The problem with language

is that people can speak it without knowing it.

Or maybe the problem is people are too smart for their own good.

I was sitting at a the SFJAZZ Summerfest, a free concert held in Union Square this afternoon, having randomly decided to sit and wait there while waiting for 6:30 to come. Up on stage was the Arlington Houston Quintet. As expected these talented musicians take turns doing their solos.

Okay, keep in mind while I'm recounting this that I was completely sober when I was watching. But it totally bugged me when the crowd would robotically clap after every solo.

Were the musicians blowing our minds?

Were they making us laugh with odd turnarounds or familiar hooks?

Was someone in the crowd whooping infectuously to the language of the brass...or the stand up bass...or peaking on E as they tickled the ivory?

No.

Mankind has just been puppy dog trained to be courteous. Okay, perhaps appreciative.

Here's the thing though. A society that prides itself in its predictable social niceties is grinding itself into the ground, smoothing jagged edges and wearing down distinguishing features so that no one gets hurt, and so that nobody stands out and gets the nasty look. The Evil Eye.

The last note in a sax solo (especially sax/trumpet/drum) is like a flashing APPLAUSE APPLAUSE APPLAUSE sign hanging over our heads, telling us that something is not only funny or entertaining that lauging or whooping is enough, but something is moving us with the holy spirit of performance to clap! and double our audible signs of approval.

If you prick us, do we not bleed?
If you tickle us, do we not laugh?
If you poison us, do we not die?
And if you bust out an awesome solo, shall we not ovate?