Monaural Phobia

Howard’s first symptoms appeared late in 1960. His father bought him a stereo hi-fi for Christmas. Howard marveled at how the sounds bounded separately from each speaker to meet in harmony in the middle of his head. He melted at the sensation and couldn’t get enough of it. There weren’t many recordings that made full use of stereo sound, so he had to listen to recordings of “Oklahoma” and “Showboat”. But it didn’t matter, the mixing of the sounds gave him a high like he had never experienced. He sat for hours between the two speakers absorbing the contrasting sounds and letting them meld in his head.

The first sign that something was wrong came when Howard’s sister gave him a Doris Day 45 rpm record, with the song “Que Sera, Sera”. When he played it, he realized that it wasn’t in stereo, it was monaural or mono, which was the most common form of music. Howard started to shake in fear. He crawled under his bed and closed his eyes, as his whole body vibrated. When the song ended and the needle oscillated back and forth in silence, the fear went away. Was there a connection?

Howard soon realized that he could only listen to stereo music. Mono always brought him to a total state of anxiety. He found that he had to run in terror from school dances, whenever they played a mono tune on the record player. Life had changed forever.

The doctor told Howard that he wasn’t alone. There were others who had started to display similar symptoms. Monaural phobia was the medical term – the fear of mono music. Howard joined a monaural phobia support group. They met secretly once each week to discuss their fears, and look for ways of avoiding or overcoming the anxiety it created. There was a stigma associated with this “disease”, so those affected tried to remain inconspicuous, most never even told their families. They suffered in silence.

A few brave researches turned their efforts to understanding and combating the fear, but they made little progress. Funding for the research dried up, as stereo sound began to take over the music industry. Doctors reported fewer and fewer cases of this deadly demon.

Howard’s fear never went away, but it became more manageable, as more and more music came out in stereo. Eventually, all recordings came out in stereo – LP’s, 8-tracks, cassettes, CDs and now MP3 players. Radio stations converted to stereo, and then TV, and now, of course most sounds coming from computers and the internet are in stereo sound.

The once silently powerful and international support groups dissipated. He lost touch with his fellow sufferers. Howard was amazed at the people he met who suffered from the fear. Olivia Newton John, of all people – and thus the song “Please, Mr., please, don't play B-17”. B17 was a mono tune on the juke box at her favorite restaurant.

Howard began to find life much more tolerable, so he kept his fear a secret – even from his wife and children. But there were still those occasions where a nostalgic DJ would put on an oldie, while Howard was driving. It would almost cause him to crash.

“What’s wrong, dear?” his wife would demand.

“Nothing, just some indigestion.” Howard would turn off the radio.

“Dad, find some good music.” The kids would shout from the back seat. Metallica’s music was nothing but horrendous screeching, but at least it was in stereo. He could tolerate disgust easier than fear.

Like someone who is afraid of heights and avoids high places, Howard avoided mono sound. To this day, Howard is still a silent sufferer of monaural phobia.

Monaural phobia, don't suffer in silence.

(618 words)