When I was a teenager, I would participate in vocal competitions once a year at the insistence of my voice instructor. I think it gave her something to plan for -- a target our efforts were aimed at -- and she would let me spend the night in her home the night before. I remember the Land of Spare Bedroom where I felt like a princess once a year, in cozy, clean sheets, not even thinking of what the next day would hold for me.
And then, in the early wee hours of the morning, when the light was much like it is in this video, we would pile into the car and begin our two-hour-long trek to the competition. She would have me practice my aria in the backseat of the car while she drove, much like these fellows seem to be practicing, practicing, practicing here. Only when I finally arrived, there were no cancan girls, no feathers, no inexplicable police officers dancing. No, there was just me, in my plain, black dress, singing "Già il sole dal Gange" locked in a room with several sour-faced and unfriendly judges.
What I'm saying is, I assume the boys from Revolver are indulging in some wish-fulfillment in this video, based on past experiences. I heartily applaud wish-fulfillment, in music videos and in life.
