A tone-deaf's view of 'a capella'

"Ohmigod!" exclaimed my high school friend as we walked the halls of Stanford University last June. "That was Todd Husak!" Naturally, my only reply was a blank stare. "You know," she explained "our quarterback...Rose Bowl...any of this sound familiar, Yale boy?" I was suddenly struck by the fact that I was, as I believe many Yalies to be, completely ignorant as to who our quarterback was. Now, I'm as spirited as the next guy and scream just as loud during The Game. "Come on," she implored. "There must be someone on campus that everybody recognizes." I thought it over. "Yeah," I replied. "Kevin Quinn." She looked at me. "Okay," she cocked her head, "what team does he play for." I smiled. "The Whiffenpoofs."

At that moment, I realized how peculiar the Yale a cappella scene is. From the freshman who is nearly trampled by crazed groups on Tap Night, to the roommate who reviews his repertoire in the shower, to the prisoner who is compelled to attend jams for the sake of friends, many non-singing Yalies have found their lives saturated with a cappella. The result is a unique circumstance where more social attention is given to musical creativity than to other aspects of campus life. Whether or not this is a good thing is a complex question.

On one hand, all the a cappella madness helps to foster a larger artistic community, but the omnipresence of a cappella music can also make it all sound the same. While I enjoy much of it, I often feel like I'd puke if I heard one more "do do ahhh." Moreover, the exclusiveness of the musical groups make them something like fraternities and sororities, complete with stereotypes of how a member of each group should act. Such a large and select social ring can be intimidating to tone-deaf Yalies. And then there's the issue of Tap Night, when the a cappella community forces itself upon a majority of the freshmen, creating a heartbreaking scenario for those who are not tapped.

In many ways, the awkward social dynamics created by the a cappella scene is a by-product of Yalies' disturbing tendency to identify ourselves by what we do rather than who we are. Our extracurriculars determine who we know, where we party, and what is expected of us. While some best express their personal identity by joining a group, others limit their identity to that which is expected of the group and remove themselves from the Yale community at large. The a cappella community is simply an extreme example of this phenomenon, which is also found in athletic teams, political parties, theatrical groups, and so forth. But unlike these other organizations, singing groups occupy a much larger and almost unavoidable presence on campus. In part, this is due to the fact that collegiate a cappella originated at Yale. But the groups themselves are also responsible. From terrorizing the Freshman Bazaar, to "barking" in Commons, to displaying their group selections in public during Tap Night, the a capella system brings upon itself much attention and scrutiny.

That said, I don't mean to slight the a cappella community—I sometimes do look to them with an envious eye. When was the last time Woolsey Hall was filled with students eager to read a campus publication? In the end, one should appreciate all that the a cappella community brings to Yale but remain objective enough to realize its shortcomings.

Blake Charlton is a junior in Trumbull.

Graphic by Sarah England.

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