Elevator Muzak

J. Crew:

As I perused the solid colored sweaters and crisp skirts at J. Crew, a salesperson informed me that the sale items were located upstairs. I was a little miffed at first, but let’s be honest — it is where I would have ended up anyway.

Besides, my main goal was not to shop; it was to experience whatever musical wonders J. Crew decided to enchant its shoppers with that day. On my way upstairs, an indie songstress, reminiscent of Florence and the Machine, crooned a lot of indistinguishable words. The sound then shifted from alternative beats to a jazzy rendition of “I Can’t Go for That.” As she repeatedly sang, “I can’t go for that,” I found myself saying the same thing in regards to a really cute but not-in-my-budget coat. Interesting subliminal message.

Next up, a cover of Darlene’s famous “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home).” Nice one, J. Crew: Christmas carols are the way to my heart. As I hummed along, I found the perfect green shirt. ’Tis the season, right? I was pulled from my Christmas Wonderland by Adele’s soulful declarations in “Rolling in the Deep.” Not that I am complaining — it may be overplayed, but you can’t go wrong with Adele.

As I made my way over to the cashier, another indie song began with a soothing feel but depressing lyrics. When I asked the cashier how she felt about the music, she replied, “It’s horrible. Once in a while you will get a good song and then something like this will come on and you have no idea what is playing and you never will know.”

She ended with an emphatic, “But J. Crew is a great store.” Don’t worry: I highly doubt the music will deter students from their J. Crew. All in all, J. Crew music provides a nice buying atmosphere — nothing to outshine the clothes but enough sound to drown out that little voice saying you don’t really need another shirt.

—Catherine Bauman '15

Qdoba:

As it is now the week after Thanksgiving, I entered the Qdoba on Nassau Street expecting to hear “Feliz Navidad” streaming from the burrito joint’s speakers. Instead, MGMT’s “Kids” greeted me at the door, along with the weak smell of grilled meat.

“Ah, they must have a bunch of college-aged employees,” I thought as I got in line. But as I peered over the sneeze-guard protecting the containers of beans, rice and meat, I was surprised to see that the two employees holding down the fort were both middle-aged and heavily accented. The woman making my burrito, Maria, looked completely taken aback when I asked her who chose the music for the restaurant. I pointed to the ceiling and repeated my question while her eyes darted frantically over the five choices of meat in front of her.

Finally, she glanced beseechingly at her manager, Dwayne Howell, who answered my question with, “Music.” “And who chooses it?” I asked again. “Music,” he repeated. Luckily, it dawned on me that he was not mocking me, but he was referring to Muzak, the company I had always associated with elevator music.

Apparently, Muzak has expanded their company to selling their library of 2.8 million songs to corporate sales chains, promising that their music will turn “shoppers into buyers.” According to Howell, Muzak sends the Qdoba a CD holding 250-260 songs each month, which play on repeat until the next CD arrives. As for the quality of the songs, Howell could not say if he liked the music, but he did say that the selection now was much better than the songs they offered a few years ago. “At least now they play artists that we’re accustomed to,” he said. “Sometimes, they’ll even play Shakira.” He shimmied his shoulders in homage to the Latin pop star.

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From the consumer’s side, I couldn’t hear the music over the rumbling of the soda dispenser and neither could the Shazam app on my iPhone, so I can only say that the songs were of the indie rock persuasion. As I chowed down on my bland burrito, I was fairly sure that the barely audible music had no effect on my dining experience, although I found the soda fountain’s hum quite entrancing. As I was leaving, salsa music played me out. This was perhaps the only reminder that I had been eating at a Mexican restaurant and not Panera.

—Lillian Li '13

Cafe Vivian:

Cafe Vivian tries very hard to seem like a cozy, classy cafe from some gentrified neighborhood of some big city that just happened to land itself in the middle of Frist Campus Center. From the dim mood lighting to the throwback Princeton paraphernalia lining its walls, everything in Viv seems engineered for this deception — you’re not really in New Jersey, silly. This is a real, sophisticated, honest-to-God college town where English majors write freeform poetry on cigarette cartons, everyone’s vegan and nobody knows what “I-banking” is.

