Tchaikovsky is Therapeutic

So I took the bus this past week, and found myself standing on the curb in downtown Saskatoon listening to some rendition of Beethoven's 5th Symphony - or maybe it was his 9th, or his 7000th - blaring out across the street while people groggily stumbled about waiting for the day to start. I think there's a word that describes that sort of feeling, what's it called? Oh yeah, "surreal." There's just something so clashy about classical music with well trained musicians pouring out their talent on some concrete and glass while dirt covered, exhaust smelling, buses roar by every 30 seconds. It reminded me of some science fiction novel, where the people of earth are living in some controlled environment by their alien enemies who are using brain lobotomy to keep them obliviously passive. Except in this case, the enemy is whoever decided classical music sounds good in a downtown bus stop at 8 in the morning, and the brain lobotomy is some background music meant to keep you feeling "happy" without you noticing it's there.