{"id":16001,"date":"2024-03-09T15:22:40","date_gmt":"2024-03-09T21:22:40","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/?p=16001"},"modified":"2024-03-20T11:33:41","modified_gmt":"2024-03-20T16:33:41","slug":"in-the-style-of","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/2024\/03\/09\/in-the-style-of\/","title":{"rendered":"In the Style Of&#8230;"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<ul class=\"wp-block-social-links is-content-justification-right is-layout-flex wp-container-core-social-links-is-layout-765c4724 wp-block-social-links-is-layout-flex\"><li class=\"wp-social-link wp-social-link-facebook  wp-block-social-link\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/profile.php?id=61556140010887\" class=\"wp-block-social-link-anchor\"><svg width=\"24\" height=\"24\" viewBox=\"0 0 24 24\" version=\"1.1\" xmlns=\"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/2000\/svg\" aria-hidden=\"true\" focusable=\"false\"><path d=\"M12 2C6.5 2 2 6.5 2 12c0 5 3.7 9.1 8.4 9.9v-7H7.9V12h2.5V9.8c0-2.5 1.5-3.9 3.8-3.9 1.1 0 2.2.2 2.2.2v2.5h-1.3c-1.2 0-1.6.8-1.6 1.6V12h2.8l-.4 2.9h-2.3v7C18.3 21.1 22 17 22 12c0-5.5-4.5-10-10-10z\"><\/path><\/svg><span class=\"wp-block-social-link-label screen-reader-text\">Facebook<\/span><\/a><\/li>\n\n<li class=\"wp-social-link wp-social-link-instagram  wp-block-social-link\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/boudin_mcneese\/\" class=\"wp-block-social-link-anchor\"><svg width=\"24\" height=\"24\" viewBox=\"0 0 24 24\" version=\"1.1\" xmlns=\"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/2000\/svg\" aria-hidden=\"true\" focusable=\"false\"><path d=\"M12,4.622c2.403,0,2.688,0.009,3.637,0.052c0.877,0.04,1.354,0.187,1.671,0.31c0.42,0.163,0.72,0.358,1.035,0.673 c0.315,0.315,0.51,0.615,0.673,1.035c0.123,0.317,0.27,0.794,0.31,1.671c0.043,0.949,0.052,1.234,0.052,3.637 s-0.009,2.688-0.052,3.637c-0.04,0.877-0.187,1.354-0.31,1.671c-0.163,0.42-0.358,0.72-0.673,1.035 c-0.315,0.315-0.615,0.51-1.035,0.673c-0.317,0.123-0.794,0.27-1.671,0.31c-0.949,0.043-1.233,0.052-3.637,0.052 s-2.688-0.009-3.637-0.052c-0.877-0.04-1.354-0.187-1.671-0.31c-0.42-0.163-0.72-0.358-1.035-0.673 c-0.315-0.315-0.51-0.615-0.673-1.035c-0.123-0.317-0.27-0.794-0.31-1.671C4.631,14.688,4.622,14.403,4.622,12 s0.009-2.688,0.052-3.637c0.04-0.877,0.187-1.354,0.31-1.671c0.163-0.42,0.358-0.72,0.673-1.035 c0.315-0.315,0.615-0.51,1.035-0.673c0.317-0.123,0.794-0.27,1.671-0.31C9.312,4.631,9.597,4.622,12,4.622 M12,3 C9.556,3,9.249,3.01,8.289,3.054C7.331,3.098,6.677,3.25,6.105,3.472C5.513,3.702,5.011,4.01,4.511,4.511 c-0.5,0.5-0.808,1.002-1.038,1.594C3.25,6.677,3.098,7.331,3.054,8.289C3.01,9.249,3,9.556,3,12c0,2.444,0.01,2.751,0.054,3.711 c0.044,0.958,0.196,1.612,0.418,2.185c0.23,0.592,0.538,1.094,1.038,1.594c0.5,0.5,1.002,0.808,1.594,1.038 c0.572,0.222,1.227,0.375,2.185,0.418C9.249,20.99,9.556,21,12,21s2.751-0.01,3.711-0.054c0.958-0.044,1.612-0.196,2.185-0.418 c0.592-0.23,1.094-0.538,1.594-1.038c0.5-0.5,0.808-1.002,1.038-1.594c0.222-0.572,0.375-1.227,0.418-2.185 C20.99,14.751,21,14.444,21,12s-0.01-2.751-0.054-3.711c-0.044-0.958-0.196-1.612-0.418-2.185c-0.23-0.592-0.538-1.094-1.038-1.594 c-0.5-0.5-1.002-0.808-1.594-1.038c-0.572-0.222-1.227-0.375-2.185-0.418C14.751,3.01,14.444,3,12,3L12,3z M12,7.378 c-2.552,0-4.622,2.069-4.622,4.622S9.448,16.622,12,16.622s4.622-2.069,4.622-4.622S14.552,7.378,12,7.378z M12,15 c-1.657,0-3-1.343-3-3s1.343-3,3-3s3,1.343,3,3S13.657,15,12,15z M16.804,6.116c-0.596,0-1.08,0.484-1.08,1.08 s0.484,1.08,1.08,1.08c0.596,0,1.08-0.484,1.08-1.08S17.401,6.116,16.804,6.116z\"><\/path><\/svg><span class=\"wp-block-social-link-label screen-reader-text\">Instagram<\/span><\/a><\/li><\/ul>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-large-font-size\"><strong>In the Style Of&#8230;<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\"><strong><strong>James Brubaker<\/strong><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\"><strong>__________<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Here is Ohio. And here is Dayton, and here is a suburb, a strip mall, a bar\u2014a karaoke bar. I am neither a patron, nor an employee. I am something else entirely, sick with anticipation, throbbing from the bar\u2019s early evening quiet. I wait for the noise. The bar\u2019s patrons wait with me. This suburb is made up of people who stayed when they should have left, should have followed jobs and friends, people who will never escape the town\u2019s pull. These people need what is about to happen. Watch: a woman takes hold of a microphone and waits for her song to start. She is wearing a green, sequined blouse. Her hair is piled on her head, almost stylish. Listen.