iPods? We don't need no stinkin' iPods

Psycho Killer
Qu'est-ce que c'est
fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better
Run run run run run run run away
That classic by the Talking Heads somehow melds rather delightfully with the "Circle Be Unbroken," "Banks of the Ohio," and "House of the Rising Sun" when a tent full of Ph.D.s and their research assistants tap their feet on a plywood floor for the evening.
"Mr. Tambourine Man" is next? Don't know the chords. Look at the floor. There they are, written with the ubiquitous field scientist's Sharpie: GADGDGDAD.
It's a little obnoxious really. So many of the gypsies circulating through the Toolik Lake Field Station can tromp over mountain ridges without getting short of breath. They can fit zooplankton into the ecosystem, calculate the cubic meters of water flowing through a stream with their eyes closed and figure out the gender of a long-tailed jaeger from 50 paces. And play music? Come on.