The Drummer

We have a drummer.

Somewhere in my immediate neighbourhood, there lives someone who likes to drum. Someone with a full drum kit, who enjoys practicing on it several times a day. For an hour or more per practice.

It’s a subtle thing. If you were over at my house and we were chatting, you might not notice. At a lull in conversation, you might sense rather than hear a gentle thump-thump-thump in the background. You might ask, “Do you hear something?”, not quite sure if it was there or not.

Trust me, it was there.

I hear it. I can’t NOT hear it. Our house is a quiet house, especially when it’s just me and the Little Miss at home. My quiet is being interrupted now, all the time, by thudding and crashing and bam-bam-bam-bam-bam.

I’ve become obsessed with figuring out who it is. The drumming started when our new neighbours moved in next door, but they’re a respectable couple with young kids, not John and Yoko.

There’s a teenaged boy who lives behind us. He has dyed hair and an earring. SUSPECT. And yet, I often see him coming home at the end of the day, a solid alibi for all the daytime drumming.

Once I was outside when the drumming started, and I could have sworn it was echoing up the street to my ears from a house four or five down. They’ve got two teenaged boys, too. But shouldn’t they be in school?

The drummer is fairly considerate. He never drums after 8 p.m., nor before 10 a.m. (although that’s probably the typical morning waking time of a rocker dude). I guess he’s a good enough drummer, too – it’s not offensive, just annoying. And I like to think that all this practicing – SO MUCH practicing – means he’s gotten a semi-pro gig and is on his way to greatness.

(Not that it is necessarily a boy, I just don’t have any female suspects at this time. Man, am I going to be surprised when the middle-aged mom next door turns out to be the drummer.)

I’m worried, now that summer is coming, that I’ll never escape the drumming. It will flow into our household through open windows, surround us as we play in the backyard, a constant, steady beat driving our lives forward. Bada dum, bada bam, bada bim bam boom.

Which will be louder, the drumming or the sound of my head beating against a wall?

9 thoughts on “The Drummer

  1. That’s a tough situation. Is there any chance you can get used to it? I am pretty good at tuning background noises out, but I guess not everyone can do that.
    I hope they keep their windows closed this summer!

  2. AGH! That would KILL me. Once you hear it you can’t ever UN-hear it. Then again, it could be worse — where I grew up we had a bagpiper.

  3. OMG. Your blog just told me “You are posting comments too quickly. Slow down.” Dude – your blog’s a bitch, but I can’t remember the last time someone told me to slow down.

  4. I want to be sympathetic, but as a musician myself, I find that I relate more to the drummer. 😉 This person presumably has a passion, and it’s great that they’re practicing several times a day. It might even be their main physical outlet (you can work up quite a sweat and also get out some aggression).

    So, cool beans that they’re engaged in creative work that seems to engage them, and awesome that they’re doing it at reasonable hours of the day.

    Just too bad they haven’t invested in electronic drums or a better soundproofing solution for their room. :-/

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