Not all of the 80 people that signed up to the choir came to the first rehearsal and more complaints were required, so they all stood in a circle and threw a ball to each other, saying whatever complaint came to mind after catching the ball. This sparked some complaints that feature in the final lyrics, such as not being able to see the stars in the city, and having to deal with a boss who prints and hands out spam in the hope that it can be fixed. The latter resulted in much laughter!
One particular complaint from the song is explained more in-depth in the Complaints Choir Documentary. 'Everybody thinks they are a good kisser' came from one lady who describes a couple of the supposedly many ways that people can kiss badly, these being 'really slobbery' kisses that result in wet glasses, eyebrows and faces, and 'long distance lizard' type kisses where there are just combative tongues poking and no lip contact!
The person who submitted a complaint about having her job outsourced explained that it helped to have a choir singing it together, because she could believe for a moment that they were in the same boat as her, losing their jobs too. She also likes to play the cello because it has a 'complaining' pitch range!
Other complaints that didn't make the final song include...
- High School Musical
- someone's sister singing Miley Cyrus
- models all looking the same, and therefore not showing whether clothes would look good on a different shape (more can be found from this complainer here).
- selling pumpkins for a job (he thought it would be different when he saw the ad!)
- Andy's complaint about supermarkets throwing out food that could be given to people who need it
- people who act like the world will end because they don't have a towel in their hotel room
- Obama becoming 'middle-of-the-road and uninteresting'. This last complaint was offered by a lady who had been uncertain of whether to say it, because one thing she had wanted to achieve from the choir was to make new friends, but she concluded from the 'ominous low rumble' reaction that it was a complaint people agreed with but didn't want to admit. She also noted how those in the choir were mainly white, and believed they were probably generally NPR listeners, college educated and organic shoppers.
After more than 400 complaints were submitted overall, composer and conductor Jeremy Jacobson whittled them down and created the song, which was performed in various locations. They first performed to a large audience at the Museum of Contemporary Art, before becoming the largest act to perform at the city's famous Empty Bottle Club. Following this, they also made surprise performances at a number of different locations around the city, including Millennium Park in the heart of the city. Their song was produced in collaboration with both the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago and the Chicago Humanities Festival. Co-founder of the project Tellervo Kalleinen was pleasantly surprised that the song didn't turn out to be kitschy and about American 'togetherness'.
Lyrics
Section 1:
Chicagoland, Chicagoland,
Sounds like we live in an amusement park,
Always under surveillance.
I can’t stop thinking about sex.
Everything loses its glamour when you get too close.
Buses bunch up worse than granny panties.
Why are all the single men insane?
My ex-husband still lives in Chicago.
Window washers appear outside my bathroom.
People brag about knowing famous people.
I can’t stop thinking about sex.
My damn boss outsourced my job but he gets to keep his.
Teachers get nothing, entertainers millions.
Everybody is a moron.
Section 2:
Airport security took my mouthwash.
Everybody thinks they are a good kisser.
Only tourists like deep dish pizza.
The customer is always right.
They always mess up my order.
The customer is not always right.
Drivers are only good at honking.
“When someone rides free, we all pay!”
Chicago has no mountains.
Teachers get nothing, entertainers millions.
Everybody is a bunch of morons.
Section 3:
My roommate is chewing outrageously loud.
Childless people tell me how to raise my child.
Everyone cares but only only enough to buy a sticker.
My dead grandma always votes for the wrong candidate.
Cabs speed up when I cross the street.
I hate drunken Cubs fans.
Even cops don’t stop at signs.
I hate drunken Cardinal fans more.
My boss prints his spam and hands it to me.
People are so mean on the internet.
A high-pitched whistler is sitting next to me at the ball game.
I cannot stop thinking about sex.
Section 4:
Nobody ever throws the ball to me.
I live in the city and I can’t see the stars.
I was born and remain a Cubs fan.
School makes me want to yawn.
The amateur Jethro Tull cover band
practicing around the block will never rock.
People text, eat, and do their make-up
while driving in the bike lane.
The more efficient I am
the more work they pile on me.
I am drowning in student loans.
And my gums are receding.
Section 5:
The most creative minds work for the advertising industry.
Obese urban monster squirrels decimate my backyard tomato crop.
Men wrap around the pole on the L-train like strippers.
Restaurant servers ask: “Are you still working on that?”
All of America looks like the same strip mall.
Garbage the size of Texas floating in the Atlantic.
Is war our only export?
I have nothing to wear.
I am out of food.
I hate my condo association.
Women need too much attention.
Portions are too big.
I am always hungry.
The toast is cold.
Quit spreading germs! Take the bus!
My boss prints his spam and hands it to me.
People are so mean on the internet.
A high-pitched whistler is always sitting next to me at the ball game.
Too many people believe in the rapture to do anything about global warming.
Why don’t boy bands play any instruments?
We have a cowboy for president.
I am too smart for the men I date.
My side-ways kitchen bakes lopsided cakes.
Clothes I can afford are made in sweatshops.
We don’t want the Olympics here.
All of America looks like the same strip mall.
Garbage the size of Texas floating in the Atlantic.
Is war our only export?
I have nothing to wear.
I am out of food.
I hate my condo association.
Women need too much attention.
Portions are too big.
I am always hungry.
The toast is cold.
Quit spreading germs! Take the bus!
My boss prints his spam and hands it to me.
People are so mean on the internet.
A high-pitched whistler is always sitting next to me at the ball game.
Too many people believe in the rapture to do anything about global warming.
CTA, CTA, CTA
And I am still thinking about sex!
Chart of complaints:
