I hear the click of the amp and know it’s about to get loud.
The room across from mine buzzes with energy. I can picture it now: the bright lights flashing on the sound module as the drums come to life.
The wooden sticks clack together as he unsheathes them and gets ready to play. I’m in a Zoom meeting for school, but I don’t mind the noise because it adds some vibrancy to a quiet, quarantined house.
“Alexa, play Subdivisions by Rush,” I hear him say. Might be the 33rd time I’ve heard that song but nevertheless I’m excited for the show I’m about to get.
The synths echo and pulse and he comes in right on cue. Listen to this 14 year old playing 70s progressive hard rock at its finest.
It doesn’t start out fast, but I remember how it builds like a steady storm. I have to tune out because I’m about to speak in my breakout room. But when I come back he’s picked up speed, the cymbals clashing louder and the siren-like sound from the guitar growing more dire.
I love it when he plays so fast that the sticks become a blur, almost invisible. I can’t differentiate between him playing and Neil Peart traversing the speaker. History and present being fused together through music.
The synths fade out and the song ends. The amp clicks off. The sound of voices traveling through the little wires of my headphones seems too quiet.
I hear footsteps as he leaves the room and picture the drums longingly waiting for his return.