It’s officially spring and there’s a lot of stuff in the air — feelings of impending doom around final exams, suppressed excitement for summer, the heinous pollen that UNC Police has mistaken for Big Bird’s nose candy. Also in the air? Music, with different tunes playing around campus from Fraternity Court basements to the very top of the Bell Tower.
Just like the Rameses mascots revealed themselves as the end of the semester approaches, I feel that it’s the right time for me to reveal my own identity — I am UNC's official music curator, responsible for all the melodies you hear in every corner of our university.
When Lee Roberts first became chancellor, I sent in an application for this nonexistent position just to mess with him. But to my own surprise, he gave me the job immediately, without an interview. He must’ve seen my fake screen name, “Finger Paint Pope, granddaughter of Art Pope,” solidifying my connection to the conservative donor he has financial ties with.
To best explain my role, think of me as the campus' musical Lorax who speaks for the major and minor keys. Or maybe I’m the melodious Hunchback of Chapel Hill, the Quasimodo scampering around at the top of the Bell Tower, pounding the bell as hard as I can when I see students walking by with AirPods in. After starting my day at the tower, I head over to Lenoir at 7 a.m. and start playing a playlist of my favorite breakfast classical composers — including Wolfgang Pop-Tart, Pyotr "Dirty" Tchaikovsky and Johann Sebastian Bacon.
With “Piano Sonata No. 8 in C Minor” stuck in my head, I then locate my favorite employees clocking in for the day. Whizthekid blasts his jazz on the crosswalk, turning South Road into Smooth Road and making people jump out of their cars and dance down the street like it’s "La La Land." Music major Nathan Feldman flies by on his bike, hair flowing elegantly in the wind, his angelic voice singing something I've planned out for him. I can even hear the Whistler from here, his whistling powerful enough to turn a wind turbine.
I attend all sports games, too. Each time I play “Jump Around” at basketball games, I play it for one second longer than the last time to build up students’ jumping endurance. I would also like to reveal that it was I who let “Mo Bamba” get to that one part at the Duke football game last year. For the 2025 season, I’m even thinking about changing the lyrics to “Young Belichick and I’m gettin’ really rich."
On Friday nights, I hardwire the P2P to play modern rap with tempos that make your heart palpitate and beats that perfectly match the rhythm of the kid throwing up into a Bojangles box he found on the ground. In Fraternity Court, I meet with all the frat DJs and make them pinky promise they’ll play “No Hands,” “Doses & Mimosas” and “Rich Baby Daddy.” If I find out they didn’t play all three of these songs, I throw them into my basement and make them listen to alternative indie music for six hours. On Saturday morning, I have a pre-darty meeting with all the frat cover bands so we can rehearse “Valerie” by Amy Winehouse at least 10 times.
However, my proudest accomplishment as the campus music curator is Lee Roberts’ entourage of clowns that I put together, who follow him around playing circus music. So next time you’re Swag Surfin, singing the alma mater or watching Waka Flocka Flame at Still Life, I hope you remember that I’m probably there somewhere, hiding in between the music notes.
