A review of Toronto’s 91.1 Jazz FM
How I hate jazz, let me count the ways.
- I hate the way it’s pronounced. Every letter pronounced with its own specific jazziness. The pursed-lipped J, the undulating A, and the buzzy Zs are horrible, horrible, horrible.
- Improvised solos aren’t that cool. It’s the musical equivalent of stepping on to an oil drum and masturbating. People shouldn’t applaud in the middle of a tune, nine times. What the fuck.
- Watching people close their eyes and snap their fingers and twitch as though approaching an epileptic fit is excruciating to watch.
- There’s, like, way too much saxophone.
- The holier-than-thou attitude of jazz aficionados is laughable. Please don’t tell me to “listen to that bass.” The notes they didn’t play? Fuck off.
- Avant-garde jazz is fiercely maddening. I’m all for experimental music, but this stuff might as well be called “You wouldn’t understand, jack!”
Turn that dial.
Obligatory Title Pun: JAZZ lovers? EFF EM.
Menu Readability: 911 is right. If I’m listening to jazz, It’s some kind of emergency.
Need to mention: I wrote this while listening to Lee Morgan. Not half bad.
What this place teaches me about myself: Hate it. I fucking hate it.