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">The woman with the green sequined blouse and the pile of ash-blonde hair is named Barbara. Occasionally she\u2019ll sing in the style of Janis Joplin or Stevie Nicks, but she usually sings in the style of Faith Hill or The Dixie Chicks. Or she\u2019ll sing \u201cBlack Velvet\u201d in the style of Alannah Myles. This is disappointing because Barbara\u2019s voice has a slight, smoky quality that makes \u201cGold Dust Woman,\u201d in the style of Fleetwood Mac, sound like sex. Barbara\u2019s \u201cBlack Velvet\u201d is nice, but she\u2019s sung it so many times that she has started to look bored behind it, like a woman letting her husband finish before she falls asleep reading <em>TV Guide. <\/em>Barbara is divorced, though, and never takes men home with her. Some nights, perhaps, Barbara sings \u201cBlack Velvet\u201d to allow herself the luxury of feeling as if she is bored with sex. One night, after her sixteen-year-old daughter Jane was dumped through a text message by the vice president of the high school\u2019s student council, Barbara sang \u201cYou Oughtta Know\u201d in the style of Alanis Morissette. That was some performance. Bar patrons stood up at their tables and clapped their hands above their heads as Barbara wailed like Alanis. Tonight, Barbara is the first singer. She is on stage waiting while the karaoke jockey, Stu DeBonte, works through some technical issues. The stage is not an actual stage, just a small nook where the KJ changes discs and talks to the crowd between songs. Stu DeBonte says things like, \u201cTip your bartender,\u201d and \u201cWho is buying the next round?\u201d Scott, a regular, is sipping a Jack and Coke, hoping that Barbara will sing \u201cGold Dust Woman\u201d because her performance of that song turns him on.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Scott is disappointed when the opening chords of \u201cStrawberry Wine,\u201d in the style of Deana Carter, play instead of \u201cGold Dust Woman.\u201d Scott finishes his Jack and Coke and hurries to the bar to order another. Scott will sing second in the rotation, tonight. Scott usually sings first because he gets to the bar early, but tonight he is having trouble picking his first song. Scott doesn\u2019t use the karaoke binders, filled with titles and codes, splayed out on every fourth table. He brings his own discs in a small leather CD wallet. When Scott fills out the slips of paper announcing his intention to sing, he writes \u201cown disc\u201d and a track number on the form and leaves the slip and the disc on Stu DeBonte\u2019s table. This annoys the KJ because he doesn\u2019t really use CDs anymore, sticks mostly to files stored on a hard drive, but Scott has been a regular for so long, he puts up with it. Most nights, Scott has his setlist picked out before he even arrives at the bar. Tonight, however, he is unsettled because Avalon Software announced they would be laying off a third of their work force. Scott has worked at Avalon for only a year and is certain of his expendability. Instead of starting off the night with an easy song, a crowd pleaser, he\u2019s decided on \u201cAdd it Up\u201d in the style of Violent Femmes. One night, Scott tried to pick up an attractive semi-regular named Allie. She has auburn hair, wears flowing clothing and chunky jewelry, and teaches art at Edison Community College. Allie was interested in Scott until he sang \u201cAdd it Up\u201d in the style of Violent Femmes. The song made Allie think that Scott might be a bit unstable. That night, Allie went home with a man who is not a regular. Sometimes that is best.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Big Joe comes into the bar while Barbara is singing. He enjoys her voice but doesn\u2019t like the song. He orders a glass of seltzer water and sits at the corner of the bar where he can watch people sing. Big Joe is a large man and owns his own lawn care business. The bartenders don\u2019t mind that he sits at the bar all night and drinks only seltzer water because Big Joe used to drink beer and leave big tips. This ended recently when Big Joe was diagnosed with diabetes. Now that he can\u2019t get drunk anymore, Big Joe doesn\u2019t sing. Big Joe can sing only when he is drunk. A lot of people can sing only when they are drunk. This is sad.&nbsp; The bar\u2019s patrons used to love to hear Big Joe sing. He sang songs that everyone could relate to. Everybody at the bar loves Big Joe because he is one of them, is big, and sick, and sad, and when he sang he <em>performed<\/em>. Big Joe understands karaoke.