Post Office (Generation Why)

If you thought Manning Laundry made me crazy, you're definitely questioning my choices now. About 7 recordings into this project, I was stumped as to where to sing next. I felt like I was running out of places on campus where someone could play music, so I decided to go on a walk one night, and that's when I walked by the "Open 24 hours" sign on the door of the post office. I ran home, grabbed my ukulele, and came straight back.

Needless to say, I didn't exactly have a plan, so once I had set up to record, I found myself asking, "why am I playing here? there's absolutely no musical significance to this place for me." I thought for a minute about why I felt silly playing music in the post office lobby, and figured it was, once again, the unspoken social rule that live music doesn't happen in a place meant to send and receive letters. After a little while, I ended up playing "Generation Why" by Conan Gray for just that reason. My generation didn't set the precedent that post offices weren't for playing music. I don't exactly know who did, but ever since, we've all been following it, so why not change it up? As I played, I found myself once again wondering why this wasn't a musical space. The acoustics were absolutely ideal, at least in my opinion. The idea of space was reflected by the linoleum floors, but most of the echo was absorbed by the wood on the walls. It made my voice sound warm and round and full, and I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to give a concert here. That's when somebody walked in, and I had to get up, apologize, and get out -- hence why the recording is so short. I cut that interaction out because quite frankly, I'm a little embarrassed about it.

As I walked home, I thought about why concerts didn't happen there. Not only was this a space of utility, but an awkwardly shaped one at that. All the P.O boxes split the space into small, rectangular coves, illogical for playing to an audience, but perfect for playing solo. After all the questioning I had already done as to what makes something a performance, I thought about if I had just performed, and why I had stopped when someone else came in. I most likely could have kept going, and perhaps he would have stopped me, but perhaps he wouldn't have. Either way, I can't help but have a secret hope that I'll come back and record something else here, just to experience the wonderful space that the acoustics in the post office provided.