For a variety of reasons, some of them having to do with money and some of them having to do with Atom Smasher's belief that living within walking distance of his lab is ABSOLUTELY CRITICAL to his survival, we live rather close to campus.
Normally, this is fine. Sure, there are those occasional evenings when I go out on the street with my baseball bat or machete and bitch someone out for having a loud conversation about how they're going to go "f*ck this girl who's so drunk she won't remember sh*t" (true story), but mostly it's okay. We live next door to the president of the neighborhood association, who also happens to be the head of the German department and she is not slow to call the cops when necessary.
However, tonight...tonight the marching band is learning a new song. Or rather, they are learning a medley. Of Cher songs. Step one is "listen to the actual song as it was written." First, we had "Do You Believe in Life After Love?" at full volume. Then we had "Turn Back Time." Then we had not Cher, but instead "Like A Prayer" from Madonna. Now, odd as it may be to sit in my aerie and listen to Cher wafting over the rooftops...it only got odder when we reached step two...and the band began its rendering of these popular favorites. Have you ever heard a marching band play "Turn Back Time"? No? Me either. One hopes that the opposing football team will simply lay down on their backs and writhe like dying insects when they hear this crap, because that's certainly what I feel like doing.
I do not even like Cher, so I feel bad for you. I hope you survive without wanting to claw your ears out.
ReplyDeleteMathsquatch out.
Go find the "Conet Project" CDs; it's a collection of numbers stations* and other bizarre things that shortwave radio listeners have come across. Find something on one of the disks that either freaks you out or annoys you. Take your stereo speakers and put them on the sill of the window facing the football field. Play the CD as loud as you can.
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* Odd transmissions of numbers, usually read by a machine, that are supposedly messages for spies. Youtube has a nice collection of these.
I feel for you Black Dog. Here in Wheatville the town is the college and there is no place far from campus, but at least the little snowflakes that live next door to me play good music way too loud.
ReplyDeleteHere's one...how about you move? The band was there before you moved there and will be there after. The band is not your personal jukebox. They play things that may be entertaining to the masses. They bust their asses each and every week and give up A LOT of time to not only support the football team, but you can bet your bottom dollar they are doing demo shows, parades, pep bands for alumni and whatever else the president wants live music for on any given occasion.
ReplyDeleteSO, instead of maligning these MUSICIANS for being hard-working by PRACTICING and usually one of the highest GPA on campus why don't you either buy some noise cancelling earphones, MOVE, or enjoy the tunes?
**Former Band Geek OUT**
Hey, at least they stopped playing, "Rock and Roll Part 2" (yes, I know why). I always hated that one: the lyrics are straight out of "Idiocracy."
ReplyDelete@Bitchy...Yes. I could move. Actually, they were not there before I moved here, they came afterward. And next year they will be gone because somebody is building them a building, which they seriously deserve so as not to be freezing their lips to their tubas in December.
ReplyDeleteTo be fair, I sometimes like them. And I was a band geek in high school so I can only imagine what it's like to be a band geek in college. They used to play "Start Me Up," which I adored, along with "Sweet Home Alabama," which was kind of hilarious because we are not Alabama and you would think the UA band would have a monopoly on this kind of thing.
It was really the Cher/Madonna medley + first practice of these songs that was the issue. I am also often not home during marching band practice, but I skipped Bastardized Latin Dance class last night.
Our own marching band at Euphoric State University has, for some unfathomable reason, selected "Boy Bands" for this year's marching show. To be serenaded at halftime with an arrangement of "Bye Bye Bye" followed by "The Right Stuff". . . I'm not sure that properly conveys the aura of unbridled seething machismo that the athletic department would like to project at football games.
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