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">When Barbara finishes singing, she bows to light applause. The applause isn\u2019t bad for nine o\u2019 clock on a Wednesday. Barbara sits down at her table, nods in thanks. She blushes a little when Aaron walks by her table and tells her she did a nice job. Aaron is twenty-seven, a good fifteen years below the bar\u2019s average age, and always wears cargo pants, polo shirts, and a white ball cap with the word \u201cCocks\u201d on it, though he doesn\u2019t follow college sports or know anything about the University of South Carolina Gamecocks. Aaron sits down at his table and pours a glass of Bud Lite from a pitcher, makes his girlfriend, a nice enough young woman named Amy, who never has much to say to anyone, pour her own. When Scott starts singing \u201cAdd it Up\u201d in the style of the Violent Femmes, Aaron taps Amy on the wrist to get her attention then rolls his eyes in the style of a sitcom. Amy fakes a laugh but secretly likes it when Scott sings songs that other people don\u2019t like. She doesn\u2019t sing at all, thinks that karaoke is silly. Don\u2019t blame her; it\u2019s not her fault she doesn\u2019t understand. Aaron, on the other hand, <em>knows<\/em> that karaoke is silly. He only wants people to look at him. Aaron sings Brittany Spears songs in a bad falsetto while poorly emulating dance moves from her videos. Sometimes Aaron sings \u201cWalk Like an Egyptian\u201d in the style of The Bangles, but changes the lyrics to \u201cWalk with an erection\u201d and pulls at the crotch of his cargo pants so the fabric tents. Aaron saves this trick for late in the evening when the room is drunk enough to think it\u2019s the funniest thing any of them have ever seen. It is not funny. These songs are no joking matter.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Big Joe doesn\u2019t like Aaron. I don\u2019t like him either.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Scott doesn\u2019t know it, but Barbara wants him every time he sings \u201cAdd it Up.\u201d No one in the bar knows it, because nobody would expect that Barbara would want anyone, let alone Scott, or that a deranged song, sung, albeit convincingly, in the style of the Violent Femmes, would be the song that turns her on. The way Barbara sways when she sings and the smoky tint to her voice imply a woman who wants to be caressed and sweet-talked, to be made love to. Of course it\u2019s the song about fucking that excites her. She most enjoys the part in the lyrics about the guy not having anything to say when he\u2019s between the woman\u2019s thighs. Barbara likes to imagine that Scott is between her thighs. Barbara is a few years older than Scott. She likes that he has a peculiar edge, an air of rock and roll cool uncommon for a forty year old man. Scott is not cool. These songs, though, they bend the light, deceive the senses. Barbara takes a drag from her cigarette and, as she exhales, feels the hot breath of song curl around her.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Scott\u2019s song also excites Amy. She would never admit this to anyone, especially Aaron, but she enjoys sex more on the nights that Scott sings \u201cAdd it Up.\u201d For Amy, this response has more to do with the song than the singer. Amy likes that her boyfriend hates the song, and she likes the twisted need behind the lyrics. This is her small resistance to Aaron. Amy needs small bits of resistance because she and Aaron have been dating since they were juniors in high school. If nothing else, Amy tells herself, Aaron is stable, is easy.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Most of the people in the bar know that stability is overrated, is an illusion. That is why they come to the bar, to karaoke night.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">When Scott sings the end part of \u201cAdd it Up,\u201d in the style of the Violent Femmes, the part that requires him to wail \u201cDay after day, I get angry,\u201d before chanting \u201cAdd it up,\u201d repeatedly, he is an impressive performer and the room begins to shrink around him. In the song\u2019s final moments, we all understand something bigger.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">After Scott finishes his song, a non-regular is called up to sing. His name is Chad and he is interchangeable with hundreds of other non-regulars. Chad sings \u201cFriends in Low Places\u201d in the style of Garth Brooks. This is what non-regulars sing. While Chad sings, Scott goes through his discs to select a second song. Barbara watches Scott, trying to think of some way she can get him to invite her home with him. It has to be his house, so Barbara\u2019s daughter won\u2019t know, and even then, Barbara would have to be home early to make sure said daughter gets to school on time. Across the table from Aaron, Amy sings along to Chad\u2019s rendition of \u201cFriends in Low Place.\u201d She never sings along with anyone, so Aaron isn\u2019t sure how to respond. He decides to sulk, and that makes Amy happy. She thinks the singer is cute and he is in a sort of early Springsteen way. He has tight, curly black hair and is wearing a flannel shirt with the top two buttons undone. Chad doesn\u2019t mind revealing a bit of chest hair.