THE SPRAWLING CORPORATE CAMPUS OF MEYER SOUND WAS
once a ketchup factory in the Berkeley flatlands. Inside a square
block of low-slung, concrete buildings topped by red-tile roofs,
massive factory floors with ample space for assembling speakers
and other audio components surround a small, white-and-gray
soundproofed chamber. This is the lab where the outfit’s handful of
senior staff go to test out new ideas.
One morning, John Meyer sits in the middle of the room wearing
a rumpled blue-checked shirt and tan chinos. Wire-rimmed
glasses and an untamed gray beard frame his squinty, somewhat-
distracted look as he peers at an array of wall-mounted speakers
and dangling microphones. They’re attached to a computerized
signal processor that can pick out threads of recorded sound (like
the glug of pouring water or a loud laugh), modify their volume,
echo, and location, and then weave them back together.
Senior scientist Roger Schwenke sits at a nearby com-
puter. Schwenke develops hardware and software
to predict and measure the acoustic effects of what-
ever system the firm creates. He cues up a demo of
raw restaurant noise from one of the loudest rooms
they’ve monitored: a busy Berkeley pizzeria. A couple
of mouse clicks triggers an avalanche of chatter and mu-
sic, through which intelligible bits of classic rock and
debates about pie toppings briefly surface.
The shop peaks at 85 decibels, near power-tool territory
but no longer unusual for American eateries. We can pin
the din on converging trends that began in the 1990s. First,
owners started favoring modernist or industrial looks. Out
with carpeting, upholstery, and drapes that were great
sound absorbers but now deemed stuffy. In with highPOPSCI.COM • WINTER 2019 75NOISE LEVEL