Ambient Music.

To be honest, I think I am still a little shook up over last night’s Saramagian fiasco!
So, I’ve got to let off a bit of steam here.
Tell me. Am I allowed to go on a bit of a rant now and then, on this blogpage?
Thank you.
Today’s the day.
I would like to just calmly mention a few things about what I consider to be one of the most colossal cultural mysteries of our modern era. Indeed, it is a riddle as unsolved as the legendary one concerning the exact pyramid-building procedures of Ancient Egypt. Or whether the Bermuda Triangle really eats airplanes.
Truly, this mystery is greater!
Simply put, I would like to know what Hydra-Headed Beast has been put in charge of the global selection and distribution of ambient music that we as human beings are constantly subjected to, and invariably within earshot of.
What office does it work out of? What is the address, that we may bomb it, forthwith?

What do I mean by ambient music?
Well, I mean the music that is just piped-in and unasked-for, no matter what store or public place you walk into nowadays.
In fact, I am listening to a fine example of it right now, here in the mega-bookstore. Actually, (this is no exaggeration) I am hearing not just one, but TWO examples of ambient music.... one from the bustling Starbucks system and the other from the bookstore itself. They are converging upon my defenseless head, beating themselves against the anvil of my ears, competing for dominance. Is this supposed to soothe the beast in me? Make me buy books? Or coffee?
If so, this marketing tool is missing its mark. I am fitting absolutely nowhere in the Hydra-Headed Beast’s demographic chart.
The only real effect this bombardment of sound has on me is to cause my eyelids to flutter. Also, I very much fantasize about shooting the overhead speaker grille right out of its false-ceilinged moorings. I would love to see that insidious tin seive dangling by its umbilical cord. Smoke curling upwards and every eye in this place turning toward me, the Deliverer!
The Bringer of Peace!

I would like to know the history of this thing called ambient music.
At what point in history did it dawn upon someone that we as humans cannot possibly live without music for even a few moments in a store or elevator?
What is so wrong with silence?
Maybe I’m weird though.... an anomaly. Some sort of dinosauric throwback to a time when our own thoughts were noise enough. I must be.
Because as I look around this room here, it is apparent that the two types of ambient music in this particular place are not providing enough racket for some patrons. No.
They have HEADPHONES on.
And they are reading at the same time.
Now, hold on here. Stop the train. Something just does not seem right for me, and I’m going to take a few deep breaths and try to understand it..... you are READING.... and then also, you are LISTENING TO MUSIC. Literally, the music could not be any closer to the same brain that is trying to comprehend the full meaning of a printed page, than in the scenario I am painting here. Essentially.... you are welcoming intense cerebral distraction while at the same time trying to concentrate on....
Here is a comparative image that springs to my mind:
A person eating a tub of lard during liposuction surgery.
I mean.... is it not time to decide upon one or the other my dear?

Now, I would like to conclude with just one final observation.
If we are doomed to have to contend with ubiquitous ambient music for the rest of our lives, could we at least make better choices as to what is played where?
Here is what I mean. Basically, it is the issue of LYRICS I am talking about.
Invariably, (please correct me if I am wrong here), in the very places where musing and introspection and philosophical digression could be greatly enhanced with nice soothing instrumental music quietly playing in the background... in these very places is where the snappy lyrical tunes are chirping out of the overheads!
What I mean is this. You will be sitting in a nice mellow coffee place, or say a bookstore... a place where one might be tempted to relax, stretch out and think, read, or quietly talk with a friend. But then.... what is hovering over your head like a seagull ready to unload?
The Barenaked Ladies, singing like a herd of monkeys about what they would do if they had a million dollars! And then all of a sudden your thoughts are scattered because you’re wondering along with this band of goofballs “Hey, yeah! Why don’t they sell pre-wrapped bacon?”
Or.... “Hmmm... how much would it cost to buy John Merrick’s remains?”
Or you’re trying to focus on some beautiful passage in Anna Karenina when all of a sudden WHOMP, the pin-up punk is screaming into your brain cavity “Hit me baby one more time!” and you want to hit someone all right! You want to shoot the speakers out of the ceiling.
The very place where you want to chill out is being blasted out with lyrical music!
Who is choosing this? Is it really that most obvious possibility?
Satan?
Seriously, why can’t they have something more relaxing that has never been put to words?
Or stuff that is put to words but is unintelligable... like Enya? How about one of those ethereal instrumental creations, or some of that New Agey stuff.
John Tesh.
Shirley MacLaine playing a cello.... I don’t care, as long as it does not have words!
But.... (and here is the killer for me).... you go somewhere where you would actually like to be distracted, and this is where they are playing the soothing instrumental stuff.
You know what I mean?
You’re trying to get an airline ticket via the telephone and you are put on hold. Now you are going to be listening to Zamfir until you swear you are growing hooves!
This is when I wouldn’t mind singing a song..... and you give me the pan flute?
Or you are in the supermarket. Well I’ll be danged! I’ve never heard a Hawaiian luau actually echoing off a wall of detergent boxes before.... but I’m sure hearing it now! This is one of the very rare moments when I wouldn’t mind Britney Spears to liven things up a bit. But no, she’s at the bookstore!
And, worst of all. What about the doctor’s waiting room?
I want distraction here. I want to sing something. I don’t want to think of the prostate exam!
But you know it as well as I do. What’s playing in here?
Kenny G.
And you don’t even want to glance at the little old lady sitting adjacent to you because you can see that she is knee-deep into a Cosmopolitan! And there is already wayyyyy too much romance in the room!

I want the address of the Hydra-Headed Beast!
I want his number!