How much of flavour actually comes from the food itself?
Most people would probably answer almost all of it. Sweetness belongs to sugar, bitterness belongs to coffee, freshness belongs to mint and carbonation belongs to sparkling water. Sound certainly accompanies these experiences, but it seems difficult to imagine that it could fundamentally change them. Whether a room is silent or filled with music, whether somebody eats alone or in a crowded restaurant, surely the food itself remains exactly the same.
Everyday experience, however, quietly points in another direction. Coffee often tastes less satisfying on an aircraft than on the ground. Crisps seem fresher when they produce a louder crunch. Champagne feels more celebratory when its bubbles sparkle audibly in the glass, while the atmosphere of a restaurant can transform the enjoyment of a meal without a single ingredient changing. None of these observations seems especially surprising on its own. Taken together, however, they raise a rather uncomfortable question. If the food has not changed, what exactly has?
That question formed the starting point for Professor Charles Spence’s online guest lecture for Edinburgh Napier University. As Head of the Crossmodal Research Laboratory at the University of Oxford, Spence has spent more than two decades investigating how the senses interact to construct experience. His research spans psychology, neuroscience, design and consumer behaviour, leading to collaborations with chefs, airlines, manufacturers, advertisers, perfumers and technology companies. Food featured prominently throughout the lecture, yet it soon became clear that gastronomy was simply one expression of a much broader scientific question.
For much of modern science, the senses were treated as though they operated independently. Vision belonged to the eyes, hearing to the ears, taste to the tongue and smell to the nose. Perception appeared to be assembled almost like a jigsaw, with each sense contributing its own separate piece before the brain combined them into a complete picture. Spence’s work challenges that assumption. Information arriving through one sensory pathway immediately begins influencing the interpretation of information arriving through another. What people hear alters what they believe they taste. What they see changes what they expect to smell. The texture of a surface influences impressions of quality before conscious reasoning has even begun. Rather than operating as isolated systems, the senses appear to cooperate continuously, constructing experience through their interaction rather than through their independence.
Sound therefore occupies a rather different role from the one most people imagine. Rather than serving simply as accompaniment, decoration or atmosphere added after an experience has already been designed, it becomes one of the materials through which perception itself is shaped. A carefully chosen sound can influence whether food seems fresher, sweeter, more bitter or more luxurious. It can establish expectations before the first mouthful, alter emotional responses during consumption and even affect the memories people later form of an experience. Sound does not simply accompany flavour. Under the right conditions, it helps create it.
As the lecture unfolded, experimental psychology sat comfortably alongside fine dining, product packaging, aircraft cabins, advertising, perfume, digital interfaces and some of the world’s most celebrated restaurants. At first sight these subjects seemed to have little in common beyond an occasional reference to sound. Gradually, however, a consistent pattern emerged. Experiences that appear to belong almost entirely to one sense are often shaped by several others at the same time.
Food was only the beginning. If hearing can influence taste, perhaps many experiences usually treated as purely visual, tactile or auditory are also products of continual interaction between the senses. The challenge for designers is therefore no longer simply to create attractive sounds, images or objects in isolation. It is to understand how they work together to shape perception as a whole. That broader question ultimately became the central theme of Spence’s lecture, pointing towards a future in which sound is understood not as an accessory to experience, but as one of the materials from which experience itself is constructed.
If sound can influence flavour at all, the obvious question is how. At first sight the idea seems almost impossible. Taste depends upon chemical receptors inside the mouth, while hearing begins with vibrations entering the ears. One system detects molecules, the other detects pressure waves. They appear to have almost nothing in common. Yet the experiments Charles Spence presented suggest that the brain pays surprisingly little attention to these traditional boundaries. Instead of treating each sense as an isolated source of information, it continually searches for relationships between them.
Every meal illustrates this process. Before food even reaches the mouth, its appearance has already created expectations about freshness, sweetness, richness or quality. Aroma begins shaping anticipation, while the weight of cutlery, the texture of a plate and the surrounding environment all contribute further information. Sound enters that process from the beginning. The clink of a glass, the crack of a crisp crust, the fizz of a carbonated drink and the background atmosphere of a restaurant all become additional clues from which the brain constructs a single interpretation. People do not consciously separate these sensations before combining them again. They simply perceive flavour.
For many years, perception was often described as though the senses operated independently. Vision belonged to the eyes, hearing to the ears, taste to the tongue and smell to the nose, while the brain merely assembled their separate outputs into a complete picture. Increasingly, evidence points towards something much more dynamic. Information arriving through one sense immediately begins shaping the interpretation of information arriving through another. What people hear alters what they believe they taste. What they see changes what they expect to smell. Texture influences impressions of quality before conscious reasoning has even begun. Human perception emerges through continual interaction rather than through the addition of independent sensory streams.
Spence explored these relationships through what he describes as crossmodal correspondences. Although the terminology sounds specialised, the underlying phenomenon is surprisingly familiar. Many people instinctively associate higher-pitched sounds with sweetness and lower pitches with bitterness. Other combinations of pitch, timbre, rhythm and texture consistently evoke impressions such as freshness, creaminess or sharpness. None of these relationships is consciously taught, yet they appear repeatedly when large groups of people are asked to match sounds with tastes.
