What does one do on a typical Saturday night at 7:30? A movie always remains a possibility, as does a quick Facebook or e-mail check before any festivities get started. But truly adventurous students might want to think of a different way to start the night: Noise Night at Bob's.
Each Sat. around 7:30, Bob's comes alive with music, often from unexpected sources. At this showcase of avant-garde music, performers tend to be whoever happens to be around.
I had originally planned to merely observe the excitement, but Emily Iwuc '08 convinced me to just join in. "It wouldn't have been any fun to just sit there and write a story," she said later.
I agreed, since I was one of about only three people sitting observing the musicians, which included up to six players/performers at once. I participated in the strangest of the weird nights, Acoustic Noise Night, which meant small and quiet, not perhaps the image one associates with "avant-garde."
We made music out of pipes, metal grates, a cello, two acoustic guitars, a bass pedal/trashcan combo and some old Jello boxes. The sound of clapping hands, stomping feet and various phrases, drones and screams also provided some texture.
I didn't feel separate from the group, but we didn't necessarily play off of one another, and instead broke apart typical structures rather than creating them. Daniel Furuta '08 contributed guttural mouth noises, with Iwuc providing commentary from time to time in the form of competing growls or the sarcastic "Why don't you go cry about it?," which he usually answered with a plaintive tug on the cello.
Chris Farstad '09 and I played the guitars, usually playing single notes or off-key chords. The time passed quickly--it was a quarter after eight before I looked at the clock once, and when the playing sort of slowly wound down around 8:30, I didn't feel like I had been part of a laborious or difficult process.
We made some great sounds, buried in light dissonance and outright weirdness. I felt welcome even though I didn't know any of the rest of the group very well or at all. But once Furuta packed up the cello and the baristas began to prepare to serve, we knew it was time to end.