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Chad is at the bar tonight only because he quit his job earlier that day. He had been working as a shift manager at a Distribution Center for one of the area grocery chains. Chad\u2019s job was to make sure groceries got on and off trucks and on the road in a timely fashion. He quit because one of his friends, Tom, was fired for falling asleep in the break room. Nobody cared that Tom had come to work with a 102 degree fever to avoid getting in trouble for calling off, or that Tom was a single dad raising two little girls, fighting to keep up with ever growing credit card payments. Management only cared that a supervisor found Tom sleeping when he was supposed to be working. Tom was fired on the spot, was escorted out by two security guards. He hung his head as he walked. Chad tried to get his friend rehired, but the brass wouldn\u2019t budge so he left his apron on the manager\u2019s desk and walked out. Chad is not a karaoke person. Tonight, though, it feels right. Chad liked Barbara\u2019s song and, though he wasn\u2019t crazy about the song Scott sang, he admired the performance.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">After Chad\u2019s song, Aaron sings \u201cIf I Had a Million Dollars,\u201d in the style of the Barenaked Ladies. He is followed by a string of other bar patrons who are sometimes around, and sometimes not. Gary with the bad toupee, who wants to write his own songs for a living, sings \u201cSecret Agent Man\u201d in the style of Johnny Rivers. Ron, a small but muscular ex-marine, sings a staccato, angry version of \u201cWhole Lotta Rosie\u201d in the style of AC\/DC. Carrie\u2014who doesn\u2019t eat as much as she should and only pretends to drink beers\u2014sings \u201cSk8er Boi\u201d in the style of Avril Lavigne. And Seth, a tall artist with a head of massive curls, and who painted the bar\u2019s logo on the wall in exchange for beer, and who likes to make abstract line drawings inside matchbooks while he\u2019s waiting for his turn at the microphone, sings \u201cThe Lion Sleeps Tonight\u201d in the style of The Tokens.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">This is the first hour of karaoke. Bar patrons sing songs and others applaud, polite and bored. Soon, the songs will become something else. An atonal thrum will overwhelm the room. The singers will begin to change. We will all begin to change. Maybe it is the drinks? It isn\u2019t the drinks. Maybe it is the lights? It isn\u2019t the lights.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">At ten o\u2019clock, the bar gets busy. New singers enter into the rotation and are forced to compete with the room\u2019s growing din. The first new singer is Robert. He sings angry white guy songs from the early aughts\u2014\u201cSuperman\u201d in the style of Third Eye Blind, or \u201cKim\u201d in the style of Eminem. Robert wears white undershirts and baggy jeans. He used to bleach his hair so that he looked like Eminem. There is something sinister about Robert when he sings, as though he might too much enjoy the songs he\u2019s singing. Tonight he sings \u201cKill You\u201d in the style of Eminem and, as he flawlessly delivers the lyrics, hitting every word precisely on the beat, the room thickens, grows dark and heavy. Robert relishes the violent lyrics. He stands up on the rung of a barstool and throws a hand in the air, flicks his elbow and points with each line\u2019s accented words. What only a few of the bar\u2019s patrons know\u2014Scott and Barbara among them\u2014is that Robert is an accountant, is married, has two daughters. One of the girls was recently diagnosed with leukemia. Robert doesn\u2019t like to go home, but he does. As Robert works through Eminem\u2019s verses, Mike and Tony T. arrive. Tony T. goes to the bar and orders two Miller Lites. Mike and Tony T. also know about Robert\u2019s family. They think Robert is a good man.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Even though he thinks Robert is a good man, Mike doesn\u2019t like him much. Mike was born and raised in this suburb and thinks that high school was the best time of his life. Mike is forty. He is also a KJ, works Thursday and Saturday nights, occasionally fills in for Stu DeBonte on Wednesdays. He used to be married to the bartender, Trina. They have three kids together. Trina left Mike after she caught him having sex with one of the bar\u2019s regulars, a twenty-two year old girl named Brandy. Brandy doesn\u2019t come to the bar anymore. Mike gets extremely drunk when he comes to the bar, primarily so he doesn\u2019t have to interact with his ex-wife, but also so he can sing. Mike needs to sing to feel good, to feel like he did in high school. Trina gets angry when Mike sings. It isn\u2019t the songs that make her mad.