The O-town Scene

Sam Spokony Call and response, an affirmation The day after the SUNY Oneonta Jazz Big Band’s concert, we had our last practice of the semester. After saying goodbye to graduat- ing seniors and discussing the finer points of the last few months, it wasn’t really nec- essary to rehearse anything. So Dr. Falbush, our direc- tor, took out his trumpet. The rhythm section and I started playing blues. After getting everyone’s attention, he and the horns played back and forth over the changes call- and-response style. As the guitarist in a big band, always in the background, I have a little extra time to think of altering the response, the horns shot the original one right back at him. It wasn’t so much an answer as an affirmation. In words, maybe something like: “This is good, yes?” “This is good. Yes.” What struck me about it was the symmetry. A sequence of pitches is recognized by the ear, trans- lated to the fingers and replicated, and it goes on. How often are responses so perfectly simple, and so exactly … right? It’s some- thing one might realize upon leaving the world of “This is good, yes?” “This is good. Yes.” about what’s going on. There are two kinds of call and response, really, I said to myself. In one case, you’ve got a starting phrase followed by a different, improvised reply to complement or enhance it. In words, maybe something like: “Where’s this thought headed?” “Right here, this way!” In the case of that final practice, there was a different force at work. When Dr. Fal- bush played a line, instead music; the notes disappear and we lose this magical lan- guage that gives simple repetition real mean- ing. Every day, in class or at work, it seems like the most straight- forward response is never enough. Not fast enough, not thorough enough, not important enough. In the days leading up to finals week, students begin to define themselves by the answers they don’t know. Once we’ve overdosed on the latest in sensory input, we’re no longer satisfied with the affirmation. Does it make sense? As I was sitting there play- ing chords, I began to listen more closely to the sound of each individual saxophone, trumpet and trombone. They weren’t all matching each tone perfectly; they were surrounding the notes. When taken separately, some would have sounded awkward, but as one voice, the answer, the symmetry, was there. So, what better way to end the semester is there than to leave the difficult ques- tions behind? After spend- ing months balancing schedules and warding off failure, it’s time to step out of phase, to reflect. Photo by Scott Schlieff With minds so cluttered, we can only be- gin to live for ourselves by feeling comfort- able enough to plainly and utterly exist in each moment. Like horn players, we don’t all have perfect pitch, but so what? Since Aug. 25, we’ve been called on every day to define, explicate and elaborate, to measure both our work and ourselves. You’re preparing for an unknown future, but maybe it makes more sense to start with something you know. I began to hear a phrase coming through in each breath, the call and the response. “Are you still here?” “Yes, I’m still here.” Sam Spokony is a junior majoring in English and music industry at SUNY Oneonta. Jennifer Tighe I’ve given up on Uggs, and they’ve given up on you. Coming from a girl with an extensive boot collection — I’m talking over 15 pairs, no lie — I would like to make a comment on how to do winter-friendly shoe wear appropriately. Remember those leggings I had you burn a few weeks ago? Well, rekindle the flames, my friends, ‘cause you need to throw the Uggs in, too. They look like some- one chewed up leather, sheepskin and rubber and puked it up on your feet. You couldn’t find a more boring and unflattering pair of shoes. Hell, I’d take Crocs over Uggs any day, and Crocs make me want to gouge my eyes out. Yes, I get that they’re warm and comfortable, but come on, if we all wore things just because they were warm and comfortable, we would be one hideous group of people. Now I’m not necessarily denouncing all Uggs, just the ugly ones, which unfortu- nately for you Ugg owners is almost all of them. My mom — a.k.a Momma Tighe — can rock a pair of Uggs like it’s nobody’s business, but she wouldn’t be caught dead in half of the styles that they offer. Momma Tighe’s even got Step-daddy Smith workin’ it with men’s Uggs all through the winter, and it’s sad to say that my 60-year-old step-dad dresses better than most of the girls on this campus. Now, I do Why the hell are you paying so much money for a boot that’s toe is shaped oddly like the bill of a platypus? realize that the nicer pairs of Uggs that I’m deeming acceptable are much more expensive and out of the price range of most college students, but Momma Tighe taught me at a young age that beauty is pain, even if that pain is in your wallet. Uggs are the least creative kind of boot you could ever choose, which is one of the reasons I’m confused as to why so many people own them. Why the hell are you paying so much money for a boot that’s toe is shaped oddly like the bill of a platypus? And why do you want to own the same pair of boots as every other girl on campus? Maybe it’s my constant need for ego- boosting positive reinforcement or my love to be the center of attention, but I like to have boots that are different from everyone else’s, something that people will notice. Oh, and one last thing, if I see one more girl with her god-damn leg- gings on that are only long enough to reach a few inches above where her Uggs start, I will personally come light you on fire myself. Hell, it’ll probably warm you up a bit. Jennifer Tighe is a senior majoring in English at SUNY Oneonta. Want to write a column for the O-town Scene? E-mail a writing sample to Cassandra at editor@otownscene.com 4 O-Town Scene Dec. 16, 2010

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