But while the proposal has seen some success in the EU, it seems unlikely that audiophiles could rely on the US government to take a similar stand, in large part because it isn't a matter of public concern. "I don't see it happening," wrote Greg Milner, author of Perfecting Sound Forever: The Aural History of Recorded Music, in an email. "I think the general increase in awareness regarding the issue is more than counter-balanced by the fact that, by and large, nobody (in a sweeping, generalized sense) cares about music sounding 'good' in some sort of rarefied way. It's more important that it be heard above the noise of everyday life, since we hear so much of our music on the go."
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Tom Coyne, a mastering engineer at Sterling Sound who has most recently worked on Adele's 21, Beyoncé's I Am....Sasha Fierce, and Britney Spears' Femme Fatale, also saw little push-back to loudness on the part of the industry. For labels, he said, "It's always louder," adding, "it should be something the public's concerned about, but I don't think it is."
Despite this, many say that the tide seems to have turned. "In the past year I have had more requests for the final mastering to be dynamic than I have in a long time," said Ludwig. "This has been very encouraging as before the only instruction was to 'make it hot'"—which is to say, loud. Milner has observed a similar phenomenon, and said that "mastering engineers have eased off the hyper-compression." While the industry might not be taking concerns about loudness into account terribly much—even Ludwig notes that "not much has changed in the best-practices department"—the race to the noisy top seems to have stopped, and maybe even turned back. A recent article in Mix Magazine even declared that "the Loudness War is over."
What might have caused this reversal of fortune? Experts say that while record companies and the public are still part of the problem, all the media attention last decade to loudness may have made artists more aware of the destructive effects of dynamic compression. And though labels and fans may have a say in how music sounds, the ultimate decision is still the musician's. Metallica, for instance, wasn't in need of any competitive advantage when they pushed Death Magnetic into the red; they just liked how it sounded. "It was the artist's choice to make it that level," Coyne points out. "If you don't like it, don't buy it. But don't tell them what they can or can't do. It's the sound they wanted—you can't fault them for that."
But if artists can decide to make their music sound loud, they can also decide to make it sound quiet. There are some scattered examples of this happening already. Indie songwriter Owen Pallett went so far as to record all of the vocals for his 2006 Polaris Prize-winning album He Poos Clouds without compression, a step not taken since the early days of sound recording. Compression has come to have a negative connotation. Jack White recently posted a lengthy response to fans' concerns that some releases from his record label, Third Man, were mastered too loud.
That's where Sleigh Bells comes in. Treats might be the best thing to listen to if you want to know what compression sounds like, since there it's used not as a way of tricking the listener's ears but as a deliberate technique. Miller said that the band's earliest tracks achieved the effect "by pushing the master fader up until the entire mix clips, literally brick walling it." They subsequently applied compression all to the tracks, and Miller said he "used it to make everything sound like it was fighting for the surface," the very effect that made Treats such an exciting experience.
Things will be different for Sleigh Bells' second album, though, Miller said. "I'm done blowing things out. Not a single thing is in the red, and I couldn't be more excited about it," he said. Asked about the loudness wars, he expressed the same concern about increased loudness as Ludwig and other critics of the technique. "Coming from me that sounds absurd, especially considering how loud Treats is, but at the time I didn't really compare it to any other records or know what I was doing, " he said.
Miller's comments speak to why loudness, for all its problems, is here to stay. Coyne reported that clients have begun to ask for a "gritty" sound somewhere between distorted and not-distorted, a sound that has its origins in pop production. "That's where it started, in the older days, making it sound a little dirty or a little raw. And now it's accepted, so much so that if a record doesn't have that little bit of grit, it seems like it's missing something," he said. (Think of, say, the production on Bobby Brown's "My Prerogative.") Miller, too, said that compression is satisfying because of its particular effect on the music, and said he originally used the technique because it "makes the songs sound more intense." And, as Milner pointed out, "compression is basically a musical instrument at this point in a lot of genres. The 'sizzle' of percussion in hip-hop and R&B depends on that hyper-compressed sound."
At the same time, Miller's comments also explain why noisiness may be on the wane. Ludwig pointed out that loudness makes an album sound dated, "like a bad drum machine from the 1980's." Coyne, too, saw a growing awareness of the phenomenon, and reported that two recent electro-pop albums he worked with were created with a very deliberate avoidance of loudness. "Everything comes full circle, so I think at some point things will calm down and people will be more into extreme dynamic ranges."
That, then, may be the end of the Loudness Wars: As brick-wall limiting became more popular and attracted more attention, it became something gauche, ugly, uncool. And there's no better way to keep something out of music than to make it seem uncool.