January 11, 2003.01.11.03. - sound therapy [tristan][north jersey]
(james)
they say that effects of sound, frequency and vibration are good for the soul
they say that certain sounds and tones and volumes are good for the soul
it's not only physical, but mental and emotional, as well
whether it's drums or the classic strains of Baroque
whether it's shakers or the intricate techno-funk-beats
somewhere, somehow, sound has infinite possibilitiesand maybe that's why the raggedy man does it
maybe he's doing it for his soul
maybe he's doing it for his mind
maybe he's doing it for the cash that's dropped into overturned top hat
he's sitting on one five gallon bucket
the other is propped at an angle, bottom between tank boots
rebar sticks egging a heavy tribal beat from the thick plastic
it's a strange, distinct, sound - metal against plastic
long dreads hanging down as if reaching from his mind towards the bucket head
as if there's some conjoining of mind, body, and energized soul to inspire those around him
it's a bone rhythm, it's Eagle's appelation, it's gathering help for the journey to come(tristan)
He's on his way to find some street corner or another, around the same area as before, The thug's shooing having absolutely no effect on th musician. Streets public property and all - and someone has to give the natived(thugs) some culture. May as well be him.
Of course, there seems to be another musician on the streets tonight, and he grins - its been a long time since he's heard the telltale signs of a damn good drummer. A moment or two to pick the right direction, and he steps around the corner and sees the raggedy man beatin the hell outa a bucket.
The tribal beat sounds and pounds and Tristans long legs makes quick work of the sidewalk between them, though he hesitates behind someone who watches, and uses the moment to open his case atop a newspaper box. he flips it closed, hooks one of the clasps so he can carry it still, and after a moment to recheck tuning (perfect, as usual, he has been playing most the afternoon, after all) He catches the tribal beat with tap of his toe, and only then - and before those watching part to show James he's been joined - only then is the bow drawn across the strings - in something far from an evil hiss.
The music choice at the moment is intense, matching the pound of metal against plastic, mirroring the grin that dances in the depths of dark eyes, framed with long lashed (girly lashes). Full lips show evidence of that grin as well, even as he concentrates on the quick movement of fingers and bow, chin against the rest and lean frame bending and stretching in slow quartertime to the beat - unconscious movement of body thrumming with music played, music made, music shared
A teacher once said that the violin played him, more then he the violin.He has come to realize that is true. The instrument takes up the beat, twists it into something amazing, and leads his fingers to join in soulful play...(james)
bone rhythms
soul rhythms
and there's a quick glance up at the newcomer
(I recognize you)
before a grin rakes rogue across his featuresthe rhythm doubles
the rhythm triples
it forms a backbeat to the violin
he doesn't overtake
it seems a natural thing to take the new factor into his playing
he's been at Gnawer moots before
an Ahroun playing amongst the Galliards
and they sound more like a street version of Stomp than an organized reverie
everybody takes a part
everybody gives a part
and all in all, it's a good thingthis man, this Warrior sitting in the middle of the concrete jungle
pounding out his Tribe's heartbeat to the cold January night
the crowd steps back, reforming the circle
making room to watch the two musicians
dueling or dueting, perhaps only they know
he smiles at the businessman just off to their left
he winks at the pretty girl at 3 o'clock
he sticks his tongue out at the shy boy hiding behind his mother's woolen trench
coins clink into the hat that now serves to collect for them bothand there's another look
at the man who played Lycanthropy the other day
maybe it's a sly glance
maybe it's a knowing glance
or maybe, just maybe, it's musician's communication
because right at that perfect spot, the sweet dramatic hold of string-fed notes?
he stops
allowing the rich blend of the instrument to echo down the street by itself(tristan)
I recognize you.
As the crowd parts and reforms to allow him entrance to center stage, a foot sweeps case closer to James and a flash of grin giving the girl who picks it up and moves it for him. A wink, and he nods to the man who was with the Raged trio the other day, including the Soft Core Porn King (I know you) and as rhythm doubles, triples, the movements of fingers and bow over strings does the same, using the backbeat, the backbone of the heavy pound as counter to his play.
Accepted easily (some do not do so – you have to be careful, you have to watch, you have to know whom you can play with, and what look should cause you to move back instantly and find another corner. What Thuggish shoo can not do, a simply musician’s glare can.) He joins with whole hearted enthusiasm, holding nothing back in the soulful sweet sound that weaves its way up and down the scale, sliding around in ways you have to understand to learn… There’s a pretty girl – more then one, and they are smiled at. There is a pretty boy (only one) off to the side, who watches with shy admiration, and he is receives a wink – sly and hidden under corkscrew curls barely contained by knit cap. The little boys hiding gets a chuckle, and coins rain, and smile never wavers.
