Is it time to end the cult of loud hubs?

Cyclists, from mountain bikers to roadies, have an addiction. We all seem to love the sound of our own hubs. The louder a freewheel is while coasting, the more expensive a bike it is likely bolted onto. Which seems weird, when you think about it. Shouldn’t paying more for something, and some of use are paying near a $1,000 for a set of hubs alone these days, mean its quieter when working properly, not louder?

Loud hubs didn’t start off being loud. Initially, the buzz was a byproduct of high engagement. That was at a time when not many hubs were offering quick engagement and, with mountain biking growing in popularity, quicker engagement was a growing concern.

Decades later, we seem to have lost the plot. Somewhere along the way, loud became shorthand for “good.” Now it’s not just trails that are subject to rampant noise pollution of whiney hubs. Group rides on tarmac and gravel are all punctuated by the conversation-killing squeal of a “fancy” hub. Or two. Or more.

But is volume actually an accurate proxy for quality anymore, or even for engagement speed? Or have loud hubs become so fashionable that they’re unnecessarily loud. Loud for the sake of being loud. And, more importantly, is it time for this nonsense to end? Is it time to mute the cult of loud hubs.

A muted trail experience

To be clear, I do love a high-engagement hub. And I am as guilty as anyone of lusting over high polish, high quality manufacturing. But I’m growing less and less enamoured with the high pitched wail coming from many of these high-end hubs. While I can spill endless digital ink here, I’m not the loudest person in real life. And if I can’t casually converse with a ride buddy because my voice is being drowned out by my freewheel, then I think something has gone awry.

This resentment has built over a few years. But riding a silent hub kicked it up into outright annoyance. While riding a very fancy set of Berd-spoked wheels from NOBL, I realized that sound of my own tires cutting into (and skittering across) the dirt caught me off guard. I knew the Onyx hub anchoring those weird, maybe magic, Berd spokes was supposed to be silent. But I’d forgotten what silent sounded like on the trail. And it was amazing. Floating through the woods accompanied by nothing but the sound of tires (and my own heavy breathing) felt so much more refreshing. I’d nearly go as far as to call it a revelatory experience.

Now, the Onyx hubs aren’t perfect. And they…