The kid who lives in my house, he has been playing the drums for a year now and I have to say he sure has a sense of beat, he does.
The kid, he likes rock music, especially the oldies like Pink Floyd, who specialize in sudden crashes of the cymbals or rolls of thunder from the bass drum when you least expect them. He got his taste for Pink Floyd from his pappy, a musical genius himself. Ahem. The old man even took him to the Australian Pink Floyd Show, when they were performing at the Bell Center last autumn.
Boy, the Aussie Pink Floyd sure is something. Close your eyes and you won’t know the difference between them and the original. I loved the drummer, switching effortlessly between his drums and the set of kongos, his fingers a blurr, especially in ‘Breathe in’ (DSTM). Don’t know what DSTM is? Where you bin? DSTM stands for the British Guiness record holder for the maximum albums sold, ever – Dark Side of the Moon. 16 years in Billboard’s hottest 100!
The saxophonist-cum-trumpeteer was divine. His solo in ‘Us and Them’ could make you weep with ecstasy. He was a prankster/clown too, prancing around, appearing on stage suddenly and disappearing just as suddenly. On the keyboards they had a chubby dishevelled guy, his face obscured by a sombrero, its edges pulled down.
Pink Floyd is nothing without it’s distinctive keyboard sounds. Mr.Chubby had two keyboards arranged round him, with one that had two integral keyboards on it. He didn’t disappoint either. The sounds that he let loose felt somewhat like Cosmic Background Radiation, electro-magnetic radiation that seemingly has no source, zipping around the universe. Scientists claim that it is the confirmation of the Big Bang, as the very beginning of you, me, Scarlett Johanssen, everything. What? Scarlett just pops up in my writing from time to time.
Since I am a busy man, right now I am unable to elaborate further on what cosmic ba ra is. Just call it Co-b-ra and let it be, okay? Knowing everything is a bother, just leave it to me. If you are American, that should be easy ta do. Remember the way you left everything to George Dubya Bush in 2003? Same thing.
All in all, the kid and I had a ball at the concert. The best part of going out with the kid is that he is a delightfully funny boy who is no trouble at all. Go out with him and he won’t ask for even a bag of cashew nuts. Popcorn? Pepsi? Hell, no, he is a health nut. He won’t even let you get a popcorn for yourself, such a pain-in-the-butt that he is. You can’t steal out during intermission to get yourself a chocolate bar. He’ll be right behind you, having got intimately acquainted earlier on, with your tricks. How am I going to get him to have a beer with me in two years’ time, when he is sixteen? Almighty Lord, where did I go wrong?
I was telling you about the kid’s drumming. The bass drum sound carries through the walls and quite understandably, the neighbors have begun getting grumpy. They are a sweet old retired couple and I don’t want to tick them off. I got to do something.
Anybody want a 14-year old kid? Tops in his class, eats little, has no bad habits, no girlfriends(yet….ummm…maybe…I don’t know), saves his cash, bathes irregularly, keeps his room messed up but otherwise clean, forgets to switch lights off around the house, does his homework on time, studies hard but ends up making silly mistakes in his math exam, is just short of being a geek or a nerd, is beginning to be self-conscious about too much cuddling and last but not the least, farts and belches like his old pappy.
Think I’ll write a book on how to adjust to the trauma of raising a kid who doesn’t need any raisin’.