The day my stomach turned into a bass drum I awoke in agony. You’d think the heart would take a key roll to provide some kind of beat in such a situation, but actually it just carried on with its own rhythm, selfishly out of time, each sodden squelch of life seeming to say “Don’t look at me BRO, I’m just a pump for you’re weird-tasting juice of life.” None of my trousers would fit around the large rim of my stomach-drum, which rattled with the late night pitta-bread and fried egg snack I’d digested, drunk, a few hours beforehand. Consequently, I was forced to fashion a toga from an old bed sheet in my washing pile.
As I stood to attach my new attire the drum in my tummy began a steady THUMP THUMP THUMP, not painful at all, but loud. I felt behind me to find that my spine and coccyx bone had morphed into an impressive wooden beater, which swung like an erect tail at the taut skin of my stomach drum, keeping a perfect beat to some invisible song in the sky. I tried to hold this beater still, to stop it’s swinging and pounding for just a second, but it proved stronger than my feeble hands. The eggs and bread rattled impressively behind the translucent skin of my tummy-drum. I watched in awe as they steadily broke down into smaller and smaller pieces, until the food finally turned into a small pile of digested dust, the beater slowed to a stop, and I felt overcome with hunger.
But enough about me, lets talk about Nope, a band from Bradford/Leeds (depending who you ask, I argue for the former), who play classic rock with two drum kits and rock harder than any one man band could ever dream. “Walker” was, “written and performed by Nope as part of a film/music collaboration with Eoin Shea [who also did the excellent artwork for their last album Revision.] for RECON 2013,” an ace festival of experimental art in Yorkshire, UK, that will be happening again this year.