on silver cans. The hall falls silent, the jury members look up from their score. Then the bubbles tinkle as a herald of a show with gravel in zinc bins. The boys shake it up, throw it over, let it slip like loose sand between their fingers. They pop the tray on the table and return to their own instrument. Then it seems as if a thousand drumsticks are rattling, resulting in a dead silence. “You’d need more eardrums” whispers a man in the audience.”