I haven’t written a post in awhile about Dude’s music library brain, so I’m combining all musical moments from this past weekend into one post.
Harry Connick, Jr.
Our family is fairly strict about the No Christmas Music until After Thanksgiving rule. However, once Thanksgiving passes… Game on.
On Friday evening just before dinner, Dude saw my iPod laying out. “No big band! No big band!” he said while reaching for it. (I have a playlist of jazzy/big band music that he loves to listen to. Also, to understand Dude’s use of the word “No,” kindly refer to the Dude Language Guide.)
“How about we listen to the “Jazzy Christmas” playlist instead?” I counter-offered.
“Yes yes,” he consented.
Now as you might recall, Dude has a habit of rewinding things he likes and listening to/watching them over and over and over and over.
He let the playlist play through until it got to Harry Connick Jr.’s version of “Winter Wonderland” from When Harry Met Sally.
And then he rewound.
I lost count after the 10th time he did it (sometimes, I’m prone to exaggeration. However, I assure you that in this case I am not exaggerating).
Dude positioned himself no more than a foot away from the speakers. He turned his ear towards the speaker and soaked it all in, a contented smile on his face.
I didn’t even mind the repeat playings because that man can play the crap out of a piano.
“Run, Run Rudolph” came on the radio when our parents were driving Dude back up to his house at the end of the weekend.
Dude sang the guitar solo. He didn’t miss a note.
And then added in a harmony that wasn’t even in the song.
Because he could.
I’d be lying if I said that Dude was the only family member prone to random musical outbursts.
For some reason, I started singing part of Gustav Holst’s “Second Suite in F” as we were finishing dinner Saturday night. No idea why. Just go with it.
It was a piece my symphonic band played in high school. About 45 seconds into it, there is a baritone/euphonium solo.
I half sung, half hummed the solo part as I cleaned up the dishes.
Suddenly, I realized that I was being accompanied.
By my brother.
Note for note.
And he was adding his own lyrics about the Mighty Sound of Maryland.
At the end of the musical phrase, I stopped and looked incredulously between Dude and our dad, who was also watching and listening with an amused look on his face.
“Oook,” I said slowly. “There are two possibilities here. Dude, do you remember that solo from when I practiced it repeatedly eight years ago?”
“Or,” Dad jumped in, “Is his ear so good that he just naturally knows where the musical phrase is going?”
Dude made no response. He just kept smiling and humming to himself.