Worst Apartment Complex Name Ever

I promised a while ago that I would write a column on how to select band names from apartment/condo complexes. Well, here it is. All you need to do is:

Go to Rent.com.
Search for a 1+ bedroom apartment (in the $800-$1400 range) in your hometown.
Browse the results to find a catchy name (and to see what kind of life you've been missing. Jacuzzi? Garbage disposal? Washer/dryer inside the unit?)

This is not the best method for certain bands. Probably optimal for folksy, alt-country or bluegrass bands. Serviceable for indie and no-wave bands. But not suggested for industrial or metal music groups. In the latter's case, I would advise walking down a supermarket aisle while reading over an autopsy report.

As I said, keep your search confined to your hometown. You don't want to include a reference that locals won't understand. While "Prickly Pear Lane" and "Saguaro Duplex" might go over well in the Southwest, you might have a concert-goer or music writer in New Jersey scratching his or her head. But that goes along with one of my famous mottos: A watched succulent never blooms.

I performed a search for the Tacoma area, and revealed quite a few gems. The following is a list of places I'd like to park my couch and give my fictional rock band instant recognition in the music community:

Trellis Pointe
Violent Meadows (I added a "n")
The Maples
The Harbor Club
Steeplechase
Willow Springs
The Reserve
Meat & Sausage Company (this was a sign I saw on a bus ride through Tacoma; not actual dwelling)
Wood Song
Hunt Mottet (Lofts)

And, without further adieu, I introduce to you the worst name I've come across. It's so unoriginal I threw up a little in my mouth when my eyes came upon it. I'm supposed to be reminded of a posh, expensive casino in Las Vegas or an extravagant villa in Italy. Instead, it comes off as...well, pathetic. Trying too hard. Or too little...one of the two.

VILLAGIO.

Not quite as bad as "The Coven" in Kirkland, Washington (near where I grew up), but certainly not as fun. At "The Coven," I can at least imagine I live next door to a family of vampires. In "Villagio," I am bound to believe that everything around me has been prefabricated, or it's been recycled and put into cheap packaging. Every moment is a sham and a rip-off. The only thing that could drive me farther away from creative thought is more Ikea furniture.

That's how strongly I feel about this building.