Displaying the brash degree of confidence his fraternity brothers had become all too accustomed to during his two year tenure as social chair, senior Phi Gam Rob Broderick assured his friends that Cocoon Deception, the grungy funk band he had booked for the upcoming weekend, would be the one to finally draw in a large crowd of normal, well-adjusted people, including regular girls, rather than the usual group of Indian blanket patterned Patagonia pullovers that typically populate their band room.
Reiterating that this was a national act that had played at a music festival no one had heard of before, Broderick scoffed at his fellow members’ requests for a normal band party that would fill up more than a quarter of their band room, insisting that a rapper or country artist would rob them of experiencing the spiritual awakening they could anticipate this upcoming Friday night.
After deflecting the criticism that the only girls who would want to see a band whose diet consists solely of kale smoothies and almond milk would be those weird flower girls that lay on the quad all day, Broderick went on to criticize most modern musicians for polluting their art with things like words, which the self-proclaimed musical scholar insisted diluted their songs’ life force.
Confused at his house’s apparent unwillingness to embrace their innermost selves through song, Broderick reminded Phi Gam that the purpose of band parties was for the members to enjoy themselves, not to draw large crowds, ignoring completely the objection that it would literally be impossible for anyone to enjoy the band without dangerously heavy doses of psychedelic drugs, which many Phi Gams conjectured may have contributed to Broderick’s complete lack of awareness that the past six parties featuring similar acts had been absolutely awful.
At press time, Broderick could be seen looking into an act for the fraternity’s parents weekend, finally settling on an indie funk DJ called DJ Monsta Skweee.