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.
The boys want to take music lessons, but they don’t want to practice. We want them to take music lessons, but we don’t want to pay for them if they aren’t going to practice. See how it is all so circular?
Atticus wants to play the banjo. Zane wants to play the upright bass. They are well-versed in the twang and the space between melancholy and light feet stomping. They can hum a few bars.
We have decided that music lessons will be a reward they earn rather than something forced upon them like the assorted symphonies of my childhood. I never followed my own heart, but the beat of others, and now my musical talent is wasted on drunken karaoke and long shower sing-alongs. Their lessons will be the things they long for, and hopefully they will perform like they mean it.
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.
Read more from Whit Honea at his site Honea Express and the popular group blog DadCentric. You can follow Whit on the Twitter or Pinterest (his opinions are his own and do not reflect those of Babble or most rational people).
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