The plot thickens......

A month back, I was whining on this blog about the absence of people to play with, carefully masking (or so I thought) my irritation. I think God heard me.
As it happened, we had arranged for the 'audition' (that's D's idea) of two guitar players on Thursday. Now, we knew one of the guys, and absolutely NO clue about the other: except his name and the fact that he stammered a little. But then again, he was the one Amytda had recommended. The other fellow is a bit of a smart-ass, and has been sending felers to us through P that he wants in. Naive as he is, P cannot talk him off, and so we decided for the two of 'em auditioning on the same day.
Well, new-guitar-player-in-question stood waiting for me in front of a cinema hall the other day. And I had a deja vu when we said "hi". Simple guy in a shirt and a half-sleeve sweater (no one wears half-sleeve sweaters anymore, at least the style pack). He reminded me of a scruffy, unshaven dear friend and beautiful musician; one whose melodeis would literally make me cry. I immediately warmed to him. The sense of this grew stronger when this guy plugged in and played. 10 minutes into the 'audition', he was in, no questions asked. He played clean, by the way: didn't even plug in his Korg effects rack.
On the other hand, the smartass plugged through a Morley wah and still managed to sound like a cocky 8-year-old with no sense of history. The tough job of saying 'No' fell upon me, and I did it.
But here's something even more interesting. Every night, around 8.30 when I finish practising by myself, the boy next door — now a college kid, I think — plays REALLY loud music. It isn't as if he tries to show me how loud his stereo can get vis-a-vis my really loud drumset, it is as if he tries to make me listen to his kind of music. Which is a lot of classic rock and blues. No, not nu-metal: but Purple, and Led Zep, and blues. I liked it in a 19-year-old.
The practice got cancelled today because P had some rather pressing social engagement from his wife's side of the family. However, D called me and gave me a bit of news that made me suspicious of God 'actually' taking note of my whining.
The new keyboardist is the kid next door.