My name is Nathan Scott Winer and I was never meant to attend an all-campus party. I am unable to dance without feeling like a dunce (fun wordplay for you), I am always upset by sticky floors and walls (@ the AD lounge), and I don’t like most of the music played at any large gathering. That being said, any time I’ve gone out on a weekend night there has always been at least one moment of complete euphoria, just complete and utter joy. I feel like my soul is ready to leave my body to mingle with the souls of the rest of this campus whenever I hear the first few notes of what I genuinely think is one of the best songs written and released in the last several decades. I’m talking, of course, about The Killer’s seminal number one hit, “Mr. Brightside.”
It’s a Sunday and I downed some whipped cream. Straight from the nozzle like an animal. Like somebody who knows exactly what sin is. This is good and clean and fun but I’m lactose-intolerant and that sweet sweet heavy cream gives me some sleepy, sloppy farts—some creepy, crappy farts. It’s like Dr. Seuss said: “You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes,” and, well, I got gas in my caboose Mr. Seuss and she’s ripping loose like stinky one-liners during amateur hour at the comedy club. You heard that thunder on Sunday? Nope. That was my rear end belting and swan-songing like the prima donna’s understudy.
Sometimes there’s a certain groove that comes into your head and makes you bend and shake your hips to its will, and for me, that fine beat is the sound the printers at the library make in the midst of printing several pages. Oh yes.
The Kenyon music scene has been on fire recently. With Saturday’s Jungle Pussy performance fast fading from our ringing ears, students are chomping at the bit for more shows. The Horn’s wide reaching booking abilities are impressive to say the least, so we can’t begin to guess what hot artist is stopping by campus next, but we can say with confidence which bands won’t be coming to Kenyon any time soon. Continue reading