Archived Article By Tom Fitzmorris Originally published September 10, 2007 WHAT!?! I've brought up the following before, but every now and then I get a number of letters that remind me to say it again, hoping something happens someday. We're told to expect that, as we age, the world will seem more filled with noise, and that we'll have a harder time hearing what we want to hear. Then why are the architects who build new restaurants are building them with livelier, noisier acoustics all the time? It's tempting for artists in any discipline to intentionally disregard the people who will behold their works, in order that they may create the purest possible versions of their concepts. There's no doubt that the greatest works are done that way. But a restaurant is a blend of art and business, and a customer cannot be made so uncomfortable that he can't stand it. However, a little discomfort, it has been found, works magic. It makes diners less likely to linger. He or she will eat fast, and get out sooner, if the voice must be raised constantly to be heard. And the table will be made available to other paying customers. And restaurateurs have discovered something else. Many customers--particularly those who are a litrtle unsure of themselves--are intimidated by a quiet restaurant. It gives them no place to hide in the crowd. Which is what most people would prefer to do. All you have to do is check out the newest restaurant designs to see all this in force. These are restaurants appropriate only for single diners and those couples who sit there all night and never say a word to one another. Curiously, neither kind of diner is often seen in the restaurants hip enough to know that noise is de rigueur. Three conditions create overheated acoustics. 1. Hard surfaces. Gautreau's, when it first opened, had floors of tile, walls covered with mirrors and glass fixtures, and a low tin ceiling. The ambient sound ratcheted up as people raised their voices to be heard over the din, getting so loud that that I once stood up and shouted, "SHUT UP! EVERYBODY SHUT UP! Let's start over!" The other diners laughed and complied, but within a few minutes it was right back up there. Fortunately, Gautreau's has repaired this problem somewhat. 2. Operations exposed to the dining room. In the early days of Mr. B's, the kitchen was wide open than it is now, and a section of what is now dining room was used to make fresh pasta. The floors were wood, the ceiling was low, the tables were unclothed marble. It got so bad that for awhile Ralph Brennan enforced a rule that whenever a waiter dropped anything hard on the floor, he had to contribute a quarter to the employee Christmas party fund. If a plate cover fell, it was a dollar. You ever hear a plate cover hit a hardwood floor? First there's a clang, then for about thirty seconds there's a RRRRrrrr, RRRRrr, RRRrrrrrr that gets faster and faster as the unintentional cymbal rotates. 3. Music. I think music in restaurants (or anywhere else, for that matter) is a wonderful thing. I have music playing as I write this. But no matter where you go, musicians and their sound men crank up the volume way too high. I understand their need to make sure you pay full attention to them, and at times you want to. But in a restaurant this can't go on for more than a few minutes before it gets irritating. The singers at Cafe Giovanni are first class. But you'd better get the dinner out of the way before they get going, or else you'll find how effective sound is at degrading the acuity of your senses of taste and smell. In some restaurants, a high noise level translates into a happy din, and it becomes part of the atmosphere. The downstairs room at Galatoire's and the upstairs Garden Room at Commander's would not seem right if they were quiet. But whenever restaurants try to build that effect into a room, it always gets overdone. Examples: Emeril's and the Palace Cafe. I've had restaurateurs explain to me why they build noisy restaurants, but I wind up missing a lot of what they tell me. But the dirty little secret is that they like it that way. © 2007 Tom Fitzmorris. All rights reserved. news@nomenu.com