The Culture of Clubbing on College Hill

           It is no secret that students at Brown University go out on weekend (and even some weekday) nights; however, what is often a secret to the non-student world is the way that they interact and engage with not only each other, but also their environment within the club or bar. These students have a double identity of sorts, as during the day they are assumed to be hard working scholars at an elite university, but come nightfall, they can turn into a cliquish and pleasure seeking group. While part of a larger group, they then form sub-groups where they exhibit how club culture is a true example of a subculture, where tastes in music and club-goers interactions with it illustrate cultural capital and one’s place in this world.  As Rupa Huq states in Beyond Subculture: Pop, Youth and Identity in a Postcolonial World, what truly brings these groups of students together is “the idea of ‘habitus’, i.e….[shared] life backgrounds, education and work” in relation to music, actions and socializations (50). By using education as the main draw, I’ve explored three places on or bordering College Hill and have used Brown students as my subjects to explore the multifaceted topic of college club culture. The club, as stated by Robert Hollands in “Divisions in the Dark: Youth Cultures, Transitions and Segmented Consumption Spaces in the Night-time Economy,” is one of the “sites of ‘social centrality’…providing intense but short-lived moments of collectivity and…‘ecstasy’” (157). It is evident that music plays a big part in how socially ingrained students are with these places. But how do these places really function since they are not all the same?

            Starting off at The Grad Center Bar(GCB), since it is the only place that is right on campus, as it is in one of Brown’s dormitories. It is both easy to get to, and being an independent members-only bar, it is cheap (an obvious draw for students) and primarily visited by those in the Brown community. As stated in my second set of fieldnotes, much like a classic dive bar, there is not much focus on the music at the GCB and surprisingly, some patrons seemed to be completely unaware of it.

                                                    

                                               Students talking over the low sounds 

                                               of Hall & Oates's 1982 song "Maneater." 

There was no dance floor and the bartender played the dual role of barkeep and DJ, sometimes fiddling with the volume when a song started playing that was too loud for the intimate atmosphere. Since there was a mix of students drinking by the bar, along with students talking about poetry in Spanish, there was a very academic atmosphere to this environment. Due to the restrictions presented by people studying, the music can’t be turned up and this place will stay in limbo between bar and study space, where “significant groups of young people are…restricted to [a certain extent of] leisure” (Hollands 160). 

The music must mesh with the quiet atmosphere

By keeping with this vibe, the music surprisingly works to give even more comfort to one’s surroundings, as my first interviewee stated that she “appreciate[s] the throwback quality of it, [as] it goes well with the ambiance.” The GCB is really only a place that “meet[s] the needs of [a] particular youth identity group…based around…genres of music” and the atmosphere it creates (Hollands 166).

            The importance of keeping a fitting ambiance in both music and décor is very important as I move to the English Cellar Alehouse right off of Thayer Street. Self described as Rhode Island’s only pub with an “English accent,” the alehouse exhibits “a more up-market feel [than a dive bar with its]…heavily stylized décor” and music to fit (Hollands 164). 

Will the music help this place keep up appearances?

In my first set of fieldnotes I mentioned that the music was “not too loud, but definitely enough to set a relaxed, but lively atmosphere.” Like the GCB, the Alehouse lacks a dance floor; however, the young college-age patrons are still comfortably cozy in booths and bar tables littered around the area. What both the GCB and the Alehouse have in common though is how they integrate themselves with their clientele, as “shared ideas and values…[in] ‘creative pubs attract creative people’” (Hollands 167). While the décor, including a British telephone booth, is very much evocative of England, the music is a strange mix of both oldies from the ‘80s and ‘90s, along with Top 40 and (surprisingly) very little music that could be classified as Brit-rock. Without a clearly defined DJ or area to dance, this musical selection does not make sense for the venue and seems out of place, or, in the words of an acquaintance I bumped into said, “grating.”

            However, what happens when a place does not set out to be incredibly different, and fully basks in its Top 40 music? The Whiskey Republic, much like the Alehouse, sets up their very own vibe, as the focus is on “minimalist and heavily stylized décor, [Top 40 music] and…drinks”, especially on Brown night when the place is packed with undergraduates every Wednesday night (Hollands 164). When the music is blasted, it is evident that “individual clubbers…are part of one crowd…grow[ing] out of going out dancing…[to] a fast turnover of singles, artists and genres” as Sarah Thornton states in “Exploring the Meaning of the Mainstream (or Why Sharon and Tracy Dance Around Their Handbags)” (99). However, one of the most interesting things about The Whiskey Republic is how closely the Brown students stick together, thus making those outside of this culture stand out.  As these “students…distinguish themselves from a mainstream of working-class” people who are much older, or the Townies (Thornton 96). One of the ways in which they force those not in the group to be outed is purely by their youth, a “prestige symbol” which both separates them from the Townies, but also creates a culture that is very alluring for those outside (Thornton 102).

