Where Loudness Lives Today

For as long as I’ve been working in mastering, people have asked me about the loudness war. The shorthand story is familiar: starting in the late 1990s and running through the 2000s, commercial music kept getting louder and louder. By the time we reached 2010, albums were routinely mastered at –8 LUFS or hotter, often with heavy limiting that flattened their dynamics. Critics pointed to Californication (1999) or Death Magnetic (2008) as “victims” of this trend: records so compressed that they distorted audibly, sparking backlash and petitions.

That’s the simple version. But the real story is more complicated. In my own practice, and from talking to peers, I’ve seen how the decision to make a record loud often isn’t made in mastering at all. It’s already there in the mix.

The Death Magnetic Lesson

Take the most famous “too loud” album of the 2000s: Metallica’s Death Magnetic. The CD version was universally criticized for sounding harsh, crushed, and fatiguing. Even casual fans noticed. But here’s the truth: the distortion and compression were already baked into the mixes. Ted Jensen, the mastering engineer, later clarified that the band and management delivered mixes that were essentially brick-walled and then told him to make them even louder. He had very little choice in the matter.

What listeners hear as “the worst snare drum sound in history” is not the result of mastering EQ. It’s the sound of the recordings themselves, as the band made a creative decision to make an intentionally “raw” sounding album. Jensen’s job was a service role: deliver the project at the level the client demanded. That’s the part of the loudness war discourse that often gets lost.

Comparison of two waveforms of the song “My Apocalypse” by Metallica: top is the regular CD version, bottom is the downloadable version for Guitar Hero III.

The Beatles at –6

Fast forward to 2023 and the release of Now and Then, the Beatles’ much-hyped “last song.” When people ran the numbers, the track measured at roughly –6 LUFS integrated — extremely loud by any standard. For reference, most streaming platforms normalize around –14 LUFS. Audiophile online outrage quickly ensued: how could a Beatles record be mastered that loud?

The mastering engineer Miles Showell responded directly:

Not a lot that can be done in mastering when the mix is already sounding like that and has been approved by the band, the producers and the label. It could have been even louder, the source I worked with was the LESS limited version!

The mix engineer printed it at that level, and the label approved it. The mastering stage was about QC and polish — not about changing its loudness philosophy. The mix engineer was Mark “Spike” Stent, one of the most respected names in the business. In fact, I’ve received mixes from Stent myself that measured –6 LUFS, accompanied by references closer to –5.

That’s not a mistake. That’s intent. In today’s market, mixes often arrive already at competitive loudness, leaving mastering engineers with little headroom and few options.

Then and Now

What makes this even more fascinating is comparing Stent’s work across eras. In 1998, he mixed Massive Attack’s Mezzanine — one of the most beautiful, audiophile-leaning albums of its generation. I specifically mentioned it in my article My Life in Albums. That record breathes around -12 LUFS with plenty of dynamic contrast. It’s immersive, moody, and powerful without being slammed.

Twenty-five years later, the same engineer is delivering Beatles mixes at –6. And by no means did Stent forget how to mix: the industry context changed. Radio, playlists, clubs, and labels expect hotter material. Mix engineers now print with limiters, clippers, and enhancers across their stereo bus, baking in the loudness.

Both records are brilliant. Both reflect their time. And in both cases, the job of the mastering engineer is about the same core responsibilities: continuity, polish, QC, delivery.

What Mastering Actually Is

This shift has redefined the service of mastering. In the 1970s and ’80s, mastering was the place where loudness was added, if at all. Mixes came in dynamic and spacious. By the 2000s, mastering engineers were under pressure to push levels into the red. Now, in the 2020s, many mixes arrive pre-leveled.

The myth is that mastering equals loudness, but the truth is more complex. Modern changes in mix levels have done nothing to make mastering obsolete; in fact, the following steps have become even more important in recent years:

• Translation: making sure an already loud mix still plays well on earbuds, in cars, in clubs, and streaming normalization.

• QC: checking for clipping, distortion, or phase issues that the mix engineer might not have caught.

• Subtle shaping: sometimes half a dB of EQ or a small stereo image adjustment can completely shift the energy of a song.

• Restraint: knowing when not to touch a mix that already sounds the way the artist wants it.

When a mix comes in already at –6 LUFS, “level” is already decided. My responsibility then is not to fight the client’s aesthetic, but to ensure the master still works everywhere it will be heard. Sometimes that means doing almost nothing. Sometimes it means very carefully shaving overs so playback systems don’t distort. In all cases, it means listening critically, not just pushing faders.

Lessons from the Loudness War

The late 1990s through 2010 were most definitely the peak of the loudness war. But looking back, it’s clearer than ever that the real shift happened upstream, in mixing and production. The truth is, loudness is often a mix decision — or an artist/label demand — and mastering engineers are tasked with honoring it.

And here’s the nuance: when loudness is handled well, records at –8 LUFS or higher can sound euphonic. They’re full, glued, powerful. Think of Greg Calbi’s Tame Impala masters or Bob Ludwig’s work on In Rainbows. These are loud records by any measure, but they’re also beautiful. They prove that loudness itself isn’t the enemy — bad sound is.

That’s the real takeaway: loudness is an aesthetic choice shaped by its time. Sometimes it enhances the euphoria of a track; sometimes it collapses it into distortion. Mastering is about serving that choice, whether that means adding half a dB of polish or simply stepping aside.

Conclusion

Mezzanine vinyl by Massive Attack

The loudness war changed the landscape, but it didn’t redefine what mastering is. For me, mastering has always been — and still is — about quality control, editing, subtle improvements, and preparing music for release. Raising level is part of the service, because clients expect it, but it’s never the essence of the job.

When a mix arrives at –6 LUFS, my role isn’t to bemoan the mix engineer or rewrite the loudness war narrative. My role is to listen, to make sure it translates, to ensure it’s technically solid and musically faithful. Sometimes that means adding polish. Sometimes that means restraint. Always, it means serving the music.

The loudness war may have peaked years ago, but the lesson it leaves is simple: mastering is not loudness — mastering is trust.