I have a confession: I love silence. I like hearing nothing except, maybe, birds, the wind in the trees, or the sound of my own brain trying to remember why I just walked into the kitchen. But apparently, silence is now considered dangerous, like asbestos or unsupervised children with glitter.
Take the French Open. Tennis used to be civilized: polite applause, genteel grunting, and the occasional British commentator making “hmm” noises. Now? Between games they blast techno, like we’re all supposed to start a conga line around the clay. Because nothing says sporting tradition quite like a subwoofer.
It’s not just tennis. Restaurants have decided they must drown out the sound of forks and conversation with the absolute worst music in human history. You sit down to enjoy calamari, and suddenly the speakers erupt with “Greatest Hits of the 90s Remixed by a Guy Who Hates Harmony.” Rugby is the same. A try is scored, and before anyone can savor it, you’re assaulted by “We Will Rock You,” because clearly the players cannot continue without Freddie Mercury shouting encouragement from beyond the grave.
Even football is infected. When the England women won the Euros recently, we were all forced to listen to “We Are the Champions.” Not only is it a terrible song, but to be strictly accurate, they were not champions of the world. Yet accuracy apparently takes a back seat to the chance to blare Freddie at us once again.
Even the streets aren’t safe. I walked through town the other day and every shop was piping in different music, like competing radio stations in a war to see who could make me hate life first. It was like being mugged by Spotify.
And then there was the Austrian Grand Prix. I thought I was going to watch cars race at terrifying speeds. Instead, I found myself surrounded by thousands of Dutch fans who apparently brought their own stadium sound systems. They cranked out the most god-awful music at full volume. They were not even watching the race, just pounding beers and pounding eardrums.
The bigger problem is: we have forgotten how to be quiet. Boredom is now treated as a medical condition. But boredom is important! Beethoven composed entire symphonies while wandering around in silence. Today, he would have been interrupted by an Bose speaker playing Coldplay covers.
And if the music is not getting you, the phones will. People now think it is fine to watch videos in public at full blast, like they have been hired as an inflight entertainment director for Seat 14B. I once offered my headphones to a man on a plane who was watching a film at full volume. My kids were horrified. “Dad, please stop interacting with the loud stranger.” But I had to try, because after three hours of surround sound dialogue I was ready to gnaw through the fuselage.
Then there was the family in Mallorca who let their 5-year-old watch a movie at dinner, no headphones, full volume. Luckily, a tout came by selling Bluetooth speakers. I paired my phone, blasted death metal through his demo unit, and handed it back. Suddenly dinner got a lot quieter. My kids were, once again, horrified. “Dad, you are going to get us arrested.”
But nothing demonstrates the death of civilization quite like the speakerphone conversation. These people are not even subtle. They just hold the phone flat out in front of them and shout into it, like they are calling in an airstrike. The phone is literally designed to go next to your ear. Unless your arm is broken or you are a wolf learning to use tools, just hold it up.
And that is the point. We have lost silence. We have lost the ability to let a moment just… be. We fill every gap with music, noise, chatter, or the audio track from Peppa Pig. Calm moments are nearly impossible to find.
So here is my plea: sometimes, could we all just shut up? Do not worry, the universe will not collapse if there is no playlist. Worst case, you hear yourself think. Best case, you do not have to listen to “We Will Rock You” while eating squid.
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