May 21, 2004

By NICK HORNBY
LONDON

It's just before Christmas last year, and the Philadelphia rock 'n' roll band Marah is halfway through a typicallyferocious, chaotic and inspirational set when the doors tothe right of the stage burst open and a young man staggers in, carrying most of a drum kit. My friends and I have thebest seats in the house, a couple of feet away from Marah'sfrontmen, Serge and Dave Bielanko, but when the drummer arrives we have to move our table back to make room forhim. He's not Marah's drummer (the band is temporarilywithout) but he's a drummer, and he owns most of a drum kit, and his appearance allows the band to make an evenmore glorious and urgent racket than they had managedhitherto. The show ends triumphantly, as Marah shows tend to do, with Serge lying on the floor amid the feet of his public, wailing away on his harmonica.