Be a little drummer boy

Gothenburg and I belong together. We know each other. But I had a parenthesis in southern Sweden for a couple of years. A sort of love affair, you could say. During my time there I got to know a lot of people. One of them was Calle. He lived in Lund, at the top of an apartment building owned by a student nation. The house was full of students that were studying law, music, philanthropy and literature. They cooked their noodles in red wine and homesickness and began each day by counting down to the weekend. One day, Calle had an idea. He filled the house's staircase with posters that read "Do you know that you live in a drum?". The goal was to synchronize all the kids in the house so that they, during a single evening, began banging on walls, floors, radiators and ceilings, beating with spoons against pots, shelves and bathtubs. Balcony doors opened, apartment doors were ajar and the students went to town on the drum-solos in their apartments. The experiment was a success. The house became a drum!

I was raised and educated in Gothenburg, but I've been around a lot. Small one-night stands with other cities. Stockholm, Kalmar and Umeå. Once when I was at the Hultsfred festival, I couldn’t sleep. I was laying in my tent and listening to what was going on outside. You know how sounds appear through a canvas. A bit like it’s happening in your head. Suddenly I hear beats approaching. The usual blanket of sound consisting of screaming, projectile vomiting and pop gave room for somehing else. I went out and in front of me is a long train composed of punks, indie kids, metal kids and parents from town. All had drumsticks, garbage can lids, satellite dishes and sticks. They clapped and drummed and together they created a completely mad symphony of drum sounds. I picked up a couple of sticks from the ground and began beating on a porta-potty. Someone was sitting inside and started drumming the walls from the inside.

I would like to cross-pollinate my two stories now. It’s time.

Gather a bunch of friends and start drumming on things at a given location or in the form of a parade in town. Or spread word in your apartment building and synchronize the entire house. Tape the sound or record it all on film. Photograph and document. If someone doesn’t believe you when you tell them you’ll have proof. Because the truth is: You live in a city that is a drum.