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SOUND OFF - Music has become an oppressor. What was once a wondrous gift of technology - the recording and reproduction of music – is now an invading force. Instead of listening on your own terms, intrusive loud music imposes itself nearly everywhere. It follows you into markets, drugstores, shops of all sizes and kinds, lobbies, and dental offices. It emanates from gasoline pumps and municipal lampposts.
Instead of respecting personal space, no one asks if the music is wanted. It is force-fed, like it or not, and at volumes that can’t be ignored.
Public spaces should be refuges. Yet, the ambient sounds of nature and human activity - the sounds of place - are even here drowned out. In downtown Los Angles, the Music Center debases its outdoor plaza with rock music from loudspeakers suspended from trees.
Music in restaurants is a prime example, as it has radically changed the dining experience. Restaurants used to provide a tranquil setting where the frantic everyday world was left behind. A stage was set where a conducive ambiance allowed focused attention on cuisine.
But no longer. Music is pumped pitilessly into every nook and cranny, indoors and out. This overpowers the other senses. Relaxed conversation is impossible and diners shout to be heard. No cuisine escapes, and no price-point is immune.
What can be done about this barrage? Effectively, nothing. The loud music is purposeful; it is the way business is now conducted. Against such selfish tyranny, asking for volume reduction is an exercise in futility. Certainly, some customers do prefer a “party” atmosphere. But the problem is that there is no choice. Distracting if not deafening music is ubiquitous and unavoidable. If only restaurants offered a “quiet” section where the speakers were turned off or played at a true background level. Patrons who have never experienced civilized dining would have epiphanies.
The music itself is usually insipid, irritating pop-rock dredged up by internet algorithms. But at these volume levels, music of any type presents the same problem. Proponents say that their soundtracks “animate” a space, add vitality, and create a “branded” experience. But recall that in Abu Ghraib prison, inescapable loud music was employed as torture.
It’s bad enough that the public-at-large obviously does not care what goes into its ears. But the underlying enemy seems to be quiet itself. The ambient sound of a plaza, shop, or restaurant, the random clatter of reality, is itself anathema. During a break in the soundtrack, you can relax, take in the surroundings, and reflect. Maybe the underlying appeal of constant propulsive music is that it prevents exactly this.
While it is possible that tranquility and quiet conversation will become fashionable again, that is hoping for rather too much.
Take-away, anyone?
(Dan Silver is a Los Angeles–based urban enthusiast focused on land conservation through his nonprofit work. A frequent restaurant-goer, he brings a sharp, firsthand perspective to the challenges of modern city life.)
