We walked home tonight after schlepping through the city in search of a kids official Barcelona team travel jersey in a medium (sold out everywhere), and I saw a band setting up at the mouth of the Passeig del Born near our apartment. We heard the familiar baseline to Rock Lobster as the band warmed up, and Maxon got excited to hear one of his favorite songs.
Well done, Barcelona, I thought. You've really got it together. Live music in the square would be a perfect ending to an amazing day – we enjoyed excellent fresh seafood at a local restaurant where Maxon ate shrimp, squid and octopus, spent two hours on the beach, happened upon a creepy gigantic puppet parade, saw a demonstration brewing, ate chocolate covered churros, logged about 6 miles on foot/Penny Board, visited two Nike stores and bought groceries to make dinner at home.
You know what they can't do while playing Who Can Hold the Lemon Slice in Their Mouth the Longest? Talk.
And while I prepared dinner, the band started playing. Not Rock Lobster. Heavy Metal. Why, Barcelona Committee of Block Parties, did you choose a metal band? And why, Barcelona Metal Band, are you playing a set longer than Springsteen's?
Now, it's not like I don't respect you, Metal. I do. Rock out, brothers and sisters. But you're not the type of music I expect at the block party. And no matter how I try to appreciate it or listen for nuances or find beats I connect to, I don't dig on metal, as our friends at Fearless Athletics Cross Fit know well. I am forever begging them to change the music.
For me, listening to metal is like getting beaten up with a hockey stick by Billy Mahoney from Flatliners.
Were they a good metal band? I couldn't tell you. It just sounded like they were vomiting vowels. I would have impaled them all on Selfie Sticks just to make it stop.
I ask our sons, who were eyes deep in Minecraft, if they liked the music.
"No!" shouted Ezra. "Nah," said Maxon.
At least this experience may ensure that they won't get into metal when they reach their teen years. Because if they do, I WILL be on the other side of the bedroom door shouting "Turn that noise off!"
When the band finally left the stage, replaced by two guys with glowing drumsticks playing the extended version of the Close Encounters of the Third Kind Theme Song on some computerized percussion set, we took the boys down to the square so they could skateboard.
It was after eleven, and I shot videos as they sped by. We walked over to the square past the Basilica de Santa Maria del Mar and had a drink. The boys played Who Can Keep the Lemon Slice in Their Mouth the Longest. It was after midnight and we were out as a family, the kids cracking us and themselves up. As they skateboarded back toward the apartment I felt happy and free – liberated from our routines, from America's rules and from the sideways glances of judgmental parents.
I forgive you for the metal band, Barcelona. We leave for Paris on Tuesday, and we will really miss you.