Six Rules for Turning Online Listening from Noise to Music

In music, call-and-response is one of the oldest and most universal forms of communication. In gospel music, the leader sings a line—“Oh happy day”—and the choir answers, their voices rising in harmony. The exchange is not just repetition; it’s affirmation, amplification, the transformation of one voice into a community of sound. The power comes not from one side dominating, but from the interplay —the back-and-forth that creates something richer than either could alone. Listening is baked into the structure—if the response ignores the call, the music collapses into noise.

Online discussions found in “comments” are supposed to work the same way. The original author has “called out” a claim, idea, or question; the commenters issue a response. Someone makes a claim, shares an idea, or asks a question—the “call.” Too often, the “response” doesn’t connect to the “call.” Instead of harmony, we get overlapping solos, resulting in cacophony and noise. That’s why rules for listening matter. 

Here are six rules, reframed through the metaphor of music.

Staying in the groove

Live music requires that each musician hear the beat, share the pulse, and pay attention. Presence is non-negotiable. Too often, our online discourse is driven by skimming, gathering gists, multitasking, and how what we read affects our emotions. Our responses are “gut-checks,” more than reflection, “drive-by solos,” tossed in without ever hearing the entire tune. Instead of a steady rhythm, we lose our groove in a disconnected sound, which, despite our effort, remains incoherent. But rhythm alone isn’t enough; music also grows when players build on one another’s ideas. 

Improvising on a theme

Jazz thrives on curiosity. One player offers a riff, and another picks it up, twists it, explores new directions. Curiosity in listening means asking, “What can I add to this melody?” instead of, “How can I drown it out?” Online, because “like” and “retweet” are rewarded, the original author’s call is simply used as a springboard for the commenters' rehearsed solos. Curious listening with genuine, not gotcha, follow-up, or improvising with an idea to see where it leads rarely occurs – we get disconnected and deliver clever “licks,” but the song goes nowhere.

Keeping the band together

A good band is more than its parts; it is a trust network, where each member trusts the others do their part. The drummer locks in with the bassist, knowing the groove will be steady. The guitarist trusts the singer to step forward without being drowned out. Music works because each player listens with the confidence that others are both competent and respectful. Online, trust is built through small signals of respect, such as responding in ways that make people feel heard rather than ridiculed. A good response doesn’t just show that you were listening—it shows that the other person’s words were safe in your hands. But when sarcasm takes the place of sincerity, when trust is absent, no one takes creative risks. The result is flat, lifeless, superficial, transactional conversations. People stop testing new ideas or offering vulnerable questions.

Setting the stage

Concert halls are not accidents. They are carefully designed spaces ensuring every audience member hears the performance. Design matters because it sets the conditions for listening. Unfortunately, our online conversations unfold on stages built by others, who are not architects of dialogue but corporate managers optimizing for ad revenue. Careful dialogue doesn’t generate the same “engagement metrics” as outrage; “our” platforms are not concert halls, but bright, noisy casinos, engineered to keep us playing, not to help us listen. The stage is tilted in favor of the house. Whoever posts first, whoever shouts loudest, whoever crafts the most combustible “take” rises to the top of the feed. Thoughtful, measured responses sink quickly, not because they lack merit, but because they lack velocity. As players adapt, reflective voices get lost, as we simplify, exaggerate, and compete – design punishes nuance, a so necessary part of listening. 

Passing the Mic

Call and response was never just about melody or rhythm; it was about power shared, and voices joined. The leader’s call was an invitation, the congregation weaving individual expressions into something communal. Platforms elevate the provocative voice, shrinking the ensemble, resulting in a loss of conversational richness. A layered jam turns monotonous, echoing in an empty hall. Online, it means amplifying others by tagging a thoughtful comment or linking to a clear explanation, rather than reinventing the wheel. It’s the digital equivalent of making sure everyone gets a turn on the mic. Empowering listening online means we stop treating conversation like a contest and start treating it like music—communal, responsive, and alive. 

Staying the Course

Great music often welcomes some degree of tension, whether it's a suspended chord or an unexpected note. Rather than derailing the song, it can be the place where something new can emerge. Digital clashes often turn into flame wars, with people scorching the thread. What could have been improvisation ends abruptly, leaving only static. Resilient listening means staying present when the conversation feels uncomfortable, holding the difficult moment long enough to discover what fresh harmony might develop — trusting that with patience and skill, conversational tension, like that of music, can evolve into something stronger, richer, and more lasting. 

Taken together, these rules echo the same truth as call and response in music: listening transforms noise into harmony, making real conversation out of our comments. Understanding our world, particularly in the fields of health and science, requires careful listening. Feel free to comment.

Source: The Value and the Values  of Listening Mayo Clinic Proceedings