Brown students take over The Whiskey Republic. Photo credit: Audra E. Clark

            Another way in which these students show their solidarity is by dancing to the Top 40 hits being played at maximum volume by a DJ named DJ Meatball. When a group is on the dance floor, it becomes “a conduit through which individual and group identities are…actualized” as illustrated by Rajinder K. Dudrah’s “Drum’n’dhol 1: British Bhangra Music and Diasporic South Asian Identity Formation” (378). Because of the popularity of group formation, “music is felt through pulsations on the dance floor [and between the dancers] as much as it is heard” (Huq 93.) The dance floor is also a place where gender roles are realized, as dancing is “the first choice for an evening out for [college age] women” (Thornton 103). At The Whiskey Republic, women are seen dancing together in groups, while the men are either dancing with women one-on-one or lingering on the outskirts to move in on a woman. However, the girls did not seem to mind when a guy comes up behind them to dance, as the while “male use…[is] ‘central and personal’…the female orientation to music…[is] ‘instrumental and social’” (Thornton 104).

            Another interesting thing indicating the tactical usages of music for these young club-goers is how often they request songs and illustrate their relationships with the DJ. DJ Meatball is right on the edge of the dance floor, so it is convenient for both guys and girls to ask for a song request. I even requested a song for my friend’s 21^st birthday and he played it within 10 minutes, along with a dedication to her. By showing off their rapport with the DJ, these students “are able to utilize cultural power…to achieve…[subcultural capital and] power” (Hollands 161). He has given out free CDs of his mixes and plays a very popular range of music, mostly staying within the Top 40 range, and is in tune with the dance floor, as they never appear to be bored. In addition to the Top 40, he also plays mashups and remixes largely created by other DJs, joining old songs with new beats. While some of the songs, like Rick Springfield’s “Jessie’s Girl,” are too old, or newer songs, like Foster the People’s “Pumped Up Kicks,” are too indie for many of the students to have a cultural association with, it illustrates well the concept that there is a stark “contrast…[between those songs and] the principle of authenticity” (Huq 93). It even annoys members of the culture, as Hannah stated in our interview, “there’s a limit and when every…lots of nights turn into…all these songs from the 90’s I’m just like ‘Stop’…[along with]…having a lot of trouble every time someone’s like ‘Oh my God, play “Pumped Up Kicks,” please?’ and I was like ‘Dear God, no.’”
                                                    
                                                             Her frustration is evident.

 While singing along to Ke$ha or Katy Perry is natural for 18-22 year old women, who are the ones doing most of the singing, how likely are they to remember 1981 or be part of the indie subculture? Not very; however, by resignifying such oldies as new pop hits by sampling a beat or a vocal track (done here with “Jessie's Girl”), these dance club reify the notion of “pop as a youth cultural signifier” (Huq 166). However, through the process of making these inauthentically poppy songs mainstream, the club scene illustrates its “potential for bringing about intergenerational [and interclique] dialogue” (Dudrah 378).

            Being a place where alcohol is freely served, there were many visibly inebriated students wandering around The Whiskey Republic, markedly more than any I saw at the other venues I visited. This state could obviously be due to the atmosphere, but surprisingly, it can also be explained by the music being played. As stated in “Sound Level of Environmental Music and Drinking Behavior: A Field Experiment With Beer Drinkers” by Nicholas Guégen, Céline Jacob et al., “fast music significantly decreased the amount of time spent on consuming a drink” (1795). This point would explain why I saw many more people taking shots and chugging drinks with friends than I saw at any other bar, as there was a “high ‘arousal’ level induced by high tempo music” (Guégen, Jacob et al., 1795). Also, since the music was so blaringly loud, it was not conducive to conversation. Unlike the GCB or the Alehouse, the Whiskey Republic exemplifies that “loud music impedes conversation, so that…clients drink more because they talk less” (Guégen, Jacob et al., 1797).

