The curious  case of the shared public soundscape.

***This was originally written during the first lockdown phase of Covid***

As I write this, countless restaurants sit empty. Some may have pivoted to takeout or embraced the UberEats model, but lunch hour has never been quieter in these spaces.

I have a deep love for sound—unique and interesting sounds captivate me. Yet, I’ll admit to being a bit of a hypocrite. While I spend most of my time crafting audio feedback for software and hardware or composing music, I value silence above all else. As sound designers, we don’t choose what we listen to during work; we’re immersed in our clients’ needs. We can’t even listen to music while we work. So, when the day ends, the last thing I want to hear is someone else’s sounds. Not private conversations or the clink of cutlery, but the act of turning what should be a private audio experience into a public one.

Restaurants often exemplify this. Occasionally, the stars align, and the uncontrolled sounds create a magical, memorable experience. I recall one rainy evening about seven years ago. My wife and I stumbled upon a cozy, dimly lit restaurant. We were seated by a window, and as we sipped our drinks, the rain became a soothing sonic blanket. It drowned out all other noise of the city and created our own private spot. The music emerged: Daft Punk’s Random Access Memories. We listened to the entire album over dinner, a rare treat as restaurants rarely curate their playlists with such care.

Unfortunately, that kind of experience is rare. More often, I’m shouting over music or dealing with restaurants that prioritize aesthetics over acoustics. But the two don’t have to be mutually exclusive. I’ve been to plenty of restaurants that manage to balance ambiance with a well-designed acoustic environment. Studies show how acoustics in a business influence behavior, from encouraging spending to altering how food tastes. Audio is a powerful, often overlooked part of the dining experience.

New factors have complicated this field: smartphones and food delivery systems. Take UberEats—it’s fantastic, but its ubiquitous notification sound has unintended consequences. Restaurants, afraid of missing orders, leave tablets at full volume, disrupting the patrons’ experience. It’s brilliant brand recognition for Uber, but it changes the atmosphere for everyone else. There’s a better way: combine sound with visual alerts, and keep those devices out of the dining area. I don’t want to hear that notification unless I’m at home waiting for food.

Yet, it’s not always businesses causing this dissonance—it’s patrons. The normalization of phones with speakers has made public spaces noisier. Once, it was understood that not everyone wanted to hear your music or videos. Today, people seem unaware of how their sounds affect others, particularly in restaurants.

This calls for a public service announcement: No one wants to hear your Instagram feed. There was a golden era when browsing social media was a quiet, personal activity. Now, video-heavy feeds blast sound into public spaces, ruining even the most thoughtfully designed environments. No amount of acoustic planning can compete with someone imposing their soundtrack on everyone else. Just because your phone has a speaker doesn’t mean you should subject others to your tastes, no matter how great they are.

As a society, we must relearn empathy—an awareness of how our sounds affect others. As a designer, I strive to create audio experiences that are functional, aesthetically pleasing, and considerate of their surroundings. This is straightforward with stationary devices but more challenging for mobile ones that move through diverse environments. It’s a shared responsibility to respect the soundscape around us.

We’ve become desensitized to the noises our devices produce, but a little time away from them can reveal just how much sound surrounds us. Let’s be mindful of how we contribute to that soundscape and, together, create a more respectful auditory world.