We all have our own set of musical tastes.  Some of us overlap, some are
eclectic, and some tastes are exclusively singular.  I can understand
that and, as a member of the human race, let it be.

But when other's tastes are forced upon me, I find my reactions
interesting.  At the gym, frequented by many under 30-year-olds, I am
forced to listen to very loud, bad bad vocals and instrumentals of the
latest, what is now called I think, rock.  Despite my many pleas to lower
the volume, I am looked upon as a voice crying in the wilderness. To
them, and that includes the elder owners of the gym, the music is
motivating.  They can lift more, stay at it longer.  And  conversations,
spoken at the top of one's voice, are a strain.

My reaction is one of anger and frustration.  The sounds coming from the
cheap speakers de-motivate me and take all the energy away from me.  What
confounds me is the fact that the music played is always of one type.
Don't ask me what it is.  Acid rock?  Whatever.  There is no room for
other tastes.

I would love to bring in "La Traviata".  Boy, would that motivate me.
Or perhaps some Band Organ tapes I purchased in Amsterdam.  Forget it.
I once brought in a tape of '50's and early 60's music.  It was barely
tolerated and I had to take a stand to keep it playing to the end.

Well, that's only a slice of what is going on here in a small mountain
town near a medium university.  This piece is not meant to condemn any
group but just to relate some of my experiences.

Andy LaTorre¶
Orgue Mecanique¶
PO Box 1479¶
Cullowhe, NC  28723