            Through my research it seems as if Brown’s club culture is not exclusively “a ‘subculture’ but a diffuse ‘milieu’ within” (Thornton 96) the greater scene of Providence club culture. Between those who prefer smaller dives like the GCB or the Alehouse, or those who like the loud music of The Whiskey Republic, the going out culture of Brown illustrates that the participants “listen to, and enjoy, the same music that is listened to by other people…[they] like” (Thornton 113). This reinforces and explains why they stick together and stay compliant with the “forms of social hierarchy” that exist on campus (Hollands 157). Moreover, this culture allows students to fit in, a feeling that is “really powerful…[to know that] you are accepted…[and] own the city” (Hollands 164). As the project concludes, I am left with questions such as, do similar group formations exist outside of college hill, what are other differentiating factors of the townies and how do people well out of college form nightlife social groups?

1,913 Words

Works Cited 

Clark, Audra E. Interior of The Whiskey Republic. 2011. Photograph. Providence, RI. 29 Mar. 2011.    
          Web.

Dudrah, Rajinder K. “Drum’n’dhol 1: British Bhangra Music and Diasporic South Asian Identity                  

          Formation.” European Journal of Cultural Studies 5.3 (2002): 363-383 

Guéguen, Nicholas, Céline Jacob, Hélène Le Guellec, Thierry Morineau, and Marcel Lourel. "Sound 

          Level of Environmental Music and Drinking Behavior: A Field Experiment With Beer Drinkers." 

          Alcoholism: Clinical and Experimental Research 31.10 (2008): 1795-798. 

Hollands, Robert. "Divisions in the Dark: Youth Cultures, Transitions and Segmented Consumption 

          Spaces in the Night-time Economy." Journal of Youth Studies 5.2 (2002): 153-71. 

Huq, Rupa. Beyond Subculture: Pop, Youth and Identity in a Postcolonial World. Abingdon, OX: 

          Routledge, 2006. 

Smith, Matthew. "Interview with Hannah Wiliams." Personal interview. 8 Nov. 2011. 

Thornton, Sarah. "Exploring the Meaning of the Mainstream (or Why Sharon and Tracy Dance Around 

          Their Handbags)." Club Cultures: Music, Media, and Subcultural Capital. Hanover, NH:           

          Wesleyan University Press, 1996. 87-115.

Signifyin' Corridos - Critical Review #8

What I found immensely interesting about this article was how similar the corridos are to the signifyin’ monkey tales. It seems like no matter which subculture you go to, they each have a sort of culturally significant tale to tell and pass down through their music. The interesting thing though, that specifically connects the corridos to the signifyin’ monkey tales is that these tales which relate to them often relate to the other subcultures which are passing down this music through these tales as well – and they also share a similar history as they “functioned almost exclusively as a storytelling form….[moving towards being] upbeat and danceable” (214.)

By serving “to link a population that was under constant cultural assault from the Anglo[s]” (217,) these tales showed the solidarity of these groups and how they were to make “any American tremble at his feet” (221.) Coming from the common man, all of these songs, whether made by Blacks or Mexicans illustrates how they felt like they had to resort to music to express their frustration at repression in a nonviolent way (even if the subject matter wasn’t rated PG.) However, we know that people outside of black culture listened to the signifyin’ monkey tales, but Wald didn’t get too into if Whites were listening to the corridos, something I’d be interested in exploring, but did succinctly illustrate how the corridos were attempts to hold on to culture in an Americanized world.

Music, Flow and Atmosphere - Fieldnotes #2

Sitting in the Grad Center Bar (GCB) is a surreal thing. Having been a part of Brown’s student culture for three years prior to my current status as a senior of age to drink, I feel as if I have acquired some sort of object in the pre-graduation scavenger hunt of Brown social life. It is early enough in the evening that the rush of 21+ undergraduates throngs the space and it appears as if a friend I came with and I are the only two undergraduates here. Those at the table right in front of me are speaking what I could recognize as Portuguese, while those at the table across the room are speaking Spanish – my friend tells me that they are talking about poetry. The background music seems to be from a 1990s video game and the art around me reflects this feeling with abstract art covering the left wall, a vintage comic print of scenes from Providence, and a wooden sculpture apparently describing the trap of alcoholism encased in a plastic box in an enclave of the wall leading into the dart room.

