Forget that pretty picture up there — this post is for the purpose of complaint. I’ll get to it in a minute. Today on the homepage, I have a travel journal, an Oslo journal, complete with photos and even a few videos. The videos are a first for me. I wanted readers — listeners? — to hear a few sounds. Needless to say, I could not embed the videos myself, but crack NRO staff could.
On the subject of sounds: I have a concert review that may interest you — of the Cleveland Orchestra in Carnegie Hall two nights ago. On the menu were Schubert, Szymanowski, and George Walker, the American (1922–2018) whom I profiled in National Review in 2017. Very interesting man.
In my journal today, I say the following:
. . . ladies and gentlemen, if you ever have a chance to breakfast at the Grand Hotel, in the heart of Oslo, please do. Treat yourself to it. This is one of the most civilized rooms in the world. The breakfast buffets (yes, plural, for sure) are bounteous, varied, and endless. The surroundings are elegant — Old World. The staff exudes professional refinement.
The only problem, as I see it, or hear it, is music. Recently, I believe, they have started piping music in. Why? It isn’t very loud, as these things go, but still: Why? What’s wrong with the sounds of breakfast and conversation? Or even the sound of silence? I don’t dislike music. But everything has its time and place. Can’t there be a restaurant, a store, a public place, anywhere in the world, without music piped in? For one thing, this stupid ubiquity — this wallpaper — cheapens music.
I do some other harrumphing in this column, but that’s the big one — the big harrumph. A reader writes,
Jay,
I just want to echo your harrumph. It seems that you cannot go to any public place today without being exposed to annoying piped-in music — restaurants, shopping malls, walking bridges, even some commercial office buildings.
I recently met a friend at a very nice restaurant. We were both looking forward to getting together and catching up with good conversation. The choices on the menu were excellent, and the food was delicious. We were seated, however, right under a speaker piping in very tinny-sounding “music” sufficiently loud so as to make us raise our voices above normal conversation levels in order to be heard. It ruined the entire occasion. We mentioned how annoying this “music” (“noise” is a better word) was to our waiter and again to the person who appeared to be the manager, but received only shoulder shrugs in return.
I wonder: Are there really people who enjoy this piped-in noise? Does it actually add to the ambience of the location? Would business suffer if it were eliminated?
There are people who seem to be scared — actually scared — of silence, or of an atmosphere without music. It makes them nervous. They feel that something is wrong, I think.
I have an idea (a very dangerous thing). Years ago, there were smoking and non-smoking sections in restaurants. The same was true on planes. Of course, if you were a non-smoker on the border of the smoking section, you were kind of screwed. But still. The partition — the separateness, the division — was helpful.
Maybe an enterprising restaurant could offer music and no-music sections? Or even a whole music-free restaurant? That might be a good gimmick, at a minimum. I bet such an establishment would draw a crowd.