Consistency is what makes these findings especially significant. Individual preferences naturally vary, but the broader patterns remain remarkably stable. Participants who have never met one another frequently make similar associations, suggesting that these relationships are not simply matters of personal preference or cultural coincidence. Human perception appears to organise sensory information in surprisingly consistent ways. Designers therefore gain something unusually valuable: perceptual tendencies that can be anticipated rather than guessed.
Crossmodal correspondences are sometimes confused with synaesthesia, despite important differences. People with synaesthesia may genuinely experience colours when hearing music or perceive letters as possessing particular tastes. Those experiences are real, but they are also highly individual. Crossmodal correspondences operate differently. They describe tendencies shared across many people rather than unique experiences belonging to particular individuals. That distinction allows them to move from psychological curiosity to practical design principle.
Laboratory findings soon begin to acquire practical significance. Spence described collaborations in which composers and sound designers created musical soundscapes intended to reinforce particular taste qualities. Pitch, rhythm, timbre, consonance and articulation were carefully manipulated to suggest sweetness, bitterness, sourness or saltiness. Participants consistently matched particular soundscapes with particular tastes. More remarkably, under appropriate conditions those same soundscapes subtly altered the way the food itself was perceived. Music associated with sweetness could increase perceived sweetness without any change to the ingredients. Chemistry remained exactly the same, yet perception shifted in a predictable direction.
Taste, in other words, emerges through interpretation rather than chemistry alone. Molecules reaching the tongue remain essential, but they represent only one source of information among many. Every sound surrounding a meal, from the crunch of food itself to the atmosphere of the room, contributes another piece of evidence that the brain may incorporate into its final judgement. Designers have often exploited these relationships intuitively for decades. Spence’s research provides a scientific explanation for why they work.
Viewed from this perspective, familiar experiences begin to appear rather different. The satisfying crack of a crisp packet, the hiss of a freshly opened bottle or the sound of coffee being ground no longer seem like incidental by-products of physical events. They become active components of perception itself. Some establish expectations before tasting even begins. Others reinforce qualities already present or quietly direct attention towards particular sensations. Sound no longer sits outside flavour. It has become one of the ingredients from which flavour itself is assembled.
Once the relationship between sound and flavour becomes scientifically plausible, an even more interesting question begins to emerge. What happens when designers start working with that knowledge? Crossmodal perception is no longer simply an explanation for a series of intriguing laboratory experiments. It becomes a different way of thinking about the creation of experiences. If perception is constructed through continual interaction between the senses, then every sound surrounding a product becomes part of the product. Designers are no longer shaping isolated objects or individual sensory channels. They are shaping the conditions under which people construct experience.
That shift in perspective explains why Charles Spence’s research extends so far beyond psychology. His collaborations have involved chefs, advertisers, manufacturers, retailers, technology companies and designers working across remarkably different industries. At first sight those partnerships appear unrelated. Yet each asks essentially the same question. If sound changes the way people perceive quality, freshness, luxury or value, how should products and experiences be designed differently?
Many organisations have traditionally approached multisensory design by attempting to stimulate as many senses as possible. Spence suggested that this is only part of the challenge. More sensory information does not necessarily create a better experience. Success depends upon coherence rather than quantity. Vision, sound, touch, smell and taste need to reinforce one another, guiding perception towards a shared interpretation. A beautifully designed sound can strengthen what people already expect to encounter. An inconsistent one can quietly undermine the entire experience.
Small design decisions therefore begin to acquire unexpected significance. Opening a packet of crisps, hearing the hiss of a carbonated drink or listening to coffee beans being ground may seem like incidental moments within a much larger experience. Yet those sounds establish expectations before tasting even begins. They encourage the brain to anticipate freshness, quality or intensity long before chemistry has an opportunity to contribute. The product remains physically unchanged. What changes is the perceptual framework through which the product is interpreted.
Few environments demonstrate these relationships more clearly than restaurants. Every aspect of a meal contributes information beyond the food on the plate. Lighting, tableware, acoustics, conversation and music all participate in shaping expectations and emotional responses. Fine dining therefore becomes an exercise in multisensory design rather than culinary technique alone. Preparing exceptional food remains essential, yet the overall experience emerges from the interaction of many carefully orchestrated elements.
One of the lecture’s most celebrated examples came from Heston Blumenthal’s Sound of the Sea. Diners listened to recordings of waves, seabirds and the sounds of a coastal landscape while eating a seafood course. Initially the idea appeared almost whimsical. Why should listening to the sea alter the taste of food served indoors? Yet diners consistently described the dish as fresher, more vividly maritime and more immersive when accompanied by the soundscape. Even members of Spence’s own research group admitted that the strength of the effect had surprised them. What initially appeared to be a theatrical flourish turned out to reveal something far more fundamental about the way perception operates.
