I take this opportunity tonight to express my distaste for Alanis Morissette.
I take this opportunity tonight because my husband isn’t here to argue with me about it. He’s at an Alanis Morissette concert.
I didn’t go because doing so would have hurt my ears.
I’m not calling Alanis Morissette a bad musician. She might very well call me a bad writer. It’s simply a matter of taste.
Or science.
The human ear is sensitive to different kinds of sound. In some ways, my ear is sensitive as a dog’s ear is sensitive. I hear high pitched sounds many humans don’t.
Alanis Morissette’s whiny voice gives me goosebumps – and not the good kind.
Her lyrics are similarly annoying. Take one of her early hits, Ironic. Her examples of irony include “like rain on your wedding day” and “a black fly in your Chardonnay.” Alanis, honey, look it up.
Obviously, my husband and I have different tastes. Whereas I go for the deeper, richer, often whiskey-soaked alto vocals of Bonnie Raitt, Mary Chapin Carpenter and Carole King (as well as Lady Gaga and Rihanna, singers with wide vocal ranges who are lauded for their ability to go low beautifully), he likes the voices that pierce my ears – Judy Collins, Barbara Cook, Charlotte Church, Nanci Griffith and, don’t hate me, Joni Mitchell.
In other words, he has a high tolerance for high-pitched whining–which, come to think of it, might just explain nearly 27 years of marriage.
Ironic? Not really.
Today, all mankind is on my nerves.
Word Nymph 