It begins with a chord. A note that vibrates through the wood, the metal, the gut.
Then someone picks up the rhythm – a beat of the drum, a pull of the bellows, a riff that wakes the neighbors. At the Ekenbergs’, the instruments have gathered once more – guitars that have played in rehearsal rooms and on living room floors, accordions that have carried weddings and dance halls, drums that have seen midnight come and go. Now they wait for the next song, the next hand, the next audience. Strike your note – the bidding has begun.
