Stepping onto the already occupied elevator today the thought occurs to me:
Whatever happened to elevator music?
As we shared that cube we used to share a common experience, if not a common floor. (Well, yes, for varying distances we had our feet on the same elevator floor, but you know what I mean.)
But back to my point,
Whatever happened to elevator music?
Watered down, instrumental, elevatorized songs we never (we hoped) would have to hear from beginning to end, music composed, it seems, to help us forget about time on our vertical journeys. The trick seemed to be to have us focus on the vapid music, and its lack of heart and soul.
No R-E-S-P-E-C-T from Aretha here. No Y-M-C-A. Nothing to make you want to sing, dance, or even tap your feet. We’ll have none of that in our shared rectangle. Only vaguely familiar tunes easily forgotten once you began your horizontal travels.
Sadly, we are now left to staring at each other’s shoes, wondering when it became okay to wear brown shoes with a dark suit, when socks (if worn at all) no longer needed to “match” or even “go.”
Here’s my floor. But really, whatever happened to elevator music?
It occurs to me... 