Besides feeling sorry for a guy who’s so insecure about his own masculinity that he actually procured an SUV for a date rather than show up in his “gay” Miata, this silly New York Times article made me wonder if there’s an archetypal new music composer ride. Let’s ponder on this for a minute, shall we…
Let’s say you drive a ’92 Saturn SL4 sedan with a good old-fashioned tape deck. What does that say about you? First of all, you probably have a day job at a non-profit. Also revealing is your inclination towards a manufacturer with a strong astrological bent. Get this: twelve signs of the zodiac, twelve tones. This clearly indicates that you have an astute insight into integral serialism. That analog tape deck illustrates your nostalgia for the past and, if it actually worked, you might be listening to, say, early electronic music of the Columbia-Princeton variety right at this very moment. The fact that you don’t have personalized vanity plates, however, proves that you’re not too anal about everything. So even though you might use a tone row from time to time, you know that music is much more than just numbers and retrograde inversions.
If you’re the proud owner of an ’87 vintage Honda Civic CRX, you obviously take really good care of your personal property—oh wait, the rearview mirror is dangling off the beaten-up passenger-side door which no longer opens. That’s okay. It’s just a clear indicator that your music doesn’t look back. It’s forward-thinking and experimental. And the unconventional three-door design of your coupe only reinforces your eclectic approach to composition. Perhaps you have minimalist tendencies as well, given the fact that you haven’t really done anything to your car in over a decade except the odd oil change here and there. As you see it, your car is a process piece about entropy, and you’re letting it progress on its own, without altering too many superfluous external factors.
If you’re one of those composers lucky enough to be driving a brand new Volkswagen Eos 2.OT, or any car with less than 100,000 miles on it for that matter, you’re significant other must be a lawyer or something. Good catch! Congratulations. Otherwise, maybe you lucked out and got a huge commission check and decided to live well beyond your means for a little while, or you just treated yourself to an I-got-tenure present. Regardless, it’s obvious you’ve never bothered to read the memo that “real artists” drive shit-boxes.