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The Man Who Doesn’t Like Music
I used to joke that I could never be friends with someone who doesn’t like music. Then during my college days I met a young filmmaker in the Theater Arts department named Greg. He had movie star looks with deep blue eyes, greased-back hair and a weathered leather jacket he wore like Fonzie. We bonded over coffee and discussed our love for movies. I told him how much I admired Stanley Kubrick.
“Kubrick has the greatest soundtracks,” I said. “My favorite is Clockwork Orange.”
“I can’t stand it,” Greg said.
“Why?”
“I don’t like music.”
“What do you mean?”
“It makes me nauseous.”
I figured he was talking about classical music since Clockwork Orange has pieces by Beethoven and Rossini. (The Malcom McDowell character hates Beethoven.)
“You mean symphonic music?”
“I’m talking about anything with a melody or a tune.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It makes me dizzy. All my muscles contract like I’m about to have a seizure.”
“But you’re a film buff. How can you watch movies without listening to music?”
“That’s why I carry these.”
