songs

Cave Songs

Imagine this, if you will.

Back in the caveman days, Grog, the first-ever percussionist, is banging on a couple rocks, busily banging out the very first rock song.

He’s whacking away, hitting “A” notes, “G,” “F-sharp.” Shards of rock are flying, keeping a small, annoyed crowd, at bay. A young cave youngster named Keith Richards is watching avidly.

Finally, his arms getting tired from the heavy rocks, Grog starts thinking to himself, “Hmmm, it’s time to end this song.”

But, he doesn’t know how to do it. No human’s ever created music before, and he isn’t quite sure how it should end.

Should there be a grand finale, with a burst of rock crunching, followed by him kicking the rocks over and throwing them into the audience? That would help, maybe, and give him time to make a run for it.

But something about this doesn’t stir his hairy Music Man soul. Likewise, Grog doesn’t want to end it with just one sharp note, or even one flat note. He wants something else. Something different.

But what?

Then it hits him.

A stone. Ouch. Somebody threw a stone at him.

He ducks another, and then he figures out what to do.

He decides that he will end the song by repeating the final refrain over and over, over and over. And each time he repeats it, he will make it just a little quieter than the refrain before it, until it’s gone.

So he starts, “Um, Urg, Ugh, Brah, er, Uh.”

And he repeats it, “Um, Urg, Ugh, Brah, er, Uh.”

Again, “Um, Urg, Ugh, Brah, er, Uh.”

Another rock wings by his head, Grog ducks, persevering to the end, but even lower,

“Um, Urg, Ugh, Brah, er, Uh.”

The music gets lower and lower, until finally it can’t be heard.

As the music fades, Grog’s lips are still moving. What the crowd hadn’t realized is that Grog wasn’t actually singing. His friend, Cronk, was hiding behind a nearby rock, and was doing the actual singing, since Grog’s voice was known to sterilize cave newts at a hundred yards.

So as the music disappears, Grog has to keep moving his lips, until he’s sure that not even the most sharp-eared caveperson can pick up the deception.

Bravely, he flaps his lips, alertly watching and listening.

When he judged the moment right, he stopped.

And bowed for the applause that was surely coming.

Fifteen minutes later, after the crowd had left, Cronk crept out of the rocks, and dragged his unconscious friend to safety. There he carefully stanched the bleeding, and wiped Grog’s face until he recovered from the projectile hurled by Milli, or was it Vanilli?

Or Shania Twain?