, since I find it nearly impossible to accomplish everyday tasks without musical aid, I guess I’ll have to embrace the necessity of these seemingly innocuous devices. For any interested parties, I am starting a support group for personal headset addicts. Meetings will be conducted entirely in writing so that members may concentrate on the mp3s of their choosing.

(Picture courtesy of hypebeast--yes, they are crystal-encrusted.)