I couldn’t find a DJ or anyone who was in charge of what music was being played, so I couldn’t ask for specific tracks, but I was surprised at how little cohesion the music had the longer I sat there. It went from playing an unrecognizable noise-art string of tracks to playing generic alternative rock from the 1990’s. It was at a loud enough level that the lack of cohesion made me actually jump when one song was transitioned over to the other. That being said, aside from a comment about that one startling track, not much was mentioned about the music. I don’t think it was because most of the patrons didn’t like the music, I think that it was because everyone here was not here for the music, some not even here for the alcohol as two people at one of the tables just had their laptops out and were doing work, not drinking nor talking. It wasn’t a weekend night, so understandably there would be those here not in that specific mood.

When I came back two hours later, the place was much more lively than it had been earlier in the evening. The music was louder and a little more current, but having no designated area to dance, there was no way for the patrons to really interact with the music that they were passively listening to. There also still was no DJ, creating a lack of any personification of the music or anyone to talk to about a potential change. Here, the listener is completely removed from the music (or is it the other way around,) thus making this a conducive space for small groups to get together, but there was very little mingling of groups or the illusion that there is a big group made out of these smaller circles. In some of the other places I’ve visited, it is this cohesion between music and atmosphere that resonates with all of the patrons and often brings people together. The GCB being a pretty clear opposite acts both to fortify my conclusions about music’s connection to atmosphere, but also goes to illustrate that the GCB lies in some hazy middle-ground between hang-out space and dive bar, having elements of both, but the true atmosphere of neither.

Response to BBC Jungle Doc & Back

When I watched this documentary the first thing that I was really hoping it would probe was the idea of lyrics in jungle music. It takes it samples from many different genres of Black music, whether it be reggae or soul; however, a lot of these samples are mixed up and mashed up. Sampling music seemed to be more about the sampling instead of the lyrical value of the music. I was very interested then, to see what those producing music and lyrics had to say about them and their influence on their audience.

I think that an interesting shift happened when the modes of production became available to everyone. As Koushik Banerjea stated “it provided an opportunity for a lot of urban youngsters…to actually inform music with…their own experiences and to make the music a bit more relevant to what they…were feeling.” These bedroom junglists were working towards not only changing the genre and making it more accessible, but also were bringing more legitimacy to the genre. Shy FX and DJ Gunsmoke illustrated this legitimacy by using their own personal experiences in their lyrics, using what Back stated as culture lyrics which educate their community both “black youth in Britain…[along with] a wide variety” (196) of others – lyrics that everyone could relate to. Banerjea illustrated how this brought legitimacy to the genre since it is a reflection on the reality of the perceptions of young black men. Instead of glamorizing violence, it acts as an escape from the reality and to subvert these common misconceptions, something which I think is very powerful as it illustrates how the music acts both as an escape, but also as a social vehicle to catalyze the potential for social change.

Race and Gender in the World of Bhangra - Critical Review #7

I thought that it was very interesting how British Bhangra was very inclusive of both race (which I talked about in my discussion question for this week) and gender in Dudrah’s “Drum’n’dhol.” While the upbeat tempo of the songs, and the fusion with "modern technology and urban black sounds" (364) gave it a very similar sound to hip-hop, I found it very interesting that “the performance of Bhangra…opens up spaces where the socially constructed identities of…[gender are] recreated” (367.) Here we can see that there is no pressure to objectify the women, or for the women to act as objects of the male gaze. By having an equality on the dance floor, between men and women, but also between those in the gay subculture, the music can take on a very social aspect and have a strong message that can truly reach everyone, while also being appealing based on the music itself.

I partially disagree with Sharma et al. and Gopinath’s arguments that “there is an imbalance in the attention…[given to] the social…aspects of the music” (368) because while as Frith argues that “music has a social value being a way of affirming personal identity” (368,) I think that in the fact that the music is so inclusive, that, in a way, affirms the personal identity of inclusivity, because unlike cultures where personal identity is built around keeping others out, I think that much can be learned from including those of all genders/sexualities as well as races.

The Woman's Plight - Critical Review #6

Something that I found very interesting in Back’s chapter were the gender differences in content and perception of the MCs’ lyrics. For male MCs, it was perfectly acceptable and even regarded as “educated…[and] uplifting” (196) to use culture lyrics to address the problems that are going on in the world for both “black youth in Britain…[but also] a wide variety” (196) of peoples and cultures. Just the fact that these MCs were concerned with not just issues that directly affected them, but brought it out to a white working-class demographic is very interesting to me, as this extension of their music does not de-legitimize them in any way it seems, it does just the opposite.

