Sport 32: Summer 2004
Rhythm
Rhythm
Chris, who used to play drums for the Trio before he went to Dublin, on his last night.
He is sitting before the drum-set on a pumpkin-coloured suitcase, turned vertically. It is a very narrow space to balance on, and in fact at one point he tumbles off. But plays valiantly on, to cheers.
Or:
Two o'clock in the morning, again. In the Men's Room in the Embassy, again. A joint being passed around, jokes being passed around. Riki's got a rhythm going in his head; he's tapping with his feet, clicking with his tongue. No one pays any attention.
Riki starts playing percussion on the urinals; then on the hand-dryer; then back to the urinals.
There, unremarked, in the greenish light, this beautiful thing.
page 109Like—I could take a sample—sample some footsteps, or the cars—and then find the, the sort of consistent rhythm through that by looping it, finding a rhythm out of just a sound from around the city…