Bloomington High School North, Nikean, 1984, Page 158

Description:	THE REVIVAL /By Paul DoddFred was an interesting dude. Ihad known him since we had bothbeen in data fixation together. Eventhen he had refused to abide by therules, transcribing files freely and incorrectly. He had even been bannedfrom his terminal occasionally andput in suspension. There was no getting around it. Fred was a redneckand he was mighty proud of it.Some of it rubbed off on me, and Ididnt mind in the least.Fred and I enjoyed getting in trouble together. When we went hog-wild on the weekends we had aheck of a lot of fun. Fred had a 769Dodge Monaco that he picked up ata police auction, and that piececould outrun the most modernvehicles. Once we had the wholepatrol after us and with Freds usualflair we had them all eating dust.When they gathered at the donutshop the next day, they were stillsneezing.I can still remember clearly theday of the fateful concert. We hadboth spent our last thirty bucks togo, some things never change. Itwas published as the greatest thingever to happen to music. But in reality it was severely nauseous.The concert hall was filled tooverflowing with people, young andold all listening to the music. Thedecibels were flowing freely tonight.But the music, Fred and I thought,was not faring as well. Whatbothered us was not so much theactual music as the principalbehind the whole thing. Wecouldnt even distinguish any individual tones. To put it quite simply, there was music but no notes.Not only no notes, but no in-strumentments, no performers, andno real substance. There was musicwithout any qualities to make itmusical.This was what bothered us, andFred in particular. He couldnt denythat the music was pleasing to listento, and he couldnt really say that hedidnt like it. After ail, the music wasdesigned to be liked. And so it was.But Fred couldnt take it.You gonna stay and listen to thiscrap? he asked me threateningly.Well, uh, no I guess not. It is kindof putrid isnt it?His only reply was a discontentedgrunt and a quick move towards theexit.Whatre we gonna do then? Iasked, Go raise some hell for thecops?Let me get this straight Flak. Wejust spent our last bucks on a lousyexcuse for a concert, we got nabbed in the act of inebriating ourselvesin school yestrday, and summer isalmost gone and youre asking mewhat were gonna to do?Ashamed at my overwhelmingstupidity I meekly stabbed: Roadtrip?Damn straight. Ive got a fullWe walked ablock and then weheard it. There wasno question that thiswas the way musicwas supposed to be.tank, its two hundred miles toChicago, its pitch dark and Ive gotmy shades on.Thats how he was. He alwaysknew what he wanted to do and healways did it. So off we went at asuitably swift rate.Why Chicago? I asked.Ever heard of a ghetto? Theytried to eliminate em back in 93 butthey hung on. Some o the bestmusic in the world is in themplaces.So that was it. Evidently the concert had been the last straw as far asFreds musical tastes were concerned. He had been complaining aboutthe direction music had been goingfor a long time and it looked like hehad decided to do something aboutit.What kind of music do theyhave in the ghetto?I really dont know. My grandpaused to talk about it all the time,though. Thre was some group calledBooker T and the MGS that heliked.When we arrived in Chicago itwas daylight, so Fred took off hisshades. He went straight to thesouthside, pulled a quick 180 parallelparking job, and we got out.Should be able to hear it anytime now, he said hopefully.So this is Chicago. I hadnt beenthere before and it all looked strangeto me. The buildings and shopswere different from each other andthis was uniquely pleasing. I madethis comment to Fred and hegrunted.You see why they fought sohard to keep their ghetto?It must be nice, l remarked.We walked a block and then weheard it. There was no question thatthis was the way music was supposed to be. We both stopped in ourtracks and stared at each other.Then we ran. We ran to find outwhere the noise came from, as if itmight disappear forever before wegot there. We found only a shabbyman with a harmonica and couple ofpeople standing around listening. Aswe came to a stop, we were grabbed by the two biggest people wehad ever seen.Whats the matter boys, outhuntin mushrooms and get lost?one of them asked.No, were on a mission to findmusic, Fred coyly replied.Im afraid were gonna have toask you boys to leave.But why? I asked before I realized what I was doing.Because if anybody knew thatlife was good in the ghetto wed wekicked out.After a bit of cross-cultural conversation, we were allowed to stay ifwe wouldnt spill the franks. Weeven managed to coax the ghettiesout of an album or two for us to try \|to start music back on the track. Weleft the ghetto late in the afternoonwith our work cut out for us.We got back to Reno by nightfalland ran inside just before it hit. Wehad to find some people who knewhow to play the old instruments andmusic. We also had to find some in-(continued on page 159)158
Source:	http://cdm17129.contentdm.oclc.org/cdm/ref/collection/hs-bloomnorth/id/1854
Collection:	Bloomington High School North

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