Gyms are inherently weird spaces. Postmodern to the limit; spaces where bodies perform ritualized movement against resistance as ways to counteract the negative sedentary life and to calorically displace the treats our bodies were designed to covet. Machines making our bodies more machine-like. Where once plowing, log splitting, and walking were the tools we needed to make our muscles strong we now need to simulate those natural parts of what was once day-to-day life. And then there are the mirror issues. What does one see in the mirror? And then that big mirror of the collective in our pockets. How do we see ourselves reflected in this vast matrix? All weird stuff. And it’s weird this is normalized, gyms are just so a part of modern living that we rarely reflect on their absurdity. Then again, as is customary, everything is weird once one thinks about it enough.
But the specific weirdness I want to discuss is the soundscape of the modern chain gym. By modern chain gym (MCG) I mean these gyms that accumulate a lot of money and all have a lot of sameness - gyms like Planet Fitness, Orange Theory, LA Fitness, or even regional gyms like City Fitness or The Edge. I think that this is what most people think of nowadays when one hears “I go to the gym”. There are gyms that fall outside of this framework, however, they are a) out-priced in urban areas to be affordable or b) consequently too expensive for a lay person. Thereby I feel like a good 85% middle-class young people who go to gyms in urban areas effectively go to these types of gyms.
The MCG consists of some basic tenets. A litany of machines, free weights, and plenty of cardio machines. They typically offer classes such as yoga or boot camps (at an additional cost of course), have an in-house protein shake station, and offer “free training sessions”, which are ways where the trainers try to convince you need to continue with private sessions. These gyms also have other perks too - for example, saunas or swimming pools, but these are not staples of these types of locations. MCGs also tend to be littered with screens playing ESPN, semi-motivational signs such as “Don’t give up” and “You made It”, as well as gym-branded merchandise and supplements.
These MCGs are designed for the masses to be as generic as possible. Think Chipotle or Starbucks, infused with that corporate staleness. Because of this the music of these gyms also has to match this energy - and the issue with that is that so often this music, for lack of a better word, sucks. This is not to say popular music sucks, but some/a lot of it does. A lot of the songs played in these spaces are very bad. But the “need to appeal to everybody” aspect creates a whiplash in the listening experience. For example, there are sometimes good songs played, but they feel out of place and make the bad songs seem even worse by comparison. Going from late-career Panic! at the Disco to Rihanna to the worst EDM song you ever heard to Van Halen is just not the vibe. So while there are sometimes songs that are good, they are too often the minority.
But this is not to discredit some of the songs they play here. Because some of them are genuinely awful. The majority of these worst-songs-ever are uncomplicated edm songs with airy reverend female vocalists and the most inane lyrics ever conceived i.e. the Chainsmokers playbook. Let me illustrate the type of lyrics that I cringe to at these gyms:
Night after night
It feels so right
things are easy
when you’re next to me
and then a chorus of “Need you near me” over obnoxiously mixed dubstep beats.
It’s these types of moments where I need to put in earbuds and play my own music. Which is what a lot of people end up doing, And I think that is kinda what this is all about. The majority of people who go to the gym have earbuds in. While I think this is often because it’s worthwhile to listen to one’s own music and get in the zone while working out, I think that the gym’s music plays more than a 0% factor.
The question I have then is why do we need music at these gyms? I think it’s due to the need to be continually entertained without ambiance. We need content. And the thing is there is no alternative, you have to be subjected to something, the screen glow (even screens directly in front of your face on treadmills) or the awful music, if you go to this gym there is no escaping this. And - bear with me because this is a leap - a lot of this is wrapped up in denying our own human-ness (told you it would be a leap). It’s, literally, the grind, in the least flattering version of that word. And I find that classically ironic, that these spaces that are meant to focus on “body” are often so detached from the mind, only with extreme concentration is one able to ignore the sonic anti-ambience and feel fully in tune with both body and mind. And I think this mindfulness block may even result in a denial of the body, the body itself becomes another form of content in these spaces, part of the big machine of screens and sounds and images.
If there was no music, if the gym itself was silent, we would be instantly confronted with a sheer wave of humanity, sounds of grunts and sighs, heavy breathing, and, maybe if the gym is exceptionally silent, in a moment of serene stillness, the pounding heartbeats of us all moving in a rhythm to a mystical oneness. And I think a gym without music, without screens, without distraction, would ultimately result in a more communal gym, a gym where everyone is confronted with the weirdness of these spaces. People will view each other and themselves as less machine-like and more like the persons they are - beings with bodies that sweat and grunt and minds think. These spaces do exist, however, they are just hard to find, but I think if they were more present people would view exercise very differently - not exclusively as a way to maintain or build one’s body, but as a way to connect with one’s body, and consequently, to connect to one’s humanness, a connection that is so often neglected in the societies where these types of MCG can survive.
So yeah, anyway, the music at my gym is pretty shit.