The glance seen, the look returned, the nod slight and the trilled notes pull upwards in that way only violins can, sweet and full and high – all without piercing, and holding for a lifetime, echoing down the chilled winter streets…. Before fingers dash to pull that scale down two octaves and the bow is pulled from strings with a flourish, and an easy, bright-eyed grin.(james)
as the coins rained
now the applause does
and the Gnawer waves to direct it to the newcomer
he's accepted more than enough from the hours of previous play"Not that bad, kid, not that bad at all."
ginned, warmly
looking up from under jungle vine dreads as he reaches for the tophat
counting out the coins and bills that were tossed within
two.... four fifty..... eight.... eighteen (thank you).... twenty
he keeps the coinage
sorting out ten bucks in bills
(is it a wonder why he plays this corner?)
and holds them out to the boysure, there was only one song of accompanyment
but he's more than fair
not like he needs the money for food
he can earn more before the trip
(Tristan)
And he, of course, gives a slight bow, and ever that playful boyish grin before directing the applause to the gnawer, as well. He too has had a bit of previous pay. A nod, and soft chuckle “Thanks, and not so bad yourself, man. You’d make a killin down New Orleans way.” Not, of course, that he’s not made a killin here. Goooooood corner – make a mental note of which one, but not to intrude too often. First come first serve and all that.
He takes the $10, peels off three and hands them back, tucking $7 into his pocket. He, as well, can always make more – and it was only one song. “and thanks again. Name’s Tristan.” Bow added to hand that holds the neck of violin, lovingly cradling both against his belly in order to offer hand wrapped in fingerless gloves to keep some semblance of warmth. “been a while since I’ve had decent accompaniment, specially on the fly.”
(james)
"Never been that far south, but I'll keep it in mind."grinned easily
accepting the bills back
and the hand
his grip strong and confident"Thanks, name's James. I'll normally play this corner when I need to, best spot in my territory."
his territory
his corner
but he doesn't occupy it all the time
and his "patrons" need something when he's not there
there's a couple that are waved off by name
seems he plays here quite a lot
or at least has a good reparte with the regulars"Quite a song you played the other day."
(Tristan)
His grip is firm, shake strong, and his smile – ever confidant. Territory noted, corner noted, smile remains. “Looks like a damn good corner. Any areas I should steer clear on as a regular basis? Or just when you’re tubthumpin?” Respect. Always.
A moments pause and then it clicks. “James… friend of the pretty redhead with the unusual name – Imogen, yes? She said we’d meet up sooner or later, either helped by the message carried from me to you, or simply like this.”
He crouches by his case, flipping it on the side and opening it again, soft cloth taken to rub already gleaming wood to further beautiful shine. Musician’s touch, lover’s touch – one and the same when it comes to simple caring of beloved instrument. His grin returns as bow and cloth are set into the case, followed by the violin, though it remains open, brow creeping upwards “Never turn down a request if I can help it. Cute little thing asked for it, who was I to refuse? Learned it at my mothers knee when I was a youngin.”
(james)
"Just when I'm thumpin'"grinned
he's made it clear it's first come first serve
whether it concerns Tristan or any other performer
his territory, his rules"There's a guitar player named Lazarus, though, voice sweet as the moon's light itself. Careful of her tongue though, she thinks herself still Regal." little streetslang, see if the boy picks up, and his interest picks up at the name "Imogen? Yeh.... she's my neighbor, and friend's girl. Message?"
then, as an afterthought
"Who was your mom?"
not your dad, not your lineage
your mom.
(tristan)
He remains crouched, comfortable, more on a level with the boy on the bucket. Arms cross over knees, and lean form held balanced, sure, strong, as he nods. “gotcha. Lazarus.” A nod, still Regal indeed, and finger lifts to scratch under knit hat, just above an ear, before just pulling it off to let mass of curls spring free to find some semblance of unknown order over ears, around cheeks, tickling strong jaw, a couple finding their way into his eyes only to be brushed back by a hand, and fall forward again. Hat is tucked into a pocket, and he nods – even if itsfollowed by that “aw damn” kinda look.
”Friend’s girl, eh? Too bad, too bad. Pretty little thing. Met her the other night, she said we’re related somewhere along the family tree. Told her to letcha know I’m in town, that’s all. Don’t wanna step on anyone’s territory unknowingly, even if I’m just a 6th cousin twice removed.”