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\"><strong>*<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">After Robert\u2019s performance in the style of Eminem, Tony T. is called to the stage to sing \u201cCloser\u201d in the style of Nine Inch Nails. Tony T. has a thick neck and sells cars at a Honda dealership in the liminal area where this suburb bleeds into the next. Tony T. is married to another regular named Jenn. Tony T. impregnated Jenn in a moment of drunken hubris\u2014he was certain he could pull out but didn\u2019t. Jenn said she knew immediately that she was pregnant. Whether she was full of shit when she said that or not doesn\u2019t matter because she was pregnant, and the two had a quick wedding at a small chapel in Gatlinburg. Jenn isn\u2019t at the bar, tonight. She loves Tony T., and he is good to her. He is at the bar because he is always at the bar and because he is thinking about buying it. He is a businessman at heart, which makes his performance of \u201cCloser,\u201d in the style of Nine Inch Nails, unusual. Instead of channeling the song\u2019s uncomfortable desperation and frustrated, pathos-laden need, Tony T. sings the song like a jock jam, grinding with himself on stage, making spanking motions with his hands. During the instrumental bridge, Tony T. talks to the crowd, tells people to dance. Only two or three girls ever do\u2014they grind on each other because Tony T. has turned an angry, desperate song into a filthy, sexy song. The stage area begins to feel humid, sticky, disgusting. Sometimes Tony T. also sings \u201cBawitdaba\u201d in the style of Kid Rock, in which he unleashes an unearthly, guttural scream that seems to come from someplace else. Big Joe likes it when Tony T. does the Kid Rock scream. I like it, too. Big Joe doesn\u2019t like much of anything now that he\u2019s sober, sipping on seltzer instead of beer, so his approval feels important. Tony T. deserves credit for that. Sometimes Tony T. also sings \u201cPurple Rain\u201d in the style of Prince.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">And here in the mess left behind in the wake of Tony T.\u2019s performance, the rotation rolls back to the top. Barbara stands on stage, ready to sing, again, oddly out of place after the spectacle that just took place. What will she sing? Something in the style of the Dixie Chicks or Faith Hill? Barbara\u2019s song begins. What is that bass line, that slow bop? This is new, something she hasn\u2019t sung before. The song is slow and her voice enters at a whisper, a tentative break in the song\u2019s skin. This is \u201cBlue Bayou\u201d in the style of Linda Ronstadt. Barbara sings the quiet parts in her low, smoky voice, staring at Scott, wondering if he notices. He does, but she doesn\u2019t know that he does. Scott imagines scenarios in which he takes Barbara home and slowly undresses her, lightly runs his mouth across her belly. He wonders if she\u2019d stay the night and wake up at six in the morning when he gets ready for work, or if she\u2019d leave directly after. Scott can\u2019t think about the song he is about to sing because he can\u2019t stop thinking about Barbara. She is now singing the song\u2019s chorus in any which way but the style of Linda Ronstadt\u2014Barbara\u2019s is rawer, more from the gut. Scott can\u2019t not watch her. The only person in the bar not glued to Barbara is Aaron, who spins a quarter at his table as he notices that Amy keeps looking at Chad. If he\u2019d just listen to the song. Just listen. Listen.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">I need you to listen.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Nobody wants to sing after Barbara. They all know that none of them can haunt the stage like she did, but someone has to try. The task falls to Scott. Robert is sitting at the bar, wondering what awful song Scott is going to sing. Robert doesn\u2019t like it when Scott sings because Scott sings older songs, songs that aren\u2019t relevant to the life of a young man with a wife and two daughters, one of whom has leukemia. Scott\u2019s next song is \u201cWhite Wedding,\u201d in the style of Billy Idol. As the thin, canned music starts playing, Scott wishes he\u2019d chosen a different song, something sexier, more thoughtful, meaningful\u2014something he could sing to Barbara, who probably enjoys \u201cWhite Wedding,\u201d but it\u2019s not what he wants to convey. Surprisingly, Big Joe enjoys Scott\u2019s rendition of the song, sits on his stool at the corner of the bar and raises his fist in the air, screams along every time Scott gets to the part where he sings, \u201cStart again.\u201d This is the first time Big Joe has liked anything in weeks. Scott sees his enthusiasm and it feeds his performance. Of course, the \u201cStart again\u201d part of the song is popular with most of the bar\u2019s patrons, whom, if we look around, we can see are starting to become unglued, sloppy. Bodies slink from one point to the next and choruses of shouts rise from the tables when Scott\u2019s practiced tenor waivers with his characteristic intensity or when he drops to one knee with the microphone stand trailing behind him and raises a showman\u2019s hand, drawing cheers the way a conductor\u2019s baton induces music.