Where Drummers Go To Die

[five eight]

Two legged hi-hat stands and signature snares are interesting but more interesting to me are the intangibles of drumming. In order to plumb the depths and come to grips with this subject I need to speak immodestly. Thanks for your forgiveness.

Why would I join a rap/metal band at age 48? The reasons were all good. And numerous. Two tight bands I’d been working with folded almost at the same time. I’d be doing a Big Favor for a friend whose band desperately needed a drummer. This band was successful as a local band gets. Not only did they have gigs but they had two CDs out, a website, a fan base, a manager, roadies, a lightman, a logo. They had a trailer, T-shirts, bandannas, do-rags and drink holders all festooned with their logo. They even had press! Seeing my name in bold type in a couple of rags was a kick even though I knew the bandleader wrote every word. And the music rocked on. I got to play a solo every night. I was free to re-write drum parts for existing songs as long as not too much of what they called ‘that jazz shit’ creeped in.

After five rehearsals I played my debut show with them on a flatbed trailer at a big car show. Two things reassured me. The other drummers on the bill stood in a group watching me the whole show and the leader said after the gig, “Our old drummer was here to watch us fail and you sent him home with his tail between his legs.” Life was good, for a few minutes.

Professionally, things were shaky from the management on down. I actually had to show the band how to count properly. Theory was foreign to them. They held ineffective time wasting rehearsals but they knew their metal. They wanted me to resurrect clich?s I’d spent years erasing from my drumming. I admit what they wanted me to play sounded better than getting my Vinnie on, so I went with it. The leader insisted upon playing every song in half time for no other reason than he was the self-crowned King of Half Time. Drum rolls were sung for me to duplicate and eclipsed the creative freedom I’d enjoyed. Despite all that musical buffoonery tapes of the group sounded huge, and commercial. I kept my mouth shut.

On the personal side of things it became apparent why they couldn’t keep a drummer. They hazed newcomers with the fervor of sophomores. They wanted to party all night after gigs and I'd go home to bed. The band spoke a different English than I did, especially the rapper. I learned a lot of prison gangsta slang and met some people I’d rather not have met. And where was all the money going? Then the comments began. Did I have to wear my sport coat to the gig? Couldn’t I put several band bumper stickers on my new car? Why didn’t I get an extreme haircut? How about a tat the size of a claw hammer on each arm? The answer to all those questions was I was pushing fifty. I kept my mouth shut.

Somehow I managed to complete nine basic drum tracks in the studio in four hours while the leader cussed and fussed through every take. Personally I enjoyed remaining focused and cool under the pressure but had decided to exit the group long before that session.

This goes beyond square pegs and round holes. I believe I wasn't trying to be something I was not even when dumbing-down my playing. I sacrificed what was necessary for the song to fulfil my moral and professional convictions as a drummer not only to myself but to the band I felt obligated to.

So exactly what does a drummer do at fifty if he still wants to play? Most of my friends were out of it by 40 so that’s no longer an option. There’s no big jazz or session scene in my demographic to tap into. If I restrict myself to bands my age I’ll be marooned on classic rock island with gramps with amps. While I’m not allergic to C&W like Buddy Rich, that’s really not my muse. So all that’s left is to join younger bands, if they’re even interested! Sight unseen, it goes like this on the phone: “Uh, how old are you anyway?” “49.” “We’ll get back to you.” I got carded until I was 45 so I could get away with lying but I hate to lie. I have been blessed with the energy of a teenager, but fifty is a fact and appears old EVEN TO ME. It looks old in print and it sounds older saying it aloud.

The irony is I'm playing better now than ever but there's less opportunity to perform. Attending other bands' gigs keeps me on the scene and in circulation. Another solution is getting out to jam nights at clubs and meeting local musicians. But it ain't the same as it used to be.

[Derek DeFields]

Where do you live currently?

Have you considered trying to offer your services for demo/record work for local bands? If you could get a decent home recording rig this might be a viable option. I know Randy does this a lot so he could probably help.

BTW, this line was PRICELESS. [img]tongue.gif[/img]

"I admit what they wanted me to play sounded better than getting my Vinnie on, so I went with it."

LOL