There’s that playful grin again, before it softens with pride. “Most who came around called her Momma Grace. She was just momma to me. Always seemed to have a houseful, even if we were scraping to make ends meet all the time. Lot of family, lot of kin, lot of everyone who needed a place to sleep and a place to eat. She told us stories of the backwoods cousins, and often sang that song as a bit of a lesson to me and the rest.”
(james)
"Momma Grace.... up New York way?"the lifted brow is mirrored
yep, they might be related yes indeed
then there's a soft, warm laugh"You're smack in the middle of Eagle's territory, may not be able to avoid us, really."
(tristan)
His smile splits his face and he near beams - nothing like a sons love for his mother. "Yeah, that's her - ain't been home for about three years, but I call her faithful every weekend still. This was the next stop on the way home to visit for a spell."
He nods, chuckling.. "Well, felt a few around - was pretty sure there was some pack or another around as the... tension... seems right thick around here some nights. Had one tell me to quit catterwallin and head to AC, but wouldn't give me a ride - wasn't gonna go anyway, was more amusing then anything. Nother tell me about a fued over a pretty Irish Ice Queen - right before I met the English maiden in question." Lean shoulders roll into easy shrug, and he chuckles. "good thing I'm not looking to avoid anyone, then, hm? I'll move on if someone decides I'm in the way, but it's been right nice here. Generous folk."(james)
there's that soft, fond laughter again
gathering up the rebar and shoving them into a sling
the two buckets set next to the door with the "closed" sign behind him"I stayed with Momma Grace for a spell when I went into NYC from Albany, about a year ago. She mentioned a musician son when I was playing to earn some cash one night. And watch out for Imogen, she can give a glare that peels paint, her boy's a German, though, so don't go around hitting on her, no matter how pretty she is."
he won't go into details on that one
but fair warning is fair warning
he'd give that to anyone considering Decker's temper
and he nods down the street a bit"Hungry?" nodding as they move on "And my 'mates are pretty lenient unless you start stepping on toes, tolerant of our Family, too. I'll make sure they know that you're around."
(tristan)
He closes his case, snaps the locks, and stands as James does, chuckling. "I'm surprised she only mentioned me. From what others say - she don't shushup. Wanted me to go to Juliard, but I got the traveling bug, and lit out right after high school. She's lenient of my desire - but still wants me to come home for further school, yannow? Safe under momma's wing and all. Am glad you've had the chance to meet her - she's got a soul as sweet as honey and a hand quick with a switch when needed. Ain't no one better on this earth."
A nod of understanding at the German and she's taken bit, chuckling. "Promise to only stare at her ass when no one's looking. Scouts honor."
Playful wink, before he runs his hand over those mismanaged curls, nodding. "S'about dinnertime, yeah. Lead on. And I appreciate that - and will watch the toe steppin. I tend to fade into the background when its required - automatic 'avoid that switch' response bread by momma."(james)
"She mentioned it that night, she wouldn't shut up about it the next night." said with that same, easy grin "Momma Ruggs was the same way, your best friend in the world until that switch flew."mused
he hasn't been home since the shit went down
a part of him keeps considering going back
but everytime he visits, he swings right around that area
he doesn't swing around the buger joint, though
grabbing the door and holding it open
since he's got less to carry than the Kin
smirking a bit"I think we all stare at her ass when Decker's not looking. I'm Omega of Eagle's... but even with that I'm treated fairly, couldn't ask for more."
maybe he's a bit rambly to a total stranger
but this stranger is Family
however many times removed and halved
so he makes the best of it
cause it feels good to be around someone other than pack
especially someone that could have a sense of humor
which it seems Tristan does
he trades a couple of those bills for food
one huge Cheeeeeezeburger
one huge thing of fries
and one HUGE cokes'all good
nodding to the Kin to order
and he'll pick it up, too(Tristan)
He laughs and nods "now that's the Momma I know." He looks at the Gnawer as he muses, and nods his understanding of what isn't said. Sometimes, it's hard to go back home - even if you left under good circumstances. He flashes that grin and slides on by, briefly considering dropping a curtsy in mock thanks, but passes it up. First meetings and all - full sense of humor saved fr teh second.
Wickedly grinned.. "Then I'll be in good company. I don't think she's all ice like anyway - seems there's more walls of protection, then icelike standoffishness. Could be wrong - but it seems about right. For someone close to a german - probably needed."
Chuckles, again, and a glance at the board, and just a nod. "make that two, all the way around."
He's grateful for the ramblingness - there's often those that slide into silence to find how far removed he is, and this is Family and it has been a while for him as well. As for the sense of humor? he tries to keep it in check most times, but it still shimmers in soft brown gaze, and lingers across lips that always want to grin.
