Since the last Concorde touched down for the final time in 2003, commercial aviation has operated at a curious standstill. Despite half a century of technological progress — lighter materials, more efficient engines, digital avionics, optimization software, and ever‑greater global air traffic — the cruising speed of passenger jets has stagnated. Transatlantic flights often take as long or longer than they did in the 1960s, even as airports and skies grow more congested and delays worsen.
Supersonic travel, once the herald of technological modernity and elite global mobility, has faded from public imagination. Where Concorde once captured headlines and hearts, flying faster than most military fighters of its day, the general public now views supersonic jets as expensive curiosities — relics of an era that overpromised and under‑delivered.
Yet inside aerospace circles, momentum has quietly built toward a new generation of supersonic transports. In the years since Concorde’s retirement, engineers and entrepreneurs have pursued designs, business plans, and existential hope that flying faster again — and commercially — might finally make sense.
Of these, Boom Supersonic stands out: founded in 2014, the company has persisted where many others have folded. With its Overture airliner and Symphony engine project, Boom has become the most visible player attempting to bring back supersonic travel in the 2020s.
The question now is no longer whether supersonic technology is possible — it is whether supersonic travel can be economic, practical, and marketable in a world deeply changed since Concorde’s heyday.
Since the earliest days of powered flight, pilots and engineers sought speed. The Wright brothers made the first controlled flight in 1903 at 30 mph; by the 1930s and 1940s, piston‑engine fighters shattered records, and the advent of jets pushed speeds ever higher.
But it was in 1947 that America’s Chuck Yeager broke the sound barrier in the rocket‑powered Bell X‑1, flying faster than 761 mph for the first time. The achievement galvanized researchers everywhere, but it also exposed the complex realities of supersonic aerodynamics: shockwaves, buffeting, heat, and control issues that made aircraft design exponentially more difficult beyond Mach 1.
The early postwar decades were defined by these aerodynamic puzzles. Designers learned that wings, engines, and airframes all had to be rethought for supersonic flight. Aircraft required new materials, novel structural solutions, and engines with vastly different airflow requirements than subsonic jets.
The breakthroughs were real — but so were the costs.
By the 1960s, commercial jets like the Boeing 707 and Douglas DC‑8 had transformed air travel, cutting long‑distance flight times and opening global mobility. Yet even as jet travel spread, aerospace engineers and national governments looked upward and onward: to a supersonic airliner that could halve travel times again.
After years of Anglo‑French cooperation, the Concorde supersonic transport entered service on January 21, 1976, with Air France and British Airways. Almost simultaneously, the Soviet Tupolev Tu‑144 had entered commercial operations in December 1975, making the USSR the first to start scheduled supersonic passenger service — but at enormous cost and with limited success.
By contrast, Concorde would fly for nearly three decades, becoming one of the most iconic aircraft in history. With its drooping nose, slender fuselage, and delta wing, Concorde looked like something out of science fiction. It flew at Mach 2.0+ — more than twice the speed of sound — and at altitudes above 60,000 feet where the curvature of Earth was visible through cockpit windows.
Concorde’s performance was undeniable: London to New York in under 3½ hours, cutting typical subsonic flight times by more than half. But flying fast came with costs that eventually proved insurmountable.
Even before entering service, airlines balked at the price tag. Orders were placed, then canceled. Ultimately, only 14 Concordes were built for commercial use, seven each for British Airways and Air France. A handful of others entered service through short‑lived leases, but none could change the economics.
By the time Concorde entered service in the 1970s, the world had changed. The oil crisis had sent fuel prices soaring, and airlines were fixated on operating efficiency. Concorde burned orders of magnitude more fuel per passenger than subsonic jets. Noise concerns grew. Environmentalists warned that fleets of supersonic jets could damage the ozone layer. Governments banned supersonic flights over land because of sonic booms. Concorde became a luxury experience, a symbol as much of privilege as progress.
For a time, the niche model worked: wealthy passengers paid premium fares that approached — or even exceeded — the cost of first class on subsonic transatlantic flights. By the 1980s, British Airways and Air France were turning modest profits on Concorde’s scheduled service.
