12
She loved playing with The Multiverse. That was the tongue-in-cheek name Hannah had given the band Dorothy was in, and they decided to keep it. Fifteen of them were crammed into the second-floor attic studio of Dorothy’s place, the heat from their exertions giving the air a sweaty glow.
By the open window were the ten members of the choir, organised by a local community group based in one of the churches on Holy Corner at the top of Morningside. Dorothy wasn’t religious, but a lot of good people used their beliefs to help people. Katy was one of life’s organisers – she met isolated refugee families through her work at a foodbank, and had corralled a gang of mostly young women from Syria, Afghanistan, Somalia, and latterly Ukraine, into singing together. And they were good, confident and strong when belting out in their second, third or fourth languages. The grins on their faces made Dorothy’s heart swell.
The rest of the band had coalesced around Katy’s husband Will, a skilful guitarist across half a dozen genres. Young Zack was on bass, floppy fringe and teenage acne, his girlfriend Maria on piano and keyboard. Then there was Gillian, a lanky German multi-instrumentalist, who found the right flourishes of violin, trumpet or percussion, whatever was needed. And Dorothy on drums, of course.
Dorothy checked the setlist at her feet. It was hard to define this band. Hannah described them to Indy as a gospel, blues, country-rock sideshow community revival, and Dorothy couldn’t think of anything better. The setlist had songs by Wilco, Low and Lambchop, but also the likes of Brittany Howard, Mavis Staples and Aretha Franklin. They’d worked out gospel-tinged versions of pop bangers by Katy Perry and Lorde, and would sometimes delve into the country-rock archive, like the next song.
Dorothy counted them into ‘The Weight’ by The Band, a song that made her body ache for the California of her youth. She pictured walking along the shore of Pismo Beach with a pale-skinned Scottish boy on her arm who would become her life for five decades, the pair of them impossibly young, full of energy and promise. When you got to her age, it was easy to forget what it was like to be young and bursting with life. A lifetime ahead of you to create yourself.
This song was perfect for The Multiverse with its message of sharing the load – especially if you’re half-past dead, travelling the world like some of this choir had done, looking for sanctuary and the kindness of strangers. It was simple drumming in the verses, straight fours on the snare, kick and hi-hat, small flourishes leading into the chorus where she could open up a little. But this wasn’t showy drumming, just about sitting in the pocket, riding the groove. The song was about camaraderie, playing a small part in a bigger whole. All music was like that to an extent, but drumming in particular. Doing just enough to lift things overall. Dorothy was here to support the choir as they sang about the load they carried. Christ, these people knew about carrying a load. She couldn’t begin to imagine what their l