It’s the “Real Jazz” station on Sirius Satellite Radio that you’re hearing, if you wanted to bring the sounds of affluence and earth-friendly vegan pizzas home with you. Usually when I’m in Viv, I’m either meeting with a preceptor or hunched over my books in a booth, so I can’t hear the classy piano or the blat of the sax over the sound of my panic and misery. I’m not alone — I see more chem books on the tables in Viv than I see anywhere else. Viv’s denizens come in two breeds: There are those who plug their headphones in and glower at you when you enter their line of vision and those who squawk with their friends in the middle of the room over the funniest problem set in the entire world. I’m not sure if anyone notices that they’re being subliminally calmed by the music.

As someone who will freely admit to being a total dork and doing her homework to film scores and showtunes (the symphonic dances from West Side Story got me through midterms), I kind of wish The Powers That Be would turn the “Real Jazz” up and save me from sweaty headphone ears. It might drown out the stage whispers of the girl in the booth next door, or at least make her think twice about asking her mom for birth control over the phone while an entire cafe full of people is eavesdropping.

—Emily Tseng '14

Starbucks:

According to Starbucks’ website, one of the goals of its founder Howard Schultz was to “bring the Italian coffeehouse tradition back to the United States” and create “a place for conversation and a sense of community.” Each Starbucks is supposed to be an outgrowth of the neighborhood coffee shop model — friendly, nurturing and rooted in the community.

Yet there are few other symbols of modern consumer culture more ubiquitous than the Starbucks coffee cup containing a standard $4 drink beloved by college students and businesspeople alike. And nothing better emphasizes Starbucks’ wannabe authenticity than the music in the Starbucks stores.

The music is purposefully eclectic — a mix of Pink Martini and Barbara Streisand — set to just the right volume to be heard but not be pushy. It blends perfectly into the vibe. Perhaps too perfectly.

Indeed, when I investigated further, assistant manager Theo reported, “We don’t pick the music. Corporate sends us the disks, and we play them.” Okay, fine, but how does corporate pick the music? After several calls to the Starbucks media relations and customer service hotlines and days (okay, minutes) of being on hold, the very nice customer service lady was only able to tell me this: “The music is picked by a development group.”

Who does this mysterious development group consist of? Analysts armed with data, earnest ex-hippies? The answer is unclear, but as I sit here sipping my white chocolate mocha I find myself nodding along to a jazzy version of “Joy to the World,” and for a moment I’m actually content to be a part of the insidious consumer culture than threatens to take over America, one Frappuccino and compilation CD at a time.

—Lakshmi Davey '15

WaWa:

There is something undeniably comforting about the Wawa’s neon lighting, dusty corners and reliably peppy soundtrack. The music plays 24/7, and the song selection is consistently, gloriously unimaginative — and absolutely no one cares. Over the past few days, no customers that I observed seemed phased that Miley Cyrus was serenading them at 9 a.m. with “7 Things,” or that Beyonce’s masterpiece, “Countdown” was playing at 1 a.m. And when I mentioned to my friends that I was writing about the song selection at the Wawa I got the response, “Wawa plays music?” more than once.

So, I’m pretty sure that no one goes to the Wawa to enjoy its ambience, but that doesn’t mean that the good people at the Wawa don’t try to make it a pleasant space. John, the general manager, informed me that they are in fact a loyal costumer of Muzak — which is apparently an actual company and part of the hilariously named Mood Media Corporation. Muzak provides the Wawa with a new soundtrack each month consisting of recent and not-so-recent top 40 hits. And, true to their reputation, the Muzak at the Wawa is about as remarkable as the nonsense they sell as elevator music.

So, if you listen, you’ll hear Rihanna, the Black Eyed Peas, Taylor Swift, Ke$ha and Lady Gaga while you wait for your sandwich to be made. But if you don’t, you won’t be missing much — you will inevitably hear “We Found Love” a million times on the Street this Saturday, and that sandwich will still be delicious.

—Lekha Kanchinadam '15