Word: drummings
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...basked in the Pope's aura Wednesday, telling the crowd of some 13,500 on the South Lawn that he and Laura were privileged to welcome him to the White House and that the world needed his messages of morality and freedom. The theatrics continued with a fife and drum band and a chorus singing "Battle Hymn of the Republic." But by the time Bush held a dinner in Benedict's honor Wednesday night, with the Pope not attending (the Pontiff does not attend dinners given in his honor), it started to look as if Bush was laying...
...Everything must come to an end, and the Democrats’ drum-roll is becoming more frantic with each passing day. Political pundits are honing in on the ‘mathematical’ probability that Obama’s growing delegate lead will spell victory after or even before the remaining eight contests remaining have been settled. But before the verdict is announced, no matter its nature, anyone who has followed this roller coaster campaign trail with fervor or mere bemusement should appreciate what this extraordinary race has meant for America, and the tantalizing balance that, still hanging...
Folk duo the Dodos have always eschewed the Svengali approach to their partnership. Unlike the White Stripes, known for Jack White’s domination and Meg White’s half-hearted drum banging, each member of this guitar-and-drums duo contributes equally to the group’s mellow indie-folk sound. And presumably, the fact that neither claims to be the other’s ex-spouse makes things less complicated. The Dodos are singer and songwriter Meric Long and drummer Logan Kroeber. Unlike Meg White, Kroeber actually seems capable of keeping time and playing...
...fourth game, Harvard looked like it would make a comeback, as Weissbourd slammed down a kill near the end of the stanza to close the scoring gap, 26-28. But the Crimson couldn’t drum up enough momentum for the final push against MIT and was ultimately defeated...
...croons about lust and violence jumping from dreams to the waking world. “Night of the Lotus Eaters” perverts the myth of a Mediterranean cult of hallucinogen-gorging island dwellers, casting them as post-apocalyptic street hunters; tension winds tight against a sparse arrangement of drum clatter, guitar reverb, and a xylophone that seems to echo from the bottom of a sewer.“We Call Upon the Author” begins a searing second act with a snarling Cave reciting a list of grievances against an ambivalent God. Yet again, the finger of blame...