Rock the casbah

The kid and I tried out Rock Band for the first time this week at a friend's house. I realize that given our joint penchant to rocking out to music, it's rather strange that we are not already die-hard aficionados of the game, but I guess we like our re-enactment to be more (I'm going to use one of those words that makes me roll my eyes Linda Blair like when I see other people use it) organic. (See? Doesn't that just make me automatically sound like a tool? Heh. I could've tacked on a 'spontaneous' but that would just make me sound like a trippy tool. I prefer the plain version.)

That's not to say we didn't enjoy the shit out of playing it. Or, to be more precise, of the kid playing and me singing*. It turns out there was more than just parental refusal and circumstances that prevented me from having drum lessons: I was apparently not meant to be a drummer.

*That's not to say I was meant to be a singer, but the game scores on your pitch and note sustenance (where needed) not on quality. Not that anyone dared question the quality. Which was very good, in my opinion. (Whether I mean the lack of commenting on the quality or the quality itself, I'll let you figure it out.)

The kid, though? The kid was awesome on the drums and in just two sessions doubled his precision rate up to an impressive score, which is pretty darn good, given some of the songs we picked. He's got some wicked good hand/eye coordination and I already knew he had an excellent sense of rhythm. When we, along with V., collectively scored the highest band score of our run on the first song mentioned here, I thought, well, maybe my not so secret parental desire for the kid following in Stewart Copeland's footsteps may come to pass, yet.

(The other high scoring song should also not be a surprise. Two kids of the 80s and an offspring who asks for the '80s channel by choice and Rock Band? It's a no brainer. Any takers?)

*You'll note there was no mention of L. participating. He was given the opportunity to have someone else put up with what he endures on a near daily basis; you think he'd say, "Oh, I think I'll come along and join"? I swear I heard him double lock the door behind us. (His exact words when I called to let him to know we were heading home, so he could figure out dinner, were, "What, already?!" That exclamation mark was not an inflection of joy.

Ah, what the heck, let's have another listen, shall we?

Can't Stand Losing You - The Police