Tulsa Drone - ChiaroscuroCase Studies of a Muzakologist: #18 The Verizon Call-Intercept SongStatus: Study suspended due to hostilities encountered and pending court appearances. Case notes follow.Summary: Unknown muzak specimen first encountered during the fall of ’03, its serpentine melody seems to make full use of the production technique known as ‘terrying,’ where all component instruments are shrouded with boiled towels to deaden their natural timbres. As my younger colleagues might say, it has “hooks like a bait shop.” And, at 5 beats per minute, it’s also one of the more dynamic for-telephone pieces I’ve ever heard, vibrating my receiver with its bewitching dark funk. More tests are needed.Research: I wanted to try to listen to the specimen while engaged in a number of different activities, to see if this would assist my classification.1) For the sleep test, I set up my bedside auto-dialer (maintained for reasons I choose not to disclose) to ring the number associated with my first hearing of this piece. I clasped the headphones to my skull and slept, enclosed in the gossamer webs of soft, yielding jazz. Dreamt about a world ruled by an elaborate monarchy of anthropomorphic butterscotch candies. Upon waking, I took note of some of the intriguing effects this test had had upon my person: saliva from my mouth had congealed into a discrete triangle of sediment on the northwest corner of my goatee, and a subpoena had been served on behalf of the owners of the aforementioned number. The bastards.2) The water test is not commonly employed by muzakologists, on account of the extreme risk of electrocution and the requirement for high decibel (60 dB, minimum) examination. However, because of the increased density of liquids, details not otherwise discernible during orthodox ‘air-listening’ will emerge from the piece during a water test, just as a demure streetwalker might be coaxed from her cardboard hovel with the promise of narcotics-smeared McGriddle sandwiches. As I lowered myself into the 10’ x 10’ x 10’ plastic cube of high-saline water which I keep in my den, I trembled with either anticipation or delirium tremens (too long away from the cooking vanilla), not certain which. In the water, the piece sounded sublime: it was juicy and elemental, penetrating to my tympanic membranes with almost criminal ease. Results were inconclusive though. I'm still no closer to full identification. Might have peed a little in the tank.[Buy No Wake]