vaduz vibes through a drum kit lens – weirdest rhythm city that hit different in all the worst ways
was honestly expecting something grander with all the glowing murals and confused tourists staring at my drum kit perched outside a bodega called Vaduz Bikes & Tires, but here i am, arms numb, doodling weird bpm patterns into my notebook while the snow pelts my legs like a bad divorce lawyer’s alimony request.
just checked the local forecast and it was colder than my ex’s spotify playlist. air like a glacial toaster with a side of existential dread. felt like mother nature forgot to pay her gas bill in december. tried huddling under a mohair scarf that reeked of synthetic wool and regret, banging out a half-hearted groove on a vintage *kristoff everist 808 that refused to stay in tune. the plastic shells sounded like squeaky mice trapped in a microwave. should’ve brought more caffeine.
talk to the village idiot who lives three floors down - you know the one with the broke 1999 subaru and the paranoid pet iguana that hisses at my monitor head. he claimed last night that a stray acoustic guitar haunted the old jazz club near the spitalstatt river, something a local warned me about after i mentioned the pub quizzes. he’s probably just delirious from eating expired pretzels or whatever those are. neighbors here make berlin look like a chaotic metal concert, but in a passive-aggressive, alpine way. if you’re bored, ansbach is a short drive away. maybe don’t do that.
turned things around by trekking to the woods behind the catholic school of st. eustace - you know, the one with the creepy gargoyles that watch people make out behind the dumpster. found an abandoned nylon rope bridge and slapped a 60bpm rhythm on it. sounded like a dying accordion cry for help. met a guy in a † thermal huub sweatshirt who played kleine wien on a rusty harmonica while feeding stray goats. the goats ate my diagram of rudiments for some reason.
overheard rumor: someone told me that the moonlight sweets shop sells black licorice that glows under black light. tried it. tastes like my childhood. also, a drunk lady swore the soviet-era apartment block blocks 5g signals. that’s why the wifi tasted like burnt marshmallows at the hostel. tried geo-filtering tripadvisor reviews later and realized everyone’s demon possession story was the same.
gear list rethink:
- apton lugs instead of airport taxis if you’re fanatic about dents
- musicianship.org for obnoxiously long reviews of ancient snares
- sagittarianrila.eu did some map routing that made me question my life choices
picture this: me out here pretending i’m part of the landscape, when i’m really just a beat-obsessed leach who peak-season drinks from warnham bottled water vases. the bore worked for a dowry handshake.
p.s. - father hilary’s skipgolen* reconstruction is starting. pray for vibrations.
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