Patty Griffin was. But all of that changed last week. I only worked a half day and went home thinking I would just go and lay down for a while. I'm in bed and all of a sudden I could feel something is lifting my blanket and slowly putting it down again. I thought it was my imagination and did not make much of it. Then I had the distinct feeling something or someone was looking at me, which really creeped me out. But the worst thing was when I started hearing really bad AOR songs with absolutely horrible overwrought singing. I shuddered and thought, "Who would want to listen to this crap?" The next morning, I immediately cancelled my subscription to Paste Magazine..."
Russell P., 26: For about two weeks now, my fiancée and I keep feeling or seeing someone floating into our apartment hallway. It doesn't matter if my fiancée is home or not, I see this female figure standing at the end of the hallway by our bedroom entrance. The figure is super white or pale in color and appears to be wearing a flowing dress, like the kind you'd wear to a swanky awards ceremony. I can't make out distinct details but I get the feeling whatever it is, it's sad, especially one night when I heard the eerie sound of this figure crying, just openly wailing--something about not having yet winning a Grammy despite having slept through every level of her record company's A&R roster..."
Tanya W., 35: I would never say I had extra sensory powers or anything like that, but I'm acutely aware of White women who think they can sing all soulful. I just have a sixth sense for it--that fake gospel trill, the vocal crescendos that overstay their welcome, and so on. Well, a couple of years ago I was housesitting for my sister's family because they were going on vacation. I asked my niece if I could please use her room to sleep in as it had all the amenities that I needed, but she kept warning me that it was haunted by Patty Griffin, but I didn't even know who the fuck that was, so what did I care? That evening, I lay down on the couch and watched some TV. Peaceful enough, I thought, until I felt the room become very dull, almost as if enveloped by a huge loaf of white bread. This was followed by a really weird kind of singing, the kind of sound you hear White women make when you can tell they'd give anything to sing without the shame of having been born White. I kept thinking, "Did someone transport me to a coffee house open mic night?" I yelled out to the spirt to please stop singing, but the damn song kept going on and on...something about 1000 kisses, so I just went running from the house...anything to avoid that damn god-awful singing..."