Bring In 'Da Noise, Bring In 'Da Funk

Blog soundtrack (not for the faint of auditory heart!)

Noise. You can love it like the sound of Billie Holiday singing “Crazy He Calls Me” or you can hate it like when your neighbor is having gravel dumped into his yard at 7:30am on a Saturday morning complete with the beeping backing up truck. One of the most interesting experiences I had last night was when dumping gravel became as pleasing as Billie Holiday singing.

A week or so ago, I saw my brother, Jack, for a Fourth of July celebration. He casually mentioned that he was going to playing at some venue with his friend, Steve. Jack had recently begun to learn how to play the drums, so I thought, “He’s playing in a band. ”

I said to him, “Oh!” thinking that it would be really nice to watch my brother play. I asked for the details, and he mentioned an event notice on Facebook. I told him I’d think about attending; however, when he said, “Well, I might be banging on a coffee can,” I only thought, “Oh, he’s a little doubtful there will be a drum kit there for him.”

During the middle of the week, I e-mailed him to tell him that I’d be attending after saying “Yes” to the event invitation on Facebook. He then replied, “I think it is funny that you are going to a noise fest.” I read his sentence again trying to read, “I think it’s nice that you’re are going to a jam fest.” But, when I read it again, I knew I was going to a noise fest, and I thought it was pretty funny, too.

If I didn’t know it then, I did after I read Jack’s, “You might want to bring ear plugs. I hear the shows are loud.” Ear plugs? I only thought the Rolling Stone roadies who stood next to those huge speakers needed ear plugs. The last time I wore ear plugs was, well, I had never worn ear plugs; and, as far as I knew, ear plugs went with no outfit that I owned!

In preparation, Jack told me to go to http://www.youtube/ and search for +DOG+. I did, and I watched the first video shown. At first, I looked high and low for audio subtitles, but when I saw one of the guys slam down a metal sheet, I thought, “This is something I could totally get into after a
l-o-n-g and frustrating day of documenting custom destination and subdestination mappings for Call Detail Records!”

One of the best things I like about music is sharing it with people. Actually, I’m open to most things, and I especially like when people open me up to things I never would have heard of had it not been for them sharing it with me. After absorbing +DOG+’s noise, it reminded me of some other noise that I really loved.

I e-mailed Jack back and asked him if he had ever heard of beatboxing. When I saw Imogen Heap (electronic) a few years ago at the Paradise, a musician named Kid Beyond opened for her. I loved Imogen’s show, but Kid Beyond mesmerized me with his ability to produce all these sounds sans instruments and, in the link I sent to Jack, be a drum set.

Jack then told me that he thought it was going to be “fun to beat on something.” After watching +DOG+’s video another time, I had to agree. Jack then said, “I think I will be beating on something and was thinking of bringing a saw.” The more I read, the more intrigued I became.

When I was driving home from work yesterday (big deadline), I was trying to think about all the things I had to do to get out of the house to make it to Jack’s gig. I needed to shower. I needed to bring my camera, and I needed –crap– ear plugs.

At 4:54pm, I pulled into the Aubuchon store in my town. I walked in and was greeted by a teen employee who looked very happy that I walked in only so he would have something to do. I asked, “Where are the ear plugs?”

I thought he might look at me funny, but he jumped off of the large cardboard box containing a table saw and said, “Follow me!” I followed him for about 100 feet, he stopped, and then he pointed to Aubuchon’s ear plug section. They had the single serving, the party pack (a set of 6 ear plugs), and the single serving with the head band.

What to choose? What to choose? Having never had to accessorize with ear plugs, I chose the party pack, thinking that any noise fest newbies, like me, might need a helping plug. Fortunately, Jack had warned me, but others might not have had such pre-fest brotherly love imparted upon them.

I went to the register with my party pack. It reminded me of buying condoms but in a totally different way. I expected to feel somewhat guilty thinking that this young man is wondering what a person like me is doing with 6 sets of ear plugs.

Instead, he punched a few buttons on the register, said “$3.69,” and then said “Have a nice evening!” If I had perhaps bought the party pack of condoms, I knew I’d be having a nice evening. But, with the party pack of ear plugs safely tucked away in my purse, I wondered what the hell my evening was going to be like!

