It's the middle of the day, and I'm in a large room in a warehouse district of Queens, New York, where I'm beating a pair of heavy sticks against animal skins. The skins are stretched like drumheads over the seats of a couple of old chairs, a stool and the odd bed frame. These "drums" are then suspended from a timbered support that fills most of the room. As everyone knows, pounding on stuff is fun, which may explain why all around me there are people banging their own chairs and bed frames, plus...
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