Idaho Life
Clap on One and Three, Go to Jail
At Pengilly's, there is one problem we’d like to bring to your attention that would elevate the saloon experience to an even higher plane.By Jill Kuraitis, 12-01-09
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| Those in the know use Pengilly's back door, but it doesn't guarantee their clapping skills. | |
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Dear owners of Pengilly’s Saloon in Boise,
My friends and I often spend an evening of music at Pengilly’s. It’s a wonderful place and we thank you for keeping it as it has been for more than a century. In fact, we remember when you could choke in there from the smoke of a thousand Democrats. Thanks for clearing that up.
Our memories include many a post-election crying in our beer at the north end of the bar – you know, that little L-turn where Dirty Depressed Guy and Leacherous Bald Guy have been hanging out for decades (if you could convince them to take a bath we’d tip extra-heavy for a while) as well as a zillion fundraisers for everything from Arts for Children to Save the North End Chickens.
You are always assured of our patronage, especially when there is live music. But there is one little problem we’d like to bring to your attention that would elevate the Pengilly’s experience to an even higher plane: during song sets, there has arisen a rash - an epidemic - a teeth-grating sound tsunami of out-of-sync clapping on counts “one” and “three” and it’s driving us crazy.
Our little group has tried and tried to get people to catch on, but they act as if we are drunk, or something, and they ignorantly continue this egregious clapping error.
We who love Pengilly’s are hoping that you, too, are offended by one-three clapping. Might you help us in our crusade for proper two-four clapping by setting out a little flyer on your tables and bar? We will provide the flyers and those little plastic table stands to stick them in. Rest assured we will print plenty of extras. We are thinking of the tasteful headline, “MORONS: IF YOU CLAP ON ONE AND THREE WE WILL SMASH YOUR FACE IN.”
In fact we have already set up a Facebook page and a Twitter feed under that headline.
If the table flyer doesn’t work, we are happy to come to Pengilly’s each night (we’ll rotate turns, with proper training for all) to stand up with the band and lead the clapping. Also, our friend Luigi, who was a running back with the Bears until an unfortunate knee injury (truth be told, it was really his “Uncle” Guido, to whom he owed money) cut his career short, will be glad to enforce the rules. Luigi is especially gentle when he does that neck-snapping thing.
Here is our favorite example of correct/incorrect clapping, which some say is also a handy test for political party affiliation but we are not part of that nonsense:
“Hit the Road, Jack” - correct version
Hit the road CLAP
Jack CLAP
And don’t you
CLAP
Back
CLAP
More
CLAP
More
CLAP
More
CLAP
More
Incorrect and offensive version:
Hit the CLAP CLAP
And CLAP you come
CLAP
no CLAP
no CLAP
no CLAP
no CLAP
You can see how the incorrect version is indicative of rampant nonmusical rhythm ignorance, in addition to being annoying. We hope you agree that this practice must be stopped.
However, in keeping with the libertarian nature of Idaho, we do not suggest, nor would we support, legislation outlawing one-three clapping, but favor an educational program designed to convince people on the basis of logic, musicality, and God Bless America.
Anxiously awaiting your reply,
The Two-Four Clapping Coalition
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Comments
What I don't understand is why this 1-3 clapping is such a big deal to some people. You get it, you can do it, bully for you. Lighten up. Definitely not worth dropping an f-bomb.
I learned long ago not to let anybody come up onstage and shake a tambourine or maracas, unless I know for a fact that he or she is a musician. Most people simply can't produce rhythm, even if they have enough soul to appreciate it.
Carry on. On the backbeat, sister.
You made me laugh so hard tonight.
One of my pet peeves is incomprehensible audience clapping patterns. It even happens at the Morrison Center for the Philharmonic & at high school musical productions. I feel like you, that everyone should be able to grasp the common cadence of 2/4 time. I fall into step every single time I hear a marching band. (Being a member of the drill teams at both North and BHS made me get a clue.) I hear the drums, and my legs start to move, cellular memory or something akin to that in our ancestral roots. It is a primal urge, like sex and fire-keeping. I digress, but will volunteer to help stuff the little plastic table sign holders. I would even urge you to enlist the entertainment at Pengilly's to hold short instruction sessions, to fully inform the masses. Rebecca & Jeremiah are both dedicated public servants. The Frim Fram Fellas could get the Thursday night crowd indoctrinated quickly. Let me know when you are having a table sign stuffing session. <tee hee, snicker, snicker, hahahahaha......>
b
Now Miss Jill, some of us have no rhythm that we are aware of. Hell some of us can't even spell it. We do our damndest to cure the affliction with alcohol and we ain't too sure it ain't working better than it is at disrupting your ability to keep time, or at least to accurately observe our courageous attempts. But geez, this is like tripping a lame guy.
Instead of Luigi, might I suggest my fourth grade teacher Sister Miriam Grace. She's a dead eye with an eraser and wicked with a yard stick. She purged Satan right from my baby brother several times. I'll let Allen know of your concerns and I know right where he'll file it. And I look forward to seeing you down there. ;-)
BTW, lecherous bald guy died. And dirty depressed guy showered and is back on his meds.
Thanks sista! I need a new found family! The old one has dispursed to the four corners of the globe.
What's the waste of time? (The pun is GOOD in a Bad sort of way.)
I think Jill's article is well-written social commentary. The f-bomb was relevant. It is a major part of speech for anyone under the age of 30. I, personally, try to limit my usage of it, or else it slips out of me around my mother, or at church. I embarrass easily and turn fire-engine red when flumoxxed. My mother is from the genteel generation and cannot tolerate any profanity. On the other hand, as a too-young-to-have-been-a-real-hippie kid, laugh at everything and act stoned 90% of the time.
Convene another fest at Pengilly's and I'm in.