At 7pm, I got into my car, and courtesy of my Droid found my way to the venue. I was somewhat irritated that the GPS, who I named Gertrude on the way there, had a tendency to repeat herself over and over again. After I heard “Take Exit 35A toward Nashua, NH” about five times, I said out loud, “Chill, Gerty. I know!”

When Gerty made sure, after 5 times, that I was in the right place, I pulled over and parked on the road across from the venue. I was in a sketchy section of Lowell, and I seriously wondered if my car would be outside when I came outside after the gig. But, I threw caution to the wind and said, “Hey, I have insurance, and if it gets stolen, perhaps I can get at 2008 instead of this used 2007!”

I locked my car and crossed the street. I didn’t know exactly where the venue was, as Gerty only told me I was near it. As I walked down the sidewalk, I looked in an open door, and I saw my brother, Jack.

Yeah, it was definitely a 1+1=Jack’s gig equation. I walked in, and I looked around. There were about 10 people scattered across two rooms, and I walked back to greet Jack, who greeted me with a big hug.

I had no idea what to expect of the night, and despite any expectations, it was really good to get a hug from my brother who had expected to see me. He and Steve had set up their table of noise tricks; Jack showed me a miniature drum set and a small piece of metal that he was going to whale on with his drum sticks.

I went to stake out my space and parked myself on a folding chair. As time passed, the room became more crowded, and not too long before show time, Jack came over to sit with me. He said that he had never had to be in front of this many people before.

I was a bit surprised by his admission, though, like my profession (technical writer), he largely dealt with people one-on-one being a goldsmith. I told him that he’d do fine. And, then I shared my only public speaking experience with him; I had to explain the new documentation strategy to 75 HP people who were fed up with our archaic one.

I said that I was scared to death; however, unlike Jack, I had baked two batches of my butterscotch sprinkle cookies the night before to sooth the savage audience. I told him that while I shook in my chinos, I knew that half their attention was directed toward their coffee and my great cookies. I’m sure this was no consolation to Jack, because he had no cookies and, unlike me, he had no great plan to improve noise (or in my case, documentation).

I said, “You’ll do a great job!” It was all I had, and I knew he would. Did I really know that? No, but I knew he would, because after so many years, you don’t know these things, you feel them.

The first noise-icians came on. The leader of the Noise Pack described what they were going to do by saying, “When I was little, I heard this sound. I got out of bed and my brother asked me if I had heard it, too. I went downstairs to ask my Dad about it. He had had a drink or two and was half asleep on the sofa and told me that it was only an airplane. I thought it was aliens, and so here are the sounds that I thought I heard that night.” Fifteen minutes later, I felt as if several times in my young life that aliens had indeed landed at 188 Haynes Road in Sudbury!

Three guys stood there and banged on things, hit buttons, and made noises. I was tapping my foot as they did. When they finished, I clapped my hands together hard, because their noises were indeed what an alien invasion would have been in my head.

Steve and Jack went on after them. As Steve wrapped something around his mouth with tape, I had visions of Hannibal Lector. When they started, I had no idea what to expect, but that’s what I liked about these noises. Like life, did you ever know what to expect?

Steve began. Jack improvised with his drum set and a small piece of metal. I sat there watching, listening, and thinking, “This is not odd. This is the sound of life when you’re trying not to listen.”

When they finished, I clapped. No, I didn’t because I had to hit the “Stop” button on my camera. The audience went wild, and then I heard a “Fuck yeah,” and I thought that’s the ultimate compliment that any artist can receive.

After they dismantled their stuff, Jack and Steve sat down with me. Steve gave me the thumbs up. While I was a Mom to much younger children, I wanted to hug them both and say, “OMG! You were so good!” but I just smiled instead.

The next noise-icians came on. While they were warming up, I thought, “Ear plugs now!” When they began, I let the ear plug party pack invade my ear space. While they were “playing,” I closed my eyes a few times, and I thought, “Wow, this is what it’s like to be on the Amtrak Northeast Regional train…but louder.”

This group was the loudest by far; however, when I closed my eyes, I was with them. I was sleeping and hearing gravel dumped, I was on the train when it was going 70 mph down the tracks, and then I was dying thinking this is what the white light sounds like but only that much louder. And, I loved it.

Jack and I weren't that close when we were growing up. Last night, I realized that perhaps my brother and I were closer than life would have us believe. Neither of us was good at public speaking, yet we both loved music, were laid back, and we appreciated noise, in whatever form in came in, even after all these years. I love you, Jack. ♥