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">As Scott sings, Amy slips off to the restroom. Aaron watches her go, wonders if she\u2019ll come back. Before she has the chance, Scott\u2019s song ends and Aaron is called up on stage to sing \u201cPiece of Shit Car\u201d in the style of Adam Sandler. Aaron doesn\u2019t sing well, relies on his humor to carry the performance, but here, now, that isn\u2019t enough. As he runs through the song\u2019s jokes the room\u2019s energy dissipates. The bar becomes muddled. Big Joe boos from his corner perch, which catches everyone\u2019s attention, because normally he can\u2019t be bothered to show disinterest\u2014something is in the air tonight. The spell woven by previous singers fades beneath the weight of Aaron\u2019s novelty song. Amy uses the resulting mess of movement and conversation as camouflage, makes a detour on her way back to her table, walks by the bar, makes eye contact with Chad, holds his gaze for a moment, considers their mouths mashed together in the style of that Violent Femmes song from earlier. Aaron doesn\u2019t know what Amy is doing. All he knows is that, when he finishes singing, Amy is sitting at the table, politely putting her hands together in the style of a golf clap.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">What the bar\u2019s patrons don\u2019t know, tonight, is that Big Joe has decided that soon, he will move to New York, to try to become a famous chef, he\u2019ll tell them when he eventually leaves. Big Joe knows that he will not be a famous chef, but he\u2019ll still make a living. Tonight, he watches the other patrons in the bar, his friends, sees the ways they hurt and long. He sees Amy\u2019s restless wandering through the bar, sees Scott and Barbara longing for something, though he can\u2019t tell it\u2019s each other. Big Joe wants to help, but how?&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Now is the time of the evening those who only when they are drunk are summoned to the stage. There is Chris, who arrived earlier with his friends, and is playing pool in the back\u2014he sings \u201cJeremy\u201d in the style of Pearl Jam. When he is done, he will notice the balls will have been moved around the pool table. Then John sings \u201cBreak on Through\u201d in the style of The Doors. He does scissor-kicks and wraps the microphone chord around his neck. Big Joe claps his enormous hands together and laughs at the performance. Gale, a retired policewoman with short, bleached hair, wearing leather pants and a turtleneck is called to the stage to sing \u201cJoy to the World\u201d in the style of Three Dog Night. And then the room begins to jump again, the air gets thicker and the songs begin to push at the walls.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">And now Mike will sing. He staggers to the microphone and says \u201cHello Ohio,\u201d and the other bar patrons answer, \u201cHello, Mike.\u201d Behind the bar, Trina drops a glass. It shatters on the floor. Trina throws her rag at the sink and goes to the back for a broom as Mike begins to sing \u201cRock You Like a Hurricane\u201d in the style of The Scorpions. Mike sings this song because it was popular when he was in high school. Mike holds the microphone in both hands and shouts \u201cHere I am,\u201d as Trina returns with a broom. Trina hates the way Mike pumps his fist and rocks his head back and forth with the song\u2019s guitar riff, hates the way he grips the microphone and points at the crowd when he sings the chorus, hates the way he sometimes falls down because he\u2019s so drunk when he sings. Sometimes she wants to break a bottle in his face, other times she wants only to slam his head into the bar. Regardless, when he sings, the bar pulsates. But we should all know by now, it isn\u2019t Mike that makes them move. Not really.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Now, the room hums and quivers with the pulse of pop\u2014my pulse. Someone sings \u201cLiving on a Prayer\u201d in the style of Bon Jovi. Someone else sings \u201cBlack Dog\u201d in the style of Led Zeppelin. Big Joe gets up behind the singer and shimmies to the crowd\u2019s delight. Nobody is singing slow songs and nobody cares who is singing. Every song is a sing along. Every song is a dance tune. Everybody will survive another night, will be alright. Sing for us, Big Joe. Sing, for <em>me<\/em>. Big Joe knows tonight is a night for singing, decides that he will sing even though he is sober. Big Joe writes his name and a song on a slip of paper. Robert sucks Jell-O shots from plastic cups the way some men eat oysters. Amy is holding Aaron\u2019s hand now, resigned to the fact that she\u2019ll go home with him tonight, like every night, and they\u2019ll sleep together, and he\u2019ll make a bad, hopeful joke about not wearing a condom like Tony T., and she\u2019ll tell him to put the fucking condom on while that song in the style of the Violent Femmes runs through her head. Barbara won\u2019t sing anymore, is tired and ready to go home, but she\u2019s waiting so she can see Scott sing one last song. Scott, who is is trying to pick his song, is looking for something heavy and true, something that might convey the loneliness and fear and anxiety of being alive at this time, in this suburb, in Ohio\u2014picking a song isn\u2019t easy when one\u2019s goal is vulnerability, is exposure. For Barbara, the waiting is torturous\u2014while the room bends and bounces around her she is a rock, an anchor, the center of the goddam universe keeping watch for angry bosses and bad boyfriends and lost jobs and premature ejaculation and sad families and cheating husbands, but most of all, she\u2019s just watching for Scott to do or say something.