However, when it comes to the female MCs, I could definitely see that if they were to attempt to address socio-cultural issues that the males were bring up in their lyrics, they would face the fate of not being taken seriously as they are “accused of being ‘slack’” (202) due to their lyrics being twisted so, even when they are trying to talk about a woman’s plight, they have “guys coming up to…[them] laughing” (202) in their faces and taking away the power of their words. While it does not seem as if they are being objectified as much as American female MCs were in our study of hip-hop, it appears that these women faced a similar problem of not being taken seriously, which is equally devastating.

Tactical Reappropriation - Critical Review #5

The fact that heavy metal started as a type of music to “evoke…power and potency” (Walser 1) illustrated that those who were into the culture had tastes that strongly contrasted what was mainstream; however, like most things that are so far away from what is mainstream, Heavy Metal got expanded to a more mainstream and accepting audience. By shifting its focus from “the exclusive domain of male teenagers…[the audience] became older…younger…and more female” (12-13.) This marks an interesting shift in how the music was listened to. While there was still the core basis of listeners that appreciated the music itself, Walser postulates that the genre became more preformative in the sense that the aesthetic factors were promoted just as much as the music itself, even by MTV, as it was “a natural for television…[with] its important visual dimension [which] could be exploited” (13.) This lead to it being broken up to appeal to multiple audiences, from thrashy punk metal to romantic hair metal.

While true that Heavy Metal had a significant influence on other types of music, this influence appeared to be mostly tactical. Eddie Van Halen’s “noisy, virtuosic solo” in Michael Jackson’s 1982 mega hit “Beat It,” it seems as if this was merely a way for a pop song to appeal to a mass audience, while still having an edge of “danger, intensity, and excitement” (15.) Can these sounds still be scary when sung by Jackson in a non-threatening way? I definitely think that there is potential; however, the metal took a back seat to Jackson and only went to make him look better, instead of the genre. By being unable to achieve a balance in the mixing of the genres, it appears that the mainstream will always overpower a subculture, in turn, making it appear as if it has sold out.

Interview Excerpt

Interview with Hannah. She is in normal text, I am in italics.

So, going out, anything from, when I first got to Brown and didn’t know any better, I went to frat parties and such, but I haven’t really been to anything like that for a while. I tend to go to house parties of Brown and RISD students; I go to bars and shows occasionally. That kind of thing.

Which bars?

I really like the English Cellar Alehouse, and, I mean, it was pretty hilarious when it was Liquid Lounge. So I go there, I like the Red Fez, I like Wickenden pub and a couple other things. A lot of the times it depends on the night and who I’m with.

And do you ever frequent the more “Brown,” said in air quotes clubs like…

Spats?

Yeah, and the Whiskey Republic and/or FishCo?

Well, I went to FishCo more when I was younger, but I’ve only been to the whiskey republic twice since it re-opened, and I’ve been to spats maybe a total of five times. I just don’t really like those places that much.

And would you say that the music you like is well represented in any of those places?

More in the house parties than anything else, sometimes, but not a lot. I’ve kind of resigned myself to the fact that at the majorities of parties, or places where I’m out, that I’m not going to like the music that much and I just have to get over it.

And so how do you get over it?

I just ignore it really.

Ignore the music?

Ignore the music or if I can, try to just kind of let go of the fact that I don’t like it and if everyone else seems to be enjoying it, I just kind of pretend like I do, like fake it till you make it kind of thing.

And what kind of music would you say is mostly played there, at those parties?

Just like, at a lot of bars and stuff it’s just like popular, I don’t know, like some Top 40, and a lot of things it’s top forty or it’s, I mean, I love kickback stuff, I love retro, “Oh let’s bring back…” “Oh I used to love this song” as much as the next person, but there’s a limit and when every…lots of nights turn into this like, all these songs from the 90’s I’m just like “Stop.” I don’t know, so, I can get a little frustrated with that but then I just try to be in the moment if I can.

And then so I guess, what are some of the songs that you hear the most that you have trouble getting over, or are there songs that keep popping up that you can’t get over?

Well I’ve gotten a little bit better recently with [the band] Foster the People because for a while I was having a lot of trouble every time someone’s like “Oh my God, play pumped up kicks, please?” and I was like “Dear God no.” This summer I actually tackled someone who was about to put on “Like a G6” in my house because that song is not allowed in my house, under any circumstances.

