Mark: A study found that the sounds in a casino can make gamblers overestimate their winnings by up to 24 percent. It turns out, the sound of losing can be engineered to feel like you're winning. What else are we hearing but not noticing? Michelle: That's a perfect entry point, Mark. It’s this idea that our ears are constantly being fed information, shaping our moods, our decisions, even our perception of reality, all happening just below the surface of our consciousness. It’s a hidden layer of influence. Mark: A hidden layer... I like that. It sounds a little bit sneaky, a little bit magical. Michelle: It's both! And it's the central theme of the book we're diving into today: The Sonic Boom: How Sound Transforms the Way We Think, Feel, and Buy by Joel Beckerman. Mark: Joel Beckerman. Now, this isn't just some academic in an ivory tower, right? Michelle: Not at all. And that’s what makes his perspective so compelling. He's the founder of a company, Man Made Music, that has created the sonic identities for huge global brands. We're talking AT&T, Disney, Hulu... he even scored the Super Bowl. He’s a practitioner living and breathing in this world of engineered sound. Mark: Okay, so he's one of the wizards behind the curtain. He knows the secrets. So where does this all start? What's the most basic, everyday example of this in action? Michelle: It starts with what he calls a "boom moment." That's the instant when a sound triggers a powerful, multisensory experience. It’s not just hearing something; it’s feeling it. And the most famous example he gives is probably the one that made an entire restaurant chain famous.

Mark: A restaurant chain? You’re not going to tell me a jingle built an empire. Michelle: No, not a jingle. A sizzle. Think about a casual dining restaurant in the 80s. You're looking at the menu, surrounded by the usual chatter and background music. Then, from the kitchen, you hear it. A loud, aggressive, unmistakable Tssssssssssss. Mark: Ah, the fajitas. I can smell the onions just from you making that sound. Michelle: Exactly! That's the boom moment. Beckerman explains that when Chili's rolled out their sizzling fajitas, they weren't the first or even the best. But they were the loudest. That sound would cut through the entire restaurant. Every head would turn. You’d see the steam, you’d smell the peppers and onions, and suddenly, whatever you were thinking of ordering is forgotten. You’re craving what you just heard. Mark: Wow. So the sizzle is basically an advertisement that the whole dining room is forced to watch, or rather, hear. Michelle: It's a full sensory takeover triggered by a single sound. They didn't sell the steak; they sold the sizzle. And it became their signature. It demonstrates the core idea of the book: sound isn't passive. It's an active ingredient in our experiences. Mark: Come on, though. A whole restaurant chain's success built on a sound? That seems a bit much. Is it really that powerful? Can sound truly override our other senses? Michelle: It absolutely can. The book has this fantastic personal story from the author's childhood that proves it. As a kid, he was terrified of the movie The Exorcist. One night, he decides to face his fear and watch it while the babysitter is asleep. Mark: Bad idea. I still can't hear that theme music without getting chills. Michelle: Well, here's the twist. To conquer his fear, he turns the TV volume all the way down and pulls out his little portable organ. As the most terrifying scenes play out on screen—the head spinning, the green vomit—he starts playing these cheesy, upbeat, major-key chords. Mark: Oh, I love that. He's re-scoring the movie in real-time. Michelle: Precisely. And it completely changes the experience. The horror becomes comedy. His little brother even joins in, stuffing plastic beans from a beanbag chair into the organ, creating this ridiculous plastic-bean blizzard during a graphic scene. They're laughing hysterically. The visual information—the scary movie—is completely overruled by the auditory information—the silly music. Mark: That’s incredible. The brain latches onto the sound as the anchor for the emotion. It doesn't know how to feel both terrified and amused, so it defaults to what it's hearing. Michelle: That’s the key insight. Contradictory input is anchored by sound. It shows just how fundamental our response to sound is. It’s not just about a clever marketing trick with fajitas; it’s about the basic wiring of our brains.

