Rock Chick, Rock Chic

It's no secret: my daughter is a rocker. Not in the sense that Grammy is a rocker (kickin' it porch-style), but in the very real sense that Rhiannon is a fan of big beats, bass, distortion, and shouting. That and an affection for Palestrina. Like father like daughter. In memory of the late, great Sleater-Kinney, we were breakfasting to the DVD of The Woods and enjoying "Entertained" and "Jumpers" when Rhiannon looks at me and says, "dad, I like Sleater-Kitty". Amplified Cuteness.

Not only is Rhiannon a fan of that rock and roll music, she also plays it. Here she is in front of her first keyboard, age three, plinking out "Funeral for a Friend" by Elton John:

Later on in the set, she wore this ensemble, purchased on-line from Sir Elton's charity auction site:

Rhiannon is also beginning to sing and write her own material which she carefully couches between snippets of Laurie Berkner, Jack Johnson, and Madonna. Here are two examples:

When I was a baby,

I met a baby dinousaur

and he bited me leg off

and I needed a Band-Aid

with Belle on it....

also (to the tune of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star"), just released yesterday:

Pumpkin farm, pumpkin farm,

pumpkin farm, pumpkin farm,

pumpkin farm, pumpkin farm,

pumpkin farm, pumpkin farm....

So yes, ladies and general admission, we have a rock and roll daughter. And we love it.

Andrew (papa)