Ten Years Old
You know, the drummer was only 10 years old in that video. Not 10 years old like 10 years and 364 days, either. He was 10.
He’s not 10 any more. He’s gotten big for his age, so no one gets the extra frisson that they got when you could only see the top of his head behind the drums. He looks older than his 13 years now. He plays even better, but he’s always been good.
I said it at the time, and upon reflection, I’ll say it again: He was the best 10-year-old drummer in the world. I have no idea why the world wasn’t particularly interested in him or his brother. They were rara avises, man. He was playing for folding money, for hours at a time, when he was 10. Hell, I think big brother was only 17 at the time. He was performing live with only a 10-year-old drummer to back him up. I ask again, why did the world not care about them much? I still don’t get it. This video has 800 views. If they had stepped on a rake while recording it with their phone held vertically, it would have gotten 800,000. Ah well, that’s the way of the world, and we must live in it.
You might not notice it, but he was exhausted when this song was filmed. It was fairly late at night. My kids were supposed to play in the afternoon, but the gig got postponed over and over because of monsoon rains. Biblical rain. We go to music jobs early, because I’ve taught my children to act professionally right from the get-go. We sat in our van, listening to drops like dinner plates hammer the roof, ate our bag lunches, and waited. The job kept getting put off. The nice people who hired us offered to pay us and send us home, but we said we’d signed up to do a job, and we’d do it. We waited some more, and then drove to a local fast-food restaurant, sat in the van, and ate that. Then we waited some more. The kids didn’t play until 8 hours after we left our house.
The crowd was really enthusiastic and pleasant. They were sophisticates. They were art college students from New York City. They were pleasantly surprised that my older son had a repertoire of hipster-compliant songs like this one to play. Their enthusiasm turned into an extra hour of performance.
Watch the little man. His arms are like lead. He’s been playing for two hours straight. He was waiting in a car for eight more before that. This was the latest he’d ever been awake, never mind playing. Watch his eyes at the one-minute-and-twenty-five-second mark.
That’s my boy.
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