As the pollen floods our nostrils this April, there is yet another inescapable assault on our senses: A cappella.
You hear it everywhere you go. A reasonable person would think, “Oh, those poor people are using their mouths for instruments. They must have lost their instruments in a terrible fire.” But they didn’t.
Instead they deliberately assume the sisyphean task of making music sound better without accompaniment — pushing their musical rock up to the top of a hill, only to have it come crashing down time and time again in a heap of off-pitch solos and poor choreography. They are choosing to make worse music because they think they can sing.
And they can, kind of. But usually not good enough to be in a band, which somehow made them come to the conclusion of making a band where the only thing they do is sing.
Do you see the twisted logic a cappella creates?
Even in “Pitch Perfect,” which is filled with a cappella songs, the only song that survives outside of the movie is the one where Anna Kendrick is hitting a cup. Why? Because even using a single cup as an instrument is better than nothing at all.
Furthermore, few even listen to a cappella after college by choice. In fact, outside of college, a cappella is a pretty embarrassing hobby — ranking just above collecting stamps or re-enacting Civil War battles. So why are we awarding these groups so much celebrity now? Do you see the sort of delusions a cappella perpetuates?
We’ve had enough: the market is saturated. In the Pit last week, there were two a cappella groups performing at the same time. There are innumerable a cappella concerts taking place. Somehow, a cappella on this campus has defied basic economics — the supply is egregiously exceeding the demand. Adam Smith is rolling in his grave.
Having so many a cappella groups is like when someone starts singing along really earnestly to every song on the radio. We get it — you are pretty good at singing. But it would be better if you weren’t singing.
