"Carmina Burana." "Flight of the Valkyries." "B.M.F." Which one of these doesn't belong?

Trick question: They all belong because they're all 100% classics that could soundtrack epic film montages for the next seven centuries. Picture it: Ross walks on stage in an all-black tuxedo, a pink boutonniere stuck to his lapel. He taps his baton not once, not twice, but thrice, upon the conductors stand. His hands raise in the air. His hands dart forward, and the orchestra begins, string section swirling as the percussionist hammers at the bass drum in the background. Ross turns away from the orchestra and steps to the microphone. "I think I'm Big Meech!" he yells as the monied audience raise Galilean binoculars to their faces. At the conclusion, Ross bows deeply, the audience breaks into wild applause, and roses rain down upon the stage. — David Drake

What it might sound like