Yesterday, Honey and I were done with our lunch. We had stopped at a restaurant in Ventura on the way back from a nice weekend away up the Central Coast. I had bidness at the branch of the system of which my university is a part at which I most covet a job. Did you follow that? I would like to work where we went.
One of my students asked me last week, in reference to the midterm, whether I would "write the question in really hard professor language." Another said, rather quickly, "don't give her any ideas!"
Anyway, nice weekend to be ended with lunch in Ventura.
We had good sandwiches but were both struck by how loud the place we had chosen was. They had four teevees going. Two with football and two with bull-riding. They were also playing music rather loudly. Our waiter was taking a bit getting us the check and I heard Honey singing "Help Me Rhonda" along with the music. I should note, quickly and vigorously, that Honey isn't a big Beach Boys fan. She can articulate this better than I. Indeed, she did so as we drove back to the freeway, explaining that, while she liked some Brian Wilson songs, the popular one were ubiquitous and not appealing to her. That's a paraphrase, but I think I got the gist.
I have other reasons for not liking that particular song. The good news is that I see my therapist tonight and "Help Me Rhonda" could well come up. Once I've processed, I may share out.
Honey and I agreed, and, indeed, have discussed and agreed on this before, that music in restaurants, well, sucks. It's loud. It interrupts both conversation and contemplative silence. It panders to the worst in music. It's either noise (pablum pop stripped of lyrics) or intrusive (Beach Boys). Either way, I'd like modern America a wee bit quieter. Ok, a lot quieter.
I know that there are undoubtedly studies that show that people are happier when they have music while they eat. It fills lulls in conversations and give those (theoretically) poor souls eating alone something to think about. But I think focus groups of this type have caused more harm than good. I like the sound of people talking and of dishes being moved around. I like these sounds whether alone or with people. I also like to be able to hear my dinner companion(s). And to read when alone.
I'm sure there are people who want to be the bringee in a world that is far too loud. Count me as not among that group.
Somebody turn down the damn music. I'm never, ever, going to help Brian Wilson or Rhonda, so no need to implore me to do so.
9 comments:
Earphones? Seriously, I know what you mean -- but I'd prefer too-loud music to silence. Speaking of bands (and Ventura), the wife and I have become huge fans of Army of Freshmen, a little punk-pop band from your neck of the woods. Also, I have a pet peeve about people who spell TVs as teevees. Thanks for stopping by my blog!
Let's get one thing clear: You are not allowed to move to the Central Coast. Nuh-uh.
I feel the need to clarify a slight misarticulation of my Beach Boys objections. I'm not one of those tiresome folks who detest music simply because it's popular. I hitched my star to the Norah Jones bandwagon just like everybody else, and I still think that debut album is damned good no matter how many times I hear a song from it while shopping at Old Navy.
It is my considered opinion, however, that the Beach Boys songs we hear the most in public are those that are inanely repetitive: "Fun, Fun, Fun"; "Dance, Dance, Dance"; "409"; "I Get Around"; "Barbara Ann"; "Help Me, Rhonda." You get the idea. A high school friend of mine who was a choir head once told me "watermelon" was the perfect word to quietly sing in repetition when you've forgotten the words to something, because the way the lips move when singing it makes you look like you're singing whatever you're supposed to be singing. "Watermelon watermelon watermelon watermelon" might be more entertaining than "Help me, Rhonda, help, help me, Rhonda. Help me, Rhonda, help, help me, Rhonda," because at least it's an acknowledgment of the meaningless void it's occupying.
Music was never meant to be wallpaper, and that which is isn't music!
I like dinner music that's just instrumental. It's a little something in the background, yet not intrusive to our conversation.
I agree -- keep the music off or play classic music. Thank goodness for iPods; now you only have to hear the music seeping out of their ears as they work on deafening themselves.
If I'm by myself or with my daughter fine, as I can usually tune it out. If I'm with my mom...fuggheeetabout it. She will point it out, put her hands over her ears and yell, "Why don't they turn that sh*t down!?!"
Music can serve a purpose: to distract one from the slurping noises if a dining companion is particularly slurpy.
But I do prefer it quiet. That way, one can more easily eavesdrop on the people seated nearby.
Suzanne is so practical.
I don't mind quiet music. I abhor loud music. Loud anything grates.
(hmm, well there have been those times with the top down on a bright summer day, when just the right song comes on....)
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