Almost as if a sound engineer had designed the placement of my office window from their practice area for perfect acoustics, I can hear them with astonishing clarity even when they whisper, which is not often. Mostly they yell. Mostly they yell "Tequila!" three times every two minutes and ten seconds, which is how long it takes to play that song.
These are young boys, early teens, who wear their hair in the fashion of Shaggy and speak only in voice-cracking insults. They are gangly and disproportionate, with large heads and feet like puppies. They seem fairly new to their instruments but they’re getting pretty good, and fast, because they are nothing if not dogged. The record so far is 4.5 hours playing one song—you guessed it, Tequila! by the one-hit-wonders, The Champs.
They simply play until they get it right and the joy of playing does not diminish one bit between the first time the song is played and the 122nd time the song is played (I did the math).
So I’ve grown to like this garage band next door. I need a little tenacity right now and they’ve got it to spare.
Just keep playing until you get it right. And enjoy every bad chord along the way.
3 comments:
I don't know why but your commentary on next door's garage band keeps cracking me up!
I can just picture it...you going through the phases of annoyance to aggravation to anger to hate, then after you are desensitized, you get to the acceptance phase where you actually start loving and needing the garage band. There's got to be a book in that. Seriously.
Title it "Tequila."
Eve
Ha! You are so right - I've been through the five stages of grief and have made it to acceptance!
Love your title.
Great work.
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