Why Louder Isn’t Better Anymore

For a long time, louder felt like the goal. If your track hit harder than the next one, it grabbed the listener's attention. That mindset made sense when playback systems were inconsistent and volume was a competitive advantage. That’s no longer the world we’re releasing music into.

Today, louder doesn’t mean what it used to. And in many cases, pushing level too far actually works against the music.

The loudness arms race (and why it ended)

For years, records got progressively louder. This arms race is frequently called The Loudness Wars. Limiters got more aggressive, dynamics got smaller, and the definition of “competitive” shifted from musical impact to raw level. Then streaming platforms changed the rules.

Most major platforms now use some form of loudness normalization, adjusting playback so tracks land around a similar perceived volume. That means a hyper-limited master doesn’t actually play louder — it just gets turned down.

Once everything is level-matched, the real differences show up:

transient clarity
depth
groove
fatigue

And that’s where overly loud masters tend to fall apart.

Loudness vs. Impact

Loudness and impact aren’t the same thing. Impact comes from contrast. This contrast creates moments that lift, breathe, and hit because there’s space around them. When everything is pushed to the ceiling, that contrast disappears.

In mastering, I’m listening for:

how the chorus feels relative to the verse
whether transients still have shape
how the low end moves, not just how big it is
whether the song feels exciting or just dense

A track can measure “loud” and still feel small.

What loudness normalization reveals

Normalization doesn’t punish loud masters — it reveals them.

Once the platform turns everything down to a similar level, a few things become obvious:

harshness that was masked by volume
flattened dynamics
smeared transients
low end that feels heavy but not solid

Meanwhile, more dynamic records often feel clearer, wider, and more engaging, even though they aren’t technically louder. That’s why some records seem to jump out of the speakers without ever feeling aggressive.

Why pushing level too hard causes problems

Every dB of level has a cost.

Push too far and you start trading:

punch for density
depth for loudness
movement for consistency

Those tradeoffs aren’t always obvious in short listens, but they show up over time – especially on headphones and earbuds, where fatigue sets in quickly. If a master feels impressive for 20 seconds but tiring after two minutes, something went wrong. There is no “correct” loudness target

One of the most common questions I get is some version of:

“What LUFS should this be?”

There isn’t a universal answer.

Appropriate loudness depends on several factors. Genre, arrangement, tempo, emotional intent, and how the track is meant to feel in context to an album all can affect the specific LUFS number for appropriate loudness. In a wider context, different projects will inherently be different as well. For example, a sparse acoustic song and a dense electronic track don’t want the same treatment, and forcing them into the same loudness box usually hurts both. Good mastering is about choosing a level that serves the song, not chasing a number.

What actually makes a master feel competitive today

In the current landscape, competitive records tend to share a few traits:

controlled but alive dynamics
clear transients
intentional low-end behavior
tonal balance that translates everywhere

Those things survive loudness normalization. Over-limiting doesn’t. When everything is turned to the same playback level, the master with more shape and clarity almost always wins. The goal isn’t quieter, it’s intentionality. This isn’t an argument for quiet masters; it’s an argument for intentional loudness.