Turn it down!

I’m sure this will probably sound dangerously similar to one of those ‘grumpy old men’ rants, but I find myself distinctly irritated by intrusive music and supposedly ‘irresistible special offers’ imposed on me in public spaces. I’ve often found it difficult to actually remain in some shops to finish the task at hand, and indeed in some I simply didn’t.

It’s not that I dislike music, of course. Heck, in my more grandiose moments I even claim to be ‘a musician’. But I don’t want every waking moment to be filled with noise, thank you very much - especially if its computer generated muzak with no heart and no soul. How does that carry the human condition upwards to greater things? This stuff matters!

It’s not all muzak of course, thankfully. But I also find local radio a particularly difficult companion in these settings. I know that the overpaid superstar-broadcasters of tomorrow have to learn their trade somewhere, and I’m sure there are some admirable aspects of the ‘local’ service which local radio delivers. But I’m unable to persevere long enough to discover them, because hearing the same nauseating adverts every 10 minutes interspersed by cheesy pop songs from the 1980’s, drives me to breaking point long before I’m converted.

I’m prompted to make this the subject of a long-overdue blog post because my sensitivity to this issue has caused us to think carefully about ‘background music’ at St Cuthbert’s House, and to reach some positive, considered conclusions. You don’t want to come down to the most sumptuous breakfast imaginable, only to find yourself wanting to get out of the dining room as quickly as possible because the radio’s blaring, do you? (We had exactly this experience in a hotel in London. Or rather, we experienced the ‘get out’ part, rather than the ‘sumptuous breakfast’ part.) You’re relaxed, chilling out, maybe with someone extra-special - so you don’t want to listen to some over-ego’d breakfast show host with a misplaced sense of how funny he is. But here’s the thing - neither do you want to listen to the conversation from the next table - or even worse, be worrying that they might be listening to your own sweet-talking.


Well, fear not. We have the problem covered. I spent a long while putting together several compilations of some of my favourite music. Interesting, instrumental stuff, of course - so there are no irritating songs you might find yourself involuntarily humming at lunchtime, thinking ‘why is that song in my head?’ But real music, played on real instruments with heart and soul and meaning. Nice gentle stuff, nothing to whip you into a frenzy of excitement or distraction at breakfast. Not loud, either - it’s just ‘there’ for you…

I get a warm glow when guests - mostly men, as it happens - comment on the music at breakfast, often with a knowing look in their eye, and I find I have a kindred spirit in the fight against aural banality. Or perhaps they’re just pleased I didn’t overhear their sweet-talking.