Mark: Okay, so that's about creating a temporary feeling—a craving or a laugh. But what about something more permanent? Something that defines a brand for years? How does that work? Michelle: That's where we get into the heart of the book: sonic branding. It's about deliberately crafting a sound that tells a brand's entire story in an instant. And there are heroes and villains in this world. The ultimate hero story might be the Macintosh startup sound. Mark: The classic "bong." It’s so calming. Michelle: It is now. But it wasn't always. Beckerman explains that the original sound on some Apple computers was a C-major chord with the top note sharpened. It’s called a tritone, and for centuries, it was known in music as diabolus in musica—the devil's interval. It's literally designed to be unsettling and dissonant. Mark: The devil's interval? Why would anyone choose that for a startup sound? Michelle: It was a technical choice, not an emotional one. But an Apple sound engineer named Jim Reekes hated it. He felt it was creating a terrible first impression, like the computer was annoyed at you for turning it on. So, in secret, he created a new sound. He took a C-major chord, played it with some soothing string sounds, and added a little flourish. It was designed to feel like a moment of zen, a welcoming breath before you start your work. Mark: A sonic welcome mat. Michelle: A perfect analogy. He had to sneak it onto the prototype machines because his bosses didn't approve. But it shipped, and people loved it. That sound became a "brand-navigation sound." It wasn't just a notification; it was the sonic embodiment of Apple's user-friendly philosophy. It told you, "Everything is okay. This will be a simple, pleasant experience." Mark: It’s amazing how much is communicated in that one or two seconds. Now, you mentioned villains. What's the flip side of that? What's an example of sonic branding gone horribly wrong? Michelle: The book gives the perfect case study: the great SunChips biodegradable bag debacle of 2010. Mark: Oh, I think I remember this! Michelle: Frito-Lay had this wonderful, eco-friendly idea. They created a 100% compostable bag for SunChips. A huge win for the environment. The problem was, the plant-based material they used was unbelievably, painfully loud. Mark: How loud are we talking? Michelle: Louder than a lawnmower. Louder than a New York City subway car. A CBS reporter measured it at over 100 decibels. People started complaining immediately. A Facebook group called "SORRY I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THIS SUNCHIPS BAG" got tens of thousands of followers. Mark: That is hilarious and awful at the same time. Michelle: It was a total disaster. Sales plummeted. The company tried to fix it, but in the end, they had to scrap the revolutionary bag entirely. It’s the ultimate example of what Beckerman calls "sonic trash"—the wrong sound at the wrong time. The good intention of the product was completely drowned out by the negative sonic experience. It proves that sound is never neutral. It either adds to the story or it destroys it. Mark: So the Mac chime is a friendly 'hello,' while the SunChips bag is like someone screaming in your ear while you're trying to eat. This is also where some of the book's critics get a bit wary, isn't it? The idea of everything being so... designed. The reception was a bit mixed on this point. Michelle: It was. While many praised the book for its insights, some readers and critics raised an ethical flag. They found the enthusiastic endorsement of using sound to guide behavior a little... manipulative. The idea of a world where every sound is strategically designed felt somewhat dystopian to them, a world without authentic quiet.

Mark: Exactly. It feels like we're walking a very fine line. And that brings us to the most complex part of this: where does enhancement end and manipulation begin? Michelle: That is the central question. And the author's own work with AT&T, which he details in the book, is a fascinating case study in this very tension. In the late 2000s, AT&T had a massive branding problem. They were the exclusive carrier for the new iPhone, but their network couldn't handle the data surge. Mark: The era of dropped calls. I remember it well. It was infuriating. Michelle: Right. The brand was becoming synonymous with failure and frustration. So, their head of brand marketing, Esther Lee, brought in Beckerman's team to create a sonic strategy. They needed to change the story. They needed to make the brand feel human, innovative, and reliable, even while the network was struggling. Mark: But isn't that just using sound to paper over a real technical problem? It feels a bit like sonic propaganda. Michelle: That's the critique, and it's a valid one. Interestingly, Beckerman admits their first attempt at a sonic "anthem" for the brand failed internally. He says, "We were using sound to tell the wrong story. Our sound wasn’t telling the truth." The initial music was too optimistic, too polished, and it didn't align with the reality of the customer experience. It felt inauthentic. Mark: So what did they do? Michelle: They went back to the drawing board and deconstructed the brand's core values: purposefulness, curiosity, openness. From that, they built a simple, four-note sonic logo. You've heard it a million times at the end of their commercials. Mark: The little piano flourish. Da-da-da-dum. Michelle: That's the one. It's simple, it's open-ended, it feels more like a question than a statement. It was designed to convey possibility, not just corporate power. And it worked. Within 14 months, that sonic logo had brand recognition on par with the iconic NBC chimes. It gave them a consistent, emotional touchpoint that helped redefine their identity. Mark: It’s a powerful story, but it still leaves that big ethical question hanging. As this technology gets more powerful and more common, what does the future look like? Michelle: The book ends by "hearing around corners," as he puts it. It explores some incredible possibilities. Imagine data sonification in a hospital, where instead of a cacophony of jarring alarms, a patient's vitals are translated into a subtle, evolving musical score that a nurse can understand from down the hall. Or sonic parks in cities, designed with soundscapes that reduce stress and encourage calm. Mark: That sounds amazing. But the flip side is a world where the music in a grocery store is subtly manipulating my pace, the sound of my car is engineered to make me feel heroic, and my phone's notification sounds are designed to create a sense of urgency to make me buy something. It's a lot of power to put in the hands of composers and corporations.

Michelle: It is. And that's really the heart of it. The book isn't just a collection of cool stories about sound. It's a call to literacy. Mark: So after all this, what's the one thing we should take away? What's the big idea? Michelle: I think it's that sound is a dimension of our world we've been largely illiterate in. We're taught to analyze text and deconstruct images, but we're rarely taught how to listen critically. Learning to listen, in the way Beckerman describes, isn't just about appreciating music more. It's about understanding the invisible forces shaping our feelings and choices every single day. It’s about reclaiming a part of our own experience that has been engineered without our consent. Mark: So it’s about becoming aware of the soundtrack of our lives, and maybe even starting to choose our own music. Michelle: Exactly. The book gives you the tools to start hearing the world differently. To notice the squeak of the boots in a movie, the hum of the refrigerator, the jingle of an ice cream truck, and to ask: What story is this sound telling me? And is it a story I want to be a part of? Mark: Wow. That's a powerful thought to end on. It changes everything from the alarm you choose to wake up to, to the coffee shop you choose to work in. Michelle: It does. The real question the book leaves us with is: As this technology gets more powerful, who gets to be the composer of our world? Mark: A question we should all be thinking about. Michelle: This is Aibrary, signing off.