Here’s more of my two sons, AKA Unorganized Hancock, playing live at the Skowhegan School of Painting and Sculpture last month.
Some inside baseball: It rained like crazy all day that day; wetter than Noah’s shower curtain. We slogged it over to Skowhegan, about an hour and twenty minutes from where we live here in Rumford, Maine. There were a whole bunch of delays, as the closing ceremonies for the school were pushed back a couple of times. We sat in our van for an hour or two, and finally our waterlogged hostess came out and asked us if we wanted to leave and eat dinner, and then come back. She paid the boys in full right then, and whispered, “If you don’t come back, we’ll understand.”
Of course we came back. We dragged all their equipment through the downpours, not a soul in the big barn where they were to perform. Five hours after they left the house, they started playing. The whole crowd came in en masse, and they did the usual double-take when they see the midget behind the drums making all that noise. The video above is after an hour and a half of playing, without a break. They were the nicest, most fun crowd you could ever find.
The Heir carries a lot of weight, but it doesn’t always show. He’s singing and playing a night’s worth of tunes with nothing but his little brother to help him. To play unaccompanied by any other instrument but drums is a tightrope act. If you ever stop playing or singing, there’s basically nothing. He’s already a lot better than I ever was.
We’re careful not to put too much pressure on the Spare Heir. He’s precocious, but it’s not fair to expect any ten-year-old to work like an adult. But he really is a wonder, I think.
[Update: Many thanks to Kathleen M. in Connecticut for her generous support of my sons’ efforts, and this blog. Our world is better because you’re in it]