Vesuvius Part 2 (aka “What is this, Rush?”)

In GREATER GOOD, both Michael and Christine reference the volcano Vesuvius as an image of young black boys finding and explosively using their authentic voices. But this isn’t the only time the play invokes the power of exuberant sound.

Gordon, as head of Gleason Street School, walks us through the way that children loudly playing music invites expression of self, and that the “racket” of such ebullience is fundamental for the growth of the child. In the scene “The Music Lesson; Yes, Mr. Vermeer,” Gordon’s drumming, and the xylophone music played by the audience, are like another Vesuvius — cacophonous and transformational.

GORDON:
My brother’s kid has a drum set.
Electronic.
You practice.
By plugging in a headset.
You hardly make a peep.
My kit.
Was so loud.
Growing up, the funeral home next door on Huron.
Would pay me fifty cents not to play on days they had a service.
Other days it was free-for-all.
Other days it was the rest of the neighbors saying
“That racket”
“What is this, Rush?” “You’re getting the hang, finally”.
No one will say any of these things to my brother’s kid.
Band of one. Alone in his room.
Here we say:
This racket is what connects and binds and the free-for-all is good.

— “The Music Lesson; Yes, Mr. Vermeer,” GREATER GOOD

🥁 🥁 🥁

RUSH, the iconic prog-rock band (1968-2018) known for epic story songs and concept albums, introduced the world to Neal Peart — a drummer considered by many to be one of the greatest artists and technical masters of the form. He is preternaturally fast and precise. And loud. With RUSH’s heyday pegged from the late 1970s into the early 1990s, they’d be a perfect reference point for the neighbors as they yelled at the adolescent Gordon, practicing his drum licks.

Interesting sidebar: the funeral home on Huron (referenced in the excerpt above) is a real place in Cambridge MA, which was just rehabbed and turned into a luxury townhome and put on the market for $2,875,000 😮.
(It’s two doors down from a townie pizza parlor. #gentrification)

Anyway. Check out this killer drum solo from RUSH’s Neil Peart!

Of course the answer is Neal Peart. Duh.

Vesuvius Exploding

Mount Vesuvius, the Italian volcano formed by the collision of the African and Eurasian tectonic plates, is invoked by both Michael and Christine as a powerful metaphor. Often, in myth and art, Vesuvius stands in for sudden, unexpected, and violent explosions. It’s the volcano that erupted in Ancient Rome and buried the city of Pompeii and all its inhabitants, with barely a warning. When it last erupted in the 1940s, it spewed ash to such an extent that the gas and ash cloud covered the whole of southern Europe. It’s considered one of the world’s most dangerous volcanoes, and the force of its eruptions has been estimated to release a hundred thousand times the thermal energy of WWII’s Hiroshima-Nagasaki bombings.

The two Vesuvius references in the play are as follows. Both instances connect to Black children, and in particular Black boys, being silenced …then finding their voices.

Michael, in the scene “Toussaint is a Whisper”:

Whatever your head filled up with was meant to be spat back out.
While you sat in your space at that desk.
A lot of the time.
In third grade.
Ms. Watson.
Third grade.
My head just got too full.
Too much would come spilling.
Oh my God it would come spilling out.
Vesuvius.
Sparks, sparks, sparks.
But Ms. Watson.
Was having none of it.
I was sent to the Principal.
The nurse.
The counselor.

“An eruption of Vesuvius seen from Portici” by Joseph Wright of Derby, c. 1774

Christine, in the scene “Athena/Reel 3”:

Okay, okay, okay.
You know what it is.
You know what it is.
You want to know what it is.
I do believe in volcanoes.
I do believe in Vesuvius.
You know what I do not believe in?
Soccer.
Basketball.
Motherfucking football.
If one more person brings a uniform around my kid I swear to God.
You know what it is.
That is not I want.

“The Eruption of Vesuvius” by Sebastian Pether, 1825