For Washuu – ch. x: Duel Parallel Drumming Adventure

The back-story on it is that Washuu ran an experiment on me to copy my knowledge of music to her own mind. To test this, we have a drum duel, and…

Dual Parallel Drumming Adventure

“So then, Elliot shall we begin?”

The boy looked to Washuu and nodded.

The diminutive genius pressed a button on the tape deck mounted into her studio’s 19″ rack and swiftly moved back to the drumset constructed on one end of the room. High bass notes swept over the room like the backwash of a spaceship’s engine, and the boy wondered why Washuu had insisted on setting the volume so high. But he didn’t wonder for long, for the song had started!

Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump went the scientist’s foot on her bass pedal, matching the beat of over-bearing wall of sound falling on the two of them.

Elliot’s foot had already started moving, but not his right foot. His high-hats snapped along with the drive of the opposing bass drum and his gaze leveled at his redheaded challenger. Instinctively his stick came down -Bam-Bam- from one high-tom to the next and seemed to roll from the floor tom to the base. Thra-boom!

Washuu caught on to a bit of his method and began to click her high-hats as well as she took the next lead-Brrabababam…badabada-bup-bum-BAH!- and ended with a her hand muting the cymbal she had just hit. Her eyes narrowed at the the boy.

And the beat drove on. Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump…

The next second both drummer’s sticks came down at the same time, pounding out their rhythms like two battalions of artillery making a sounding on each other.

-Da-dududu-Da-dududu-BASH! Fu-doom-ba-doom-Crack-

Bam-buboom-bam-buboomBASH! Da-du-domm-doom-Crack-

And the beat drove on.

After half a minute, the music lulled back and the two stayed their hands. But not their feet. Their feet kept moving, dancing like a pair of boxers waiting for the other to drop its guard.

The music shifted, and both recognized it as the point when the rest of the band would soon come in on the tape, and raised a stick, each, above a crash as if to say ‘this moment is mine!’. One looked to the other, and the other looked back. Both quailed for a second as the point in the music grew closer and the tune itself began to crescendo, but their looks hardened at each other for just a fraction of a second before the downbeat, and both drummers, back by six years of instinct, laid on the opening beat with a passionate hammering of cymbal, snare, and bass all at once, seeming to tear at the very structure of the music itself.

The next instant, all was a flurry of sound as both drummers, casting aside turn or regard to their opposer, blasted beats and parodies at each other like waves of energy.

And the beat drove on, and on, and on.

Either one of the players only an hour before had been a different creature. Only an hour ago, the drummer at the one set had been just a boy with two pieces of wood and an idea. Only an hour ago, the countering drummer had been a scientist with loads of sound equipment, but no two beats in her head.

Now, they were musical enemies, Now they had, as the African once said, ‘been possessed by the spirit of the drum’, and weren’t about to stop their doubles and rolls and riffs and flares for the whims of anyone in the real world. THEY were drumming.

And the beat drove on.

The intensity gradually rose as the two drummers each locked into the groove they had found for the music emanating from the sound system. Cymbals crashed like a torrent of raindrops hitting an old tin roof and drums sounded off like a mile-line of howitzers continuously volleying each other.

The beat drove on, and again the music kicked it up a notch as the patterns of the two drummers became more focused as the end of the song grew near. They didn’t know it was, yet they could tell. They could FEEL the song coming to an end as it crescendo’ed, and then…

With a final, jarring blow that cracked Elliot’s cymbals and sent a run through the drum-head on Washuu’s snare, the two drummers were themselves once again. They sat dazed and panting for a minute, stooped over their respective instruments as sweat poured over them like a soft, salty rain.

With absolutely wrong timing to the scene, the blank spot in the tape ended, and the next song unceremoniously started blaring away through the speakers.

“AWW, CUT IT OUT.” groaned Washuu (after her near-heart-attack), and a deftly thrown stick landed on the power button to the rack before clattering to the floor below. The scientist returned to her slumped state. But something bothered her.

The boy, who was bolt upright from the shock of the next track hitting him, also loosened a little as he realized the same thing Washuu had.

The two looked at each other, one-Washuu-with mischief, and the other-Elliot-with a slightly worried expression.

“Did we…” Elliot began.

“I believe so, Elliot.” Washuu replied. She paused for a minute and stared off vacantly. “My, my, my. The odds of such a thing happening are astronomical.” She suddenly broke out in a huge grin and clasped she hands together.

“THINK of it, Elliot! We’ve just been part of an anomaly in the laws of chance! Horay!”

“Say what you’d like, but I think that us playing the same drum part for six minutes is a bit too creepy for me.” Said Elliot with a slight cringe.

“Aw, come on. One minute for every year of experience you gave me, right?” Washuu retorted.

“Something like that.”

=+=+=+=+=+=

After this, we get the idea to do the same to the other members of the house.

Now imagine mature-form Ryo-Ohki tearing out the most amazing guitar solos you can possibly immagine, ne?

And can Mihoshi play bass?

:scared:

And can Ayeka and Ryoko share a love song to Tenchi?

:fight:

You’ll see… when I get to this part of the story… in a few… decades.

As for now, you actually can leave a comment, just in case you were wondering.

-es