We’re about halfway through the semester, and everyone knows what that means: Pandora. That’s right, folks; it’s midterm season, so most of us are spending quite a bit of time in front of our computers “studying.” I think reaching the monthly limit of Pandora is just about the worst thing ever (but nothing a Google search can’t solve). Seriously though, I listen to so much Pandora that a few of those crazy music terms it uses to describe songs have worked their way into my daily vocabulary. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to look up headnotic in the Pandora FAQs section (it admits the word is pretend, just like Delaware.)
In fact, I must say it’s interesting to look at the world through the lens of Pandora. Vamping refers to improvisation over a repeated chord change. I’m no musician, but I think Pandora would say that my daily 104 College Park Metro Shuttle-UM bus features extensive vamping: It’s always different, but sort of the same. As I arrive on the campus, the fun continues: A blonde sorority girl with black leggings saunters by with mild rhythmic syncopation (1-2-3-4), but then some sassy Boricua with painted-on jeans struts past (1-and-2-and-3-and-4). Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about: heavy syncopation.
My first class is with a professor who’s got a vaguely foreign accent. Also, her lectures are incredibly boring. So, we’ll call her “odd meter” and “meandering melodic phrasing.” Next up is an English class with a professor who does a great job of showing the students just how cool some of our literature is. Seriously, the guy can take a sonnet and make me not hate poetry (for a few moments). So, the structure of that class exhibits “epic buildup/breakdown” and “interesting song structure.” The professor earned a doctorate from University of California, Berkeley in 1975, so he’s definitely got “West Coast roots” and might have been influenced by “political lyrics.” Combine that with his propensity to find sex in everything we read, and I’ll finish my Pandoranalysis with befitting descriptors: “smooth male lead vocalist” with “erotic lyrics.”
Later, as I’m walking to another class, some anonymous person blasts a stinker in the hallway (background horn riffs) just as I pass a seated girl chattering into her phone while writing in a notebook balanced on her knee (amazing instrumental prowess, angry-romantic lyrics and emotional female vocal). I finally step into a huge lecture hall, and already my ears are ringing: This professor prefers to use a microphone turned up to about a million decibels. Worse, she holds the mic right in front of her mouth; my ears are annihilated into static oblivion with her every exhalation (unique instrumentation, chopped and screwed production, use of background scratching and breathy female vocal).
At the end of a long day, I climb aboard the bus to head back home. Judging by my fellow riders’ stylings, influences and lyrics, this bus ride will feature a mélange of musical elements resulting in an interesting song structure with orchestral arranging, varying tempo, tonal harmony and varying rhythmic feels. Strangely enough, this metaphorical symphony is also quite tangible: About half of the people on the bus are listening to music, and if I strain my ears, I can just make out a few stray sounds and words over the steady groan of the engine. Music, it seems, helps us all get through the day.
Christopher Haxel is a junior English major. He can be reached at haxel at umdbk dot com.
