fwiw more wacky stuff on Sound warfare "THE SOUND OF MUSIC"
Copyright 1995 Phoenix Newspapers, Inc. A
THE PHOENIX GAZETTE
November 8, 1995 Wednesday, Final
THE SOUND OF MUSIC
A A A In his extraordinarily provocative book, Crime and the Sacking of America, The Roots of Chaos, author Andrew Peyton Thomas recalls the 1989 American assault on the Panamanian drug lord, Manuel Noriega, and the ensuing siege of the fugitive general's "hide-out."
American troops, writes Mr. Thomas, "made (Noriega) the guinea pig for one of the weirdest offenses in the history of combat."
U.S. forces surrounded the building where Noriega was hiding and then pummeled it with . . . rock 'n' roll.
"Few Americans caught the unflattering implication of this audio attack," continues Mr. Thomas. "It did not speak well of modern American culture that its most popular genre of music was commonly judged a brutal implement of war, one that, even at decibels fairly normal for its predominately adolescent customers, would force the unconditional surrender of this hardened strongman. One favorite tune at the siege was the 1965 Motown classic Nowhere to Run. U.S. forces later turned up the heat, blasting the fallen general with the unofficial theme song of the occasion, Guns N' Roses' heavy metal classic, Welcome to the Jungle.
Years later in Stockton, Calif., some bar owners needed bouncers to chase away the vagrants from the sidewalk in front of their tavern.
They chose Beethoven, Bach and Liberace to do their dirty work, as classical music gushed onto the sidewalk from loudspeakers mounted outside the downtown Weber Inn.
"We thought about all different types of music, like Greek or Chinese, something we don't care for ourselves," one of the owners, Jeri Foppiano, told reporters not long ago.
"Then somebody suggested the Beethoven and Bach . . . Beethoven and Bach is beautiful music, but when it's played loud on lousy speakers, it's really awful."
Before the classical music counterattack, customers of The Weber Inn said they were being harassed by drug dealers. And now? Well, police say there is little evidence that it is working.
"For me, it's soothing," says one downtown resident. "For a minute you're somewhere else."
Somewhere else, perhaps, but not far enough away from the bar. It might be unsettling commentary on the condition of our society, but if Guns N' Roses' Welcome to the Jungle can distress one of the world's top drug lords, the owners of The Weber Inn might want to consider changing their tunes.
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The Buffalo News
March 24, 1993, Wednesday, City Edition
T'S TIME TO GET TOUGH IN WACO;
FLUSH 'EM OUT WITH EDITH OR THE ARCHIES
By LAURI GITHENS, News Staff Reporter
AÿAÿAÿ REALLY, IT'S embarrassing.
The largest military superpower in the universe, and we can't get one religious wacko out of a building in Waco, Texas.
With the possible exception of limiting the Branch Davidian compound's food supplies to Spam and bottles of rancid Yoo-Hoo, the FBI agents have tried just about everything to get David Koresh to give up.
Finally, the G-men remembered the sheer creative brilliance of U.S. Army psychological warfare experts who, in late 1989, messed with the mind of holed-up Panamanian dictator Manuel Noriega by propping up a boom box and playing rock 'n' roll uninterrupted for three days, with special emphasis given to the Bobby Fuller Four's "I Fought the Law (and the Law Won)."
Noriega emerged a broken man.
On Tuesday, the FBI admitted it had contemplated pointing humongous speakers at Koresh's bunker and playing "Achy Breaky Heart" over and over, until he cracked. However, allowing as how in Texas such a move would likely be considered a gift from God, the FBI chose instead to pipe in endless Tibetan monk chants, thinking it would be more annoying.
Well. Maybe.
Personally, we think there's an entire world of fearsome sounds waiting to be cranked at high volume and drip-drip-dripped into Koresh's brain until he simply can't bear it any longer.
Why not clip the microphone on to Phil Rizzuto and let him chatter at Koresh for a while?
Or get actress Jean Stapleton to shriek all night long over the speakers, in Edith Bunker's voice, "Mr. Kooooooooor-eesssssh! You wanna come out?"
The possibilities are as endless as they are mean.
Pipe over the PA system Paul Anka's "You're Havin' My Baby."
Or -- and this would be very cruel -- cart in the public TV gang and force Koresh to listen to 24 hours of non-stop wheedling for funds.
We're not alone in these fantasies, you know. We asked around and discovered that Buffalo's a great little ideas town when it comes to Ways of Being Annoying.
WHTT morning man Dan Neaverth, rarely at a loss for words, suggested the simple playing of a Marv Levy tape.
"Just Marv Levy's voice at Koresh, over and over and over," Neaverth sug
gested. "Or play the Jim Schoenfeld album. That ought to do it."
Not to be outshone, Neaverth's son, Dan Jr., also on WHTT in the morning, weighed in with what he considered to be a sure-fire way of smoking Koresh out: "Play him Bob Dylan's last Grammy Awards performance."
Various politicians were equally quick with what they considered to be the most painful sound Koresh could hear.
"Replay the last three years of videotapes of the County Legislature's 8 percent sales tax debate," said Rick Swist, executive director of the Niagara Frontier Transportation Authority. "That'll send him screaming."
Erie County Legislator Tom Mazur's idea was a tad safer, politically: "Play him 'Sugar Sugar' by the Archies, at normal speed, about three times. He'll come out."
Over at WKBW-TV, anchorman Irv Weinstein gave the matter serious thought.
"You'd have to offer, for free, everything ever shown on the Home Shopping Network. Plus a free football phone from Sports Illustrated. And a picture of Marlo Thomas with her old nose," Weinstein said.
Some Buffalo-area music and records experts went to town with the Koresh challenge.
"Moxy Fruvous," said New World Record's Marty Boratin, sounding as though he was speaking through gritted teeth. "I can't stand 'em. They drive me absolutely batty. Sell a lot of records, though."
Bruce Moser, of Could Be Wild Promotions on Elmwood Avenue, went straight for the jugular. "Send this guy the game films from the last two Super Bowls. Or play the Barry Manilow boxed set," he said without hesitation. "If that isn't enough to make him surrender, nothing will."
Joanne Sheridan, a local concert promoter, pawed through her extensive collection and came up with: "Play 'The Troutmask Replica' album by Captain Beefheart. Actually, play anything by Captain Beefheart," she said.
"It'll either scare him, or else he'll totally relate to it and leave everyone else alone."
GRAPHIC: Associated pressAÿ David Koresh; Let him listen to "You're Havin' My Baby." |
