Tweens sneak into the 18+ side of Hamilton’s from time to time, sure, but one of the diehards who would most benefit from a spot at the front of the stage on All-Ages Nites won’t get the chance. Because everybody, absolutely everybody, knows he’s just 16.
They call him Word List.
Word List’s dad is keen to get his progeny into the nearest big-deal university (maybe even the college on the hill, but we suspect WLD is shooting even higher). The boy’s been prescribed a steady diet of vocabulary exercises, so as to up his SAT scores when the time comes.
But what Word List really wants to do is rock.
When a hot local band beckons, the wordbound youth attempts an escape. Pretends to be studying in his room or (while he could still get away with that charade) the library, then hops a bus from the suburbs.
Unfortunately for him, the direction in which he flees is all too clear. Blame our tight-knit, three-club music scene. The boy can barely settle into a seat at the juice bar before you hear a booming voice yelling his name. This wild call of the wounded Word List Dad can cut through the din of the most punkiest band. (Guess we ought to consult a few word lists ourself, huh?) The cringing child sloughs off home to receive his punishment.
Some of us in the scene have experienced this awkward encounter so many times that we’ve flat-out asked Word List why he still bothers.
“This is where it matters,” he says, and he says it again. “This is where it matters.”
Nice choice of words.