Sunday, September 23, 2012
Because At Night The Sun In Retreat Made The Skyline Look Like Crooked Teeth
I know, it's not very good; maybe only 43 percent better than the original:
The Heir and The Spare play in a room with no heat; it doesn't even have electricity. If they play too loud, plaster falls on their heads. When they want to practice, they have to run an extension cord in there first. But somehow, they manage to play together every day -- often twice a day. The Heir has to sing through a practice bass amp, and it doesn't even have reverb. The Spare is only nine, and his legs still have trouble straddling the snare to play the high-hat and the bass drum, but he never falters, really; he's as reliable a timekeeper as most adult drummers already. These videos are just practices recorded on a Flip camera with an ambient microphone.
They've tried to play with a hearty handful of neighbor kids, but they always drift off; they can't seem to concentrate on any one thing for any length of time. Their parents and the schools have them doing forty things at the same time, as if they were polymaths on diet pills, but they end up being as reliable as electricity in India at everything.
My boys press on. They have no natural advantages, and lots of impediments. How can they fail?