Silence is Golden

I was sitting in a bar waiting for a friend to appear; it was lunch-time, not many people there. Nearby was a group of four or five young men. On the loudspeaker was music, loud pop music. It didn't seem to affect them in conversing with each other enjoyably. Suddenly the music stopped - the tape had come to an end.
And, as a result it seemed, so did the conversation. They looked around, silent now, until a barmaid appeared. One of them said "Some music, Love?"
"Right," she said. "Sorry."
And she put on another tape. Loud pop music again, and instantly they recontinued the conversation, probably, where they had left off.
I don't like music in pubs. Any sort of music. If it's sort of quiet "wall to wall" music, the stuff that most people don't really notice rumbling away in the backgound then I suppose it's OK, but loud pop music or even loud serious music stops conversation dead.
That is, for me and most of my friends. But not for this lot. They needed the music filling the room with sound to be able to converse at all.
You go into a clothes shop and there's music. In a health centre there's music. In a supermarket there's music. It's everywhere. It's difficult to escape it.
I like the answer to a question that was once put to a famous British composer: "What in your opinion is the finest part of a musical composition?"
"The pause in the Hallelujah Chorus," he said.