Word: shows
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...ends and the Ryder Cup spectators make their way to the dining room charmed by the young men of Harvard, a buzz that might last another 18 holes. After the semi-formal crowd has gone, the Kroks return to the Upstairs Bar to kill some time before their next show. With the mutual fund managers gone, the room has returned to its rightful owners. An abandoned martini sits on the fireplace mantle, the olive within more closely resembling a preserved biology specimen than a cocktail. A fire blazes beneath the mantle; the air conditioner whirs in the corner. The charmed...
...massages Beethoven's Sonata Pathetique out of the piano in the corner. He is one of the group's obvious musicians. Another, musical director David Liang, whose rapid-fire scats are probably the most impressive talent in the group, thinks through an arrangement for the next show. Sophomore Henry Rich, meanwhile, a special concentrator in aesthetics, secludes himself in the corner and reads T.S. Eliot poems into his dictaphone for later listening during his workout at the gym. Others pull up to the bar where, incongruously, they drink water. But it's good to be a Krok, it seems. They...
...same smiles from the crowd, who again sing along with "Come Go With Me." Hours of obsessive rehearsing have yielded a pretty impressive product, and these kids, who could be playing pranks or socializing on one of the first Friday nights of the school year, are giving a professional show. Afterwards they'll go out and have a good time, to be sure, but for now they're intent on pressing those same tried-and-true buttons to earn, at the end of the night, a standing ovation...
...croon as Harvard's resident lounge lizards. Something there is in human beings that loves to sing. Insofar as it's a way to cut loose, to release the energies of the imagination, it's a force for good. To the extent, however, that it's a question of showing off, of loving the sound of one's own voice in the truest sense, of demanding applause and cheers from the rest of the human race, it's definitely annoying to the point of destructive. The Kroks are a little bit of both. Those who are not real musical buffs...
...Frankly, the Kroks are in over their heads. People like the music, they know that, and people like the show, with its both witty and wacky humor. ("Sadomasochism means never having to say you're sorry.") But looking out over the crowd of undoubtedly cynical management consultants and investment bankers, all of whom have raked in piles of money and accumulated trophy cars, do these boys see why the crowds are smiling? It is because they are young and fresh, as yet unexposed to the daily grind that being a tough sonofabitch requires. The faces of the audience are wrinkled...