Sitting outside on a particularly busy terrasse one summer evening in Paris, a window opened above us whence a voice yelled below: shut up! And a few minutes later, a bucket of water followed: splash!
There’s a new noise haunting European cities: the sounds of human voices and amplified music. Terrasses, bars, clubs and restaurants, tourism and nightlife economies. Residents and experts have become alert to the ways in which these new configurations of urban spaces generate noise. The noise of conviviality. Acousticians in Italy have given it a Spanish name: Movida. In Paris, they call it “recreational noise”.
In response to the concerns of residents in these cities and an increase in associated noise complaints, acousticians and city officials are in the process of constructing this new noise, developing standards to measure it as an object that can be predicted and abated. But it poses problems: how do you standardise and objectify the human voice, or the hubbub of a mass of human voices? How does the human voice become pollution? Unlike road traffic noise, where the noise levels of cars can be predicted, noises from human voices are less predictable, less reliable, less amenable to averages. Unlike mechanical noises, the human voice cannot be modified to be less noisy and are less easy to turn down.
Instead of a technical response, cities have also turned to more “civic” oriented campaigns to “sensibilize” citizens and visitors alike. Posters in streets remind people to be quiet, to respect residents. In Paris, theatre troupes perform in busy areas, shushing rowdy bargoers.
But a bucket of water also works.