The Restaurant with No Music

Finding comfort in digital and physical quiet

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I’m SJF, a composer and sound artist living in Kyoto, Japan. These letters are for wanderers and creators seeking the quieter side of life; stories, soundscapes, and moments of beauty. For those feeling burned out by the modern world and those drawn to traditional craftsmanship, ambient music, and mindful internet spaces. If that’s you, then you’re welcome here.

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Doesn't it feel strange to eat in a restaurant with no music playing? Have you noticed it too? There was a place in London that I used to eat at regularly that simply didn't play music. No radio, no pop singers, no news. The soundtrack of your meal was the scraping of chairs on tiled floor, the clatter of cutlery, and people's hushed conversations or laughs.

The first time I visited, this felt quite unsettling. I worried that everyone could hear our conversations clearly. And — God forbid — what if there was a gap in the conversation? What would be there to fill that silence?

But slowly, as my visits increased, this silence grew to be part of the charm of this place. Its uniqueness. I came to appreciate that which I had initially felt uncomfortable with.

This personal revelation made me realise something: in a world where we're constantly bombarded by notifications, background music, breaking news and digital chatter, we've lost our capacity for true quiet. We've forgotten how to be comfortable with silence. Instead, always reaching for our phones.

Why does silence feel uncomfortable though? Is it because it removes the external distractions that usually protect us from noticing our internal landscape? Without the constant hum of stimulation it's all too easy for the mental chatter, anxiety, and unfinished thoughts to suddenly become audible. Like hearing your neighbour's conversation through thin walls for the first time.

But it's not just about escaping from our inner world, is it? Modern life has been slowly conditioning our brains to expect and seek out a steady stream of input: notifications, background music, podcasts, and endless content to consume. Also, silence suddenly has this uncanny power to trigger guilt in our productivity-obsessed culture—"I should be accomplishing something right now, dammit".

It feels like madness to simply sit quietly, much like it might have felt like madness to talk openly about your feelings or go to therapy 60 years ago. Something only done by deeply 'troubled' people, not ‘respectable’ ones.

Yet my restaurant experience proved that the discomfort that comes from sitting in silence can eventually change into appreciation. Once I allowed myself to experience it repeatedly, it became charming instead of threatening. Turns out I just had a lack of practice.

I'm beginning to realise that living in a constant state of being entertained is slowly eating something away inside. I always feel a strong urge to cover silence with music, to scroll Instagram, or watch YouTube with dinner. My attention subtly gets pulled away in multiple directions, away from wherever I actually am. Whoever I’m actually with. I’m not saying it’s as bad as that one couple in the restaurant who are both on their phones, scrolling whilst they eat, completely ignoring each other. But I also don’t have to get to that point before I begin to feel uncomfortable.

True quiet offers the opposite: to pay attention to conversations with friends, to notice our surroundings, to actually taste our food. It allows us to be present like we used to be when phones were just phones.

I'm writing this letter now because I'm noticing myself becoming distracted more often, and as a direct result, my thoughts are becoming more shallow. It's only when I sit down to write that I can think deeply. When writing, I'm giving myself no option but to focus.

Digital Noise vs Digital Quiet

The fear of silence naturally drives us online to seek immediate gratification and distraction. But what do we find there? Fifteen-second TikToks are the way people consume content these days—absolutely no time for those anxious thoughts to creep back in before the next video autoplays. Big, bold thumbnails with shocked faces, red arrows and ALL CAPS TEXT dominate YouTube. "Just give me the TL;DR" or "I want the summary of that 500 page book—I'm far too busy to read it". We listen to 2x speed podcasts, 30-second book summaries, and have "hacks" for everything. Pop-ups and overlay ads that block content on webpages, demanding our attention before we can even begin to focus.

This type of loud, incessant, in-your-face content is a form of "digital noise" - and it's slowly eating us away inside. Just as city noise pollution creates stress we don't even realise we're carrying, this digital cacophony fragments our attention and leaves us feeling scattered, anxious, always reaching for the next hit of stimulation.

But what if there's another way? We're clearly starving for something different online. A 19-minute ambient song with a static image of a whale has 3.1M views on YouTube - people choosing to spend nearly 20 minutes with literally nothing happening while the rest of the platform optimises for peak stimulation. This is evidence of a deep hunger for 'digital quiet'. Online spaces that offer contemplation instead of consumption.

In a way, sitting in silence and mindful internet use require the same muscle: intentional attention. Both resist the urge for instant gratification. Both reward us with deeper engagement when we slow down enough to actually be present.

I've been experimenting with ways to strengthen this capacity for intentional attention—both online and off. What I've discovered is that the practices are surprisingly similar, and they don't require dramatic life changes:

Cultivating Real Silence

Eat one meal per day without music, radio or podcasts.
Deliberately choose cafes or spaces without background music.
Walk without headphones and actively listen to your environment.
Use moments of waiting as opportunities to simply be present.

Cultivating Digital Quiet

Follow accounts that post thoughtful, contemplative content instead of reactive hot takes.
Set a specific purpose before opening any app or website.
Read one long-form article instead of scrolling through 20 headlines.
Regular periods of offline time, even if just for half a day. Whatever feels manageable.

Practices That Develop Both

Use your phone to capture the soundscape of where you are instead of consuming content.

Deliberately explore corners of the web like Are.na, online museum archives, or ambient music playlists. Share one thing, listen to the sound of the forest or Take an Internet Walk.

Keep only one browser tab open at a time. (I'm guilty of browser tab overload!)

Instead of random music, choose intentional ambient soundscapes as background sound. (My music is always a nice place to start!)

Watch or listen to things at normal speed, resist the urge to speed up.

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Or, y’know, just go outside and spend time with people. That always seems to do the trick.

As always, thank you for noticing with me. If this letter stirred something within you and you’d like to support my work here in Kyoto, please consider becoming a paid subscriber, exploring my music on Bandcamp or buying me a coffee.

I've also started guiding small sound walks through Kyoto where together we'll record the city's hidden sounds and you'll leave with a custom soundscape I'll mix just for you. If this sounds like something you'd be interested in, please find more information here.

Until next time,

🍃 SJF