Traitor to my Generation

I must be the only person in the world not enthralled by the middle-school choir at New York’s PS-22. Their teacher seems to be doing a competent job: they sing well! The songs they perform are of the same level of difficulty as those I remember singing in middle-school. But of course, they are unbearably hip. They do Lady Gaga, and now: The Smiths.

I happen to think the weird catalog of middle-school choral music as perfect precisely because it was un-hip. Middle-school is perhaps the most vicious time in life status-anxiety-wise. In my day, anonymous, un-heard-of chorus music seemed to build character, to get me to stretch out from the merely popular to the merely mediocre.

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