Experiments of this kind naturally led towards increasingly sophisticated forms of experience design. Spence described cocktail events in which each drink was paired with its own carefully composed soundscape. Participants were invited to compare different combinations, discovering how subtle changes in the auditory environment altered the character of the same drink. Attention gradually shifted away from asking whether one cocktail tasted better than another. Instead, the question became how the interaction between sound and flavour could produce the most satisfying overall experience. Perception itself had become the object of design.
Once viewed from this perspective, the implications become difficult to contain within food and drink alone. Mobile devices, consumer products, retail spaces, packaging and digital interfaces all communicate through sound, whether intentionally or accidentally. Notification tones, confirmation signals, mechanical clicks and interface feedback continually influence users’ impressions of quality, reliability and identity. Those sounds are not decorative additions arriving after the creative process has finished. They help determine how the product itself is understood.
Perhaps the most important lesson from this part of the lecture is that food was never really the subject. Food simply makes multisensory perception unusually easy to observe. Once the underlying principles become visible, they begin appearing almost everywhere. Products, services, environments and digital technologies all rely upon the same interactions between the senses. Sound therefore ceases to be something added to an experience. It becomes one of the materials from which perception itself is constructed.
By the end of the lecture, it became increasingly difficult to think about sound in quite the same way as before. Traditional approaches to sound design often begin by asking what something should sound like. Charles Spence’s work quietly suggests a different question. What should people perceive? Those two objectives frequently overlap, but they are not identical. A sound can be technically accurate while contributing little to the intended experience, or it can depart from physical realism yet guide perception in ways that feel entirely convincing. The designer’s task therefore extends beyond producing sounds. It becomes one of shaping interpretation.
That shift carries important implications for the future of design. Emerging technologies make these ideas increasingly relevant. Artificial intelligence can already personalise recommendations, anticipate preferences and generate new forms of interaction in real time. Yet many of these developments continue to treat the senses as largely separate channels through which information is delivered. Spence’s research points towards a different possibility. Systems might instead learn how combinations of sound, vision, touch and other sensory cues influence perception as a whole, adapting experiences rather than simply adapting individual outputs.
Such ideas extend naturally into interaction design, healthcare, education, transport and entertainment. A navigation system might reduce stress by carefully coordinating spoken instructions, interface sounds and visual feedback. Assistive technologies could combine auditory and tactile information to improve confidence and accessibility. Retail environments may shape perceptions of quality without relying solely upon visual presentation, while museums, exhibitions and virtual environments can construct richer experiences through carefully orchestrated sensory relationships. None of these applications depends upon one extraordinary technological breakthrough. They emerge from a deeper understanding of how people already perceive the world.
Sound designers occupy a particularly interesting position within this changing landscape. Traditionally, sound has often entered the creative process after many other design decisions have already been made. Music, ambience and effects enrich an experience that largely exists in visual or physical form. Multisensory research challenges that sequence. If sound actively participates in constructing perception, it deserves consideration from the earliest stages of design rather than being treated as a finishing touch. Decisions about audio become decisions about cognition, emotion and behaviour.
This perspective also encourages greater humility. Human perception remains remarkably complex, and no designer can predict every response with complete certainty. Cultural experience, personal memory, expectation and context all continue to influence how people interpret the same sensory information. Spence repeatedly acknowledged that multisensory design is not a collection of universal formulas guaranteeing identical outcomes for every individual. Instead, it offers evidence-based principles that increase the likelihood of particular perceptual responses while recognising that people remain active participants in constructing their own experiences.
Perhaps that is why the lecture remained so compelling. It never suggested that science could replace creativity or reduce design to a set of predictable rules. On the contrary, scientific understanding expanded creative possibility rather than limiting it. Once designers understand how the senses cooperate, they gain entirely new materials with which to work. Sound becomes capable of shaping flavour, texture, atmosphere, expectation and memory alongside its more familiar roles in communication and emotion. Creativity is not constrained by such knowledge. It is given a richer foundation upon which to build.
Returning to the opening question reveals how much has changed. How much of flavour actually comes from the food itself? Chemistry remains indispensable, but chemistry alone is no longer a sufficient answer. Flavour emerges through continual interaction between taste, smell, vision, touch, sound and expectation, each contributing to a perceptual whole that cannot easily be reduced to its individual parts. Food becomes one component of a broader multisensory experience rather than its sole determinant.
That conclusion reaches well beyond gastronomy. Every designed experience, whether a film, game, product, concert hall, mobile application or public space, is ultimately encountered through the cooperation of the senses. Designers therefore shape more than objects, interfaces or soundtracks. They shape the perceptual conditions through which people understand the world around them.
Perhaps the most enduring contribution of Charles Spence’s work is not the demonstration that sound can make food taste sweeter or fresher, remarkable though those findings remain. It is the reminder that perception itself is creative. The brain does not passively record reality. It continually interprets, predicts and combines information arriving from many different sources, constructing an experience that feels immediate, coherent and effortless. Sound is not merely something that accompanies that process. It is one of the materials from which that process is built.
