Tuesday, May 6, 2014

A Day To Feed The Soul

Percussion rocks.

Experienced my brother in concert again this past Sunday with Symphony Pro Musica and my head exploded.

Latin music. Three pieces. Magnificent.

The first featuring strings. The second centered around a young harp player. I'm not talking blues harp here. I'm talking the real deal. That monstrous piece of furniture instrument that leans against your shoulder and brings to mind images of Harpo Marx.

The third piece was all about percussion. Planned around 13 percussionists, but one chickened out with an appendicitis attack. Apparently curled up on the floor just before the performance and was ambulanced to a local hospital.

And then there were twelve.

Still, the piece was quite percussive.

Percussion vibrates at the speed of life.

The Allman Brothers feature two drummers on full drum kits and always have. Blows peoples' minds. They also have a guy playing percussion.

That's a lot of beats there, baby. Typically when the drummer solos at a rock concert that's when you go to the bathroom, snort a line and buy another beer.

When drum solo time comes around at an Allman Brothers concert your ass stays glued to the seat. It is a spectacle.

A spectacle of sound, movement, energy, light, insanity and controlled madness. If you leave your seat you are an idiot.

Ever hear "Tusk"  by Fleetwood Mac? Strange song. It builds from quiet simplicity to insistent rhythm. Not a lot to the song, the percussion is not even complex, but I love it anyway.

So.................

The final piece of this concert featured 12 percussionists spread all the way around the stage.

What a sight. What a sound. In a sense it reminded me of an Allman Brothers concert. I was mesmerized.

And insanely proud to see my brother allowed to sink his teeth into something substantial.

After the concert we congregated at the clubhouse located at my brother's complex.

My amazing wife, my magical first born son and his supremely talented wife. An old friend who goes back to the very earliest days of my life, and his latest squeeze.

And my brother. A man who commands respect quietly and has a razor sharp sense of humor.

We ate pizza. Drank beer. Wine. Talked, laughed and were human together.

No bullshit. No agendas. Just the warmth that comes from being around people you trust and love.

THAT was a day. A day to feed a soul. A day to remind you just exactly why you are alive.

Christ, I'm a lucky son of a bitch.

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