April 29, 2010

Goodnight Column, Good Morning World

Print More

It is amazing to me that I am sitting down to write the final column of my Cornell career, after writing for The Sun since the second week of my freshman year. It legitimately seems like that first article — a review of an Indonesian music concert — was yesterday. Sappy, clichéd sentiment? Maybe. The way I feel? Definitely. Four awesome years? Priceless. (Oh wait, except for that boatload of money … ). Now, I know it’s probably starting to drive you crazy that the last two weeks of Sun columns are filled with teary goodbyes from all of us seniors, but I promise you, we can’t help it. We are about to step out into the real world, where you can’t bursar your lunch at CTB, you can’t sleep in until noon if you don’t feel like going to class and you can’t get the student discount at the movies anymore. Frick. We have to say goodbye to all that and we’re sad because, as excited as we are about next year and all the cool things we’re doing, the Cornell life has been one pretty sweet deal, and we will miss it. So bear with me, faithful readers (read: Mom and Dad).I have decided the best way to say goodbye is to steal from one of my favorite children’s books, Goodnight Moon. You recall it, I’m sure. So … here goes. Goodnight moon, goodnight dorms, goodnight cow with the stomach window. Goodnight Goldwin-Smith, and fraternity row. Goodnight CU bear, goodnight Kennedy auditorium chair. Goodnight slope, goodnight Lindseth climbing rope. Good night clock tower, and goodnight Disney power hour. Goodnight hockey, and goodnight Level B. Goodnight class, and goodnight homework. Goodnight Jeff Foote, and goodnight Mann library circ. And goodnight to Happy Dave, Okenshield’s clerk. Goodnight Cornell, goodnight Ithaca, and goodnight good friends everywhere. Oh that was sad. But ok, I’ll stop loading on the cheese now and leave you with three last for-your-listening-pleasure recommendations. Three brand new albums that you absolutely must listen to. The new Broken Social Scene album, Forgiveness Rock Record, and its accompanying EP Lo-Fi for the Dividing Nights. Epic is the word that comes to mind. Now this album doesn’t technically come out until next week, but, as is common nowadays, it was leaked a few weeks ago, so if you’re into illegal downloading you can probably find it. Fine print: 76 Trombones does not condone illegal downloading. You must also find the new Caribou, entitled Swim — perhaps the fullest and most awesome one-man-band sound you’ll ever stumble upon. And finally, the new LCD Soundsystem album, This Is Happening.  The single “Drunk Girls” (see YouTube — SWEET video) was released a few weeks ago, but the album again doesn’t officially come out until later in May, so … again … you didn’t hear it from me. Wink, wink.   To wrap up, I do want to take a moment for a quick shout-out before I go, to my amazing family. My parents who have read every article I have written in the last four years, and sent me encouraging text messages after most of them (especially once my mom learned how to text). My brother and sister who have suffered (mostly) gracefully through having their musical tastes apparently misrepresented in this column. My boyfriend, who listened to me sob hysterically every time I got stressed about being too stupid to pass my prelims. And the two best groups of friends a girl could ask for — you know who you all are. (And to everyone who has no idea who all these people are, thanks bunches of bananas for reading to the bottom of the page anyway.)I have a wonderful friend from high school, who, in middle school, we used to call our “emotional friend that plays the tuba.” She had a song to go with every moment of her life — a song for when her cat died, a song for when the soccer team lost, a song for when she ate tomato soup for lunch. In her inimical tradition, and because this is a music column, I have decided to leave you, Cornell and Cornellians, with a goodbye song from, appropriately, the local I-Town band, New Neighbors. “That was the last of the golden ages / wish I had known while they was here / I would’ve told me every morning / I would’ve kept the evenings clear.” Peace and love, Cornellians. Look me up if you’re ever in Boston.

Original Author: Julia Woodward