Colours call beyond the border,
Chaotic in their playful passions.
Blue boundaries line the corridor,
Their limiting lines of reason
Enforce mathematical steps
Upon my electric ideas.
Structure, syntax, sentences
Steal energy from my pleas.
But isn't it the drummer’s discipline
That guides the dancers?
Blue Boundary, the lapis line
Shapes our sparks to sculptures.
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This hits. Connected even more on second and third pass. Reading it in text, then again in the graphic, was like finding a secret compartment.
I've played in several bands, and play in a couple still. The nature of the drummer's give and take authority is so palpable in this. It truly is a dance with mathematics, and you have to be such a good listener to be a drummer who can guide. I'm only there for guys I've been playing with for a long time. It's a great feeling though. Bob Weir talks about it like the jam is a living organism. Super fun!