But by the 2000s, maintenance costs ballooned, spare parts grew scarce, and interest waned further with the tragic 2000 Air France Concorde crash near Paris‑Charles de Gaulle Airport, which ended Concorde’s spotless safety record.
In 2003, Concorde was retired, its wings folded into museums and its legacy enshrined in aviation lore. Supersonic commercial flight became a past chapter, and forward progress — at least in public perception — seemed to have stalled.
While public interest dimmed, a generation of aerospace engineers took up the challenge anew.
Companies emerged, promising supersonic business jets, luxury airliners, and futuristic designs. Many folded under financial pressure, technical hurdles, and investor skepticism.
Among the survivors, Boom Supersonic has arguably gone the farthest. Founded in 2014 by Blake Scholl, a former Amazon engineer, Boom set out to do what others had tried and failed to accomplish: build a commercially viable supersonic passenger jet in the 21st century.
Boom’s flagship design is the Overture — a twin‑engine supersonic airliner intended to carry passengers at speeds near Mach 1.7. That speed would cut transoceanic flight times dramatically: New York to London in roughly three hours; Los Angeles to Tokyo in under six. While not as fast as Concorde’s Mach 2.0+, Boom argues that Overture’s performance — paired with modern efficiency and regulatory advances — could succeed where Concorde could not.
However, the Overture’s projected cruising speed is itself telling. At Mach 1.7, Overture would be faster than today’s subsonic jets but slower than Concorde’s historical record of Mach 2.02–2.04 in service and Mach 2.23 in testing. That reflects a compromise: faster than conventional jets, but designed to mitigate fuel burn, heat, and sonic boom issues that plagued earlier supersonic designs.
Concorde itself pioneered many technologies that are standard today: fly‑by‑wire control systems, carbon disc brakes, and advanced materials. But Concorde was born in an era that assumed cheap fuel and little regulatory constraint. Boom has to navigate not just physics and engineering, but economics, emissions rules, noise regulations, and market demand.
If the airframe is Overture’s skeleton, the engine is its heart — and arguably its biggest gamble.
Today’s commercial jet engines have been refined over decades for subsonic cruise, optimized for fuel efficiency at Mach 0.85–0.90. Supersonic cruise demands a different balance: lower bypass ratios to handle shockwaves and compression, robust thermal tolerance, and the ability to operate efficiently across wide speed ranges.
Crucially, no jet engine currently in production meets the needs of the Overture, meaning Boom must design one from scratch — a monumental undertaking. Engines are the most complex components in any aircraft, requiring years of testing, enormous capital, and deep engineering experience. Historically, only established giants like GE, Pratt & Whitney, and Rolls‑Royce have succeeded.
Boom’s answer is the Symphony: an in‑house turbofan engine project developed in partnership with Florida Turbine Technologies (a subsidiary of Kratos), Colibrium Additive (under GE Aerospace), and StandardAero.
Symphony is billed as a medium‑bypass turbofan capable of roughly 40,000 pounds of thrust, optimized for supercruise — the ability to sustain supersonic flight without fuel‑gobbling afterburners. Symphony also promises support for 100% Sustainable Aviation Fuel (SAF), aligning with modern emissions goals.
A headline feature is “Boomless Cruise,” a flight regime up to Mach 1.3 designed to eliminate audible sonic booms on the ground. If delivered, this would be transformative. One of the biggest regulatory hurdles for supersonic flight is the international ban on overland supersonic cruise due to sonic boom noise. A boomless mode — where shockwaves don’t reach the ground — could open vast new route possibilities.
But questions remain. Developing an entirely new engine is unprecedented outside of legacy manufacturers. Even with partnerships, Boom must master complex areas like aerodynamic design, high‑temperature materials, turbine cooling, certification hurdles, and manufacturing scale. The industry has seen startups struggle for decades against these same challenges.
Orders and Market Realities: Demand, Price, and the Quest for Viability
Part of Boom’s strategy is to shift the market dynamic. Rather than relying on ultra‑wealthy individuals or niche charters, Boom aims to sell supersonic travel in business‑class‑equivalent pricing — significantly less than Concorde’s first‑class‑only fares.
