With ears now more than half a century old, I suppose part of my problem is greater difficulty in hearing conversation over background sound.

But even amid the clattering cacophony of a music-free dim sum palace, I still find it a great deal easier to understand what somebody is saying on the other side of a table for 12 than I do across a table for two in a hotel restaurant over Kenny G playing .

This is not because I dislike - although I do, viscerally - but because, if music is playing, my ears naturally attune to it. Even if it isn't too loud, which it generally is, it distracts my attention.

Why do bars and restaurants do this? Are they frightened the customers will have nothing to say to each other and will welcome a distraction? Is the music there to fill up uncomfortable silences?

If it is, it seems more likely to promote them. There are only so many times in one conversation that one can say "Pardon?" After a while you simply stop talking.

Recorded background music seems to have become even more widespread lately, and volumes have certainly risen, but canned accompaniments are nothing new.

Muzak Holdings LLC has been pumping recorded music into hotels and restaurants since the mid-1930s.

Muzak and other suppliers of the stuff are still using it to condition our mood. The reason ghastly pop tunes associated with Christmas are remorselessly broadcast in every conceivable public area every year from mid-November onwards is to instil a willingness to spend.

The true spirit of Christmas, as singer-songwriter Tom Lehrer pointed out, is the commercial spirit, and if there is one tune I hate to hear played over public address systems more than , it is .

Richard Clayderman's is another I have suffered in public spaces on at least four continents. Possibly more.

About 20 years ago, in Sao Paulo I shared a hotel lift with Richard Clayderman. Not with his music, as we all have, but the man himself.

There were just the two of us there, and I found myself pondering whether, if I took the opportunity to strangle him, a Brazilian jury would convict. The moment passed, but had I seized it, I like to think they would have taken a lenient line.

Artists such as Kenny G and Clayderman are popular not because their music is any good, but precisely because it isn't, but even good music in restaurants can have a downside. It is used to send a clumsy signal about the authenticity of the food.

Classical music and jazz are used to project an air of sophistication, and although the music at least is not an irritant per se, it can still drown out conversation if played too loudly - as it generally is - and if you like the styles it is a distraction from the conversation.

It can send the wrong message as well. A few years ago a friend who worked for the Shangri-La hotel group mentioned that she had suggested to her colleagues at one property on the mainland that they re-edit the classical music programme in one of their smarter restaurants, because the subliminal message the music was sending related to a competitor: it was Vivaldi's .

Live music in restaurants is a similarly vexed issue.

Seriously good musicians performing in person can add another dimension to the dining experience. And there are generally intervals of silence between sets.

Seriously not-so-good musicians have the reverse effect - particularly if they roam around the restaurant imposing unsolicited serenades on diners.

This used to be common in Hong Kong, but I am thankful to say it has largely died out in recent years.

But anybody planning to visit Cuba, for example, should know there is almost no bar or restaurant in Havana that does not have a group of strolling players intent on playing plus much of the first album - very much in your face whether you want them to or not. It is good for the first couple of mojitos, but soon gets old. In venues you go to for the food and conversation, bland aural wallpaper is a nuisance. Turn it off.