Waiting For Sunday

Waiting for Sunday: The (current) title of The Preteen’s band.

Yes, the 12-year-old is a rock star. She came back from camp directly (well, pausing only for a shower and proper hair preparation) to the band’s first public performance (after one at school). (Two of her bandmates’ fathers are in a weekend band that played at the Farmer’s Market, and Waiting for Sunday played their one song that’s ready for public consumption at their break. Then a thunderstorm hit, so that was the end of everyone’s playing in any case.

This is no bubblegum band, no. As I alluded to before, they chose for their first song an anti-war song by Green Day, “Holiday”. At school, they had to leave out the words to the bridge because it was a bit too strong for school district policies (and they did change one word even now, which I actually think was very appropriate given their age & audience).

But I totally applaud them.

Here they are, live on video: and you’ll be happy to know I’ve improved my camera videography skills since the last Preteen video I put before you (though it’s still a camera and not a camcorder, so the sound quality is not ideal; also, sorry about the false start, the guitarist had just broken and replaced a string, & there is a brief 15 sec delay at the beginning as he makes sure he’s ready; I don’t have editing software….). Lyrics are below since they’re hard to hear often, though clearer than in the Green Day live video of this song, in my opinion…

“HOLIDAY”

Say, hey!

Hear the sound of the falling rain
Coming down like an Armageddon flame (Hey!)
The shame
The ones who died without a name

Hear the dogs howling out of key
To a hymn called “Faith and Misery” (Hey!)
And bleed, the company lost the war today

I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives
On holiday

Hear the drum pounding out of time
Another protester has crossed the line (Hey!)
To find, the money’s on the other side

Can I get another Amen? (Amen!)
There’s a flag wrapped around a score of men (Hey!)
A gag, a plastic bag on a monument

I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives
On holiday

“The representative from California has the floor”

Sieg Heil to the president Gasman
Bombs away is your punishment
Pulverize the Eiffel towers
Who criticize your government
Bang bang goes the broken glass and
Kill all [those] that don’t agree
Trials by fire, setting fire
Is not a way that’s meant for me
Just ’cause, just ’cause, because we’re outlaws yeah!

I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives
I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives

This is our lives on holiday

So — I’m proud of her as all get-out; she and the other kids have worked hard and done a great job, especially considering they’re 12 to 14-year-olds, and they’ve done this all on their own.

And, in the glorious contradiction and dichotomy of adolescence — she is so grounded for the rest of the weekend.

Illicit opening and use of her mother’s sunless tanner that was brand new in a sealed container, unauthorized use of make-up (at 12, we have rules about when make-up can be worn; while singing with the band was OK, taking it to/wearing it at camp was not); eating Cheetos over the computer keyboard (and leaving them on the computer desk), not moving (her own, even) laundry from the washer to the dryer when asked, not cleaning her room when directed, then whining hard about not being allowed to stay longer at a friend’s house — all in 24 hours! (The punishment is not specifically for using up all the toilet paper and not replacing it, when there was no more toilet paper or even Kleenex in the bathroom, but that incident didn’t make me any happier yesterday morning when I, um, ‘discovered’ the lapse either.) I guess right now she’s “Waiting For Monday”, when the grounding is over (assuming no more incidents today and some cleaning actually happens).

Six more years. . . . Deity help me.

Mom, quit laughing. Don’t think I don’t hear you.