Chilled to the bone

During the numbing, rather frantic weeks that followed Demeter's fall, I found that my morning hour at the coffee house was my only oasis.  One late January dawn, I asked the barista what song was playing.  (Shazam, I've discovered, takes up too much space on my phone.)  I can't remember the song, but I do remember the barista's advice:  "Do you know you can just ask Siri?"

I rarely use Siri, but this was a god-send.  For the past eight months, I've been quietly muttering to my phone, as I scribble in my journals:  "Hey Siri, what's this song?"  

She'll answer:  "Hang on, listening." Or, "Name that tune."

So far as I know, she's only been wrong once, although, occasionally, she has to say, "Sorry, I don't recognise that."

Lately, I've been making an effort to identify music I loathe.  Moka House, much to its credit, runs a variety of playlists, and every now and then, the music will bore me, and bore into me, encouraging me to drink up and leave.  I figure it's just as important to know what I don't like.  Sometimes it's a surprise.

I was astonished to learn that I hate the Arctic Monkeys, because I've heard them on television, and didn't think I minded them that much.  Last week the coffee shop either played an album or a playlist of the group, and it set my teeth on edge.

However, usually the track I can't stand is by an artist unfamiliar to me.  I note the title and artist and look 'em up.  Similar terms keep popping up:  "chillwave", "chillhop", and often in the same sentence, "lofi".

"Lofi"?  Wait a minute...

About a dozen years ago, I began to be aware that a number of my favourite restaurants were putting me off my food with, what was to me, irritating, repetitive, thunk-thunk sort of music.  In both Hades and Victoria, as well as, I presume, many cities, eateries were being pervaded by this stuff, which, frankly, made my ears itch.  Finally, on a quiet afternoon in Cook Street Village, I asked our server what the hell was playing.  (I may have used different words.  I hope so.)

She explained to me that it was a type of music called "low fidelity", and it was supposedly designed to be an unobtrusive listening experience.  In fact, she said, one of the local bakery/coffee shops used the same music service.  I made a mental note not to go there.

When I got home, I googled "low fidelity" and "dining music".  Nuthin'.

Two years later, I have the answer:  it's "lofi" -- or "chill".

Shudder.