Confessions of a Senior Audiophile: How I Coped With Hearing Loss

The love for music goes beyond perfect hearing.

They say music is the soundtrack of our lives. But, for me, it’s been more like an obsession – a never-ending search for the best listening experience. This journey has taken me from the nostalgic hiss of my father’s turntable to the carefully chosen audio gear now filling my basement.

It’s not just a hobby but my life’s passion.

But a few years ago, something changed. The high frequencies I once loved began to dull, and I realized I was losing my hearing.

For an audiophile, it felt like the world was closing in.

How I Became an Audiophile

I’ve always loved music and my family knew that. So, they gifted me some Koss Pro/4AAA headphones one Christmas. (I know, I am THAT old!)

Little did I know, those headphones became the gateway drug to an addiction to high-fidelity audio.

That moment started a lifelong love for sound. Over the years, I’ve built a collection that others might consider a bit obsessive.

Fast forward a few decades, and my basement looks like a who’s who of audio equipment.

I’ve got some favorites down there, like my Sennheiser HD 800 S headphones, Harbeth P3ESR speakers, and Line Magnetic LM-508ia amplifier. Each has its own origin story, carefully selected for its ability to breathe life into music.

I’ve even developed a party trick over the years – I can identify speaker brands just by the “thump” they make when powering on. It never fails to amuse my fellow audiophiles, though I suspect my wife finds it less endearing.

Hearing Loss Strikes

But as I cruised into my 50s, something started to feel… off.

The sparkle in those high notes wasn’t quite as bright as I remembered. Cymbals that once crashed with crystal clarity now sounded more like distant whispers. And, the delicate overtones in a string quartet? They started to blur into a fog.

At first, I did what any self-respecting audiophile would do – I blamed the equipment.

Surely, my speakers just needed a bit of tweaking, right? Or maybe my ears were just tired after a long day of careful listening.

But as time went on, the truth became harder to ignore than a blown speaker at full volume.

The vivid, three-dimensional soundscapes I once enjoyed began to flatten out. The separation of harmonies and instruments became less clear, and the subtleties in finger-picking or plucking that I used to love were harder to hear.

It was like someone had sneakily replaced my high-definition audio with a low-res MP3.

I was losing my hearing, and the realization was a gut punch.

But what hit even harder was the dawning understanding that I might have brought this upon myself.

For years, I’d scoffed at those pesky volume warnings. “Keep it at 60% max,” they said. Ha! How could anyone truly immerse themselves in the music at such a pedestrian level?

I wore my marathon listening sessions like a badge of honor. The louder, the better. The longer, the more transcendent. Oh, the folly of youth (and middle age, if I’m being honest).

Now, as I lay awake night after night, those ignored warnings echoed in my mind louder than any music ever could.

What if I had listened? What if I had taken breaks? What if I had been more careful?

The regret was always there, as ever-present as the music once was.

I blamed myself completely. Each moment of joy from listening with my gear in the past now felt tainted, a step towards this devastating outcome. The very passion that defined me had betrayed me—or rather, I had betrayed it through my carelessness.

Pushing Forward

I’ll admit, the thought of throwing in the towel and just selling everything crossed my mind more than once. But then, a crazy idea hit me – maybe this wasn’t the last song on my audiophile album. Maybe it was just time to flip the record over and start side B.

Adapting became my new obsession. After all, the gear I’ve collected over the years isn’t just for show; it’s proof of my love for sound, and I wasn’t about to let hearing loss silence my passion.

I teamed up with an audiologist to get some hearing aids. It wasn’t easy – imagine trying to teach a cat to bark – but we’re making progress.

Protecting what was left of my hearing also became my new priority.

I’m now more mindful of volume levels than a librarian on a power trip. I take breaks during listening sessions and even bought quality hearing protection for loud places.

My audiologist, bless his soul, also helped me see that blaming myself was about as useful as a subwoofer in a library.

Yes, my long and loud listening sessions may have added to my hearing loss. But I’m also in my sixties now (ouch). Some hearing loss at this age is as normal as grey hair and a sudden liking for hard candies.

Off-Key Solutions

Now, I’d love to tell you that getting hearing aids fixed all my problems faster than you can say “frequency response.” But life is rarely that simple.

I had this naive idea that I could slap on a pair of hearing aids and get back to my regularly scheduled programming.

Oh, how wrong I was. Turns out, hearing aids are like pop music – great for most people, but not quite up to audiophile standards.

These little wonders of modern technology are mainly made to boost speech.

That’s great for understanding my wife when she tells me to take out the trash, but not so good for picking up the subtle nuances in a Miles Davis trumpet solo.

They can sometimes distort or compress music’s delicate highs and deep lows, leaving me feeling like I’m listening to a cheap copy of the rich, layered audio experiences my gear can deliver.

That’s another hard pill to swallow. Does this mean even the saving grace I’ve been hoping for won’t really do much?

For months, I resigned myself to this new reality. I stopped visiting my basement as each glimpse of my beloved equipment was a bittersweet reminder of what once was. It was like being a master chef who’d lost his sense of taste – the tools were there, but the magic was gone.

Luckily, my audiologist turned out to be a sharp guy. He noticed that I was looking more down with each visit and figured out that it must be related to my hearing. He basically took off his audiologist hat and became a mind reader/therapist.

I finally spilled the beans about my audiophile anguish. And that’s when he talked about music-focused hearing aids.

Apparently, there are hearing aids designed specifically for music?!

Just like that, the music swelled, the clouds parted, and a ray of hope shone down on this old audio-fool.

Sure, these special hearing aids cost A LOT, but when has a true audiophile ever let a little thing like money stop them from getting even a tiny bit of improvement?

And, boy, oh, boy, was it worth it.

I now jokingly refer to my hearing aids as “built-in amps.” Yet, I won’t lie to you — they’re still not perfect.

There were times when I experienced more feedback than a Jimi Hendrix concert, and I had to go through A LOT of fine-tuning with my audiologists. But you know what? I’ll take it!

Embracing Change

All in all, this experience has taught me to enjoy the music that still comes through clearly and to find beauty in what remains.

I’ve also had to accept that some sounds will never be the same again. But that’s okay.

Losing some of my hearing hasn’t changed that. If anything, it’s made me more determined to find new ways to enjoy the music I love.

And in doing so, I’ve found communities of audiophiles who are going through the same thing. Together, we’ve learned that hearing loss doesn’t have to be the end of the road. It’s just a new way to experience the journey.

I’m still actively involved in the audiophile community, helping others facing similar challenges. What I once feared might end my passion for sound has just become a new movement in the grand composition of my life.

Hearing loss hasn’t stopped me from enjoying music; it’s just changed how I experience it.

And isn’t that what being an audiophile is all about? Always looking for new ways to experience and appreciate the music we love. So here’s to new beginnings, to adapting, and to never letting anything come between us and the music that moves our souls.

The beat goes on, my friends, and so do we.