A wonderful subject, and one that I am very interested in. I spent most of my working life on the creative side of advertising, and the way music and sound act on people’s feelings and behaviour is highly relevant to anyone who works in that or any other marketing-related industry. Over and above this, I love music and have played an instrument for most of my life, am naturally attentive to the acoustics and ambient sounds of any environment I find myself in, and even studied the physics of music at university. I should have revelled in this book.
Instead, I regret to say, I found it superficial, repetitive, boastful and dull. Beckerman evidently knows what he’s talking about but he doesn’t know how to talk about it, or else he’s being coyly parsimonious with his hard-earned knowledge. You never really learn anything worth knowing about the creative decisions he talks of making, how a sonic strategy (his term) is developed, or why he and his clients decided that this sonic strategy worked and that one didn’t, except in the same sort of vague terms anyone might use – ‘it sounds too happy’ or ‘horns sound grand’. Well yes, it does, they do, but we were hoping for a little bit more. The penny really drops when he starts insisting that you can’t focus-group or lab-test sonic ideas – they’ll either work or they won’t. He offers no particular advice about deciding which ones might work and which might not.
In the end, there’s nothing here a working professional can use. Maybe young people in the business might get a few ideas out of it with a bit of lateral thinking. It’s hard to tell, though, who Beckerman really intends his book for. Half the time he seems to be talking to small entrepreneurs, mom-and-pop store owners; the rest he’s lamenting the unimaginative sonic ‘strategies’ of huge advertisers like Pepsi and McDonald’s or boasting about the way he rearranged John Williams’s Super Bowl score. Towards the end of the book he starts offering sonic-image counselling tips for job interviewees and ambitious executives – at which point one of the cases he references seems to suggest that, contrary to his repeated insistence, you can research this stuff – some aspects of it, anyway. By the time I got to this part, though, the author had used up all his credibility with me.
Joel Beckerman’s idea of the perfect use of sound to – let’s face it – manipulate people is Disney World. He goes into raptures over how the amusement-park chain uses the equivalent of sonic fencing and musical cattle-prods to distinguish and separate one attraction from the next, and to keep people moving through the park, successively stimulated, relaxed, put in a receptive mood and ushered with subliminal musical cues from one ride to the next, through the souvenir shop and, finally, out the door. Combine the author’s depressing enthusiasm for this kind of thing with his belief, frequently expressed in the book, that everybody’s lives would be much better if only they were strategically soundscaped, and you glimpse a nightmare future in which everything in real life will sound like Disney World.
It seems scarcely necessary to add that Mr Beckerman expresses nothing but contempt for the very idea of silence.