Performance Ethnography Essay

Foregrounding Background Music

It was snowing outside and I had called three cab companies – two companies didn’t pick up at all, and the other had a wait of 45 minutes. It wouldn’t take me more than 25 minutes to walk downtown, so I put on my heaviest coat and started my trek down to the AS220 FOO(d) Restaurant. The walk was bitterly cold and I was starting to lose feeling in my feet as my wet socks were starting to freeze, I opened the door to the FOO(d) Restaurant and was immediately transported into a small pub in the hills of Ireland. It was cozy, dimly lit and I was greeted with the sound of fiddles and chatter all around me. I felt instantly warm and I was ready for a few hours of music on a Saturday evening.

I sat down at the bar and was handed a dinner menu as I ordered a cup of hot cider. After perusing the menu and ordering some warm food, I looked around the restaurant and noticed a few people actively engaged to the music; however, to my surprise and sadness, most people weren’t paying much attention to the music at all and were treating it as one would treat a cd. In a sense, it really was just background music as the group of musicians playing Irish traditional music (lead by Jimmy Devine and featuring Mark Roberts, Andrea Cooper, and Teddi Scobi) was tucked away in a corner of the room instead of on a proper stage. One thing I noticed though was that, in contrast to the dimly lit majority of the restaurant, the brightest light in the room was focused on the musicians, instantly captivating my gaze. I had little prior knowledge about Irish folk music; however, I could clearly tell that this was a group of very talented musicians. Maybe it was because I came for the music, and the food was just a pleasant secondary element to my experience, but I thought that the musicians deserved much more attention and respect than the amount that they were given.

The show lacked an emcee or a program, and the musicians did little talking, so the names of the songs were lost and it was hard to recall any songs post-show, whether to purchase online or just to hear once more. It was obvious that these musicians weren’t here for publicity, but instead for pure enjoyment of what they were playing. This sentiment came across very well, as they appeared to be very excited to play some of their songs with their bows moving rapidly and feet tapping vehemently. These songs had the power to draw the crowd in the most, as much of the talking stopped and I could see heads turn to get a better listen to the music. These were the songs garnered the most applause when they were over, which I was happy to see. However, some of the other songs seemed more like part of a traditional Irish folk canon and were played in a more routine, “we have to get these out of the way,” manner. I could see the audience return to their food and tune out of these lower energy, albeit consistently well played, songs, some of which, to my shock, got no applause at all. That being said, Jimmy and his friends were very aware of how their music affected the audience and whenever there seemed to be too much of a lull and the music being produced from the fiddles sounded more mournful than festive, the band brought the energy up again. As I was waiting for my food, I sat at my chair and just watched the interactions that they were having with each other. Smiling and glancing at each other, they were truly engaged with their music and I felt as if I was witnessing a very real and intimate look at their lives. This scenario seemed very organic, making it seem more like a treat than a routine thing that happened every Saturday.

As attentive and talented as the musicians were, the general mood in the room was that the moderately crowded restaurant filled with patrons ranging from young children to people in their 60s had come for the food, but stuck around for the music. Upon walking in from the cold, one couple seemed completely unaware that there was going to be music. They were happily surprised, however, the female member even did a little jig as she took a seat at a center table. Even if that woman was doing it in a mocking way, she had a physical response to the music just as I did – I realized that my foot had been tapping while in the middle of a bite of warm maple glazed sweet potato mash, – for how long I do not know.

Every time I glanced at the musicians, I could see the downpour mix of rain, snow and hail out of the window that was behind them. I truly appreciated the warm ambiance that having cheerful musicians play festive music brought to the restaurant and, even though it was nearing the end of their timeslot, I truly did not want it to end. Thankfully their set didn’t end exactly at 7 and they played a few more songs for another 15 minutes, but then it just abruptly ended – thankfully to a good amount of applause from everyone. I was surprised that they made no mention of their last song and there was nothing said afterward – not even a thank you and definitely nothing about where we could purchase their music. I felt a little bit cheated as I would like to have known more about these entertainers; however, both the restaurant’s and their own treatment of them post-show just went to reinforce how they weren’t the main draw for most of the patrons there, but more like a secondary thought. As they packed up and left, I got another mug of hot cider, paid my bill and faced the snowy trek up College Hill. I don’t know if was the cider or the enjoyable and fulfilling music that I had just been listening to, but I was kept warm and rosy during my entire walk home.

1,047 Words