“Stick insect!” “Stringbean!” “Yeah, I’d be hiding those freaky eyes, too!”
Life was hardly good at Great Rockton High School for Vincent Geiger - being awkward, tall and saddled with heterochromia were all apparently crimes deemed worthy of bullying by his classmates.
Shades hid his blue and amber eyes, and only his 6 feet and 3 inches of height prevented unruly classmates from snatching them off of his face.
Unfortunately, this height also made him a target for all kinds of makeshift missiles from said classmates.
He had no sooner entered the door of Mr Fortune’s music class than a wadded-up piece of paper struck him right on the corner of his sunglasses.
Vincent didn’t even have to look up to know who had thrown it.
Sitting right up at the back of the room, like all cool kids usually do, was Gary Tomlinson. With his feet up on the desk and his girlfriend Jackie practically draped over him, his lip curled into a sneer at the sight of Vincent.
“There he is, look!” the fox sneered. “The drainpipe with the black wig!”
“D’you think he’s figured out if he’s a goth or an emo yet?” Jackie said, in an unsubtle whisper.
The comments from the two foxes drew general tittering from most of the rest of the class, but the human was well used to it by now, settling himself into his seat and putting his bag under his desk.
No sooner had Vincent rested himself against the plastic back of the chair than he felt the tips of Gary’s Adidas trainers kicking obnoxiously into the chair’s back.
“Enjoying the view, Jackie?” Gary smirked to his girlfriend. “Another hour of greasy black fuckin’ hair blockin’ the view!”
“It’s not as greasy as the inside of your ears, Tomlinson!” came the reply from the classroom door.
The laughter in the room died almost instantly as the school’s music teacher, Mr Fortune, entered the room, replaced by an anticipatory hush.
The red bearded dragon may have been in his mid-40’s, and while everyone knew that he wasn’t exactly the strictest of tutors - he was clearly wearing some kind of black band t-shirt underneath his shirt and blazer, and his bright red Converse stood out amongst the shiny, smart shoes of the rest of the faculty - the student body knew not to get on his bad side.
“Now, if that’s all of the swearing out of the way…” Mr Fortune said, approaching the desk next to the grand piano. “We’re going to continue on from last week’s lesson on the development of popular music. Last week, we looked at pop music from The Beatles, The Beach Boys and The Rolling Stones, but today, we’re going to be looking at a personal favourite of mine: progressive rock!”
“Ugh, more bloody Dad music!” Gary muttered underneath his breath behind Vincent.
“So, kids: raise your hands if any of you know what ‘prog rock’ is?” Mr Fortune asked, ignoring Gary’s comment.
Not a single hand was raised.
“Oh really? Well then, I get the pleasure of introducing your ears to what I was listening to when I was your age!”
The lizard rubbed his hands together in glee, standing up from his desk and moving over to where his hi-fi stereo system sat.
“This is ‘Moving Pictures’ by Rush – just because it came out in 1981 doesn’t make it any less 70’s!”
Mr Fortune popped open the jewel case, took out the CD and slotted it into the CD tray – the bearded dragon started to resemble some kind of mad scientist as he fiddled and twisted the various volume knobs to achieve the perfect sound.
Vincent recognised some kind of cymbal tapping out a very atypical rhythm, but before he could wrap his head around it, there was a sudden explosion of noise - bass, guitar, drums and synthesizer!
As the music filled the room, Vincent was immediately captivated by the complex rhythms and harmonies that seemed to defy the conventional norms of mainstream music. He had never heard anything quite like it before.
The song went hither and thither in ways he couldn’t have predicted - at one point, there was even the sound of what seemed to be breaking glass in there…
There were no lyrics in this song, and not a word was spoken for those 4 and a half minutes, and yet… it spoke to him.
“The fuck is this nonsense?” Vincent heard Jackie moan from behind them, but the immature complaints from her and Gary sounded miles away compared to Rush…
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In the days that followed, Vincent Geiger just couldn’t stop his fingers from trying to tap out those eclectic drum rhythms on any available surface - he often found his hands doing them even when his focus was elsewhere.
‘Polyrhythms’, they were called - the dictionary described them as ‘the simultaneous combination of contrasting rhythms in a musical composition.’ It was almost mathematical, the way these percussive elements stood out - on their own, they might have been jumbled or disjointed, but when paired with the rest of a song, they fit so perfectly!
“This sounded like the future when I was your age,” Mr Fortune had said to them when the song ended.
Most of the students had met his enthusiasm with scrunched faces, not fully understanding the significance of such music.
But he did, and if this music led to his future…
He was so ready.
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A rather lonely, shy boy gets converted to prog rock, courtesy of Rush.