(james)
seems he comes here a lot
the burgers are worth it
and, yet again, it's a conversation by first name
but their order is filled quick enough
and soon he's leading the way to a table in the back
place is fairly empty this time of night
least they can talk without interruption"Maybe, everyone has something they protect in a certain way that works for them. She's not all that icy to me. Round three Germans and two GeeDubyas, you learn to "
course, spending eight hours in a motel room with each other day in and day out
well.... it was forced tolerance, if nothing else
but it shows that the Gnawer genuinely likes the reputed Ice Queen
she may technically be Fenrir kin, now
but it seems he considers her a part of whatever pack he's in, anywayhe inhales the food
faster than should be normal or even healthy
he grew up scrapping for every bite
and while Tristan may not be the type to steal
old habits die hard"So tell me where you been, what you're about."
he knows Tristan has traveled more than he
and while most full blood's won't give Kin the time of day beyond what's necessary
seems he respects that
and wants to learn what he can(Tristan)
He follows the Gnawler's lead to the back table, and slides into his seat, violin case set by his foot, which remains touching it at all times. Old habits die hard. He nods, chuckling a bit. "Me, I just hide behind the music when I needta - let it do all the talking for me, when I can't find the words."
He? Doesn't make slow work of his meal either. Had to scrap before, will again, and he's pretty damn hungry to boot. The question is a breath of fresh air, really, as he's run into more of the other type then most would think. Shoulders roll in a shrug, and he begins while tappin out enough ketchup to drown the fries, and then between scooping bites into his mouth, savored with the damn good burger - definately a diner that needs to be remembered.
"Well, Grew up in NYC obviously - got into that program that gives down and out kids violins in hopes of helping their grades - didn't do shit for mine, but I passed in order to keep with the music. Teachers and momma wanted me to hit juliard - I just wanted to travel. Week after graduation I set out with a backpack, and my violin, and started hitchen. Been all the way to California and most the way back again in the past three years. Best was in New Orleans - drunk partying people toss the most coin." grins "Sometimes hung with a Family, most times on my own, or with any musician I hooked up with to play for a week or two. Prefer playing streetcorners, really, closer to the admirers and all."
Lean shoulders roll in easy shrug. "I'm all about the music first. And family. Working my way back because Momma - well, she's getting on in years, really, and want to be sure to be home again before she gets too far up and forgets the niceness and remembers only the switch.(james)
he didn't ask it out of politeness
he's genuinely interested in the story
finishing off the rest of his meal in the short tale"About the way I am, up until I came here it was all about the music. Family mostly gone, no mates, few ties back home. Lived and played on the streets. It really isn't as bad as most people make it out to be."
(tristan)
nods, shrugging - and still talking between the last bites. "Not bad at all. Depends on where ya are, of course. New Orleans was great, some places in California - steer clear of the Dakota's.. they get right pissed about street performers for some reason. Made it through both states in 3 hitches it was so bad. And you'd think vegas would be good for coin - but it's not. Everyoen would rather use the slots. Where's back home?" Looks up and meets James' gaze then, almost sudden in the switch from tell to question.(james)
"Albany." switch from listening to talking just as smooth "Born and bred, fell in with some Frankenweilers when I was a cub and they took over the teachin', never made it into a proper school. Where I learned to pick up the sticks and use 'em to make money. Momma Ruggs took me in after my parents left for the War, kept me right through change and passage. Spent about year in NYC, where I met up with Momma Grace, then been here about six months. Seems Eagle's got a hold of me before I could travel too far."(tristan)
He nods, and seems he's as good a listener as talker as he watches James, finishes up the last few bites and tosses back a bit more of the HUGE coke. He grins, and leans back, running fingers through that hair in some attempt to get curls out of his eyes - an vain attempt, of course. "You make them sound like a good - if eclectic - group, the Eagles. Imogen's got the hands of a guitar player - coax her out to join ya much?" Idle curiosity of talent, this time, not about her ass. That subjects been covered (and admired) already.(james)
"Eclectic is a good way to put it." chuckled, softly "But yeh, they're a good group. Dunno what I'd do without 'em, now."he loves his pack
he probably values them more than he does himself
then his dreads shake as his head does"No, never asked her in truth."
a pen appears out of nowhere
and he's scribbling a number down on an unused napkin
sliding it over to the Kin"If you ever need anything, that's how you can get a hold of us. I'll make sure they know you're Family." the grin rakes over his features again "They'll get to me if I'm not there, for whatever reason. Nice meeting you, Tristan, I have to go take care of some stuff, though."
that's when he excuses himself
Posted by james at January 11, 2003 12:00 AM
strolling right on out of the diner
CommentsPost a comment