Grandma's Crazy Music

Grandma's musical tastes are somewhat ...um, insane. She claims to be a "country music fan" but I don't believe her. I'd like to think she only says that to make me cringe as though I were a vaudeville villain as the leading man enters from stage left. She only owns one country CD, Allen Jackson or some such thing. In her CD box... well let me just get it for you.

Let's take a look-

"Native Spirit, Nature's Harmony," "Ocean's Relaxing Surf," "Meditation and Relaxation: Meeting Angels through Sound and Music," (WTF?) "Ocean's Relaxing Surf II," "Morning Song Birds," "Romantic Gypsy Guitar," "Water Meadow" (not sure what that means), "Bamboo Forest," "The Desert," "Gentle Rain: Enhanced With Music," "Swim with the Dolphins," "Lifescapes: Best of Nature," "The Drifters: Bringing You Their Best," "Janis Joplin: Pearl," "The Beach Boys: Pet Sounds," "Reba McEntire: Read My Mind," "Music Box Broadway," "Dr. Elmo: Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer," and "Reader's Digest: Stardust Moods."

That's it. After perhaps five (arguably four) actual music albums she has a bunch of shitty nature sounds cd's. Look, I dig nature sounds, there are some very well done storm recordings and rainforest DAT recorder tapes that are worth a listen. Grandma, however, probably bought these from the 3 for a dollar section at a gas station. She has a great DVD player hooked up to the surround sound, not to mention the XBox has music burning capabilities and the PS2 has never failed me as an extra CD player. Grandma doesn't use these for music, though. She uses this:


This "CD Clock Radio" has a single tiny tweeter in the back she sets on high volume, creating a bassless treble scream that penetrates wall and bone alike. It's LOUD. While on the couch watching Daily Show after everyone else is asleep, I can only hope I won't hear the last of several progressions of sound seeping from Grandma's room. If I hear the faint laughter of the Jimmy Kimmel show go off and the Outlaw Golf 2 theme does not follow, the dogs and I know to hide our ears in the most basic of duck and cover maneuvers to help regulate the damage to minimal.


First it is only a loud, high-pitched ambient static, supposedly the "silent" part before the music that comes from pushing a small speaker far past it's limits.

Then comes the inevitable loud "song birds screaming in terror" for about two minutes until either a flute or oboe solo. While I'm sure the pony-tailed college professor was astounding in the studio when he whipped out his instrument and began to earn his pay- his art is now part of a program not unlike the ATF's audio assault on the Davidione compound in Waco.


Then comes the Indian.

No, not "Native American." I know many Native Americans, most awesome in their own way, and they would never stoop down to the angry war-cry superimposed over the pony-tail professor flute and the song birds screaming in terror with the occasional coyote howl in the background.

The whole awful mix crescendos for awhile before a "storm," which, transformed and bastardized through Grandma's excuse for a musical device becomes nothing more than the audio track of a 1958 B-horror movie with the dialogue removed.

This shit is supposed to be relaxing. I get tense just writing about it.

--More updates coming tonight!! Keep on keepin on with the comments and the e-mails and the thing! Thanks!!--