I was tempted to call 'resonance' a valid measure of goodness,

You know the conversations where you can tell they're not feigning interest and the connection seems genuine. Resonates.

Until I remembered Glen Hansard's caricature of a lovelorn Irish busker, rending hearts and vocal cords on a sidewalk. No reverb, no resonance, dead audio, or even a lone old-timer holding fast to marriage being a thing only a man and a woman are entitled to, as she and her words are swept under the tide of a tolerant, sound-proofed mob,

So that bucks my theory

And again, my attempt at a fixed idea is quickly made irrelevant, and I'm reduced to silence... momentarily