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Now, Stu DeBonte, the KJ, takes a moment to sing \u201cBorn to Run\u201d in the style of Bruce Springsteen. He muddles through it. That\u2019s okay because the rest of the bar sings for him\u2014coming out of the song\u2019s bridge, they all shout, \u201c1, 2, 3, 4\u201d\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u2026and then Aaron sings \u201cWalk Like an Egyptian\u201d in the style of The Bangles. Of course, he changes the word Egyptian to erection. But now, this is the right thing to do. Everyone laughs and high-fives each other because now, it is funny\u2026&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u2026now, Tony T. and a woman named Kitty, a music teacher at one of the elementary schools who is always in the bar alone, and sometimes sings \u201cPiano Man\u201d in the style of Billy Joel, which everyone takes to mean she is lonely, sing \u201cParadise By the Dashboard Light\u201d in the style of Meatloaf. Tony T. mock puts his arm around her waist, and she mock pushes him away\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u2026and now someone, who fucking knows who, is singing \u201cHold My Hand\u201d in the style of Hootie and the Blowfish, then someone else is singing \u201cGoodbye Earl\u201d in the style of The Chicks, and there\u2019s \u201cBillie Jean,\u201d and there\u2019s \u201cBaby\u2019s Got Back,\u201d \u201cRapper\u2019s Delight,\u201d \u201cSummer Nights,\u201d \u201cDon\u2019t Stop Believing.\u201d The room flutters, shakes, blurs, runs out of verbs\u2014ecstatic\u2026&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u2026now, these are my people. This is paradise. We are born of sound, are so close to something, something, something\u2026&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u2026and now, Scott is called to the stage and Barbara is excited to hear him sing. It is just after midnight. Scott will sing \u201cTime\u201d in the style of Pink Floyd. First, the famous explosion of clocks chiming, then the thunderous keyboard chords freeze the room. This song is heavy, is dark, is real. Too real. The room slows down, begs Scott to sing something else, anything else, but Scott sings his song, and he sings with conviction. Scott owns the song, his best performance of the night. Barbara feels sad as she watches him, listens to his tired voice, reads the lyrics as they flick across the display monitor. Scott doesn\u2019t move or perform as on previous songs\u2014this song is bigger, heavier, more important. This song is too important.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Here: the odd sensation of air rushing out of a room, an airlock opening into space, the atmosphere fleeing. I shrivel up in the air, become the sad mixture of Jack, flat coke, and water at the bottom of a glass. Nobody sings along. Nobody dances. In the pale bar light, in the sad glow of Scott\u2019s song, the bar\u2019s patrons see who they really are.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Hear: loud voices shrinking to murmurs, the tired, digital blips of electric dart boards, the clatter of pool balls bouncing off of one another.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Barbara will go home alone tonight. So will Scott. They both know before Scott is finished singing. Something about quiet desperation. Something about how far away across the field, bells toll and initiate some sort of lonely mass.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">We can\u2019t leave it like this. We just can\u2019t. These people need. They need. They need.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">And Gale will gather her coat and purse and go home alone. And Chris will finish another game of pool and leave without his friends, walk out to the parking lot and drive away leaving them stranded. In the morning he will call and apologize and by the next evening, they will return to play pool again. And Tony T. will go home to his wife and child. His wife will be angry that he is late but will forgive him before the morning. And Robert will go to his family and kiss his daughters on the head and feel bad that he is always gone. And Mike will start to leave, not knowing that Trina has finally exacted some revenge, has called the police to report a drunk driver. And Trina will feel bad until she gets home at three in the morning and pays the sitter. And Carrie will\u2026 And Gary will\u2026 And Ron will\u2026And Chad will\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">We can\u2019t let the evening end like this. Something needs to be done.