Freshmen take part in Tate McRae raves in abandoned CaPS offices
If your evening strolls ever take you past E-Tower at dusk on Fridays, you may inexplicably be drawn to an ethereal siren song issuing from some secluded room on the first floor. I advise you, dear reader, to resist the temptation to investigate – for I have probed the depths of the CaPS offices and lived to tell the tale. I will give you one piece of advice: if you are ever brave enough to go back, it’s possible that you’ll never return.
As many know, the first floor of E-Tower is home to old counseling offices long left to rot after the curious happenings I now describe to you. Now, the building’s bottom floor is characterized by flashes of colored light that emanate from the first floor lounge and a faint aura of unease among all those unlucky enough to reside within. For those friendless freshmen seeking the ultimate “move” on a Friday night, the vaguely club like atmosphere with pulsating neon lights and distinctly un-thumping bass seems a promising source for checked-off Rice Purity Tests – but it is ultimately the mellifluous voice of one Canadian sweetheart that entices them to stay, often with unexpected results.
I am speaking, of course, of Tate McRae. As a reality show finalist who rose to fame through being played repeatedly on every single radio station known to mankind and CapCut edits made by zealous thirteen-year-olds, McRae has firmly cemented herself as the face of all pregame party music ever. The Heritage Foundation has described her hit song “Greedy” as pairing especially well with $10 blue raspberry vodka – a suggestion that it seems many a desperate freshman has taken to heart, as we will soon see.
McRae’s music, which anonymous student sources have described as “hard” and “do you know why her music genre is called shoegaze,” has led rise to a curious phenomenon that we at ReadMe have coined the “Tate McRave”: a gathering of wide-eyed and sometimes vomiting college freshmen crowding around a single speaker blasting McRae’s latest albums, swaying in a stupor and refusing to leave until the morning. We do not know how this situation reached Carnegie Mellon, but we are certain that it is here to stay, and that it has begun taking on a darker meaning than any of us could have thought possible. One student found alone and shaking within last Friday’s McRave was held and questioned by ReadMe as to their involvement in the event, but all they were able to say before suddenly passing out was:
“She should be allowed to win Best New Artist.”