Entries by tag: medleys
Not just the ones that I used to hear on AM radio and variety shows, where the first verse or several pop hits dissolve into each other like poorly-designed Powerpoint presentation viewed by a stoned audience-- but just about every medley I've ever heard. By that I mean, all those up-to-5-minute "songs" that are composed by sticking bits of real songs together, so that as soon as I remember the words, as soon as I know the refrain, we're off into another song. Or worse, as often happened with "pop medleys," as soon as I anticipate hearing a favorite song, we're off into that song I never liked or never knew, with a vaguely differing, the story of the first song forgotten. If you've attended choral recitals before, you have probably heard enough to hate them with me.
Medleys are like '70s prime-time variety shows, or the disconnected ramblings of a senile person with ADHD or a hyperactive reaction to medication: not just nostalgia, but random-access nostalgia, where you get the first part of the story of how your grandparents met and followed by part of the story of what you said when you first saw a horse. When you start to sing a song to me, just sing the whole thing or stop; don't move on to the next song that you half-remember, leaving me with lyricus interruptus. Either bring me in for the long haul, or leave me the fuck alone.
Possible exceptions are the instrumental folk and classical medleys, for instance those mini-sets of jigs or reels or whatever that Tannahill Weavers and the like offer. Those merely annoy and disturb me, rather than arouse me to loathing, because I am too ignorant to know the rest of the song. The fragments are tantalizing hints of propers tunes. And, well, the classical composers who borrowed folk tunes to mix into their orchestrations, well, they are more or less just taking riffs. Mostly. I don't actually think I should be allowed to yell at them and douse them with fruit-flavored instant drink.
The rest of those medley-people, though, had better watch out. If I ever achieve world domination, they had better wear their old clothes and their customer service face.
Medleys are like '70s prime-time variety shows, or the disconnected ramblings of a senile person with ADHD or a hyperactive reaction to medication: not just nostalgia, but random-access nostalgia, where you get the first part of the story of how your grandparents met and followed by part of the story of what you said when you first saw a horse. When you start to sing a song to me, just sing the whole thing or stop; don't move on to the next song that you half-remember, leaving me with lyricus interruptus. Either bring me in for the long haul, or leave me the fuck alone.
Possible exceptions are the instrumental folk and classical medleys, for instance those mini-sets of jigs or reels or whatever that Tannahill Weavers and the like offer. Those merely annoy and disturb me, rather than arouse me to loathing, because I am too ignorant to know the rest of the song. The fragments are tantalizing hints of propers tunes. And, well, the classical composers who borrowed folk tunes to mix into their orchestrations, well, they are more or less just taking riffs. Mostly. I don't actually think I should be allowed to yell at them and douse them with fruit-flavored instant drink.
The rest of those medley-people, though, had better watch out. If I ever achieve world domination, they had better wear their old clothes and their customer service face.
Comments
I particularly like, "This is not a consumer event."