Van Go away

I think I've described my apartment previously. At least, I think I've mentioned the highlights, like it coming semi-furnished, not requiring a security deposit and having ridiculously low rent. And I've probably at least touched on the lowlights, like the very rough, splintery hardwood floor in the living room, the shortage of functioning overhead lights in the common rooms, the ever-trickling bathroom sink, the dearth of electrical outlets, the inability of the circuitry to power more than one appliance at a time and, of course, the sub-Arctic temperatures routinely recorded in my room and other parts of the downstairs.

So, I gather you have a pretty good idea of why we have such cheap rent. Well, that and the little (minor, really) detail about the building being demolished in the spring to make way for a luxury single-family home. (Gentrification, yeah!)

But you'd be sorely mistaken. Because it seems the real reason we're getting away with paying so little is the weekly cacophony that emanates from downstairs.

See, our landlord Lou, formerly the tenant in the first-floor apartment in our building, has a pop band, Van Go that uses the downstairs as rehearsal space every Wednesday night. I'd say they play music, but that'd really be too kind. In the words of my roommate, Joe, "it's hard to believe they work so hard to be that bad." Amen.

Once, not long after we moved in here, Lou left a quarter-sheet flier under our door for a gig he and his band were playing with The Shazam and The Boss Martians, the two hottest pop bands on the planet. We didn't go. In fact, we just laughed at the prospect of Lou and his ilk playing in some yuppie dive. I know, you're as shocked as I was at the thought of passing up The Shazam and The Boss Martians. After all, they are the two hottest pop bands on the planet. But it ain't gonna happen.

Even if we hadn't possessed a healthy aversion to pop, I doubt Joe and I would've gone. Or even if we hadn't had this misfortune of hearing Van Go "perform" weekly, I don't think we'd have gone. After all, there's just something really suspect about a pop band whose bassist is a landlord and banker. His bio on the official Van Go Web site notes that he is "bass 'vocals' [dubiety in original] Sweat-stained t-shirts with controversial slogans". Joe and I are pretty sure that means he wears grungy threads advocating the Fed to slash interest rates. (What else could be "controversial" to a banker?)

The moral of the story, however, is that Lou, Van Go, et al are really, really bad. It's hard to place whether they suffer from a lack of musicianship or simply just exceedingly poor taste in "music"; regardless, it's not aesthetically pleasing to have to listen to through my floor. More like incessant psychoterrorism. We're considering threatening him with eviction if he keeps this up. Either that, or we'll bribe him to let us destroy his guitar.