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Nick Christenson, according to his Sept. 3 letter “Not So Sweet Music,” is indignant that he and other “real” music fans have to put up with “intoxicated buffoonery” at the Twilight Summer Concert Series. You see, anyone gifted with a truly discerning ear would never drink or smoke at a concert—it deadens the pitch-sense.
Black Mamba, also a real music fan, wrote: “The last time—and I mean the last time—I went to Gallivan for a show, it more like a pathetic frat-house kegger. I had to laugh out loud at one promoter’s description of the shows as partly family affairs. Yeah, like Sturgis is a family affair—if your family is the Mafia.”
Still, not all of us can be gifted musical connoisseurs. Some of us are dunderheads. Instead of enjoying the interplay of musical tones, rhythms and key modulations, our brains have only reached the stage of development where we perceive music as a vague, sizzling noise.
Really, it’s the vibrations that get us going. The heavy, rhythmic thumping sensation stimulates our Neanderthal brain centers, making us jump up and down, drink whisky and get into brawls. We stare, drooling, off into space, and somebody has to point us toward the exits when the music finally stops.
That’s why Rant Control recommends that a special designated section for “real” music fans be constructed during the plaza’s upcoming renovation. That way, we loudmouthed louts can avoid offending everybody else’s’ delicate sensibilities.
Black Mamba, also a real music fan, wrote: “The last time—and I mean the last time—I went to Gallivan for a show, it more like a pathetic frat-house kegger. I had to laugh out loud at one promoter’s description of the shows as partly family affairs. Yeah, like Sturgis is a family affair—if your family is the Mafia.”
Still, not all of us can be gifted musical connoisseurs. Some of us are dunderheads. Instead of enjoying the interplay of musical tones, rhythms and key modulations, our brains have only reached the stage of development where we perceive music as a vague, sizzling noise.
Really, it’s the vibrations that get us going. The heavy, rhythmic thumping sensation stimulates our Neanderthal brain centers, making us jump up and down, drink whisky and get into brawls. We stare, drooling, off into space, and somebody has to point us toward the exits when the music finally stops.
That’s why Rant Control recommends that a special designated section for “real” music fans be constructed during the plaza’s upcoming renovation. That way, we loudmouthed louts can avoid offending everybody else’s’ delicate sensibilities.
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