by
Helen DeWitt
141
Stolen Luck
0
terms
1
notes
142
Then the inconceivable had happened which is that Thom Yorke sent an e-mail inviting them to do a gig. Keith said they should just do it, fuck the fucking contract but Darren and Stewart
So then Keith was very quiet.
Never a good sign.
Given Keith’s known propensity to hit things other than drums.
So Darren said they would record the song.
Keith tried to explain his concept and Darren and Stewart kept arsing about and then Sean the keyboardist sussed that it was an arsing about session and then Keith put down his sticks.
Darren, Stewart and Sean sussed that the beat was gone.
Keith, says Darren. What the fuck.
Keith disengaged from the scaffolding of things that could be hit that made noise. He stood up.
He walked across the floor while Darren, Stewart and Sean varied the theme of What the fuck. He took the mic from Darren.
In addition to not being a songwriter Keith was not a singer. He dragged the lyrics of the song over reluctant vocal cords and spat them into the mic.
Fucking great man said Darren who did not want another guitar percussioned to subatomic particles against wall, floor, chair, his head. Yeah fucking great said Stewart who had also lost 3 guitars and Sean hastened to protect his keyboard from berserk drummer syndrome, Fucking great, insane, totally fucking crazy man
Keith handed the mic back to Darren. He turned and walked out the door.
Then the inconceivable had happened which is that Thom Yorke sent an e-mail inviting them to do a gig. Keith said they should just do it, fuck the fucking contract but Darren and Stewart
So then Keith was very quiet.
Never a good sign.
Given Keith’s known propensity to hit things other than drums.
So Darren said they would record the song.
Keith tried to explain his concept and Darren and Stewart kept arsing about and then Sean the keyboardist sussed that it was an arsing about session and then Keith put down his sticks.
Darren, Stewart and Sean sussed that the beat was gone.
Keith, says Darren. What the fuck.
Keith disengaged from the scaffolding of things that could be hit that made noise. He stood up.
He walked across the floor while Darren, Stewart and Sean varied the theme of What the fuck. He took the mic from Darren.
In addition to not being a songwriter Keith was not a singer. He dragged the lyrics of the song over reluctant vocal cords and spat them into the mic.
Fucking great man said Darren who did not want another guitar percussioned to subatomic particles against wall, floor, chair, his head. Yeah fucking great said Stewart who had also lost 3 guitars and Sean hastened to protect his keyboard from berserk drummer syndrome, Fucking great, insane, totally fucking crazy man
Keith handed the mic back to Darren. He turned and walked out the door.