Here’s a slightly sideways topic, but one that might help someone who finds themselves in the same confusing situation I did. Most of us know what a migraine is. We picture someone lying in a dark room with a pounding headache, sensitivity to light, perhaps seeing flashing lights or visual disturbances. I don’t get migraines like that. In fact, for many years I didn’t think I got migraines at all.
What I experience is something called a silent migraine, or for the medical term an acephalgic migraine. One of the first signs for me is that my voice starts to sound strange. It becomes slightly nasal, almost as though I’ve got a blocked nose coming on. Sometimes it’s subtle enough that I barely notice it (although Julie usually picks it up before I do). Then the really odd symptom begins. Every speaker suddenly sounds broken – studio monitors, headphones, PA systems, everything. The audio becomes distorted, crackly, fuzzy, as if a speaker cone has been torn or a cable has come loose somewhere in the signal chain.
If you’ve spent years working with audio equipment, your first instinct is to assume something has failed. That’s exactly what I did. I’d find myself checking cables, unplugging gear, swapping connections, trying to diagnose a fault that simply wasn’t there. The equipment was fine. The problem was happening between my ears.
I first became aware of this phenomenon during a very loud concert by the punk band The Damned in Auckland. Halfway through the show I remember thinking that the singer’s microphone must have been damaged. It sounded rough and distorted. As the concert went on, it seemed to get worse. By the end of the night, everyone’s voice sounded broken.
Walking out of the venue, I was convinced I had permanently damaged my hearing. For someone involved in music and recording, that’s a frightening thought. I genuinely believed I might never hear properly again.
What followed was a long process of trying to work out what was happening. I saw specialists, had MRI scans AND underwent various tests. Nobody seemed to have a clear explanation.
Then, fortunately, I met a specialist who recognised the symptoms immediately. His answer surprised me – silent migraines. I’d never even heard of them!
Unlike a traditional migraine, a silent migraine doesn’t necessarily come with the intense headache most people associate with them. Instead, the symptoms can be neurological or sensory. For some people it’s visual disturbances. For others it might be dizziness, numbness, difficulty concentrating, or changes in perception. In my case, it’s auditory distortion. The sound of the world literally breaks.
Once it starts, there isn’t much I can do except step away from what I’m doing and wait for it to settle. Trying to mix music or make critical listening decisions during an episode is pointless because I simply can’t trust what I’m hearing. Anti-inflammatory drugs like ibuprofen can help reduce the recovery time, but that’s just me.
The key outcome wasn’t a cure, it was understanding. Before the diagnosis, every episode brought a wave of panic. Was my hearing deteriorating? Had I damaged something permanently?
Was this the end of my ability to work with music? Knowing what it was removed much of that fear. The symptoms are still annoying, but they’re no longer mysterious and I know they will pass.
I’m not a doctor, and this certainly isn’t medical advice. But if you’ve ever experienced periods where sound suddenly becomes distorted, crackly, or strangely altered, and all your equipment appears to be working normally, it may be worth discussing silent migraines with a healthcare professional.