As of late 2025, Boom has announced orders and options from several major carriers:
| Airline | Firm Orders | Options |
|---|---|---|
| American Airlines | 20 | 40 |
| Japan Airlines | 20 | — |
| United Airlines | 15 | 35 |
| Total | 55 | 95 |
These figures demonstrate serious interest: legacy carriers are willing to make long‑term commitments. Whether these orders translate into deliveries will depend on certification timing, operating costs, and broader airline strategies.
Airlines have seen rising demand for premium travel in recent years, especially on long‑haul transoceanic routes. Business travelers, time‑sensitive executives, and high‑yield customers represent a segment willing to pay more for shorter flights.
Boom claims it can price seats close to business class on subsonic jets — not the exorbitant premiums Concorde once commanded — potentially making supersonic travel accessible to a larger market.
Still, skepticism persists. The key metric remains operating economics: fuel burn per seat, maintenance costs, engine reliability, and environmental compliance. If Overture remains prohibitively expensive or fuel‑inefficient, airlines may cancel orders or hedge with optional deliveries.
Supersonic travel faces scrutiny beyond economics. Aviation accounts for a growing share of global emissions, and regulators are tightening limits on noise and pollutants.
Concorde’s era saw environmental objections focus on ozone depletion and pollution at high altitudes, louder takeoff noise, and the cumulative impact of a potential fleet of supersonic jets. While some of these concerns have faded or been disproven, others have evolved in light of climate change discourse.
SAF offers one pathway to reduce the carbon footprint of supersonic jets, but questions remain about scalability, cost, lifecycle emissions, and certification. Moreover, sonic boom rules still constrain route planning, despite Boom’s “Boomless Cruise” claims. Regulators will need to be convinced that new supersonic aircraft won’t disturb communities or harm sensitive ecosystems.
Certification itself is a long, expensive process. Overture must satisfy not just traditional airworthiness standards, but noise and emissions regulations that vary by region. The FAA, EASA, and other authorities will scrutinize every aspect — from high‑altitude emissions to take‑off noise.
Boom’s ambitions sit against a backdrop of aerospace industry headwinds. Development delays are common even for the largest OEMs; supply chain bottlenecks, skilled workforce shortages, and cost inflation have plagued recent programs.
Supersonic efforts by other startups — including Aerion and Spike Aerospace — have already collapsed under financial strain. Boom’s perseverance is notable, but resilience alone does not guarantee success.
The biggest single risk is the engine. If Symphony fails to deliver on performance, efficiency, or certification timelines, Overture could grind to a halt. Engine development alone has sunk many aviation dreams; even Boeing and Airbus rely on established partners for propulsion.
Moreover, the broader airline market is vulnerable to economic cycles. Recession, fuel price volatility, or geopolitical shifts could dampen demand for premium travel — shrinking the very market segment Boom needs.
Competition could also emerge. Legacy manufacturers like Boeing, Airbus, and Rolls‑Royce have research programs in supersonic propulsion, and government agencies are investigating quiet‑boom technologies. If larger players enter the field, Boom could face stiffer competition for orders and talent.
Two decades after Concorde’s retirement, the return of commercial supersonic flight seems closer than ever — yet still uncertain.
Boom Supersonic sits at a critical inflection point. Overture promises speed, reduced environmental impact, and price points that could expand the supersonic market beyond the realm of the ultra‑wealthy. Its partnerships for Symphony reflect an understanding that modern aerospace requires collaboration.
But the odds remain daunting. Engine development, certification, environmental regulation, airline economics, and global demand all pose potential setbacks. Boom must not only build a plane — it must build confidence.
Concorde was a technological marvel that ultimately failed to justify itself in economic reality. Boom’s challenge is to learn from that history without being constrained by it: to craft a supersonic airliner that isn’t just fast, but commercially sustainable, environmentally mindful, and desirable to global travelers.
In the coming years, the aviation industry and the traveling public will watch closely. If Boom’s Overture takes flight as planned in the late 2020s, supersonic travel could once again reshape our understanding of distance, time, and connection.
