Matt is in his room - slash- recording studio - mixing some kind of "hard style" music with which I am only recently familiar, thanks to him. It's not bad, it's just very techno, and very, very, very LOUD. And lots of bass. Thumpy. Deafening, if you want the truth. There was a time, I admit, when the subwoofer was the coolest piece of stereo equipment in any guy's apartment, but at my age, really, it's just a huge headache maker. No offense, Matt.
So you would think that if my 54-year-old husband were suddenly to take up a musical instrument, almost simultaneous to Matt's embarking on his recording career, that I would be thrilled, right? They'll have something in common! They might start a band together...what if Matt recorded John and they both became You Tube sensations?!
But what I really had in mind, there, was that John might take up the acoustic guitar. Or, say, something, older. More ... dignified.
I got what I asked for.
He took up the Bagpipes.
Dignified, yes. Older, for sure.
Than a techno, bass-driven screaming recording studio?
Not so much.
The noise level in this house right now, with both of them in their respective practice rooms, with both of their doors closed, is insane.
And what do I hear, when there is a break in the cacophony?
Matt: Hey, John, this isn't too loud is it?
John: No, you're good.
Matt: Ok, cuz I didn't want to throw your beat off or anything.
Too bad Jack's shower rendition of Club Can't Handle Me is getting drowned out.