There are two things happening right now. One involves a little boy on a piano and the other involves his brother on the guitar. There are chords and keys and melodies in the air that don’t make sense, but they are beautiful all the same. They are a band of brothers without a lesson between them and their songs are sung in laughter.
This is the soundtrack to my afternoon. It is purely improvised and mostly by ear. They are living the life jazz, pounding out the notes between notes and leaving holes where horns should be. Their joy is rock, their passion folk and their chaos pure punk. They play both kinds of music.
The beat is found in a push and a shove. There are moments of chaos and artistic differences. This is what happened to the Beatles. This is a masterpiece melting. The beat is a harsh word against taut skin. The screams are electric. And when the chorus comes around they pick it up again.
All together now.
There are two things that will always happen. One is the thunder of big noise rising, and the other is the echo of it rolling away forever.
The song remains the same, and memories are things best danced upon.
Originally published on Whit Honea