Yesterday I was reading the August 2014 issue of Opera News—one whose theme was the cross-over between opera and Broadway musicals. An article entitled “Ears are Ringing” by Laurence Maslon caught my eye. I turned to it, wondering if it would confirm my despair about the over-amplification prevalent in today’s Broadway shows.

Have you had this experience? Paying a lot of money for a good seat in, say, the New Amsterdam Theater or in your own city’s theater? Sitting in a venue where trained voices easily could reach the balcony? And throughout the whole show, the amplified volume is so loud you’re practically holding your ears?

Alas, Maslon endorses the electronic projection.

Bold, presentational, project-to-the-back-row performance is not only no longer desired by most audiences or performers; it can be downright mocked or derided. How does one translate the kind of intimate acting found in electronic media to the contemporary stage? By using miking enhancements and sophisticated sound design to bring those intimacies forward to an audience.

Two points. Intimacy is not conveyed in decibels. And if the goal is to replicate the experience of electronic media, then why not get rid of live performances altogether? Why should people shell out money and effort to fill theater seats if they really want the same thing they can get at home on their media systems?

A colleague of mine who works as a musical director on Broadway spoke about this topic in an interview for our course Exploring America’s Musical Heritage. He was diplomatic (after all, it’s his livelihood) and pragmatic, but basically he admitted there’s no turning back. Singers, conductors, and pit musicians have all had to learn to work with the blasts of intricately engineered, amplified sound that characterize today’s performances. “If it isn’t loud, audiences today don’t think it’s exciting,” he said.

It makes me sad. Gone are the subtleties of shading that we always loved in our great Broadway voices. Gone are the moments when we lean forward, eager to hear the sweet notes of a love song or the quiet gasps of a lament. It’s just all . . . loud.

The last time I went to a show on Broadway, a tremendous production, beautifully executed, I ended up holding my ears through much of it. I left with my head throbbing, or, as Maslon says, my ears “ringing.” Mostly, my spirit was low. There were no beautiful moments, despite the fact that the drama and the musical score offered plenty of them. Instead, everything sounded, and felt, the same because of the amplification.

Are we just so far down the path of electronic music-making that there’s no turning back? Have the sound engineers created such a strong fiefdom that they shape the show, the way the choreographers, set, and costume designers long have? Do I need just to “get over it”?

I’m not going to. “Some Enchanted Evening” is not enchanting when it’s blasted.