On everyone’s first day of Stanford, amidst the dorm cheers, unpacking, meeting new friends, and generally exuberant chaos, there’s one important tradition to which we all must be subjected: the alma mater. During my convocation, a couple singers demonstrated the song before repeating it with everyone joining in. And by “joining in” I mean that people mumbled some words to no tune in particular; everyone was lost. It evoked a strong sense of school spirit—the kind where you bond over a shared terrible experience. I wish I could say that it was the singers’ fault, but their performance was fine. The song is simply that bad.

The tradition of school alma maters in this country (at least in my experience) seems to always use fake-epic lyrics set to hymn-like music at a slow tempo. Marching bands are forced to learn them. Everyone else ignores them, except in those few situations where people feel obligated enough to school tradition that they dust them off—sports games and graduations.

It’s one of those “tradition for the sake of tradition” sorts of things. These pieces date back to a different era of musical idioms, but are no longer the type of song we hear most often. Instead, the twentieth century happened—we have jazz and rock and electronica and all kinds of technologies that play them for us in our homes, cars, and ears. We are used to a different language of music now, with a different means of expressing sentimentality. There’s a reason why the admit website played All Right Now and not Hail, Stanford, Hail.

That said, just because a song is in an older musical form, doesn’t mean it can’t withstand the tests of time and continue to be some of the most awe-inspiring music. Exhibits A and B: the Marseillaise and the Russian national anthem (thanks, YouTube). And the Star Spangled Banner, though hard to sing, is thoroughly enjoyed. I can’t really imagine a modern remix of those songs being any good.

“But it’s always been our alma mater!” a rich alumnus might complain, coercing the administration into torturing more convocations. Well, we clearly were happy enough to get rid of the Indian in exchange for the lamest official mascot since Harvard’s Crimson. That example was a bit more political, but why must a terrible song be so immune to retirement?

Because when an 80s rap-remix version of an alma mater is a thousand times better than the original, you’re not going to turn very many hearts by linking arms and pretending you like the song. We don’t even sing the full thing (see below, and please note that yes, the word “cloudlets” is used). So can we please either rewrite Hail into something less cheesy, or invent a 21st century’s alma mater? The old one will still exist, to be dusted off for laughs or historical renditions, if you’re worried:

Where the rolling foothills rise

Up towards mountains higher,

Where at eve the Coast Range lies

In the sunset fire,

Flushing deep and paling,

Here we raise our voices hailing

Thee, our Alma Mater.

Refrain

From the foothills to the bay

It shall ring,

As we sing,

It shall ring and float away.

Hail, Stanford, Hail!

Hail, Stanford, Hail!

Tender vistas ever new

Through the arches meet the eyes,

Where the red roofs rim the blue

Of the sun-steeped skies

Flecked with cloudlets sailing;

Here we raise our voices hailing

Thee, our Alma Mater.

Refrain

When the moonlight-bathed arcade

Stands in evening calms,

When the light wind half afraid

Whispers in the palms,

Far off swelling, failing,

Student voices glad are hailing

Thee, our Alma Mater.

Refrain

(found in David Starr Jordan’s “The Days of a Man” copyright 1922, scanned by Google books)