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Ah, but there will be one last singer\u2014the big finish. Big Joe, will you please get up to the stage. Everyone, let\u2019s have a round for Big Joe. Say it along with me now. Big Joe. Big Joe. Big Joe. Go on, Big Joe.&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">And Big Joe announces that he\u2019ll be leaving for New York, soon, and so sings \u201cNew York, New York,\u201d in the style of Frank Sinatra, his beefy baritone filling the room, his mock leg-kicks causing the audience to laugh, causing their little town blues melt away. Start spreading the news\u2014let these people have a few more minutes before going home to bed only to wake up in the morning feeling old and tired and sad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">And sure enough, while Big Joe sings, time slows down so that no one is quite old, quite tired, quite sad\u2014not yet.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\">*<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">In a moment, Scott will pack up his things, Amy and Aaron will leave together, holding hands, Chad will vomit in the bathroom and worry about finding a new job, Seth will draw in his matchbooks, Barbara will already be gone, and on and on into the night they will go. And I will stay where I am, will go on, and on, and on.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">But first, Big Joe\u2014the big finish.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">_________<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><strong>Playlist song:<\/strong> <a href=\"https:\/\/open.spotify.com\/playlist\/2DGL2kl6olesM3rnA0rZ6N?si=db16a2b031e44d4e&amp;nd=1&amp;dlsi=b8920d324dbf4a26\">Linda Ronstadt, &#8220;Blue Bayou&#8221;<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><strong>__________<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\"><strong>James Brubaker<\/strong> is the author of a few books, most recently <em>We Are Ghost Lit<\/em> and <em>The Taxidermist\u2019s Catalog<\/em>. His fiction has also appeared in venues including <em>Puerto Del Sol<\/em>, <em>Diagram<\/em>, <em>Michigan Quarterly Review<\/em>, <em>Booth<\/em>, <em>Indiana Review<\/em>, and <em>Zoetrope: All Story<\/em>, among other venues.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><strong>__________<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"alignleft size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"438\" height=\"211\" src=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/37\/2024\/01\/boudin-logo-1.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-15484\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/37\/2024\/01\/boudin-logo-1.jpg 438w, https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/37\/2024\/01\/boudin-logo-1-300x145.jpg 300w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 438px) 100vw, 438px\" \/><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-large-font-size\"> \ud83e\udca0 <a href=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/2024\/03\/09\/ticket-to-ride\/\">Back<\/a> <a href=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/2024\/03\/10\/cemetery-one-nighter\/\">Next<\/a> \ud83e\udca1<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">To learn more about submitting your work to <em><a href=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/boudin-submissions\/\">Boudin<\/a><\/em> or applying to McNeese State University&#8217;s Creative Writing <a href=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/mfa-application-submissions\/\">MFA program<\/a>, please visit Submissions for details.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>In the Style Of&#8230; James Brubaker __________ Here is Ohio. And here is Dayton, and here is a suburb, a strip mall, a bar\u2014a karaoke bar. I am neither a patron, nor an employee. I am something else entirely, sick with anticipation, throbbing from the bar\u2019s early evening quiet. I wait for the noise. The&hellip;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":42,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[199],"tags":[75,146,198],"class_list":["post-16001","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-all-music-espressivo-24","tag-boudin","tag-fiction-2","tag-music"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16001","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/42"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=16001"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16001\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16426,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16001\/revisions\/16426"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=16001"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=16001"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=16001"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}