Put a Fresh Glottal Attack on This: Lingo Takes a Turn for the Worse

As a lover of language, I pay attention to lingo.  Some groups are known for it, like the military with their acronyms and techies with computer-coding jargon.  When folks have a passion, the lingo turns funny because they’ll shout things that don’t make sense unless you share their zeal.

My friend J frequently makes bold exclamations about art or design with wide, serious, crazy eyes.  She sews her own stylish clothes, and, once, in a fit of excitement, she shouted, “Caftans are HUGE right now!”  She expected me to reply to the word caftans with all seriousness and jump up and down with her because they were so colossal.

Another friend of mine is a serious foodie who is going to culinary school to fulfill her obsession.  She was wound up about her starch and grain lesson last week and audaciously threatened, “Watch out, quinoa!  Here comes freekah!”

What the heck is freekah?  Duh.  It’s just like quinoa, but better. And it’s gonna send quinoa back down to the pit of oblivion, where it belongs.

My favorite lingo artist is the choir director at my church.  She’s a bubbly, pretty, and friendly lady—think former Broadway star—who takes music terminology up a notch.  She begs our choir to better pronounce hard consonants, and at least once per rehearsal, she fervently makes a clenching motion at her throat and dramatically cries, “Put a fresh glottal attack on it!”

Every time I hear that, I imagine a big, hairy man rabidly devouring a greasy chicken leg and spitting some of it back up due to his glottal attack.  But he’s ravenous, so he ferociously chokes down the meat.

I don’t think “glottal attack” helps me remember to put a hard “k” on Christ.

Sometimes the choir director finds a hemiola in a song.  I have no idea what that means,* but it sounds like hemorrhoids and areolas combined, which makes me cringe and snicker simultaneously.

Last week we had a song section that was marked mezzo forte, which means “medium loud” in Italian.  She didn’t take the time to say “mezzo forte.”  No, with great enthusiasm and utter naivety, she yelled out over our singing voices, “MF, MF, MF!”

That same MF was probably the one who ate the chicken leg and gave some poor girl a hemiola.

Like this guy, but greasier

And that’s why I go to choir practice.

*Wikipedia says this: “In modern musical parlance, a hemiola is a metrical pattern in which two bars in simple triple time (3/2 or 3/4 for example) are articulated as if they were three bars in simple drupal time (2/2 or 2/4).”

But, if I were you, I’d be on the safe side and visit the doctor if you develop a hemiola, a huge caftan, an aggressive freekah, or glottal attack of any kind.