Facing the Music

For generations now, without protest, as if it were an ineluctable law, every gala, from the poshest to the most downscale, whether the occasion be a wedding, a bar mitzvah, or a holiday ball, has climaxed in the same way: the dinner ends, the appointed ceremony is concluded, and then . . . oompah ooomp oomph oompah oomp. The subwoofer pounds, sending vibrations up the walls, through the furnishings, and into the intestines. Lights flash, the disc jockey exults into the microphone, and the women, young and middle-aged alike, rise, shriek, and gyrate their way onto the floor. Conversation ends, yielding to the cacophony. This execrable noise is what the world calls dance music.